*shyly* Hi.
So... it's been more than a year (I can't believe it's taken me this long - I completely understand if everyone abandons ship). I don't want to say sorry for the millionth time, so instead I'll simply say thank you. The reviews that have continued to trinkle in over the past year... I can't put into words what it means to have you guys showing me any kind of support still. I'm honestly undeserving of the unwavering kindness you continue to show me. Thank you so much, and please, never stop nagging me. I love you guys.
The songs for this chapter are Easy Way Out by Other Lives and Flawed Design by Stabilo (which is actually my personal anthem for Damon in general. I feel it sums him up perfectly - it's practically a character study).
FFT: I agonized over this chapter. I was rewriting entire chunks of it while doing the final read through - I never do that! But I think I finally got it to a place where I don't want to set it on fire anymore. lol. Bonnie is very unsure of how to behave with Damon right now. She knows how everyone expects her to behave, but she also wants their relationship to progress forward and that can't happen if they're always antagonizing each other. So how does she change their relationship without it coming across as a complete 180 on her part...?
Bonnie stared hard at the blank Word Document in front of her.
Despite the multitude of life threatening situations she had to deal with on a weekly basis, she was still a registered high school student and therefore expected to do things like "study" and "hand in assignments."
Apparently, history papers were more important than saving the world. You would think that Alaric, of all people, would be more willing to give an extension.
Frankly, after dealing with all this supernatural crap, school was beginning to feel a little irrelevant.
When was she ever going to use any of this anyway?
Vampire A is traveling at 60 miles per hour. Humans B and C are running through a forest with a total land mass of 125 square feet. How long before Humans B and C die? Oh... and find X.
Concentrate, Bonnie, she urged herself. This paper isn't going to write itself.
She chanced a glance at the tiny numbers at the bottom corner of her computer screen and sighed. 8:39 PM. She had already been at this for half an hour and had literally accomplished nothing. This was getting sad.
Purposefully, she reached forward and typed a few words: her name, Alaric's name, the class number, the date... She sat back, stared at it for a while, and then nodded to herself.
That deserved a five minute brain-break.
As if on cue, the shrill chimes of Bonnie's cell phone cut through the quiet of her room.
She didn't even stop to see who it was before answering,
"Hello?"
"Hey cuz."
She sat up straighter in her computer chair at the unexpected sound of her cousin's voice. It had been a week since they had met at the masquerade. She hadn't thought she'd be hearing from her... ever, to be honest. A pleasant warmth spread inside her at being wrong.
"Lucy. Hey, how are you?"
"Not bad. I'm in Pasadena right now."
"That's in California, isn't it? Nice."
"Yeah, I'm not complaining," Lucy laughed lightly. "So, I've been looking into memory spells –"
"Oh, you didn't need to go out of your way," Bonnie said, frowning.
"I didn't really. I just asked around. The wiccan community is bigger here than it is in that po-dunk town you call home, no offense."
Bonnie's lips quirked in amusement. "That's accurate, so none taken."
"Right well, the thing about memory spells is that they're a bit like snowflakes, each one is unique. Unless it's an all-encompassing, mind-wipe amnesia kind of spell, each memory spell seems to be created to specifically reflect the caster's intentions. Meaning that any counter-spell used would have to be just as specific to be effective. Make sense?"
Bonnie's heart sank pitifully. "So basically, I can't just use any old run-of-the-mill counter-spell."
"Exactly. Though there might be a spell out there strong enough to discredit this rule, it would probably take ages to find it."
A sigh racked past her lips and she sank despondently into the cushions of her chair. "Would it be possible for the memories to come back on their own? Or for the spell to wear off over time?"
"Sure. Just like with non-magically induced amnesia."
Bonnie's spirits rose exponentially, only to plummet seconds later as Lucy continued, "Unless of course, the spell were sealed with some sort of talisman or something. You know the drill."
Indeed she did.
And knowing Emily as she did, she doubted the woman would have left anything to chance. Meaning there was probably a talisman out there somewhere.
Bonnie groaned loudly. She didn't want to think about this anymore. "Let's move on. What are you getting up to? Other than being awesome."
Lucy's warm laughter floated from the phone. "There's this bartender at a club I go to and I'm trying to get him in my pants."
Bonnie released a startled, unrefined snort. "How's that going?"
"Slow..."
