First I would like to send a big thank you to everyone who's reading this story, and especially to those of you who took the time to review or added me to their story alert/favourites. Crazy people! You guys rock. I'm glad you liked the first chapter and hopefully you'll continue to enjoy.
Food for thought: So in this story we're going to be dealing with Human Damon, so he's not going to be exactly like the Damon we all know and love, though I do want to find aspects of that man in this version of him (a very difficult task). Will we ever meet Vampire Damon in this story? That's for me to know and you to...
There was a loose spring pressing into the muscles of her back through the mattress. She tried shifting away from it only to press awkwardly against her broken arm. That woke her up. Her eyes flung open as someone came over to her side. The rough cotton blanket rubbed against her as she tried to sit up causing an uncomfortable itching sensation and an arm gently manoeuvred around her back to offer assistance.
"Shh. It's fine. Here, drink this. It should help with the pain."
The arm slide away from her back and reappeared in front of her holding a glass of something extremely unappetizing in appearance. The hand, Bonnie grazed slightly as she took the glass, was warm and supple, and the colouring was similar to her own.
Staring down into the contents of the glass despondently, Bonnie could pick out the faint scent of lemon and – Oh God. Was that garlic? Deciding against drinking the mixture, she held it loosely in her lap and looked up. Emily stared back at her.
NO! This can't be happening. I have to be dreaming. Please, please, let me be dreaming.
Slowly she looked around the room and took in the details. The furniture was antique, the bed itself was pretty plain, but the vanity and small writing desk and chair were definitely dated. And that date was screaming 1864. Bonnie allowed her gaze to fall back on Emily, who was in turn studying her. Her clothes were in the same style they had appeared to be in her dreams. This was really happening.
"How?" Bonnie asked more to herself than anyone else. What went wrong?
Misinterpreting her question, Emily answered. "Mr. Salvatore brought you inside when you passed out from the pain. Miss Katherine, my mistress, asked me to look after you, as I am very well versed in the art of healing, though it is not one of my regular duties. You have been unconscious for the past few hours. How did you come to be in such a state?"
Bonnie felt her muscles tighten reflexively. She was in a completely different time period, when being someone of colour was not the most fortunate of circumstances, with a very human Damon and Stefan and a very non-human Katherine. Emily could be a potential ally, though honestly, she didn't exactly trust her. As it was right now, she didn't have a way to get back to her time without Emily's Grimoire, so it looked like she would have to take that risk... 'cause that was working out so well for her so far.
"Maybe we should start with a different question. Like who I am."
Emily raised an eyebrow in interest. "And who is that?"
It felt like she was about to choke on her tongue, but she managed to force it out. "My name... is Bonnie Bennett. I'm your descendent."
Emily was much faster than she looked. She was across the room and at the window so quickly, it almost brought back Bonnie's dizziness. She watched her curiously as she peered outside, locking on to something in the distance. Seeming satisfied she made her way back over to Bonnie.
"That would explain the curious attire and why I feel as if I know you from somewhere." She gazed at her, more intently now and Bonnie shifted uncomfortably. It was like she was peering into her soul. "How did you come to be here?"
"There was this spell, in you Grimoire, for time manipulation..." Emily raised an eyebrow again, obviously intrigued.
"And why would you need a spell like that?"
"The Salvatore brothers –"
"No. Do not tell me. I was foolish to ask. You mustn't alter anything, and if I were to gain knowledge of future events I may inadvertently stop them from happening."
"Why create a spell if you don't want to change the future?"
"I have yet to created the spell you speak of," she answered, a small smile pulling at one corner of her lips, "Perhaps I created it to send you back."
"Oh." Well that would be ironic. Wait – "So, you're saying you can't send me back?"
"Not presently, no. And considering the volatile nature of time, I will presume that this will be no simple feat. You may be here for awhile."
"Oh God." She could feel panic start to build in her chest.
"The most I can do for you now is help you adjust. I can give you some suitable attire and perhaps find you work."
"Work? Doing what?"
"I have a feeling I may have to keep an eye on you, so a job within the household would be most agreeable."
"Like cleaning?"
"Yes."
"Like a servant?"
"Of course." There was a sense of amusement lacing her tone, making her seem almost approachable.
If Bonnie had to pull a 'yes Massa' she was going to smack a fool. There was no way she would be able to handle being subservient to anyone. Oh god, she was probably going to get herself whipped for lack of obedience, and if that happened someone was going to get burned.
"As long as you keep your head down and mind your tongue, no one will see you." Emily assured her, reading the panic in her eyes.
