17.

Don't let

Your loving

Take too long

You may come

Too late

And I'll be gone

Don't let

Fear

Make you stray

Don't wait

On heartbreak

To show the way

when angels speak of love by bell hooks

Let Her Go by Passenger

May 10, 1994

Continuation of the first time Bonnie and Damon danced together from Chapter 16.

Bonnie hid behind the right column on Elena's front porch, fleeing from him and her emotions. He couldn't blame her; he wanted to run from himself right then.

"You okay," Damon sighed, walking up the porch to talk to her.

"What were you doing?" Bonnie asked, holding on to the pillar-like her life depended on it.

Damon wanted to act dumb but couldn't; he was in shock. So he said nothing; he stood before her, looking at his shoes. Speechless. An event so rare that he could count the times he was speechless on both his hands.

Flirting with Bonnie was one thing, but he had just affirmed that he would woo her, then followed through by kissing her neck. Damon didn't usually think things through when the mood caught him, but he had always been careful with Bonnie. He honestly couldn't say he hadn't tried resisting, but Bonnie had more of a hand in this than she was willing to accept.

Damon remembered the look of Bonnie's bare legs hanging off the porch steps. Her red dress purposefully hiked up to her ass, which looked so plump as it cushioned her lovingly on the hardwood. She was in a perfect position to be taken, and he closed his eyes while dancing to ignore her. But it was futile. He couldn't help but want her close, and dancing was a perfect excuse until it wasn't. Feeling her body against his, her hips swaying in time with his, her silk dress did nothing to tamper his desire for her. The perfect softness of her stomach muscles against his hard manhood made it painfully apparent that he needed her.

"Damon, I am not the girl who cheats with her best friend's boyfriend."

"I didn't think you were…" her stern tone made him angry. He knew he was wrong; why couldn't she just call it an accident and let it go? After all, she had been the one giving mix singles all night, but he wasn't calling her on her bullshit, but maybe he should.

"Okay, then why would you do that… isn't Elena important to you."

"Of course she is; she's the love of my life," he shouted back at her, getting her to relinquish her hold on the pillar. It was a mistake; her clothes were wet, and he could see the outline of her hard nipples through the dark red silk. He took a step forward, guided by his need to grab hold of her to make her submit to him.

"Then why did you kiss me!"

Bonnie's tone and eyes screamed her disgust, which threw him off, guard. He was sure she had purred beneath him when he had kissed her. She liked it. He knew that for sure. How quickly she had changed into this hurtful, judgmental little harpy.

Damon knew he was broken when he didn't hate that look. Instead, he respected it. Although she was clearly into him, Bonnie was too noble to fall for him. It made her remarkably unattainable and drove him to want her all the more. Still, he couldn't let her win this argument, at least not without pointing out the obvious: she wanted this just as much as he did. She was just as guilty as him.

"It was only on the neck! Not exactly something to get worked up over."

Bonnie looked like he had slapped her in the face with his statement. She raised her hand for a second before she dropped it. Instead, she balled her fist by her side, her eyes seething as she spoke her following words.

"I hate you," she growled, stepping on her tiptoes, her chin barely hitting the bottom of his chest.

Tensions were high. Steam was coming off their clothes, the ragged pounding of their heartbeats warming them. Their eyes were both glowing with power, fury, and lust. It was raw and potent and desperate to be assuaged. It hadn't been the first time they had found themselves getting underneath each other's skin.

However, it was the first time the need felt so necessary like they needed to fight themselves off the ledge and straight into desire. A hot, flaming desire that wouldn't feel quenched until the following afternoon. Until they were a hot, sweaty, shivering mess of flesh cradled into each other, greeting the dawn on Elena's front porch with their bare asses on display.

"I hate you more," he moved closer, forcing her back against the pillar. The vampire could feel her breath warm the area just beneath his chest. He knew he'd have to bend over to kiss her.

"Not possible; no one can hate anything more than I hate you," she whispered lowly, her eyes keeping him in place. The heat of her body teasing him, the way her bare leg had teased him earlier, sliding up his leg and wrapping around his butt, the smell of her arousal perfuming the air. It was undeniable how much she wanted this, maybe even needed it.

"Well, I am doing it right now. Hating you with every fiber of my being."

Bonnie closed her eyes briefly as if letting the intensity of his words sink into the deepest parts of her. Damon watched her like a cat waiting for his prey, waiting for that telltale sign of weakness.

She was so tiny that picking her up wouldn't be that hard either. She was like a little doll, and although Damon's urge was to treat her like one and take complete control of her body, he behaved himself and waited.