The rest of the night was spent with Lucy telling her increasingly outrageous stories, Bonnie's worries promptly forgotten.
It was unseasonably cold for mid-April in Virginia. Bonnie pulled the zipper on her light spring coat until it reached all the way under her chin, and gave a little shiver.
"You okay?" Stefan asked, coming to stop in front of her.
"Yup," she nodded. "The faster we get this over with, the better though."
"So what are we standing around here for? Let's go," Damon said, walking by both of them and heading straight for the tomb.
They followed after him soundlessly. Climbing down the stairs and into the hollowed clearing of the tomb, they found Katherine by the opening of the cavern waiting for them.
It had only been a week since she'd been placed inside her prison, but she already looked rundown. Leaning heavily against the stone wall, her hair and clothing disheveled, she watched them approach.
"Well if it isn't my two favourite toys. Come to join me? There's enough room for both of you," she greeted with all the confidence anyone else would be lacking in the same situation.
"I'd rather gouge my own eyes out, but thanks," Damon retorted.
"We've come to offer a trade," Stefan said, stepping forward.
Katherine hummed disinterestedly, her eyes falling past him and landing on Bonnie. "You brought back up," she noted before leaning further into the wall, her shoulders shaking with mirth. "What's she going to do? Wiggle her nose at me?"
Heat flushed Bonnie's cheeks as she bit back the urge to flip her off. Instead she focused on keeping her features neutral. Katherine would only feed off any response she gave her.
"Something like that," Damon countered so casually that it actually managed to sound threatening.
"What's the Moonstone for, Katherine?" Stefan asked pointedly, in an effort to keep the conversation moving.
Katherine straightened enough to arch an eyebrow in his direction. "Why would I tell you?"
Damon reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a blood bag. He held it far enough in front of him for her to see the red liquid sloshing about inside before singing, "Hungry?"
Her lips pulled back into a sneer as her fingers bit forcefully into the wall beside her. "Fuck you," she snapped. "Do I look that easy?"
"Well let's look at your track record, shall we...?" he paused a few seconds for effect before finishing, "I'm going to go ahead and say yes."
"Please," she scoffed. It was a bitter, ugly sound and it set Bonnie's teeth on edge. "Out of the two of us, who's really the slut here, Damon? You just kept throwing yourself at me, over and over again – you wouldn't take no for an answer."
Bonnie could see the muscles in Damon's back tensing - could feel her own mirroring his, her fists clenching by her sides until her nails bit into her skin.
"You were just so desperate for someone to love you, you'd take anything you could get," Katherine continued unrelentingly, her eyes gleaming with a sick sort of pleasure. "You still are. That's why you've replaced me with Elen – ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Katherine fell to her knees, grasping her head between her hands as she cried out in pain and Bonnie's lips twitched in response.
Katherine could twist things whatever way she wanted, but it didn't change the fact that she was just as much a part of her relationship with Damon as he was. Bonnie wasn't going to stand for anymore of her emotionally manipulative bullshit. And with Katherine weak right now, the witch was pleased to discover her blood vessel popping trick actually had an effect this time.
Both Stefan and Damon spun to look at her, wide-eyed shock mirrored on their features. She shrugged back, replying lightly, "I don't like the sound of her voice as much as she does."
Stefan nodded his approval while a smirk snaked its way across Damon's lips.
"That makes two of us," Damon agreed.
She lifted an eyebrow in his direction, but said nothing. He turned back around and moved closer to Katherine's hunched form.
"You sure you don't want this blood?"
Katherine sprung, launching herself at the barrier, her face fully contorted into the mask of a monster. "When I get out of here, and I will," her eyes zeroed in on Bonnie, "you'll be the first to die, Bennett."
Keeping her head held high, she meet Katherine's stare head on. "You won't be getting out of there."
Katherine lips peeled back into a gnarled caricature of a smile. "We'll see."
Something cold ran down Bonnie's spine and she shivered.
"Are you done?" Stefan asked, sounding all too much like a parent reprimanding an ill-tempered child. "'Cause we can leave," he made a gesture towards Bonnie and his brother.
"I know how this goes, Stefan. I tell you what you want to know and then you leave me here to rot with nothing but a lousy blood bag. I have nothing to gain from this."
"You're right. We're not letting you out even if you tell us, but we can make your stay a little nicer."
