Disclaim!

What's this? Another update to AE in less than a month? I'm on a freakin' roll! lol.

I really think you guys are going to like this one... I certainly hope so. This chapter is jam-packed with STUFF. Lots happens so I'll definitely want to hear what you thought of everything. I'm actually really nervous about this chapter. GAH! (Attempts to shake out nerves). Fair warning, there is some dark subject matter towards the middle so be prepared for that.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to review! I can't always respond to everyone, but I want to make sure you know I'm grateful for your support.

FFT - Giuseppe Salvatore does not make sense on TVD. He's cold-blooded enough to shoot both of his sons simply because they were trying to save Katherine from imprisonment. He would rather pass off their deaths as a heroic lie than risk anyone finding out the truth and ruining his good name. Yet when Damon abandons the army we see no punishment for his actions... Realistically, Damon would have probably been disowned so... I'm going to pretend that Giuseppe chose to save face by paying some people off (or something) and, much like a Godfather, making the problem disappear.

Bonnie wrung her hands pointlessly as she attempted, once again, to quiet her growing anxiety. She paced a hole into the floor in front of Lenore's stall while the horse munched thoughtfully on her evening meal.

It had been over two weeks since she'd heard anything from Damon and with each new day that passed her paranoia grew. Stefan had reassured her that this was nothing to be concerned about, that there were a multitude of reasons for why they had not received word from him. Logically, Bonnie agreed, but emotionally, she was in turmoil.

She wished she could go back to a time when she didn't give a rat's ass about Damon Salvatore. Her life had been so much easier then.

She snorted suddenly, aware that going back in time was what got her into this position in the first place.

Really, she just wished she had someone to talk to about these things. Stefan was probably more worried than he let on and she didn't want to upset him further with her own fears. Emily was obviously out of the question and it didn't feel right laying this at Gladys's feet, so that just left Lenore...

Sure Lenore wasn't human, but she had ears and, at the moment, that was good enough for Bonnie. She needed to talk at something; she needed to vent. Unfortunately, she couldn't do that. Most of the stable workers had retired for the day, but she was aware that there was still a stable boy in one of the stalls at the end grooming a horse.

If only he'd leave so she could talk to herself like a crazy person!

As if hearing her thoughts, the boy popped out of the stall and gave Bonnie a small, shy smile. She halted her pacing to try and smile back, but it felt all wrong on her face so she bobbed her head politely instead. Closing the stall door behind him, the boy meandered outside.

Exhaling deeply, Bonnie waited for his small frame to disappear across the manicured lawn before turning to face the horse. "He's dead."

Lenore shook out her main.

"No, you're right. He's not dead. He's fine. He's – God, he's probably doing something reckless and stupid. With his luck, he'll get injured."

Of course! That was it. Bonnie felt a weight lift from her chest and she almost laughed in relief.

"Yes! Yes, of course. That's why he can't write! He's been shot in the arm and – oh God, the wound's been infected and if they don't cut it off he'll die. No," she buried her head in her hands and gave herself a shake, "I'm being hysterical. He's fine, right?"

Lenore whinnied and dipped her head to get another mouthful of feed. Bonnie took that as consent.

"Right. He's perfectly fine, so I have no reason to panic – but it would be just like him to get himself killed."

"I can assure you, Miss Bordeaux, you have nothing to fear."

Bonnie's spine snapped ramrod straight, her heart beating hard against her ribs.

It couldn't be...

She spun around to find Damon Salvatore looking whole and hearty in his gray uniform. She felt her jaw go slack and he smiled fondly at her expression, continuing, "He is returned to you perfectly unharmed. He did promise, after all."

Was this some kind of weird dream? Was she hallucinating right now?

Never in her life could she have imagined feeling so happy or relieved to see Damon Salvatore of all people.

Her legs unlocked as the shock turned to joy and she was rushing across the stable to throw herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck just as he caught her around the middle. They squeezed each other close as if ensuring the other person was real and in their arms.

"Damon," she whispered against his shoulder. He smelt like an odd mixture of dust and something spicy – that distinct, ever present Damon smell that she liked so much.