Great. The two things she was not good at.
"A word of advice. It would be in your best interest if Miss Katherine were to remain unaware of our relation. Perhaps you could go by a different surname... and the Salvatore brothers, you should avoid contact with them, lest you should alter history."
That was kind of the point of performing the spell in the first place, though this wasn't quite what she'd had in mind. She decided to keep that thought to herself.
"You should drink that." Emily indicated the drink resting on her lap. She had almost forgotten about. it
"Right." She said, and tried not to make a face. Well, she thought, lifting the vile smelling concoction to her lips, here's to taking risks.
This dress was unbearable! It was hot and itchy and it felt like she was choking. Bonnie pulled at the collar fruitlessly, wishing for the umpteenth time she could just wear her regular clothes. She alternated between dusting the shelf and its contents distractedly and fiddling with her collar. How did people do this every day? The fabric of the dress seemed to retain heat rather than letting it escape, and as if moving around in this thing wasn't difficult enough, she had a petticoat, which was a bitch to get on.
Voices floated down the hall towards her, slowly getting louder. Bonnie straightened suddenly and focused harder on her dusting. Better to look busy than incompetent.
"I'll go if they draft me, but I am not signing up for the army to fight for a cause that I do not believe in." That was Damon.
"It's not about believing in anything. It's about making something of yourself." This voice was older and very commanding, and it was coming closer.
Damon turned the corner and entered the room, his eyes looking towards the ceiling. He was obviously annoyed. "You would rather I die in battle trying to make a name for myself, than find something I would wish to spend the rest of my life doing?"
"If it were something other than loose women and drinking, then yes. You're old enough Damon. I will not coddle anymore."
Emily was right. They didn't even seem to notice she was in the room. She couldn't imagine having such a personal conversation in front of a stranger. Though the idea of Damon shirking off responsibility wasn't that new to her, it was disconcerting hearing it from a stranger. Even if that stranger was his father. Especially since that stranger was his father. Peeking subtly up at the ornate mirror hanging from the wall just to the left of her, she watched them. His father looked even more commanding than he sounded. Standing quite a bit shorter than Damon he still seemed to manage to tower over him.
"When have you ever coddled me?" Damon challenged him, his eyes blazing with indignation and something akin to hurt. It was making her uncomfortable.
"You refused to go to college. I allowed it. You refused to apprentice. I allowed it. You refused to look at the family business. I allowed that. But I will make no more allowances. You are going to the army, Damon!"
"I will go when they draft me, and no sooner!"
"Boy, you will do as I say or by God I swear –"
Coughing loudly, she waited until she could feel their gazes turn on her, and took the moment to smile over her shoulder in what she hoped was an apologetic manner, but felt a little strained. She never thought she'd indirectly stand up for Damon Salvatore, but she felt like she was caught in the middle here and she couldn't take anymore.
Salvatore senior seemed to take the hint well enough. His posture stiffened in response to having an audience and he turned his attention sharply back to Damon, who had yet to look away from her, a calculating look in his eyes, as if she were some puzzle he were trying to work out. His father either didn't notice or simply didn't care about his son's lack of attention for he managed a clenched, "We will discuss this further at another time," then he turned, almost completely on the balls of his feet and walked away.
Bonnie made it a point to focus on the way the dust particles hung in the air around the object she was dusting before settling on it once more, and not on the man staring at her intently from behind. Dusting had to be the most redundant chore in the world.
"Have you always worked here?"
She had been hoping that he would just leave. She should have known better. Damon had a knack for doing the exact opposite of what she wanted him to do. Biting down on her lip she weighed her options. She knew what she wanted to do: ignore him, but because of her... position, that probably wasn't the best option.
"Girl?"
"No. I'm new." She answered as simply as possible. She was probably being disrespectful by keeping her back to him, but she wasn't interested in engaging in conversation, and since conversation was 40 percent eye contact (or for them, more realistically, 59 percent eye contact/ 41 percent invasion of personal boundaries), this seemed a pretty effective way of discouraging it.
"Have we seen each other before?"
"No."
"Then how did you know my name?"
Her hand froze mid-swipe. She had forgotten she had called him by name. Great. How are you going to get out of this one Bonnie? Slowly, she began to dust again as an excuse started to form. "I... saw your portrait once."
"Where was this?" He sounded completely perplexed.
Yeah Bonnie, where? Her hand stilled again while she pondered... Nothing was coming to her and the longer she hesitated, the thicker she could feel the silence getting. She lifted her eyes to the mirror and caught his, sprouting the most plausible answer."I can't remember. It was a while ago."