"My stay?" she snorted. "You make it sound like a resort. Should I take full advantage of all the amenities?" She made a sweeping gesture towards the rocky, pitch-black, cavernous pit behind her. "You can't barter with someone when you have nothing they want."
"We do have something."
"And what's that?"
"Me."
Bonnie's eyes bugged despite her efforts to keep her face neutral.
What in the hell was Stefan doing? This was not a part of the plan.
Beside him, Damon tensed, ready to spring into action if needed.
"You gonna dump the poor man's version and come in here with me?" Maybe it was just Bonnie's imagination, but there was a hue to Katherine's voice that sounded almost hopeful.
"No," Stefan corrected with a shake of his head. "But I will visit."
"That's it?" Katherine asked incredulously. "That's the card you're playing? You'll visit?" she scoffed. "I'm not that hard up for you."
"Yeah, that was... an interesting tactic," Damon said, eyeing him curiously.
Bonnie's nose scrunched as she watched Stefan closely. He had to have something better up his sleeve, right? Because that was lackluster, to say the least.
"This isn't an ego thing," Stefan corrected, stepping closer to the barrier. He brought himself to stand directly in front of her before he continued, "We both know it won't be the hunger that gets to you. Or the darkness. In the end, it'll be the silence."
He crossed his arms, shifting his weight forward. "How long do you think before you start talking to yourself? Just to hear something. How long before you stop? Before the words lose all meaning and it just becomes noise? And one day, when your lungs are so dry you can't breath, you won't even have that anymore. 'Cause this is it." He motioned towards the cave behind her. "No one's coming for you this time."
The confidence that had been present since their arrival seeped from her as Stefan spoke. Her face darkened and shoulders hunched visibly before she caught herself. Straightening up – her eyes two hard, lifeless stones – she shrugged with perfect nonchalance and said, "Well, I have been meaning to get in a little Me Time."
There was a lot of things that could be said about Katherine Pierce, but weak was not one of them. Bonnie had to give the woman her due: she was one tough-ass son of a bitch.
"This isn't working," Stefan said once they reached the clearing they had parked in. "We need to move to plan B."
"Excellent idea," Damon chimed, walking over to his Camaro and leaning against the side. "Anyone know what that is?"
Bonnie huffed in frustration, her hands grasping at the air fruitlessly. "If I could just get close to her, I might be able to sift through her head and find something."
Stefan shook his head. "Even in her weakened state, she's too dangerous for you to go near. Maybe even more so, now that she's trapped."
"And getting near her is only half the problem. Bringing the barrier down long enough to get out and keeping Katherine in at the same time..." Damon trailed off, not needing to state the improbability.
"It would be three on one. She can't take us all, can she?" Bonnie insisted.
Damon looked thoughtful, inclining his head in her direction. "The witch has a point."
Stefan shook his head. "We're assuming she's actually as weak as she seems. Underestimating her is exactly the type of mistake Katherine hopes we'll make."
They fell silent, each lost in their thoughts – the only sound in the clearing that of birds rustling in the trees overhead.
"Maybe we don't need to worry about this," Stefan eventually said, his brow still pinched in contemplation. "As long as she's in the tomb, the Moonstone is irrelevant."
"That depends on what it does, brother."
"If I could de-spell it, it wouldn't matter. The Moonstone would be about as useful as a rock," Bonnie suggested. "Problem solved."
"Again, we don't know what it does." Damon's lips turned down as he focused on her. "How are you supposed to remove a spell when you have no idea what the spell is?"
Bonnie bit her lip, averting her gaze to the greenery around them. Frustration bubbled at the centre of her chest. Katherine was the one at a disadvantage and yet it still felt like she had the upper-hand.
"There has to be a way," she pressed stubbornly, her brain whirling through all the possible spells at her disposal.
"I could try talking to her again. Maybe if I go alone she'll be more willing to cooperate," suggested Stefan.
Damon's frown deepened briefly before it disappeared altogether. "It's worth a shot. Maybe this time you should try flashing a little skin."
Stefan shot him a look.
"What?" Damon shrugged. "Desperate times."
Bonnie ignored what was happening before her. There was a spell at the edge of her memory she was attempting to latch on to. Something she had read in Emily's grimoire a couple of times. Something about burning – no! Ashes. They needed ashes from...
Like a key twisting in a lock, everything slid into place.
"I know a way I can get close and ensure she stays in the tomb," she said, dragging their attention away from each other and onto her.