He held her tighter and whispered back, "How I've missed you, Bonnie." Then he laughed gaily, giving her a quick spin and making her squeal before setting her down and releasing her.

"How is this –" she began at the same time he said, "I see your arm –"

They both stopped short, smiling sheepishly before trying again to much the same effect.

Laughing, Damon relented with a flourish of his hand and a bow of his head, "After you."

"No, no. You first," she insisted, trying desperately to reign in... everything: her smile, her curiosity, the sheer giddiness coursing through her veins.

"I take it you are well. Your arm has healed quite nicely, I see."

"Yeah, yeah, it's –" She really didn't care about her arm right now. Unable to hold back any longer, she bombarded him with questions, "How is this even possible? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to Cold Harbour. What happened?"

His eyes became downcast as he took off his cap and fisted it. "I had a change of heart."

"What do you mean?"

"I found I had no taste for battle so I took my leave of it."

Her eyes widened as she grasped what he was saying. "You just left? Isn't that dangerous?"

"No more so than battle." He paused a moment and when he spoke again his voice was barely audible. "Do you think me a coward for not staying?"

Surprised at the question, she shook her head though he couldn't see it and replied honestly, "No. I think it takes a certain kind of bravery to walk away from all that knowing what the consequences might be."

She had studied in her history class some of the stuff they did to deserters in the Civil War if they were caught. Some were imprisoned, many executed. It made her stomach turn thinking about the risk Damon had taken coming back here.

Gratitude and something Bonnie couldn't put her finger on, something that made her heart beat a little faster, flashed in Damon's blue orbs as he finally raised his head. He looked reassured by her words, but she noticed a tension around his shoulders that hadn't been released and realized he wasn't safe just yet.

There was still his father to deal with and Giuseppe Salvatore was going to blow a gasket.

Ever in tune with her train of thought, Damon frowned. "If only my father could be persuaded to believe so."

Bonnie winced in sympathy. "Does he know?"

"I imagine he has had word of it by now."

"What do you think he'll do?" she asked reluctantly, not really wanting to contemplate what his father might deem a suitable punishment.

"The possibilities are infinite, Bonnie," Damon jested with a lightness that didn't carry. "I know not. He has made no mention of my desertion to Stefan."

"How do you know?"

"I came upon my brother and Miss Katherine moments before coming to find you. Stefan asked if I was on leave."

"Did you tell him the truth?"

"Not in any particulars, but he knows I have absconded if that is what you mean," he answered with an amused lift of his brow.

"You should tell him," she persuaded, nodding her head encouragingly for added effect. "He won't judge you for it."

He took a step closer and she concentrated really hard on the hat he was still holding. She could feel his gaze sliding over her frame as he studied her intently. "Perhaps I may, if I can steal him away from Miss Katherine for the length of time required to tell him."

He had been here for two seconds and he already saw the difference between Stefan and Katherine. She wondered if that bothered him. He didn't sound bothered, but she couldn't tell for certain.

Biting her lip, she wondered if she should ask him.

She rejected the idea as soon as it formed. That had bad move written all over it.

Damon cleared his throat, pulling her attention back to the moment at hand. "If I am thrown to the streets and made a desperate man, I wonder if you might..." he hesitated and she peeked up at him from under her lashes. His pupils were large as he stared back at her and finished, "have me."

Her heart jumped out of her chest, trying to process what he was asking her. Damon, for his part, looked shell shocked. His eyes wider than she'd ever seen them, he straightened up to his full height and held his hands aloft as he attempted to correct himself, "Take me! – No! I mean –"

His cheeks flamed and he pressed his eyes closed, shaking his head ardently as he backpedalled, "That is to say, I wonder if you might shelter me for a short time. Till I found something."

Bonnie pressed her lips together hard to keep from laughing and failed miserably. Even though her pulse was still skipping it didn't hinder her amusement. For the first time since getting to 1864 she wished she had a camera – that had been priceless.

