YAY! It took me less than a year to update! This feels a lot like progress, guys! :) I hope I can keep up the momentum into the next chapter and for all my other projects, Bamon related or otherwise. Thank you, everyone, for all of the love and support you sent me last chapter! It's overwhelming and, not going to lie, I cried. lol. It's nice to know you're still along for the ride. And hey, I think I actually like this chapter - it gets kind of messy, but I hope you enjoy the mess.
The song for this chapter is Dance on Our Graves by Paper Route (if you want a bit of Damon's inner headspace.)
FFT: So, many of you got the impression that the book Bamon discovered in Stefan's old room was her journal and, reading the section over, I can see why. Personally, I can't imagine Katherine putting her thoughts, however trivial, down on paper where just anyone can read them - way too risky. She keeps everything too close to her chest for that. If I had realized how that passage could have been interpreted, I would have worded it differently. I hope you guys won't be disappointed by the direction I chose to go with the book - it's not nearly as exciting as what you guys came up with, but it's kind of important for what needs to happen next.
Bonnie glared suspiciously at the screen of her phone. The words, Busy. Can't talk, glared back at her.
Something was up with Caroline. Bonnie could feel it in her bones. The head cheerleader had been acting uncharacteristically evasive since the masquerade.
Not for the first time, Bonnie typed back:
Everything okay?
Super! Don't worry about me. :)
The speed and unwarranted enthusiasm of the reply might as well have been a red alert.
Seriously, Care, if something's going on, let me know. I can help.
I can handle it. I'll tell you later.
Bonnie hated being kept in the dark, especially since everything in her life had become a paranormal T.V. show – it felt dangerous not knowing what was going on. There were just too many uncertainties, too many things that none of them had any control over. Bonnie just wanted to know that her friend was okay.
Releasing the phone onto the table, she leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest.
Today was already proving to be something of a disappointment. She had stopped off at the storage unit where all of her Grams stuff was being held and had spent the better part of her morning rummaging through box after box looking for anything remotely resembling a talisman.
Not the easiest task considering, technically, anything could be a talisman. And, although Bonnie had managed to unearth a few things that seemed to be imbued with magical energy – nothing looked old enough to have passed through Emily's hands.
It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, only she didn't know what the needle looked like and the haystack was the world...
She should have checked Emily's room at the old Salvatore estate while she'd been there. She hadn't even thought of it at the time. She'd have to go back and look, just to be sure.
Bonnie groaned and slumped forward.
The hard wood of the table felt pleasantly cool against her forehead. She was thinking seriously about leaving it there for the rest of her life. Who cares if the table was situated in the middle of a public restaurant. Who cares! It felt good, and she was pretty sure she'd never find the energy to move it, so she might as well accept her new lot in life.
Why she ever thought going back in time was a good idea was beyond her. Things had been a mess before, but at least she knew where she stood. Everything was cut and dry: Damon was the bad guy. She needed to get rid of him. The end.
But now... she felt like she was being pulled in two.
Damon was still the bad guy. The things he'd done couldn't be excused, but... she also knew who he could be when he wasn't swimming in a pool of self-destruction and bitterness.
A sigh dredged itself up from the depths of her soul and pushed past her lips.
She hated having all this history inked across her skin that no one else could see. Every second she spent near Damon or Stefan, even Katherine, she expected one of them to look at her and see it and remember.
She couldn't take much more of this. She had to decide, once and for all, what she was going to do.
If she wanted to be with Damon she'd need to locate the talisman, 'cause there was no doubt in her mind that Emily had used one.
That would take an incredible amount of effort considering she had virtually no information to go off of. Emily wouldn't have told anyone about the spell since doing so would reveal that Bonnie had been in the past in the first place. But there had to be something somewhere! Some kind of trail she could pick up. It couldn't be completely hopeless.
Or... she could cut her losses. She could write off the last four months of her life and try to move on. Surely it was the sensible thing to do. And then she could look Caroline in the eye again without feeling like a total heel, because no matter what the blonde claimed, Bonnie knew she was being selfish.
It would hurt. And it would be difficult, but she could do it. She was strong enough to do it if she needed to.