"Oh." Damon's eyebrows lifted and he turned towards his brother. "Looks like we might not have to prostitute you after all, Stefan. Lucky boy."
Bonnie just barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "We need something of hers though." She looked pointedly at Damon.
He held his hands aloft, palms forward. "Don't look at me. Soon as I found out that bitch wasn't really in the tomb I had myself a nice little bonfire."
Simultaneously, their eyes landed on Stefan.
"After Elena saw that picture of Katherine, I went through a lot my things and tried to get rid of anything that might be hers." He shrugged. "It's not likely, but maybe I missed something."
"And if you didn't?" Bonnie couldn't help but ask.
Damon let out a loud breath, looking like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. "I know a place where we might find something."
The drive to the old Salvatore Estate was a quiet one. Bonnie spent the majority of it bracing herself and wishing that Stefan had opted to come with them instead of heading back to the boarding house to rummage through his things.
She kept her gaze on the passing scenery as her mind traveled to what waited ahead. There was a good chance, if she wasn't careful, she'd swing one of two ways: overly despondent or overly hopeful. She couldn't afford to be an emotional wreck and she certainly didn't need to be surrounded by the remnants of her time with Damon while the man in question was oblivious to it all.
What she needed was to put everything else aside and focus on the task at hand.
Anxiety thrummed through her veins as if to send her resolve a giant 'fuck you.' She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her lips – once, twice, three times.
Okay.
There were a handful of places that could still hold some trace of Katherine. The obvious being Katherine's room; the others being Damon, Stefan and Emily's. If Damon didn't think to check all four places, Bonnie would have to find a way to lead the investigation in that direction.
Maybe she could play the "witch's intuition" card.
But then, if they didn't discover anything, it would be kind of awkward...
The gravel crunching under the Camaro's tires, as it rolled to a stop, pulled her out of her thoughts.
Finding her resolve, she climbed out of the car and into the open air. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back and took in the dark grey sky overhead. The weather had taken a decided turn for the worse – overcast and threatening.
Hearing Damon come to a stop beside her, she glanced at him. "So what's the plan?"
He lifted a brow. "Search until we find something."
"And if we don't?"
He shrugged. "Go home."
"Great plan."
"You have one better?"
Irritation sparked in the centre of her chest and she crossed her arms as if to temper it. "If I did, do you think I'd be standing around talking to you?"
"Whoa." He held his hands up in surrender. "Put the claws away, kitten."
She flipped him off.
He supported his weight against the Camaro, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, but not so close that they would bump against each other. "You're giving me whiplash here, Bonnie. I can't keep up."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, shooting him a frown.
"It's like you can't decide whether you love me or hate me."
Her muscles tensed painfully as her focus sharpened on him – the way his frame leaned against the car, how his head was tilted to one side, the steadiness of his gaze as he watched her back. Taking a breath, she replied carefully, "A couple weeks ago, I set you on fire. What does that tell you?"
"Yeah, but since then you've been laughing at my jokes and ogling my chest."
"I have never ogled your chest," she refuted, her face scrunching like she had a bad taste in her mouth.
"There's no shame in admitting that you find me attractive. Most women do."
"Wow." She threw her head back in disbelief before narrowing her eyes at him. "Does the weight of your head ever throw you off balance?"
The laughter in his blue eyes reached the corners of his lips as he shrugged. "Hey, I can't help that I was crafted like a fine work of art."
Maybe it was the sheer audacity of the statement, or the offhand way with which he said it, but she had to duck her head and look away to keep from outright smiling.
His hands came down with a sudden thunk on either side of her and she flinched. He had moved faster than she could blink, effectively caging her in.
"Here, this, is exactly what I'm talking about," he said, bringing his face level with hers.
His gaze was fixed and penetrating. She could feel it digging its way under her skin to the secrets she held buried beneath.
Tiny pin-pricks traveled all over her skin. With him so close, she was hyper aware of every inch of him: the heat that she was surprised to find still radiated from him; the lean strength of his arms entrapping her; the clean, spicy scent of him under his cologne, so familiar it made her heart ache. She took a deep breath and all she could smell was him.
"You want to take a giant step back before I make you?" She was impressed when her voice didn't shake.
His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and her eyes followed the movement – God, she hoped he didn't notice – before lifting to meet his. He brought himself closer. "Do it."
"You don't think I will?" she challenged.