Poor Damon looked like he was about to burst from embarrassment, so she tempered her laughter. "Well, my room is about the size of one these stalls so it would be a tight squeeze, but I'm sure we could make it work."

His embarrassment melted away from him, though the remnants of it still stained his cheeks, and he managed to look her in the eye when he asked, "Truly?"

She shifted, wiping her suddenly very sweaty palms on the rough skirt of her dress. "Of course. What are friends for?"

His gaze dropped and he nodded. "Of course."

"When do you think you'll talk to your father?"

"Ah," he sighed, "I will be postponing that delightful tête-a-tête for as long as possible."

"You can't avoid it forever."

"Yes well, it will hold until after supper," he remarked dryly, then meeting her stare head on he asked somberly, "Will you meet with me tonight? At our tree? I fear I may need a friend and there's so much I wish to say to you."

Bonnie swallowed past the dryness of her throat and promised, "I'll be there."

The moon was bright overhead as Bonnie made her way towards the oak tree, so much so that she didn't have to strain her eyes to see in front of her. She glanced skyward and was overwhelmed by the countless stars blinking back at her. She had never seen so many stars in her life and never as clearly as she could now.

The hot, luminous lights spilled across the night sky and she felt giddy looking at them all. Or maybe it wasn't the perfect view of the Milky Way that sent excitement thrumming through her veins. If she were going to be honest she'd admit to feeling buzzed ever since seeing Damon again.

She thought distance between them over the last month would have helped to lessen her growing attachment, but it only seemed to make it worse. She had thought about him more while he was gone than she had when she saw him every day.

Deep down Bonnie was a pragmatist and, although she was feeling uncharacteristically frivolous at the moment, she knew that nothing good could come from having a crush on Damon Salvatore at any point in time.

But she couldn't magically force herself to stop feeling something for him, she knew that. Although she wondered if there was something she could do to make things easier for herself.

Racking her brain for a solution, her footsteps slowed.

She could always stop hanging around him altogether, but Damon would hound her until he knew why she didn't want to be around him anymore and she couldn't think of a plausible reason that he would listen to. Plus, she really didn't want to stop seeing him. It might be the crush talking, but he was one of the best things about this place.

There seemed to be only one thing for it –

A scream ripped across the quiet grounds and Bonnie froze, her heart beating wildly, body coiled and ready for action. She listened harder for any disturbances and scanned the grounds ahead. There was forest on her left and the sprawling manor on her right. Frustration and fear bubbled in her chest. She had no idea where the scream had come from. It had sounded close, that much she was sure of.

Another, shorter scream burst out into the night and she spun. It had come from the manor. She ran as fast as she could, the wind whistling in her ears as she bounded forward. The closer she got, the more concerned she grew, the more she could make out sounds of a fight.

She stopped in front of the outside entrance to the kitchens, the one used for deliveries. The commotion was coming from inside. She took a deep breath to steady her shaking hands.

Slowly, carefully, she gripped the knob on the door and turned, pushing it forward. She opened it just enough for her to squeeze through and quickly pressed herself against the wall closest to her and peered around the corner.

She spotted Thomas. His back was to her and he was struggling against a woman, Bonnie couldn't see who. He was trying to force the girl's arms down to her sides while simultaneously keeping his hand plastered over her mouth to stop her screaming. The woman was giving him a hell of a time though: kicking at him when he tried to lift her off the floor and tossing her head back in an attempt to catch his nose, but she was too short, only managing to hit his collarbone.

Bonnie was moving forward when Thomas spun the woman around and knocked her hard against the side of her face.

Shock froze Bonnie in the centre of the room.

It was Gladys.

Bonnie felt paralyzed and dazed, her eyesight blurring as she heard Gladys topple backwards and hit her head off the side of a table, her body crumpling limply against the stone floor.

Bile rose at the back of Bonnie's throat and the shock was washed away by white, hot rage. She felt her muscles unlock and she blinked through the blurring of her eyes to see Thomas struggling to hike Gladys's skirt.