People changed, especially when they experienced intense situations, and what was Damon's life if not a series of intense situations. It was possible this Damon was someone she couldn't love. Perhaps he had simply seen too much, and done even worse too often, for them to ever find happiness together.
Her heart pinched painfully in her chest at the thought and she breathed through the sensation.
Deep down, she didn't believe it. Something inside her said he was still the same man, under all that vitriol and desperation and mistrust.
But there was only one way she'd ever find out for sure. She was going to have to make a concentrated effort to get to know him.
The abrasive, shit disturbing asshole that he'd become.
"Ugh."
"Sounds like you could use a pick-me-up," a voice said.
She lifted her head high enough to see Jeremy hovering at the edge of the table.
"That would be nice," she admitted.
He smiled softly and disappeared towards the bar. Bonnie slumped back down and waited, taking the time to clear her head from her personal drama.
The light clack of a glass being placed on the table right above her head made her straighten up. When her eyes landed on the frosted glass of a Fresh Strawberry Milkshake, her entire day seemed to brighten.
She shot the boy a smile so bright it could blind the sun. "Jeremy Gilbert, you are a godsend."
"Well," he tucked himself in the chair across from her, "I'm not one to brag... so I'm glad you did it for me." Then he pulled a Sprite from behind his back and placed it on the table beside her milkshake.
For a split second, Bonnie thought she could hear angels singing. "How did you know?" she asked, genuinely taken aback as she reached for the bubbly beverage.
"You pretty much spent a solid month every summer at my house. Of course I'm going to remember how you like to desecrate your milkshakes." He rested his head thoughtfully on one hand as he watched her pour some of the offending liquid reverently into her strawberry shake. "And just so we're clear, I don't condone this, but you looked like you could use it."
She mixed her new strawberry concoction, before taking a large sip. "Mm," she hummed in appreciation, eyes slipping shut briefly before shooting back open. "Have I ever told you that you're my favourite person?"
"No, you haven't. Please, tell me more."
Bonnie threw her head back as she laughed.
Maybe today was picking up.
"I'm not comfortable with this," Elena said from her place on the couch. Bonnie sighed.
It made sense that Elena wanted to be more involved in all this stuff considering how often she was at its centre, but Bonnie couldn't help wanting to keep her separate. It felt too risky having her involved, and Bonnie felt like it was her responsibility to be protecting her from all this.
But that would be hypocritical. Regardless of her humanity, Elena had just as much of a right to know what was going on as Bonnie did.
"The ashes should neutralize Katherine long enough for me to sift through her thoughts and find out why she wants the Moonstone," Bonnie assured her, setting out the materials necessary for the spell on the table in front of her.
"She should be weak enough by now that when Bonnie brings down the barrier I can swoop in and incapacitate her," Damon finished, using his half-full tumbler to illustrate said swooping motion.
Elena frowned, but remained silent.
Bonnie brought her concentration back to the task at hand, wiping down a bronze bowl with rosemary oil and then drying it off. She got a basil leaf and circled the rim of the bowl three times counter-clockwise as she whispered the first half of the spell.
She felt, more than saw, when Damon came to her side. Placing his tumbler on the table, he swapped it out for the mold-ridden book they had salvaged from the old estate. He thumbed open the worn cover of Wuthering Heights, cleared his throat and turned towards the room, reading loudly,
"To my dearest Stefan,
Whatever obstacles may root themselves in our path, know that time will fell them."
Bonnie snapped to attention, her entire body turning to face Damon and the book he held in his hands. His tone was deceptively light, but she could hear the bitterness tingeing each word.
"Don't be such an asshole," she gritted out, more to save him from himself than for anyone else's benefit, though she was sure no one else would mind being spared the oncoming show if Stefan's warning, "Damon," was any indication.
"What?" Damon asked innocently, "It's not like Elena isn't curious."
"If I wanted to know, I'd read it myself," Elena countered defensively.
"Oh, come on..." he challenged. "Scared you'll realize she loves him more than you do."
Bonnie shook her head in disgust. "Why are you such a glutton for punishment?"
Damon's gaze landed on her, heavy in its displeasure. "Excuse me?"
She met it head on and stated simply, "The only person this is hurting is you."