"I think," he spoke slowly, his voice low and caressing, "two weeks ago, you already would have."
Ice water trickled down her spine and she jerked her hand up reflexively, sending Damon flying into a nearby pine tree. If only she could push away the truth of his words as easily.
Damon sprung back to his feet, unruffled. In fact, heat flooded her cheeks painfully, he looked almost satisfied, as if she had proven a point. Opening his mouth to form what was bound to be a highly intellectual witticism, she was sure, Bonnie turned sharply on her heel and marched forward into the underbrush.
"Could we just get this over with?" She tossed out over her shoulder. "The less time I have to spend with you and your delusions, the better."
"You say that, but I wonder..." Damon called after her.
Ugh.
She could feel the length of this day weighing on her already.
She paused when she reached the Salvatore grounds, struck once more by the drastic transformation from the estate she had known to the one before her now. It seemed so broken by time and neglect. It was a wonder it was still standing.
"Ah, home sweet home," Damon sang sardonically, hands tucked casually into his back pockets as he stopped beside her.
There was clearly no love lost on his end, she noted silently. "Where are we starting?" she asked.
"Best bet would be Katherine's room. We'll head there first." He walked forward over the patchy, untamed lawn and Bonnie trailed after him.
They reached the entrance. One of the double doors hung lopsidedly on its hinges, leaving a gaping hole large enough to duck through. Damon ignored this, opting rather to rip the door from its precarious perch and toss it back onto the lawn.
Bonnie watched him as he dusted his hands on his jeans and stepped inside. "Shouldn't we be a little more careful?" she asked, following suit. "This place doesn't look like it can stand the abuse."
Damon glanced back at her. "I move faster than this place can fall apart. We're fine."
"That's reassuring," Bonnie muttered to herself, letting her eyes drag across the ruined entry way. There was very little light to see by – the majority of which was streaming in through the doorway behind them. "Do you have a flashlight in the car?"
He cocked an eyebrow her way. "Don't need one. What with being a vampire and all." He widened his eyes that crazy way he did for emphasis.
"I was asking for myself."
He frowned at her. "What century are you from? Just use your phone."
"Maybe I don't want to kill my battery, ever think of that?"
He shrugged, completely unconcerned, and sauntered forward.
She was tempted to find something to toss at the back of his arrogant head. Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her phone anyways, powered on the flashlight application and aimed the light at her surroundings.
"Wow."
The entryway was a ruin. There were broken pieces of wood, both natural and furnished, strewn all over the floor. Dust covered everything in a thick, undisturbed layer much like freshly fallen snow. The air carried the scent of abandonment that all old, forgotten buildings did. The staircase was half demolished from where the ceiling above had caved in. What was left looked weak, the jagged wood a distressing green-gray with rot.
"I don't think we're going to be able to get up that," she commented.
"Again. Vampire, so speak for yourself."
"And what am I supposed to do? Wait here and twiddle my thumbs?"
"I can carry you up there if you want." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Bonnie's blush returned unbidden and she frowned, resolutely ignoring him and turning her attention to the staircase. It didn't look like it would be able to support anyone's weight long enough to make it to the top, and what areas weren't structurally compromised were covered with debris from the ceiling.
"How about this," he continued once he noticed her hesitation. "You make sure I don't get impaled by any stray pieces of wood and I'll make sure you don't fall to your untimely death. Deal?"
She sighed. It was either that or risk breaking her neck.
"Deal," she agreed reluctantly.
A grin overtook his face suddenly. "Well, break open the champagne bottles; we finally managed to reach a truce."
"Uh... I don't remember the word truce ever passing my lips."
"It didn't have to. I felt it. Right here." He placed a hand against his chest.
Lips pursing, she lifted a brow. "In that empty cavity where your heart should be?"
"Rude."
Before she could register what was happening, Bonnie felt her stomach give a pleasant swooping sensation as her legs were brought up from under her and she was cradled to Damon's chest.
"I know it's going to be hard, but try not to swoon," he said jokingly.
"Shut up," Bonnie grumbled.
Privately though, she allowed herself a small moment to enjoy the sensation of being held by him.
It was stupid and girly and foolish – she fully acknowledge that, but she had been on an emotional roller-coaster since the moment she got back to the 21st century. Around Damon especially, she was struggling to find some solid ground to stand on. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to simply enjoy his presence.