Without thought Bonnie raised her arm and lifted the smarmy, little bastard from the ground. He shrieked, flailing and trying to look around himself, but Bonnie held him firmly facing away from her. She didn't want to look at him. She wanted to kill. She wanted to crush him like the bug he was.

Something made her hesitate to hurt him though. She had never harmed a human before, let alone killed one and she knew deep in her bones that if she did now, as justified she would feel, it would destroy something inside of her that she would never get back. Thomas wasn't worth that.

Instead, she took great satisfaction in slamming him roughly into one wall and then the other before tossing his newly unconscious form gracelessly on the ground. Pots and pans clattered loudly around him, some landing on his prone frame.

Bonnie began to move across the kitchen to where Gladys lay when she heard her name being spoken, as soft as a whisper, from behind her.

Her heart stopped.

She knew that voice.

Oh God, please no.

Turning slowly, Bonnie confirmed her fears. Damon Salvatore stood, owl eyed, a few feet away from her.

She endeavored not to let the panic squeezing her stomach into knots overwhelm her. There was a chance he hadn't seen anything. There was a chance he had come just now to find her standing in the middle of the kitchens with two unconscious bodies at her feet.

She studied his features closely looking for clues, but his expression refused to settle. It shifted endlessly between confusion, awe, alarm, wonder, betrayal, excitement, concern and then back again.

The only way she'd know what he'd seen for certain was if she bit the bullet and asked, so steeling herself, she did just that.

"How long have you been here?"

Damon's words tumbled over themselves as he rushed to explain. "I saw you approaching in the distance when you spun suddenly and dashed back from whence you came. You ran as if the hounds of hell were upon you, so I made to follow. I lost you for a time and when I neared the kitchens I heard a ruckus and feared the worst. Only, I entered to find you holding this man suspend mid-air... and then you," he made a sweeping motion reminiscent of the one she'd made as she flung Thomas about the room.

Damon shook his head, frowning and looked at the bodies on the ground, then at Bonnie, then back at the bodies. All the while his hands grasped aimlessly at the space in front of him. What he was reaching for, Bonnie had no idea. Perhaps an explanation.

Her teeth pressed firmly into her bottom lip as she debated whether to give him time to freak out or try and talk him through it.

"How..." Damon started, struggling to find the right words, "how could this be? How is it so? You did not touch him and yet you moved him as though he weighed nothing. Did my eyes deceive me? ...How could this be?"

Balling her hands into fists, she prayed she wasn't about to make a serious mistake.

"No, you're right. I did," she confessed.

His eyes snapped to hers wide and disbelieving. "How?"

A groan from behind her reminded her that now was not the time or place for this discussion.

Wary of how he might react, she inched her way closer to Damon. He made no move to put space between them, nor did he look overly concerned or frightened as she approached. She felt herself relax slightly.

"Look, I'll explain everything, I promise, but right now I need to take care of Gladys."

His gaze flashed to Gladys's crumpled form and he nodded. "Of course. What... what happened here?"

She grimaced. "Thomas tried to..." she laboured to find a tasteful way to phrase it, "take advantage of her."

"Good Lord." He stiffened and leveled her with a look so intense it sent a shudder down her spine as he promised, "I'll have him lynched."

Not knowing how to respond, she ducked her head and glanced over at Gladys. Thinking about it, she wouldn't be able to take the unconscious girl very far at her own. Sighing, she said, "Damon, I may need your help."

"What do you need of me?"

"I'll need help carrying her to my room."

She moved to kneel beside Gladys and raised one of her lifeless arms over her shoulder. When time passed and Damon had yet to move from his spot, she shot him a curious look.

"Cannot you lift her as you did the man?"

"I could," she answered with what she hoped was a non-threatening smile, "but then someone might see me."

"Ah."

He quickly joined Bonnie on Gladys's other side and together they hoisted her to her feet. Without hesitating, Damon slid his other arm under Gladys's knees and lifted her off the floor, carrying all her weight himself.

When they reached her room, Damon set Gladys down gently on Bonnie's bed. Bonnie grabbed the coarse brown blanket she had thrown at the edge of the bed and draped it loosely over her comatose friend.