The moment she exhaled and bit her lip, she was done for. Damon's hand shot out to cup Bonnie's face, pulling her closer, and her hands were on his chest, gripping his shirt, pushing him away but keeping him close. Their breaths were suffocating like a delicious aphrodisiac. They were so close to kissing. They were going to be kissing. Damon never wanted to be a cheater, but Bonnie made it impossible not to want to give in; she was just too perfect.

The revelation left him in a state of panic and exhilaration. Once again, he was infatuated with someone he couldn't have. He hated himself, yet he couldn't imagine anyone more worthy of his pursuit. Bonnie was kind, supportive, and far more generous than she let on. Yet her strict intolerance to his lousy behavior meant she would never easily fold under his half-hearted gestures. He would be forced to change for her; he wanted to change for her.

In the worst-case scenario, if they returned, he'd be a better man for Elena. He wasn't sure what that would look like in the best-case scenario, but he imagined it would be life-altering, maybe even life-fulfilling, like Damon could finally scratch that itch inside. The dark little feeling burned inside his stomach when he was alone. That made him feel unstable and nauseous all the time. The feeling that made him believe that everyone he loved and cared for would eventually leave him.

If he could be the kind of person Bonnie wanted, then he would be able to fill that hole. Damon could do it, showing her there was more to him than the monster he so readily claimed to be. He could show her the good

man behind it all. The man, she'd be unable to resist.

Damon let Bonnie's face go, but he didn't let her leave. He put his hand above her head on the pillar, keeping her locked underneath his body as he tried to convince himself to let go. He conjured up a memory, hoping it would sober him," I kissed her here. On this very porch in this exact spot. It was the best day of my life," he whispered.

"Damon," Bonnie whispered, letting go of his shirt and pushing him back with minimal effort.

"I love her," he sighed, finally opening his eyes. Bonnie wasn't crying, but she looked red and puffy, like she would burst into tears," I am not a cheater."

Bonnie shook her head, yes, agreeing with him. She looked desperate to get away from him. Gone was the fiery lust. He expected it would have abandoned him, too, but it hadn't; it had only made an awful left turn, getting mixed in with guilt, not just for wanting someone other than Elena but also for pursuing Bonnie even though she was not ready to cross that line.

Damon finally let her gaze go and sat on the porch swing he put in. Bonnie had wrapped her arms back around the pillar. It was holding up all her weight. Damon could see her limbs shaking and twitching. He would probably see his hand tremoring if he looked down.

"I was only four the first time I ever fell off this porch. Lena wiped my tears away while she cried and waited for her mother. She was still three."

Bonnie's eyes were glowing from the memory of her love for her sister. She was smiling at Damon, trying to make him understand what Elena meant to her. All he could feel was her guilt for getting too close to something that wasn't hers. It tugged at his heartstrings and made him want to be with her all the more. Her nobility attracted him; she was everything he wished he could be. He only wanted to take her in his arms and absorb that golden light into his skin and soul.

Damon needed to shake himself free of his obsessiveness, but his heart was sick with longing." She would want us to be happy."

"I know," Bonnie sighed," but this isn't us. It isn't real. It's just loneliness."

Damon couldn't look at Bonnie; the beating in his chest told him this was real, and it wasn't just loneliness. The last couple of weeks were some of the best weeks of his life. He had opened himself entirely to Bonnie, which he had not done with anyone else. It didn't feel like a fake need. It felt greater than that.

And yet Damon could see her point. It felt too good to be true. Things were going too well. More than likely, they felt this way because they were the last two people on Earth, and they were just desperate not to be alone.

He shelved his feelings and ignored his desires. Yet, every day that passed, he found himself slipping up and revealing his genuine emotions.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

It was an average rainy spring in Virginia, but Damon would remember this as one of the worst days of his life. It was only fitting that it would be the Day when he lost his favorite drinking buddy, his confidant, his best friend, his girl.

Damon tried to rack his brain to remember if they had ever spent a St. Patrick's day together. It wasn't like he was looking forward to it. It just seemed like the kind of holiday they would make an event around.

The constant feedback from the bedside monitor, the continuous release of oxygen into her nasal cannula, and the slow drip of saline were consuming reminders that Bonnie was very close to death.

At the moment, she was just non-responsive, but anything could happen. Damon needed to give her his blood, but he wouldn't do that if she didn't wake up on the off chance it turned her. He would never forgive himself if that happened because Bonnie would never forgive him.

However, what scared him most was the possibility that she would never wake up. She would spend the next sixty years trapped in a coma, just like Elena. Unlike Elena, he wouldn't be able to see her again.