Frustration bubbled, sudden and violent, inside of her and she wasn't even sure where it was directed. It felt like she was mad at everything and nothing all at once. Maybe she was just mad at the reality of her situation.
She pushed herself away from Damon's chest, just far enough to get some breathing space.
"You're going to need to put your head on my shoulder unless you want whiplash."
Her mouth twisted down sharply. "I'll take the whiplash."
He arched a brow, but said nothing.
Suddenly she was jostled, her entire world flipping upside down until she was unceremoniously presented with Damon Salvatore's jean clad ass.
"Damon!" she managed to squawk indignantly before her stomach attempted to tumble into her throat as everything blurred around her. His laughter echoed in her ears as they traveled at lightning speed up the rickety steps.
A second later her feet were planted on the ground again. She stumbled for a moment, her head woozy and her legs shaky and unstable.
Damon's hands grasped her shoulders firmly, helping to steady her.
Once she had finally found her feet again, she smacked his hands away, ignoring the corresponding sting she received. "What the hell?" she bristled.
He held up his hands defensively, "Hey, it's not my fault you didn't want to do things the easy way."
"So you decided to increase my odds of whiplash?"
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Her heart swelled and she turned abruptly away from him
Lifting the phone she had somehow managed to not drop on her way up the stairs, she shone the light around to get her bearings. Damon had placed them down the hall away from the landing – probably because the floor closer to the stairs was unstable.
She aimed the beam of light towards Katherine's room. She recognized the small table she had dusted a million times still standing in its same old spot, though the vase that had once stood upon it was missing. No surprise.
She went to move forward only to stop short.
You don't know where anything is, remember, Bonnie? she silently chastised.
"So, um..." spinning to Damon, she titled her head in her best impression of a clueless person, "which one is it?" She gestured toward the rooms around them.
Damon stepped around her. "This one," he said, stopping in the doorway to the right of the small table.
Bonnie came up behind him, peeking over his shoulder. She had never actually been in Katherine's room before, except for that split second when she'd been trying to avoid Damon in the hallway. At the time she had been so panicked she hadn't really taken note of her surroundings.
She slipped past Damon and into the room, taking in what was left of it.
The paper hanging, defeated, from the walls; water stains colouring the ceiling and corners with distressing patches; decrepit pieces of furniture that were now too weakened by age to hold much beauty.
There was a chest at the edge of the bed, a broken vanity table against one wall and a grand rosewood wardrobe against another. Other than that, the room was bare. No hairbrush or fancy handheld mirror or stray pieces of clothing anywhere to be seen.
At least there was a window large enough to let in a sufficient amount of light to see by. It was dim, but she preferred having her hands free, so she took the opportunity to tuck her phone away.
"I'll start with the chest. You get the wardrobe," she instructed, reaching for the lid of the wooden chest. She tugged once, twice – nothing. Putting more of her weight into the motion, she tried again, the muscles of her arms pulling taut with the effort. Still the stubborn lid wouldn't budge. Stepping back, she examined the object closely.
Whatever locking mechanism had once graced this chest had been forcefully removed, if the splintered wood and bent metal in its centre were any indication. But it was the layer of rust ringing the lip of the lid that had it sealed resolutely shut.
"I think I'm going to need a hand with this," she called over her shoulder. When she didn't immediately hear the sound of Damon's footsteps behind her, she glanced back.
Damon was rooted at the threshold, arms crossed over his chest, as he stared intently at nothing.
Bonnie paused, her hands drifting down to hang heavy at her sides. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, just watching him swim in his thoughts. She could see the weight of them pulling at his shoulders and resting on his brow.
Was he seeing Katherine right now, behind the unfocused blue of his eyes? Was he remembering the smell of her hair, the roundness of her cheeks, the softness of her skin...? Was he remembering how it felt to be loved by her? Was he wondering if it had really all been a lie?
In that moment, more than any other, Bonnie was keenly aware of just how much of his life she had been removed from. He had gone on to live a full life and love a woman faithfully for more than a hundred years - she couldn't even begin to imagine all that he had experienced. All the ways in which he had changed.
Words caught in her throat several times over as she searched for the right thing to say.
When she finally did speak, her voice was barely audible, wrenched from somewhere deep inside of her. A place she had desperately wanted to keep secret.
"What happened to you?"
He blinked rapidly, the blue of his eyes clearing and zeroing in on her. "What?"