The room went deathly quiet, like all the air had been vacuumed out of it. She could feel the silence settle like a layer of dust on her skin.
Damon's focus narrowed and concentrated, the blue of his eyes igniting like twin flames. After what felt like ages, he spoke slowly, the corner of his mouth turning down, "What would you know, Bennett?"
"I know it doesn't matter what she wrote," Bonnie nodded towards the book, "because it's not going to change anything, no matter how much you wish it would."
His jaw clenched and his eyes burned brighter, but he didn't speak. Just stared at her like he wanted to set her on fire. There was a strange heat working its way through her body and she wasn't sure if it was a reaction from the sheer force of his anger or something else.
Abruptly, he snapped the book closed, slammed it back onto the table and stormed out of the room.
The room seemed to exhale as he left. Bonnie felt her shoulders relax – she hadn't realized how tense she'd been.
"That was... interesting," Stefan commented thoughtfully.
Not knowing how to reply to that, Bonnie spun back to the table. Ripping the offending page out of the book, she made short work of setting it on fire and placing it in the bowl as it burned down to ash. Half entranced by the way the flames spread and consumed the paper, she whispered the second half of the incantation.
Finished, she turned and startled to find Stefan standing beside her. He leaned lightly against the table, arms crossed over his chest, studying her with a curious tilt to his head. She stiffened.
"What?"
"Nothing," he shook his head. "You... surprised me. I think you may have actually gotten through to him." He was starting to look at her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. "You said exactly what he needed to hear," he finished softly.
Bonnie shrugged, the movement jerky and unnatural. "I managed to strike a nerve. I'm just lucky he didn't try to strike one back... literally."
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Elena fidgeting on the couch.
"Yeah." Stefan's brow crumpled in confusion. "That's the most restraint he's shown since he got here."
She was overcome with a memory of Damon washed in moonlight, hair disheveled and eyes so vulnerable, so earth-shatteringly honest it made her heart ache even now.
"... I have shown more restraint with you than any other thing in my life," his voice echoed in her thoughts.
Giving herself a mental shake, she walked around Stefan and reached for her purse, combing through until she pulled out the small, clear plastic baggie she had packed for the ashes. Anything to keep her hands busy – keep them from pressing against the ache of her chest.
"I should go check on him," Elena said softly, getting up from her place on the couch and leaving the room.
Stefan watched her go, the lines of his face deepening as he did, but said nothing.
"Elena loves you," she found herself saying, surprising them both.
After a few moments he smiled, but it seemed muted. "I know."
Bonnie fiddled with the tiny bag of spelled ashes as she wandered through the halls of the boarding house searching for Damon. The two places Damon always went when he was upset in 1864 were his room, for the privacy, and the parlour, for the bourbon. Chances were high he would follow a similar pattern now. And since he hadn't been in the overly spacious living area, she was 99% sure she'd find him in his room.
Her money was also on him still being peeved at her for earlier. She was not looking forward to dealing with him, but they had work to do, so his pettiness would have to be put on pause.
You couldn't just let him dig his own grave, could you? she thought tiredly. Instead, you had to call him out in front of both his brother and his inappropriate crush. That's sure to win brownie points.
She sighed.
It was the right thing to do. In fact, if she had to, she'd do it again, but God... why'd it have to be so messy?
She ambled a bit more before forcing herself in the direction of Damon's room. Coming down the hall, she could see his doorway looming ahead. Her footsteps slowed as she took the final opportunity to steel herself.
Then, stepping forward, she froze – her heart in her chest, the breath in her lungs. Even time itself seemed to still. Everything dwindled to a pinpoint, and at its centre were Damon and Elena.
Elena with her hand on Damon's chest, her head tilted to one side, dark hair spilling down her back like a waterfall. Her face so full of compassion, her voice soft and encouraging and kind.
And Damon, the hope in his eyes so bright it threatened to blind her.
And Bonnie wanted to die.
And maybe she would, because it felt like everything inside of her was being torn in half. And a person couldn't survive that, could they?
She closed her eyes, but the image had been seared into her.