When she was done, she turned to find Damon watching her intently. "You said you would explain."

Her pulse raced under her skin and she took a shaky breath. "I did and I will, but not now. I need to get Emily. She needs to look at Gladys, make sure she's alright."

His eyes were bright in the dark of her room as he studied her. A long moment passed before he nodded. "Yes, Emily, of course. You're right."

The silence stretched painfully as both waited for the other to do or say something.

Finally, after what felt a lifetime, Damon asked, "When?"

"Tomorrow. Meet me at our tree and I'll explain."

He nodded again, making to leave and a sudden fear gripped her.

"Damon?"

He spun back to face her. "Yes?"

"Please, don't tell anyone about what you saw. Not Stefan or – anyone. Please, promise me you won't tell."

His hands curled into fists and he leaned into her personal space, bringing his blue eyes level with hers. "I swear to you, I will speak of this to no one. You can trust me, Bonnie."

Bonnie was a wreck as she stood under the oak tree waiting for Damon.

She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night. Between waking Emily and coming up with a plausible excuse for why there was an injured and unconscious woman in her bed, worrying about Gladys and worry about what she was going to say to Damon, Bonnie hadn't been able to relax long enough to shut her eyes.

All day she had felt frayed and on edge. She kept expecting someone to burst into the room, pointing and screaming, "WITCH! Burn her at the stake!"

She knew she was being ridiculous, that Damon had promised not to tell and she believed he wouldn't, but she couldn't silence that tiny voice of doubt.

What if he changes his mind?

Throughout the day when she wasn't mindlessly polishing silverware, she was checking in on Gladys.

The night before Emily had tended to her wounds and Gladys had woken not long afterwards. She had been confused and frightened and Bonnie had given her the same excuse she had given Emily for why she was in Bonnie's room – that Bonnie had gone to get a midnight snack when she found Gladys being attacked and had taken a frying pan to the back of Thomas's head and then dragged Gladys back to her room for safety.

Gladys had panicked about Thomas coming after Bonnie, but she reassured the girl that Thomas hadn't even seen her. He would have no idea what happened.

Both Emily and Bonnie agreed that Gladys should stay in bed for the day and so Bonnie had been bringing meals to her from the kitchens. On all three of her trips to the kitchen, Bonnie had kept an eye out for Thomas but he was nowhere to be found.

Now she stood peeling the bark off the oak's trunk just to keep her hands busy. It wasn't like Damon to be late. He was usually here before her...

What if he didn't show?

What if he's afraid of me?

That was something Bonnie had never thought possible and now that it was it made her feel sick.

She felt a small piece of wood chip off and prick her right under her nail. Hissing, she brought her finger to her lips and sucked, all the while keeping her eyes glued to where Damon would be coming from.

Something white could be vaguely distinguished in the distance. She squinted trying to make out what it was and didn't have any luck until it was a stone's throw away.

Relief and anxiety swirled through Bonnie as she made out Damon's tall frame. His expression was unreadable and his usually unruly hair even messier, like he'd been running his hands through it non-stop.

Once he was in hearing distance she confessed, "I wasn't sure you would come."

His brow crumpled. "Why ever not?"

"Because of what you saw?"

He frowned, remembering something. "Thomas has been given leave. I enlisted Stefan to place a complaint against him to Father." Bonnie made to interrupt and Damon lifted a hand to signal her not to. "I told him only that I had come upon Thomas attacking a young girl, nothing more. I thought Father would be more receptive if he were to hear it from Stefan rather than myself."

"Thank you for doing that."

"What else was I to do?" he shrugged.

She lifted a curious brow as she took in his relaxed form. "So you're not... frightened of me?"

"Frightened?" He crossed his arms and titled his head, speaking cavalierly, "Perhaps. Perhaps I am overcome with terror. I have no way of knowing as I do not know what it is that I saw."

Clever, Bonnie smirked internally. Externally she bit her lip and nodded.

She had been brainstorming ways to handle this situation all day and the best she could come up with was the truth. Well a part of the truth at least.