She felt exposed under his sudden scrutiny. "You..." she started, but she didn't know how to finish that sentence, so the word just hung there ineptly between them as she fell mute.
The sobriety of his thoughts still clung to his skin even as he pushed himself forward into the room. "Let's just finish this," he said, reaching for the wardrobe.
Bonnie turned silently back to the chest, chewing her bottom lip. What was she supposed to do here? Did she ask him about what was wrong? Would he tell her even if she did?
If she was Elena...
No, she broke that train of thought abruptly. Don't go there, Bonnie.
That was a slippery slope there would be no climbing back from.
"There are just some old blankets in here," Damon said, turning towards her and raising an eyebrow. "And... you're just standing there."
She gestured towards the chest. "It's rusted shut."
He rolled his eyes and nudged her aside with his shoulder. "Step aside, Short Stack. Leave this to a professional."
She squinted as he made short work of the lid, using a hand to shield her eyes as bits of rust went flying in all directions.
"It's empty," he said, staring down into the decapitated chest.
"What?" She came up beside him and, sure enough, there was nothing but dirt and cobwebs.
"Well that was worth the effort." He dropped the lid with a careless thump and strode across the room to the broken vanity. He pulled open its single drawer and scoffed.
"Let me guess," she said knowingly, "that's empty too."
"Unless you count the dead fly."
"Do you think your father got rid of everything?"
"My father?" He shoved the drawer closed and swung about to face her. His eyes skimmed her features repeatedly as he studied her for an exceedingly long time.
Maybe she shouldn't have brought up his dad... Should she even know about his dad?
She fidgeted under his gaze, waiting for him to speak, and when he finally did, she wished he hadn't.
"You've been talking to Elena?"
Finding the peeled wallpaper over his shoulder suddenly fascinating, she lied quietly, "Yeah." She took a deep breath, forcing air into the dull, hollow ache of her chest and continued, "And since he was the one that put Katherine in the tomb, or thought he had at least, he might have wanted to erase any trace of her."
"He would have, I'm sure, but he never got the opportunity." He scanned the room, but with the cloudy, unfocused cast of his eyes, it was clear he was seeing something that no longer existed beyond the confines of his mind. "No. Her things were still here when I left."
"Do you think Stefan might have?"
"Maybe." But he didn't look convinced. "Looters, more likely. Speaking of Stefan though, I vote his room next."
Bonnie stood impatiently by the threshold listening as Damon rummaged around Stefan's room. "Have you still not found anything?"
"You know," he called back, "if I had known I would be doing all the leg work, I would have saved myself the headache and not brought you."
Crossing her arms, she glared viscously at the wall. Despite being a dick about it, he was right. So far she had been about as helpful as a hole in the head. She hated feeling useless. It was driving her crazy, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
The roof over Stefan's room had partially collapsed, leaving it exposed to the elements year round. As a result, the floor was dangerously rotted and there was mold growing all over everything – and it didn't look like the kind Bonnie wanted to be breathing in. Damon had figured, all and all, it would be safer for her to wait in the hallway.
She toed a line in the layer of dust blanketing the floor as she waited.
"Well if this isn't the crap icing on a shit cake."
Bonnie peered into the room curiously. "What happened?"
Something cold and wet struck her on the cheek. She wiped at the splotch and looked towards the hole in the ceiling above her head, only to have another drop land directly between her eyes. She flinched, before scrunching her nose in displeasure.
The grey clouds above had finally decided to make good on their threat, it seemed.
Faintly, she could hear Damon cursing under his breath.
Bonnie's lips quirked in amusement. "Worried about your hair?" she couldn't help teasing. "All that hard work you put into straightening it is about to go to waste."
He popped into view long enough to send her an impassive look. "I'd start looking for a day job, Bonnie, because I don't think this comedy thing is going to pan out for you."
She snorted, letting her smile spread. "It's just rain."
"Maybe I don't like the rain," he countered matter-of-factly.
"Since when?" she shot back incredulously.
His head tilted curiously. "What kind of question is that?"
She pursed her lips, but didn't say anything.
Eventually, he deigned to answer. "I don't know. Since..." He shrugged elaborately, digging through the archive of his memories and coming up empty. "Always."
"That's such bullshit," she exclaimed, perhaps with more passion than the situation strictly called for. She couldn't quell the irrational sting of betrayal that she felt – like he was trying to deceive her.