All this time, she thought Damon was delusional. That all his claims that Elena felt something for him were unfounded, just in his head, but this... The way she was looking at him... It didn't seem possible.
Elena would never intentionally lead him on. Did she not realize what she was doing? Could she not see it on his face?
Bonnie struggled to breath, but it hurt, the air not wanting to pass through the sudden tightness of her throat. Vigorously, she blinked her eyes open, forcing herself to see.
She would turn away. She would walk away from this. From everything. From him. Neither of them seemed to realize she was there. Damon was so wrapped up in Elena he hadn't noticed her. Either that or he simply didn't care. She didn't know which was true. She wasn't sure which would feel less like torment.
Now. She should leave now. There was nothing left for her here.
Turn. Leave. Run, she urged her body, but she couldn't. She was rooted to the spot.
Her eyes scanned the room hastily, landing on a hard cover book at the top of a haphazard pile on the floor.
A strange calmness settled over her then, her entire being anchoring itself to that book. With very little thought to what she was actually doing, Bonnie watched impassively as it lifted into the air. Then, directing all of the turmoil simmering under her skin into its pages, she sent it careening into the side of Damon Salvatore's head.
It hit with a resounding smack! and Damon, quite literally, side-stepped onto his ass. His entire body just knocked to one side and, though he tried valiantly to catch himself, arms flailing in the process, the force of the blow was too strong and he toppled over.
Elena gasped, reeling back and looking at her like she'd never seen her before.
But Bonnie couldn't bring herself to care, her focus rooted to the man currently sprawled on the ground cradling his face.
"You should invest in a bookshelf," she said cavalierly.
Caught somewhere between fury and shock, he growled out incredulously, "What the hell, Bennett?"
She held up the baggie for him to see and said simply, "Your ashes are ready."
He was up and in her face faster than she could blink: crowding her space, hackles raised, the veins in his neck pronounced. Bonnie felt her shoulders squaring in response, her body tense and ready for a fight.
"So, you decide to bitch slap me with a book?" he cried, his incredulousness increasing exponentially.
"It's not my fault your head's so far up your ass you didn't see it coming," she shrugged.
He took a step back to study her, his head canting to one side. "Have I done something to you?" he asked before tagging as an afterthought, "Recently."
"Your very existence does something to me," she bit back, hating the truth of the words.
"Really?" He leaned against the doorframe, bringing himself into her space again. "Because you're the one who keeps pushing things."
"I'm pushing?" Fury clawed at her chest and she exploded, "You're the one who forces his way into people's lives and then thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants!"
"How is what I do any of your business?" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly with one arm.
"You make everything everyone's business," she fumed. "You don't have a discreet bone in your body!" And as if to emphasize the point, she shoved at him roughly.
He allowed his shoulder to be jostled, but was otherwise unmoved by her efforts. Jaw tightening, he spoke slowly, "You're really testing my limits today, Bennett."
Something dark and hungry unfurled inside her and it dulled the pain, so she clung to it as she lessened the already minuscule space between them. Forcing him to meet her eye, she said, "I'm not afraid of you, Damon. So, if you want to go, we'll go."
He went very still. "Are you forgetting what I am, Little Witch?"
"Who could forget a pain in their ass?"
Her back slammed into the wall suddenly, just hard enough to jar, but not hard enough to hurt, and then her world was crowded by Damon. He consumed everything around them as he caged her in, studying her, his tongue darting out briefly to lick his lips. She bit her own instinctively and his focus slipped to her mouth. It lingered there for a moment before he dragged it back up to meet her eyes. Her cheeks warmed against her will as a slow heat spread its lazy way through her system.
"GUYS!" Elena's voice fell over the moment like a bucket of ice water and Bonnie's attention snapped to her best friend. She looked flustered, her face flushed and arms wide. "You're not fighting," she finished lamely once she realized they were listening.
"No, of course not," Damon said, his laser focus still fixed on Bonnie. "She couldn't handle me."
Indignation swelled so violently inside her it devoured all common sense and, pushing herself away from the wall, she leaned forward until her lips found the shell of his ear. "I'm the only one who can."
She felt him shiver against her and she froze, aghast at her own actions. Slowly, cautiously, she pulled away.
