Author's Note: So, it's been forever and a day, huh? I've actually been sitting on this chapter for a while now. For a long time I didn't really like it, so then I decided to work on the next chapter and that chapter gave me even MORE grief - I rewrote it like fifteen times. Anyway! I'm going to try my best to move forward keeping in mind that this is fanfiction and it's meant to be source of enjoyment for everyone. I can get really down on myself and put a lot pressure on myself to be perfect, especially when it takes such a long time for me to update.

I sincerely hope that whomever reads this, enjoys it. I hope that, no matter what type of day you're having, I pull you into another world for a short amount of time and you can get lost for a little while. Thank you to all of the kind readers that have left messages over the years and stuck with me and this story despite my absences. Sending you all the love in the world!

The song for this chapter is an oldie, but a goodie: No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine.

ALSO! I'm making a tumblr post about the revision I made to Chapter 18 and why. That's it. Now on with the story!

Bonnie was floating on a pillow of softness. It encased her on every side, caressing her skin, begging her to sink in deeper and just drift away.

And she wanted to – she wanted to give in and allow herself to float and sink and drift, but there was something anchoring her. It pulled at the centre of her chest, anxiously yanking her towards consciousness and so, reluctantly, she followed.

Blinking, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust on the dark paneled ceiling above her.

Where am I? she wondered, head fuzzy.

The ceiling looked familiar but she couldn't place it.

Twisting her head carefully, she tried to make out the rest of the room through the shadows. The room was sparsely furnished, but she could discern the tell-tale sign of books stacked haphazardly around the space.

Her brow furrowed.

How had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was–

Damon!

Bonnie shot up, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"Bonnie?"

Her attention snapped to the doorway to find Stefan hovering at its threshold, his frame silhouetted by the light spilling in behind him from the hallway. It was hard to distinguish his features like this, but she could hear the concern clearly in his voice when he asked, "You alright?"

"Where's Damon?" she asked in return, unable and unwilling to stem her growing unease.

He slipped further into the room. "He's fine. He was in here earlier, but he's downstairs now, drinking."

She slumped back against the mattress, suddenly weak with relief.

"He was in pretty bad shape when I got there. You both were," Stefan elaborated. Even without looking, she knew there was something more he wished to say. She could feel the way he was hesitating at the edge of the bed, weighing his words. She waited quietly.

"Thank you," he eventually managed. "I know how you feel about him and… what you did… It saved him."

Using her elbow to support her weight, Bonnie pushed herself up to look at Stefan. This was the second time he had admitted to caring about whether his brother lived or died. For all their posturing, they seemed unwilling to let each other fully go. Though tarnished and twisted, their love was never fully destroyed, and Bonnie was grateful for this. Perhaps their relationship could one day be restored, at least partially. It would never be the same, but perhaps, someday, they could be brothers again, in more than just name.

Warmed by the prospect, Bonnie made her own confession. "I'm not letting anyone else die."

It was the reason she had cast the spell that sent her back in the first place. She was tired of watching the people she loved die. The only difference was now that included Stefan and Damon, too.

Hearing the simple conviction in her voice, he smiled softly. "I should wake Elena up and let her know you're alright. She'll want to see you."

"What time is it?"

"Close to midnight. You were out for a while."

He made to leave the room, but Bonnie called out to him. "Stefan. Let her sleep. I can see her in the morning."

Stefan's forehead creased slightly, but he nodded his assent as he studied her. "I'm glad you're okay, Bonnie."

"Thanks," she sent him a small, appreciative smile before her lips twisted down in remembrance. "But Katherine got away..."

Something was strange, though. She remembered hitting her head when Katherine attacked her, but she felt perfectly fine now – better than fine, actually.

Lifting a curious hand to her brow, she felt for the wound only for her fingers to graze unblemished skin.

"Stefan," she asked, her frown deepening, "did you give me your blood?"

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before finally turning away.

"That wasn't me," he informed casually as he departed.

She found Damon in the living room. He was staring into the fireplace, one arm against the mantle while he drank absently out of a glass tumbler. A rush of relief swept through her at the sight of him. Even though Stefan had told her he was fine, there had still been a sense of disquiet she couldn't shake until this very moment – until he was standing right in front of her and she could see he was okay with her own eyes.

He had been so pale, bleeding out on the cavern floor. She didn't think he would make it. And now… it was like nothing had ever happened, as if it had simply been a nightmare.

The day's events settled on her shoulders all at once and, suddenly, she felt exhausted. Everything was too much. Red hot frustration began to seep in, robbing her of her relief. It stung the backs of her eyes and she blinked to rid herself of the sensation, but it wouldn't leave her.

"You're up," he noted, not bothering to turn around.

"All you had to do was sprinkle some ashes on her," she stated sharply, that burning feeling in her chest growing.