"Is not liking the rain against the law now or something?" He continued to eye her quizzically, frustration colouring the edges of his voice. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"
"I'm not."
She was.
This was just another reminder of how much she had missed... of how much had changed. It was so small and foolish, but it felt like a part of him was being stolen from her, and she desperately wanted to hold onto it.
"I'm not," she repeated. "It's just..." The rain picked up. The sound, as the little pinpricks fell rhythmically over her, echoed loudly in her ears. "Something inside me says you're lying. Call it witch's intuition." She shrugged, hoping the movement didn't appear as stiff as it felt.
He looked doubtful, but after a few moments he relented, his head tilting back in exasperation. "Fine. You caught me. I'm lying."
"Why?" Why would anyone lie about their weather preferences?
"I don't know," he admitted, sending his attention flitting about the room. "I lie. It's what I do. Maybe it's just habit at this point, I don't know."
"So, what's the truth then?" she probed.
He glanced at her briefly before looking away again and shrugging. "I like the rain, but sometimes I prefer the sun. It's bright, warm... I guess, today's just one of those days. Now are we done talking about the weather?"
He moved towards the single bookcase in the room. It looked full to bursting. In much the same fashion as present day, Stefan had managed to use every available space the bookcase had to offer. One of the shelves had collapsed from the burden and decay, scattering its precious cargo across the dusty floorboards at its feet.
Damon bent to rifle through them, flipping through their pages. She watched him quietly for some time before her curiosity got the better of her,
"Why does being honest make you so uncomfortable?"
His blue eyes peeked at her from under his dark lashes. "Why are you so full of questions?"
She gave an offhand shrug before steeling herself and saying, "Maybe, sometimes... I find you fascinating."
He went very, very still for an excruciatingly long breath. Then he dropped his gaze and asked, "Are you trying to lull me into a false sense of security before you drive the stake in my heart?"
"That could be it, too. Yeah," she replied cordially.
The corner of his mouth quirked up briefly, but otherwise he remained resolutely focused on the task at hand.
Bonnie meandered down the hall towards Katherine's, for lack of anything better to do - plus it was dryer away from Stefan's room - but it only took a few minutes of staring at the empty contents inside for her to realize that she'd rather be wet than bored, so she meandered back, toed another line into the dusty floorboards and asked,
"Do you ever miss this place?"
"What's there to miss? The lack of plumbing, traveling by horse and carriage everywhere, the war, the misogyny, and let's not forget the slavery." He looked at her suddenly over his shoulder and spoke wistfully, "Gee, you're right. If only I could hop in a time machine and go back." He smirked at her. "You would have loved it."
"I might have found at least one thing to like," she said, offering a secret smile of her own. "Come on, humour me. There had to be something you didn't hate," she pressed.
"Nothing comes to mind," he replied absently as he went back to rummaging through the books. His hair was beginning to curl. She could see the way the strands were sticking to his skin.
She shivered as cold pebbles of rain continued to pelt her, beginning to weigh her coat uncomfortably. "The clothes were nice."
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
"If you were rich enough," she tacked on as an afterthought.
"What are you nuts? They were stiff, suffocating, and itchy as all get out." He made a noise of contempt, "And all those layers." He shook his head, tossing a book aside before picking up another. "I'd take a T-shirt and jeans over that getup any day of the week. Thanks."
He paused, his head titling thoughtfully. "Though, now that you mention it, there is one thing I miss." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and the smile he sent her was pure filth. "Corsets."
Closing her eyes against the image he made, she shook her head. "I don't want to know."
"It's like unwrapping a present," he continued shamelessly.
She scoffed her disgust, before cracking her eyes open.
As if on cue, he began using his hands for emphasis, "And nothing in this world makes a woman's –"
"Yeah, I get it. You're a pig," she interrupted.
He laughed outright at that, his smile wide and the sound of his laughter warm against her damp skin. She shivered.
He looked down at the book in his hands, twisting it around to check the inside cover, and stilled.
"What is it?" she asked, not liking the weight that settled over him.
After a pause, he lifted the book for her to see. From this distance, in the grey, overcast light, all she could make out was the elegant, swirling black marks against yellowed paper.
"Our ticket to Katherine's sick, twisted mind," he clarified, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, as he got to his feet. "Looks like our luck's about to change, Bonnie Boo."