Damon's jaw was slack and his eyes distant before he blinked back to his senses. When his gaze landed on her again it was full of dark promises, and she fought to suppress her own shiver. "Careful, Bonnie, or I might have to test that theory."
Bonnie had never left a room so fast in her life. Now she was standing outside of the boarding house, with her grimoire at her feet, waiting for Damon to join her.
She closed her eyes and leaned into the cool wind, reveling in the way it felt against her overheated skin. Her entire body felt like it was burning. She wondered if it was possible for a person to melt from embarrassment.
What the hell had gotten into her?
Burying her face in her hands, she groaned. She had been so furious and hurt, and yet she couldn't bring herself to walk away. Like a thing possessed, she had needed him to acknowledge her, to realize she was there. She had needed to feel like her presence mattered.
Like she mattered.
And, if things hadn't gotten weirdly sexual near the end there, she was a thousand percent sure she would have fought him. God, how crazy was that?
She knew she was going to have to deal with the Elena of it all at some point, she wasn't stupid, but she had been unprepared for the reality of it. Unprepared for what it would do to her. And, deep in her gut, she knew if she hadn't gone on the attack, she would have broken at the seams. Even now, she could feel how frayed her edges were – and she couldn't allow herself to become a weepy, broken hearted mess.
"You're not going to pass out, are you?" asked the bane of her existence.
Steeling herself, she glared at Damon from behind her fingers. "No."
"Just making sure," he held up his hands to pacify her. "We need you in tip-top shape for our little adventure."
She sighed, letting her hands drop back down to her sides. "I'm fine."
He nodded.
There was a pause then, somehow calmer and more pensive than any they had shared before. It carried a strange heavy-lightness that made the world around them feel, at once, more muted and enriched.
She felt suspended, waiting for something to happen while Damon stood a few feet from her, the wind whipping his hair across his forehead, his thoughts a million miles away. She watched the gears turn in his head, a thoughtful pout touching his lips as he stared sightlessly at her.
The moment stretched... and stretched... and stretched... Bonnie's self-consciousness increasing as it did. Was she supposed to say something?
She tried hard not to fidget, pursing her lips together with the effort.
Finally, he blinked and looked away, squinting into the distance. "You're still upset," he noted.
Grateful for the end of whatever that was, her words lacked any real force. "And you're not?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "You threw a book at my head. In fact," he turned to face her fully, "you've been a thorn in my side since the day I met you. With your self-righteous attitude and your constant need to psycho-analyze me and all of the hot and cold! It's like you're actively trying to drive me insane, and I don't know if I want to –"
He broke off abruptly, forcing out a large breath and titling his head back until it looked like he was asking the heavens for patience.
Her pulse skittered in her veins and she fought valiantly to ignore it, concentrating instead on the way his hair fell across his forehead when he brought his head back down to peek at her from under his lashes.
Yup, not working, she noted, her pulse quickening even further. Oh God, he could probably hear it. Oh God. Get a hold of yourself! she mentally chided, her hands bunching into fists so tightly she could feel her nails leaving imprints.
His head tilted to the side curiously. She didn't like how thoughtful he looked.
He took a step towards her, and she was sorely tempted to take a step back – keep the distance between them – but she kept herself still, allowing him closer.
He stopped in front of her, his gaze raking over her frame with slow consideration.
"What?" she bit out, flustered.
His blue eyes snapped to hers. "We called a truce."
"I never agreed to that," she reminded him.
"So why don't we pretend the last few hours never happened," he continued as if she'd never spoken, "and start over? Hm?" Then his lips pulled up into that smile that meant it didn't matter what she said, he had already decided this was happening.
Her own lips turned down in response.
She doubted she'd be able to drop what happened earlier as easily as he could. It was a thousand times worse watching him with Elena than it had been with Katherine. With Katherine, Bonnie was assured of the depths of her affection, or lack thereof, but with Elena... It was uncharted territory and it frightened her. She had no doubt that her friend's intentions were pure, but it was easy to see how she might fall into the same patterns Katherine had.
And there was no way she was watching Damon make the same mistakes twice.