"I know that, Bonnie."

"You almost died, Damon!"

He went very still, tension creeping through his frame. "Why do you care?"

Bonnie bit her tongue hard. She wanted to scream! She was frayed and over exposed and so, so tired. She didn't want to lie anymore. She couldn't stand pretending not to care. She sighed deeply, before answering, "We called a truce."

He scoffed, looking down into his drink. "You know, I considered that too. I thought: 'we called a truce,' or 'maybe she didn't want Katherine to win…' but," he shook his head before tossing back the rest of his bourbon. He kept his head tilted back as he continued, "it still doesn't add up."

"What are you talking about?"

He turned to her, accusation sparking behind his blue eyes. "You had already lost too much blood when you fed me. You were dying, Bonnie."

"What?"

Her brow crumpled with lack of comprehension. She knew she had been injured, but dying…?

"You didn't even notice." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, like he was piecing something together.

No, she hadn't. She had been so focused on him that she hadn't given herself a second thought.

"Which leads us to the bigger question: why would Bonnie Bennett put my life before her own?" he puzzled out softly, sending a little jolt of panic racing through her veins.

Damon was not a stupid man, and this was simply the most damning piece of evidence in a long list of incriminating behaviour. Because he was right. You don't go from trying to kill someone to risking your life to save them in less than a month – not with the interactions they'd been having.

He stepped forward, his gaze intent as he continued, "She wouldn't. So, either you're not Bonnie Bennett or there's something you're not telling me." He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "My money is on the latter."

She was quick to level a censuring glare as she deflected, "You gave me your blood, too."

"I did," he admitted. Tilting his head, he eyed her in suspicion. "Why would I do that?"

He was asking like he actually expected an answer.

Bonnie bristled. How was she supposed to know what he was thinking? Damon was not a selfless person, especially where she was concerned. For him to give her his blood while he was so injured… it didn't make any sense. Maybe if she were Elena–

She crossed her arms over her chest as if to shield herself from that train of thought, and bit out, "How should I know why you do half the things you do?"

He set his glass down roughly on the side table, his eyes burning like twin Suns. "I think there are a lot of things you know, Bennett," he said darkly. "Things that involve me."

The certainty with which he spoke sent a chill up her spine. But he couldn't know. The truth was too far removed from the realm of possibility for him to even guess at it. Knowing this helped to centre her under his single-minded scrutiny.

"Why were you on the side of the road that day?" he asked abruptly.

"What?" She shook her head, confused at this sudden turn.

"Where were you coming from?"

"I…" She struggled to find something to say. Why was he asking her about this? Damon had always been full of questions, but he usually didn't wait a month before asking them. So, why bring this up now?

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" he pivoted sharply, thrusting an accusatory finger her way.

She blinked her surprise, but finally found her tongue. "Like what?"

"Like you know me."

Her eyebrow lifted of its own accord. "I do know you."

"No," he persisted, lips turned down. "Like you know every part of me, even the parts I forgot existed."

Her traitorous heart quickened further and she squeezed her arms tighter to her chest as if to hold it in place. He could hear it; it was giving away all her secrets. Observing her, he took a slow, purposeful step forward and, for the first time in months, Bonnie found herself backing away.

His head cocked to one side, contemplating this new information. Zeroing in, he began to prowl forward. "You know everything." His pace was measured – each new allegation moving him closer to her. "Why you would be willing to die for me. Why it hurt so much – when you were bleeding out beside me… Why it felt like the world would end if I didn't save you."

The room spun as she struggled to digest what he was saying. Was it possible that underneath everything – that despite a century worth of distance – there was still a part of him that cared for her? She hadn't dared to dream. Even if she broke the spell, she had no idea what Damon's feelings would be. For her, it had only been a month, but for him…

She shut her eyes tightly against the thought. This new hope threatened to swallow her whole, and if she wasn't careful it would. She needed to keep a lid on it if she wanted to keep her sanity. Even so, she could feel it thrumming in her veins just beneath the surface.

Damon came to a stop in front of her, his gaze burning against her skin.

"You know, but you won't tell me," he concluded, resentment staining his voice.

Bonnie opened her eyes and met his stare, but said nothing.

"Fine," he bit out bitterly, "Keep your secrets. I only want to know one thing."

He held something up for her to see. It reflected oddly in the light of the fireplace, looking more yellow gold than white.

"Why were you wearing my mother's necklace?"

His mother's…?

Her hand shot towards her neck, finding nothing but the torn remnants of her turtleneck and bare skin underneath.

When Damon had given her that necklace, she hadn't had much time to appreciate it. In the moment, she had been too concerned about being seen wearing such an expensive piece of jewelry to think anything else about it. And then Emily had discovered them so soon afterwards… and since returning she hadn't allowed herself to dwell too deeply on it.