Damon had been trying to rouse her, tried using his ability to enter dreams the way he always did, but he couldn't. Every time he tried, it was just empty darkness. He just knew if she didn't wake up soon that one day, when she was old, and he had tried every option that science had to offer, he would be forced to turn her life support off. To give up.

You have to have hope, Damon.

Her imagined voice was cheering him on, a familiar companion when he was alone and desperate. Bonnie wouldn't be planning the end. It had only been a few days since his return to the land of the living. That only happened because Bonnie refused to give up on him.

The least I can do is have hope for her.

Damon wracked his brain, thinking of something he could do besides sitting around. He needed to help Bonnie. He remembered what the nurse said when she checked Bonnie's vitals.

"Talk to her if you want to see her sooner. It may not seem like it, but she's listening."

"What should I say," Damon had asked, uncharacteristically desperate for answers. He was not used to being this hopeless; not even in the Prison World did he feel this lost.

"Whatever you think she needs to hear. At the very least, tell her you love her."

Damon didn't bother correcting the woman. Ever since he entered the hospital, everyone had assumed that Bonnie was his. In truth, Damon was her only family, at least legally speaking. Last time he checked, her trust was still bound to his estate.

More than that, Bonnie was his. Just not in any way that people could easily recognize. She wasn't his lover, but more than his best friend. She was his soulmate; that was the only thing that made sense.

After years of playing at hating her and not caring about her, it was never more evident to him that he and Bonnie were perhaps destined. She was destined to improve his life, and he was destined to ruin hers.

"Did you know I wanted to be a veterinarian?" he choked out, trying his best to steer his thoughts away from depression. The pain in his stomach and throat was proving impossible to ignore.

"That's why I went to Harvard. It wasn't football like I always say. The veterinary program was new on this side of the pond. I had big plans for my future. I just knew I'd get a job anywhere. I sold it to my dad as an education that benefits the family. But as soon as possible, I would leave and start my practice elsewhere. "

"The only reason I quit was the war; my dad, so desperate to be American, didn't want me to attend a school amongst the Yankees. I quit school so I could join the Confederates and honor my family. Can you believe that? What a joke. We were rich Italians from Florence. We were anything but American. But still, my dad had to keep up appearances for his ego. So, he made me join the army under my mother's maiden name. The only way they would take me. "

Damon sniffed heavily, clearing his throat. There was a lull in his pain as anger formed at the memory of his father's lunacy.

"My father had to pay them to keep me on when they found I wasn't one hundred percent Anglican like they expected. Still, they said my name like a slur every which way. My life was hell after that; well, it was already hell before then. I was always a victim of my father's neuroticism, which he always tried to play off with his self-aggrandizing. We were all just little patches that he used to cover his self-hatred, and when we were out of line, we were the punching bags to take his anger out on. He was always very thorough in that last regard."

"After a lifetime of being beaten down by someone like that, you get used to shutting up and obeying. Still, it was no excuse; I should have fled sooner, defected, and moved to London. I may have found my mother again. I wonder if I could have stopped her from taking off with Julian. I doubt it, but I will always wonder. What would life have been like if I wasn't a coward or more of a coward?"

Damon held the silence, his eyes landing back on Bonnie. Her face was unnaturally peaceful as the tube in her nose cut into her skin. She looked like a delicate, broken little thing. She reminded him of the little bird that had fallen out of the tree in his backyard that he had nursed back to health despite his father's warnings against it.

"I wouldn't have met you."

Despite his best efforts, the tears were forming again. He looked up to the sky, attempting to blink them away. He didn't feel like he deserved to be upset. It was his fault that Bonnie was in this mess. She didn't deserve to be in this situation. But what could he do? He knew acting rashly would get him killed; he understood the consequences, and sometimes he welcomed it. He never considered that Bonnie, in all her loving innocence, wouldn't let him take the brunt of those consequences on his own.

"It's stupid. The thought of never seeing you again makes me sad. Even though you have put me through hell, you annoy me endlessly. Not a moment goes by where I'm not thinking or worrying about you. It's torture, but I wouldn't give it up. I guess I can't live without you. I think that means you have to wake up now."

Damon grabbed Bonnie's hand and waited for her eyes to flutter open. The vampire didn't know why he thought confessing that he needed her would somehow awaken her. Damon hoped it would be enough to show that he cared for her. As if knowing that he simply cared was enough to raise her from the dead.

Stefan had let it slip that to wake him, Bonnie had to do something courageous. He didn't understand why his brother was so cryptic, but Stefan made it seem that Bonnie had bared her soul to bring him back to life again. Damon could only imagine what she had revealed; whatever it was, it had to be powerful. It was probably more powerful than saying she cared for him.