He was looking at her then, as if he were expecting more of an explanation. She tried to swallow around the dryness in her mouth.
"It had your name on it. That's how I recognized you." He looked sceptical, so she added hastily, "And your eyes. No one has eyes like yours."
Said eyes widened suddenly, a slight redness tinting his cheeks. Was Damon Salvatore blushing?
"Are you always this forward?"
That was forward?
"Uh, yes? I suppose so. Is that bad?" She wasn't going to be punished for mentioning his eyes, was she?
"No. It's admirable."
She could feel the uncomfortable heat work its way up from her neck into her cheeks, stinging them slightly. What was this; a blushing competition? Bonnie searched the recesses of her mind for something to say, but couldn't find anything, and so she took that as a sign to turn her attention back to her work while awkwardly waiting for the heat to fade from her cheeks. A silence seemed to stretch on for ages until she was certain the conversation was finished. But of course, she was wrong.
"Do you have a name?"
"Yes, I have a name." She snorted, derisively before she could stop herself. She couldn't decide whether to be offended or amused.
Damon was having the same problem, not knowing how to respond to her obvious disregard to social decorum.
"Will you tell me what is, or will I have to guess?" A familiar smirk ghosting at his lips, not quite there yet.
Should she tell him? Would that change the future too much? Didn't she want to change the future? She glanced up into the reflection of his eyes again. Even just standing there, there was something very vulnerable about Damon Salvatore. He was so easy to read, so open; it was hard to imagine that anyone like this could turn into such a heartless bastard. 'Katherine really effed him up.'
"Or would you prefer I continue to call you Girl?"
She could feel the corner of her lips pull up despite herself.
"It's Bonnie."
"Bonnie." He spoke softly, tasting the word on his tongue before smiling in return.
She frowned suddenly and turned stiffly back to her work. Unconsciously, she rubbed her neck to erase the feeling of phantom fangs sinking into it. That happened sometimes, when he smiled too widely. It was like his teeth were breaking deeper through her skin the further his lips pulled apart. Good. A constant reminder of the man he'll become.
This was the last thing she wanted: seeing another side of Damon. She didn't need or want to start making excuses for his behaviour. He was a monster, nothing more. She needed him to be a monster otherwise she would turn into one herself. Bonnie was very much aware of the part she had played in all that had happened in the past months. If she couldn't blame someone else she'd go crazy with blaming herself. She'd be frozen by guilt and remorse; too afraid to make a move lest she hurt someone else. Blaming Damon made her strong enough to continue fighting. If she couldn't hate him she'd fall apart.
"Your arm. Does it hurt?"
Bonnie looked at the make shift sling her left arm was strung in. She'd be lucky if it reset properly, but other than that, Emily's God awful concoction actually managed to help ease the pain and it had lessened to a dull constant throb. It would be a long while before she could use it though. Good thing she was right handed.
"It's manageable." She replied as shortly as possible.
"It looked broken."
"It is." Go away, Damon. She tried to mentally transmit the message.
"You said you fell?"
"Yes."
"How exactly did you come to be in such a state?"
"Like you said, I fell." Leave. Leave.
"Yes I gathered that, but –"
"I have work to do." Subtlety obviously wasn't working.
"Are – are you... dismissing me?" he said, sounding completely flummoxed.
She turned to him suddenly, biting her lip in trepidation. Maybe she should have stuck with subtle. She really didn't want any trouble. "No. I'm... simply... emphasizing the importance of my work."
"You are. You're dismissing me." His face seemed to be in a battle with itself, unable to decide what signal it was receiving from his brain, until finally it settled somewhere between befuddlement, awe and amusement.
"Look, I just don't want any trouble, Damon – Salvatore – Mr. Salvatore."
The ghost smirk was back, playing at the corners of his lips. "Of course. I understand. Keep your head down and no one will notice you."
"Right. And it's harder to do that with a certain someone talking to me." She added pointedly.
Genuine amusement was sparkling in his crystalline blue eyes as he smiled and said, "I should probably be offended by your lack of decorum, but I find it difficult to fault you for something I myself lack. I never have been very good at doing what is expected of me." His smile slipped slightly as his thoughts went to earlier. "I will leave you to your work, Bonnie."
And with that Damon Salvatore made his way into the adjoining hall and out of sight. A tension Bonnie didn't even realize she was holding slide slowly from her muscles and she looked dolefully back at the shelf. God, she hated dusting.