Taking in a large, shaky breath she said in a voice so low she hoped he missed it altogether, "I'm a witch."

His eyes bugged. "A witch? Is this the truth of it?"

"It is."

"Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn, and cauldron bubble," he recited absently to himself as he looked at her like he'd never seen her before.

Bonnie shook her head. "No, it's nothing like that. I don't use a cauldron. Nor do I speak in rhyme or fly a broomstick."

"But you are magic?"

"I am."

Wariness entered his frame and he subtly shifted a step back, a tiny crease settling between his eyebrows. "Do you..." he began cautiously, "worship the devil?"

She laughed despite herself. "What? No. That's crazy."

He relaxed and came closer, offering a shy, apologetic smile. "I did not think it so, but one ought to be careful."

"Yesterday – what you saw... I don't make it a habit to hurt people, but he was attacking my friend –"

"I understand."

Bonnie noticed the moment Damon's shyness fell away. She could see the sudden eager glint to his electric blue eyes as he studied her.

"May I see?"

She didn't need to ask what he was referring to. "I guess so."

She glanced around her surroundings for inspiration. She needed something simple, non-taxing and yet flashy. Not that she was trying to impress him... Oh, who was she kidding? She totally wanted to impress him.

An idea struck and she smiled, closing her eyes. Taking a cleansing breath, she lifted her hands. Opening her eyes she found a dozen or so leaves floating around her and Damon. Concentrating she set them all on fire making the balls of light bobbed in the air.

Damon spun slowly on the spot trying to take it all in, eventually stopping to face her again. His gaze landed on her, the flames dancing across his features and her pulse jumped. His eyes never strayed from her even as, one by one, the points of light burned out leaving trails of smoke drifting in their wake.

"Extraordinary," he whispered.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. "It was nothing."

"I knew it!" he exclaimed. Rushing forward, he spoke excitedly, "I knew from the first moment of our acquaintance that you were no ordinary woman, but never could I have imagined you to be magic. Stefan would be beside himself if he knew –"

She grabbed his arm, effectively catching his attention. "You can't tell Stefan. You can't tell anyone. You have to promise me."

"Bonnie." He looked shocked and slightly offended that she would ask that of him. "I would sooner die than reveal your secret."

Whoa there. He needed to slow his roll.

Holding her hands up, she protested, "I'm not asking you to take this to the grave or something. If someone were threatening you, I would want you to tell."

He frowned, blue eyes flashing. "I wouldn't. Do you have any notion what they would do to you?"

"I can handle myself. I think you've seen that with your own eyes," she pressed and when she recognized the stubborn set of his jaw she felt her stomach clench.

She wouldn't be able to live with herself if Damon died protecting her secret. The very idea made her nauseous.

Closing the remaining space between them, she took hold of his arms and felt his muscles flexing beneath her fingertips. "Damon, you have to promise me you'll tell if someone ever tries to hurt you."

"No. You misunderstand me. I could not. Every feeling revolts."

Her grip tightened and she just managed to stop herself from shaking him. "I don't care what your feelings are doing! I'm telling you –"

"And I'm telling you!" His voice rose, temper flaring. "It is out of the question. You shall not ask it of me."

He turned her hold against her, clasping her arms with his large hands and forcing her to meet his stare. There was a desperation in his eyes that she hadn't seen before and he softened his tone. "Bonnie, you must know. Surely you must."

His gaze was searching as it bored into hers. When he didn't find what he was looking for he released his hold on her and stepped back. His hands fell lamely to his sides and his focus transferred to the dark grounds beyond their tree.

His brow furrowed and lips turned down. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists. He looked as if he were in pain.

Bonnie couldn't understand the hesitation she felt to voice her concern; she just knew something was happening. Now, in this moment. She could feel the heaviness of it in the air between them and it gave her pause. Eventually, her concern for him won out against her trepidation.

"Are you alright?"

"No," he answered firmly.

The heaviness grew and the quiet stretched and Bonnie had no idea how to fix whatever this was.

"What is it?"