"Fine. Be that way. Ignore me. By the way, once whatever crap Enzo gave you is out of your system and magic works on you again, I'm going to give you my blood and heal you, okay? But, in the meantime, there's something I want you to know. "

"You are a terrible friend. You know that? Do you have any idea what I'd have to go through if you'd have died today? Huh? Years of guilt. Crippling, self-loathing guilt. Not to mention the resentment I'd feel if I was forced to break in a new drinking buddy..."

Damon caught himself wondering why he was fighting with her. She couldn't even fight back. Why couldn't he just say what he meant? Why was he so afraid to admit how he felt?

Damon would be lying if he said he hadn't imagined confessing to her since they left Barcelona. The whole three-second debacle in Amsterdam was just him falling into sheer lunacy. Damon had imagined he would save her life, and in that moment of her panic, he would kiss her the way he should have on the train. But he had spent more time imagining the outcome than saving her, and once he got her to safety, he was silent. He was frozen, fearing what would happen next if he kissed her.

"If it weren't for me knowing better, I would have said that you've bewitched me mind, body, and soul."

The words ease out of him in an uneasy whisper; he had daydreamed about repeating those lines of Pride and Prejudice to her countless times. He'd always imagined Bonnie would return his confession with blush and sparkling of her eyes, not silence, abbreviated by the rapid beeping of her bedside monitor.

"No, not waking up for that, either," he tried to ease out a laugh, his hand sweating.

"Come now, Bonnie, I'm practically confessing here. Well, I guess that is nothing new; I've always been confessing since we discovered our song."

Damon cleared his throat, tenderly rubbing his thumb against her tiny hand, thinking of the night he inevitably fell for her. Damon had been falling, but it was then that it became all too certain that he had hit the ground and was head over heels. They both had. No amount of denial on either of their parts could erase the truth.

"Have you noticed? If so, why haven't you said anything? Why haven't I? I know it's because I'm a coward. We've established that already. But what about you? You're brave, aren't you? Unless you are secretly a coward like me."

Damon felt Bonnie's pulse thrumb at an average pace. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment, tension, or worry. He needed to keep going; it wasn't like things could change if he just said what he felt. But something had to be told before he fixed things for good.

"If I weren't such a coward and you were awake, then I would say…" Damon swallowed, squeezing her hand a little tighter. His body felt like one big pulse.

"Bonnie, I'm madly and helplessly in love with you. And I have been for a while now. Shame you haven't noticed. If I weren't such a fuck up," he was choking on his words," I think we could be good together."

Damon sighed. The pain in his chest was utterly unbearable as a single tear rolled down his face. The truth hurt, making the horrible role Damon was meant to play in her life all the more obvious. Bonnie was still silent and lifeless despite his confession. He was not her hero. He could only ever get her hurt.

"Seeing as I am, I will have to say goodbye. Since. I'd rather be dead than see you hurt ever again. You hear me. I'd rather be dead. That's how much I love you."

Damon would do what he always promised himself he would. He would protect her at any cost, even if it meant protecting her from himself.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me. I know you love me too. If you didn't, you wouldn't have gotten into this dumb mess."

After waking from his coma, Damon had gone off the deep end. He attacked his friends and his family. He lived in a whirlwind of emotional conflict that would not leave him alone. Damon even secretly burned Elena's coffin. Just to fall back into old habits and sleep with a woman with a short haircut who just happened to remind him of the witch to quench his pathetic thirst to go back to the way things were before he cared. Before, he had tried unsuccessfully to be a good man. Bonnie wasn't going to let that happen.

Despite the fact he had attacked her, Bonnie, she had stood by him. She even tried to act unaffected by him sleeping with Krystal. However, at that moment, he could see the hurt in her eyes much more profound than she was letting on, and he knew that Bonnie was heartbroken.

"How could you, of all people, fall for me? I guess it's cause you are kind, sweet, and gentle, the kind of girl a guy like me prays on. But you are too good to let yourself make that mistake again, and I've learned from my mistake with Elena. I won't do it to you. I refuse to ruin your life. And no matter what you say or do, you won't be able to stop me. Not even if you told me… if you said… I love you back."

"Cause I just can't be selfish with you."

He studied her heart-shaped face, wishing he could see her eyes. Damon hated that the last memory he had of them was her fear. Fear that she would lose him, fear that Damon was going to die.

"You're not supposed to die for me, Bon. Neither is my brother. But, no matter what I say or how hard I try and drill it into your skulls, you're not going to stop trying. Which is why I have to take myself out of the equation. It all ends tomorrow. You'll never have to worry about me again."