But even in the recesses of her mind, she had known. She had stared often enough at the portrait in the hall to recognize it for what it was, but as long as she didn't acknowledge it, as long as the full depth of the gift lay somewhere buried in the past, it didn't hurt so much.

Feeling it in her hands and close to her heart had offered her enough comfort. It was tangible evidence of a history only she could remember – a reminder that she had once loved and been loved in return.

Now, Damon held it captive in front of her, the tear shaped jewel winking at her coyly from his grasp.

"You know, it's funny," he remarked, tilting his head to examine it better, "I've been looking for this thing for over a hundred years. I searched everywhere and couldn't find it. Even accused Stefan of stealing it at one point – that went over about as well as you can imagine; but silly me, I never thought to check around your neck."

He returned his attention to her, gifting her with a brittle smile. "I guess it's true what they say: it's always the last place you look." His smile turned down. "Where did you get this?"

There were a lot of things Bonnie Bennett could handle, a lot of things she had already been forced to withstand, but somehow this was too much. Something inside her broke.

"Please." The word fell unbidden from her lips, sounding as defeated as she felt. She pressed her lips together in reprimand, her body beginning to tremble.

He studied her in confusion, parroting blankly, "Please…?"

He was holding her heart in his hand. Could he not feel it beating between his fingers?

Her chest constricted and she hunched forward. "Please," she repeated, "I promised I would never take it off."

"Promised who?" He looked unsure of himself in the onslaught of her emotion. "Who gave this to you?" he asked carefully.

She didn't want to relinquish what little she still had of him – of them. Their last moments together were woven within the threads of gold, their deep affection reflected in the iridescence of the stone – and she had promised.

The tightness in her chest worsened until each breath was a keen agony.

She needed him to give it back. She needed it more than the air in her lungs or the blood pulsing in her veins. She didn't care if it made sense to him or not, she just needed him to return it.

Lifting her chin defiantly, she locked her gaze with his and confessed, "You did."

He jerked back suddenly as if stung, his brow creasing as his brain tried to grasp something just out of reach. The spell was quick to take over, though – she noted the moment it did: the way his focus glazed and his face went slack for just a second.

He blinked and the moment passed. He examined the necklace briefly before looking at her, his eyes narrowing as he tried to recapture his train of thought. "Who did you promise? Who gave this to you?"

She had expected as much, but…

Her head slumped heavily on her shoulders. An absurd urge to laugh at her own desperation swelled inside her even as tears began burning their way down her cheeks like they were trying to sear right into her skin. And a part of her wanted them to; anything to distract from the sharp clawing, tearing, shredding pain in her chest.

"Damn it, Bonnie!" he exclaimed in a vehement whisper. "You won't tell me a damn thing and now you're crying and…" He broke off suddenly, making a wild motion with his arms. "What am I supposed to do here?"

Nothing. There was nothing either of them could do.

The tears continued to seep from her unhindered.

"This is really pissing me off…" he grumbled, and then released a resigned sigh. "Well, clearly, we're not getting any further tonight, so… get some rest and we'll talk about this later, when you're less…" He gestured to all of her.

She turned away, making a beeline for the door. She needed to get out of here. It felt like she was suffocating.

Damon was in front of her in a matter of seconds, his hands raised as if to stop her. "Whoa! I meant rest here. I'm not letting you leave until we've talked."

She stumbled back. She didn't need to be around him right now – it made the tearing in her chest all the worse. "I won't leave," she promised dejectedly.

He made to move aside, but she was already pushing past him.

Bonnie pressed her back against the rough brick of the Salvatore boarding house, gulping down the night air like she was drowning. Her hand traveled to her throat, to the bare skin under her turtleneck.

He wouldn't give it back. He had no reason to.

It would be just another part of him that was lost to her.

And the loss weighed heavy on her shaky frame. It pressed down on the jagged, fractured remains of her ribcage until it leaked from her in bitter streams and unrelenting gasps.

She was meant to go back in there. If she didn't, he would eventually come for her.

How was she supposed to face him like this?

Wiping roughly at her face, Bonnie forced herself to clear her mind. Slowly and, at first, quite unsuccessfully, she struggled to control her ragged breathing. Gradually, forcing herself to take even breaths passed the restricting pain in her chest became easier until she was left with only the occasional hitch.

The shaking, she figured, would stop in its own time.

She'd give herself a few more minutes before heading back inside. Maybe by then, she'd feel more human and less like a hollowed out shell.

A shrill ring shattered the quiet around her and Bonnie startled away from the wall. She blindly seized her phone from her back pocket, barely registering the words flashing across its screen. She really didn't have the strength to talk to anyone right now–

The name Lucy caught her eye just as she made to cancel the call.