The silence lasted so long she was convinced he wouldn't answer, but then he spoke barely above a whisper, "I am torn. I am... tormented."

She inched forward. "What's wrong? Tell me."

"You?" he laughed without humour. "You are my tormentor."

Breath rushed past her lips in a gasp and she echoed uncomprehendingly, "Me?"

His focus slipped back to her, half bewildered, half charmed, "Are you really so unaware of my affections?"

Bonnie's head spun as she tried understand what he was asking her. "I..."

"I have looked to you time and again for some sign, some inclination towards me; any notion that your feelings may match mine. There are moments when I believe they do only to have you call me friend. I do wish to be your friend, Bonnie – the very best of one, but I am selfish man and I have shown more restraint with you than I have any other thing in my life."

He erased the space separating them in two large strides until he towered over her. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating from off his skin but he made no move to touch her.

Bonnie buried her hands in the folds of her skirt to hide their shaking.

Damon's gaze was determined as he continued, "I would not push you in this matter. I held my tongue for fear that you might feel obligated to reciprocate due to your position in my household, but I can no longer keep my silence."

Her pulse skittered where his fingertips grazed her wrist as he took her hand in his.

"Bonnie, I have loved you for..." he paused, shaking his head. "I know not how long, only that the feeling grows with each day until I am consumed."

She felt like she was flying, falling, drowning. She couldn't breathe. This wasn't possible. This couldn't be happening. She struggled to make sense of it, but her mind was a fog. All she could think of was Damon – blue eyes, black hair, pale skin; his sarcasm, his anger, his joy, his fears, his love – he loved her.

"But Katherine...?" she managed despite her dazed state.

"It is true I was taken with Miss Katherine for a time. I cannot deny this. And though I do still esteem her highly, my regard for you far outweighs what I might have felt for her and has for some time now." His eyes bored into hers and a shiver crawled its slow way up her spine. "I find that you are her superior in every particular."

His other hand swept across her cheek pushing strands of her hair behind her ear. The trail of his fingers lingered on her skin.

"Will you not speak?" he demanded abruptly, "I need... I must know if there is hope – any at all. Please, speak – tell me... please."

As if his head was suddenly too heavy for him to hold, he rested his forehead against hers. His breath fanned warmly over her already heated cheeks.

For once in her life, Bonnie was at a loss for words. She could barely string together a coherent thought let alone a sentence.

Her silence drew on for too long and she felt Damon stiffen in front of her. Slowly, he lifted himself away, dropping her hand and taking a step back. His gaze lowered to the grass at his feet. "I understand."

Seeing him turn to walk away snapped some sense into her and she finally found her voice long enough to confess, "I never get good things. I used to when I was young, but not anymore."

His attention swung back to her and he hovered somewhere between hope and reservation. Everything seemed to stand still as he asked, "Am I a good thing?"

Terrified, but resolute, Bonnie nodded, "You're a very good thing."

At once, Damon was before her. A warm, rough palm cupped her face while he swooped his head down to brush his lips softly along hers. Then all self-possession left him. He pushed her back until she was pressed firmly into the scratchy trunk of the oak and he was flush against her. She could feel every inch of him through the thin cotton of his shirt and he swallowed her groan.

His fingers tangled in her hair skimming across the base of her neck and she shuddered and tried to pull him closer by his suspenders.

He kissed her slowly... thoroughly. She felt like she was on fire. His tongue grazed her bottom lip and she gasped. He dragged his tongue along hers and let his free hand trace down the side of her ribs to rest at her hip.

It took her a while to register the burning in her lungs as a need for oxygen, but when she did she planted her hands against Damon's chest and pushed gently. He jumped back abruptly, looking shamefaced despite the unfocused glaze to his eyes.

Panting heavily, he bowed his head. "Forgive me. I should have shown restraint."

Screw restraint, she almost said but curbed it at the last moment. Instead, she assured, "No. I just needed air."

"Oh," he responded, sounding both surprised and relieved. Peering at her from under his dark lashes, he smirked, "And have you had your fill?"

She was quick to nod yes.