Not to mention her wounded pride was still festering, making her feel like a loose cannon. But... she did want an opportunity to get to know him and she wouldn't be able to do that if they were antagonizing each other.
Her eyes slipped shut, imagining all of her lingering frustration and disappointment and pain being released on a long exhale before she nodded shortly. "Fine."
"Great!" Something poked her in the stomach and her eyes popped open at the sensation. His smile widened into something so genuine she almost smiled in return. "Now hop in Lenore and let's go."
Bonnie froze, her heart seizing in her chest and hands shaking by her sides. She swallowed carefully around the dryness of her throat and managed a strangled, "Lenore...?"
He arched a brow, observing her reaction carefully. "Yeah..." Crossing his arms, he continued defensively, "Don't judge me. Stefan named his car Betsy, so as far as names go, I think I'm winning."
"No," she shook her head forcefully, trying to get a grip. "Lenore is..." She took a deep, steadying breath. "It's a good name. I like it."
"Well, I'm so glad to have the Bennett seal of approval," he retorted lightly, stooping down to pick up her grimoire. Once he straightened out, he sent her a smirk and jerked his head in the direction of his blue Camaro. "Ready?"
He handed the book to her and then they moved as a unit towards his parked car. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he went to hold open her door. "Why'd you pick Lenore?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Fan of Edgar Allen Poe?"
"That..." He crossed his arms over the car door as he waited for her to take her seat, but when she was close enough he rested his head on his arms. "And even I can get sentimental, Bonnie," he admitted, his breath ghosting across her neck.
She stumbled to a stop.
"Are you getting in?" he enquired innocently. A little too innocently...
She narrowed her eyes in his direction and he blinked back, his blue orbs wider and more angelic than the situation warranted.
Choosing not to comment, she pursed her lips and got in the car.
They hadn't been driving for very long, but it already felt like hours. She was hyper-aware of Damon and the fact that he was peeking at her from the corner of his eye.
"Watch the road," she demanded.
"I am," he lied.
When she turned to look at him his focus was, indeed, on the road. A part of her wondered if she was imagining it, but... she could feel him watching her. "You know, if you crash the car, I could die, right?" she reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to crash the car," he responded stubbornly. "Relax."
"Maybe I could, if I knew the driver wasn't a lunatic," she retorted before looking down at the grimoire in her lap. "Should we go over the plan again?"
"What's there to go over? We both know what we're doing."
"Just make sure not to use all the ashes at once," she stressed anyways.
"Yes, dear..." he sang derisively.
She frowned, her grip on the large tome tightening, and focused on something else, "I should have divided the ashes into more than one pouch. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Right, because juggling several small pouches would have been way easier than just pouring out a little bit of ash at a time," he said, the sarcasm heavy in his tone. "You know, I do have something called self-restraint."
She snorted, but it wasn't enough. Laughter, warm and bright and totally unexpected, escaped her freely. She shook her head in an effort to stop it, but it continued nonetheless.
"Did I say something funny?" he asked, his tone bordering on offended.
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, "Do you hear yourself when you talk?"
He sent her a lukewarm glare and she rolled her eyes, continuing, "I know you have restraint; you just never seem to use it."
"Let's play a game," he said suddenly, the turn of conversation so abrupt it took Bonnie several seconds to reply,
"What?"
"Ever heard of Fortunately/Unfortunately?"
"Are you being serious?" She tilted her head in question.
"It's not like you're doing anything else right now." There was a pause, and when she did nothing more than continue to stare at him, he insisted, "It's simple. I say something positive and then you say something negative about that positive thing."
"And why would I do that?"
"Because, we're trying not to fight and you need to loosen up."
Her lips pulled down at that, but he continued unperturbed, "This shouldn't be hard for you. You already react negatively to everything I say."
"No, I don't."
He shot her a pointed smirk. "See... You're going to be a champ at this."
She bit the corner of her lip to keep from smiling and shook her head. "Fine. We'll play your stupid game."
"Good." His smirk warmed into a smile, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. "Fortunately for you, I'm full of creative ideas."
"Unfortunately for me, none of them involve watching the road while you drive," she retorted.
He laughed and brought his attention back to the road ahead.
And the echoes of his laughter reverberated in the centre of her chest.