Had it been anyone else, Bonnie wouldn't have hesitated, but Lucy had called only last week. As much as both women hoped to stay in touch, Bonnie somehow doubted her cousin planned on making these phone calls a weekly thing. Not to mention she had to know it was the middle of the night here, even with the time difference between them.

Taking a bracing breath, Bonnie answered the call.

"Lucy? You okay?"

"Me?" Lucy's voice sounded tired on the other end. "How are you? You sound like shit."

"I feel like shit," Bonnie admitted, surprised but also gently pleased that she had somehow noticed.

"Mm," Lucy commiserated. "That makes two of us. I did a spell the other day that kind of took it out of me; spent most of today sleeping. Could be worse, I guess. Actually, that's kind of why I called."

"Is something wrong?"

"That depends: do the words 'in pulsu cordis' mean anything to you?"

A breath caught sharply in Bonnie's throat as the world ground down to a halt. "Where did you hear those words?"

"I found them in a dream. I was in a forest in the dead of night, fog everywhere, and there was this sound of a heart beating. It was loud and it seemed to be following me, and the deeper I went in the forest, the louder it got. Just when I thought I'd lose my mind, a woman appeared in the distance. I couldn't make her out, but I could see she was pointing at something behind me and when I turned around, there was a tree with those words carved into them and, somehow, I knew they weren't meant for me. They were for you."

Bonnie's heart beat a wild, staccato rhythm in her chest.

Was she an idiot? Had she been so blinded by her anger with Emily that she couldn't see what was right in front of her?

"I figured this was either meant as a warning or a piece of guidance," Lucy continued thoughtfully. "Either way, I hope it helps."

Bonnie shut her eyes, suddenly overcome. "It – I –" Her throat constricted, but she still managed a small, "Thank you."

"Hey," Lucy soothed, her voice a warm blanket after such a long day. "It's what we Bennett women do. I'm sure you'll pay me back someday."

"In a heartbeat," she whispered. "Look, I – I've got to go."

"Call me soon. We'll talk."

Bonnie smiled softly. "I will."

She tucked her phone away and eyed the entrance to the boarding house with new apprehension. There was a chance this wouldn't work – maybe she was completely wrong and just jumping to conclusions, but…

It was a risk she was willing to take.

Damon noticed her entrance from where he was sprawled on one of the couches, nursing a bourbon and looking petulant. Lifting a curious brow, he slowly straightened up.

"Finally ready to talk?"

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. He could hear it too, 'cause he stood up and held out a hand like he was preparing to catch her if she passed out. She did feel a little lightheaded and weak in the knees, but she chose not to focus on that and swallowed forcefully past the dryness in her mouth.

"Bonnie...?" Concern coloured his voice, but he kept his distance.

Closing her eyes, she came to a halt and concentrated on the magic inside her. She imagined stretching it into velvet and wrapping it around the words trapped behind her lips. She would surround them with everything she had to offer and release them into the world with all the hope she had denied herself since coming back.

And then she spoke.

"In pulsu cordis."

The words held power; she could taste it on her tongue as they spilled from her lips, could feel it saturating the air around her as she opened her eyes.

Damon stood bewildered before her, his head canted to one side. "What in the hell–?"

He dropped suddenly to his knees, his tumbler falling from his grasp as he clutched his head between his hands and folded in on himself. A sharp, unnecessary breath tore from his lungs and he gritted his teeth as if to keep from screaming, but a short cry of pain escaped him anyway.

He fell forward onto his hands, arms shaking with the effort to keep from collapsing. He groaned deeply, a shudder running up the length of his spine before he eventually settled.

An unnatural hush fell over the room. Everything was so fixed and silent that Bonnie's still racing pulse was deafening by comparison.

After what felt like an eternity, Damon peeled himself away from the floor and sat back on his haunches, his expression unreadable. And then, so quickly it was hard to keep track of, it began to shift – from confusion to wonder to fear to joy to fury and back to confusion again. Over and over it went in a strange kaleidoscope of emotion.

Slowly, he began to look about the room, taking careful inventory of his surroundings. The longer he looked, the less lost he seemed. He was coming back to himself, his uncertainty shedding from him like a second skin until, finally, his eyes landed on her.

He stared at her with such open awe and disbelief it stole her breath away.

"Bonnie," he spoke, his voice softer than a whisper – almost too quiet to be heard at all.

Then he was standing in front of her, just out of reach as his gaze traced over her frame again and again. Even if she stretched forward, he would be hovering at the edge of her fingertips.

"Bonnie," he repeated like a prayer.

He moved to step forward then stopped, his blue eyes widening in distress. He shook his head, stepping back, a look of horror settling on his features.

She knew, even before she made to grab him… "Damon."

…That he would be gone before she reached the end of his name.