In Our Own Time

by dreams as light as feathers

Falling in love is never easy. Choosing to love is even harder. Being in love doesn't mean you let go. Feeling in love doesn't earn your trust. We had to find out if our love was real. We had to believe we were enough. Looking back on it, it was inevitable. We just had to figure it out in our own is story follows the Canon Timeline each chapter falls in-between canon events.

19. Chapter 19 Wednesday, Mach 22, 2017

43.

How hard

And sweet

This taste of flesh

Enchanting

Chameleon

Seductive trace

Tenderly taken love

The snake

Guarding

The palace of bliss

To enter

There is only

One open door.

When angels speak of love by bell hooks

Exile by Taylor Swift (ft Bon Iver)

DAMON

Damon stood outside near a line of cans set up along the wooden ranch-style fence of the property Enzo liked to call The Comfort Cabin. Damon hated the name because Enzo had thought of it and because it implied intimacy and coziness. The dwelling was a small but spacious Virginian rustic log cabin with attaching trellis of ivy and pink bonica roses up to the second story. Inside, it was quaint, hidden away from the world, but inside, it felt like home, a home with Bonnie's scent and soul baked into every corner, every pillow, and picture frame. It was the perfect little romantic rendezvous, and Damon hated it.

A lock of Bonnie's gently curled hair lifted in the still bitter early spring air, reflecting in the sunlight a reddish-brown that Damon had never noticed before. At the moment, lit up by the rising sun, she looked like a flaming redhead. The witch blew the lock from her face as her arms shook from hoisting the crossbow. The look of haughty concentration on her countenance and the sweat on her brow was a lovely sight as she honed in on her target. She took a deep breath and let loose the first arrow. She missed.

Damon attempted to choke back a snicker but couldn't. Bonnie's head snapped in his direction for a millisecond, a look of pure disdain on her face. The blue-eyed vampire's pulse raced in bittersweet excitement, his mouth watering at the oh-so-familiar feeling of passion whenever anger crossed her face. Damon couldn't help but smile to himself as his foot kicked the dirt gently.

He almost didn't notice how Enzo stood behind her, helping her raise the crossbow as he walked her through shooting the weapon for the hundredth time. The pit of Damon's stomach went hollow as he watched Bonnie's shoulders relax as she leaned into Enzo's embrace. The once severe look had softened, and her lips raised at the corners ever so slightly.

Damon's hands started to shake as his anger radiated to his ears. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. His hands gravitated to his pockets, where he grabbed his most comforting possession: the broach he had given Bonnie years before. Stefan's words were bouncing around in his head, "Bonnie put her heart on the line for you. Fix it before she makes a mistake she'll regret for the rest of her life."

Damon couldn't help but look at Enzo, soaking up Bonnie's attention. Even though he had loved Enzo once, Damon could only see him as an obstacle to his happiness now. Stefan must have known that would happen, and although he hated how meddlesome his brother could be, he appreciated it now.

Damon stood no chance of reconciling with Bonnie as it was. She had been freezing him out. She had even ordered him to only speak to Enzo and act like she didn't even exist. However, the broach allowed him to get past her wall if he had interpreted the pages in her grimoire correctly. The broach would reveal a person's true feelings to another. In this case, the broach would show his true feelings for Bonnie. Of course, there was the chance she had not interpreted the passage correctly and thought it was a love spell; in that case, revealing the broach would only make things worse. She would be apt to deny anything she sensed, believing it to be a lie.

Damon sighed, letting his doubts go. Instead, he focused on solving his most pressing problem: getting Bonnie and Enzo to stop flirting in front of him.

"How about you let the Clydes take care of the loading and the shooting," he interjected, unable to stop himself after seeing the last arrow eject backward. She was going to kill herself at this rate.

Instantly, Enzo looked at him in warning, and Bonnie's left temple started to pulse. Damon couldn't count to three before he saw her turn to him angrily and say," I thought I told you to stop with the Clyde stuff, Damon."

He knew he should keep his mouth shut unless she popped a vein in her condition, but he couldn't help it," Actually, Enzo told me, and I don't take orders from him, so..."

Damon could see the vein over Bonnie's eyebrow pulsate as he threw her little demands back at her. Bonnie was speechless after his response. It felt like old times. Damon couldn't help but return a wide, toothy smile.

Fiercely Bonnie cocked back an arrow perfectly and aimed at his head. She let it loose before he could warn her to put the weapon down. In a split second, he tilted his head to the side, narrowly avoiding an arrow to the eye. Thankfully, Enzo grabbed the crossbow and kept her from shooting off another one.

Damon stared at Bonnie, his eyes terrified but excited. He recognized a look in her he hadn't seen in a long time: that desire to kill him, his favorite form of foreplay. Damon couldn't help but look her up and down. She looked as fierce as the day she set that man on fire in Barcelona.

If he could, he would ravage her; in fact, she might have needed it, judging by the fact that her pulse was fast and her nipples were visible. Damon knew he should walk away before his arousal became more evident, but he couldn't. Not when she stared into his soul, willing him to catch fire.

"Look, love. I get that he annoys you, but try not to kill him. He is helping," Enzo looked Damon up and down," in his way."

Damon snorted, folding his arms, still not losing eye contact with Bonnie. His nipples were still hard, but Enzo looking at him was like a splash of cold water. Sadly, Bonnie looked away from him quickly when she noticed his excitement had traveled south. Happily, she looked away from him with a blush on her cheeks.

"Do we need him?" Bonnie asked, looking at Enzo concerned, but he could see her take another quick peak.

Lust? he thought; it had to be.

"Look, Bon, I don't like it any more than you do, but we need as much help as possible to meet this deadline."

Bonnie looked like she wanted to protest, but she saw something in Enzo's eyes that made her stop arguing. Damon was jealous. He wished Bonnie had that level of reservation when he talked to her. But she always said exactly what she thought when speaking to him.

On second thought, that was a good thing. It meant she was honest. Even if it were only that she was honestly angry.

"Okay," she smiled brightly, but her eyes were a dark contrast," but promise me, it's just the two of us."

Bonnie gave Damon a half-hearted side-eye before smiling back at Enzo. Enzo, on the other hand, looked gutted.

Damon couldn't imagine what she said was painful for Enzo. She was all but saying that she chose him over Damon. Shouldn't Enzo be cheering while Damon was having a nervous breakdown? The witch must have been talking in code somehow.

"As you wish," Enzo crooned, obviously struggling to speak.

I have a bad feeling about this, he thought, better investigate.

"Well, now that we got your shooting snafu squared away, why don't we set up some target practice for you, eh Buttercup?"

Damon joked, teasing their little Princess Bride reference, feeling like an absolute chump for showing her that damn movie. At the same time, he was making serious eye contact with Enzo.

"Good idea, actually," Enzo scratched his head before pointing down range.

Enzo escorted Bonnie toward the cans, but he looked back at Damon for a second, whispering at a level only another vampire could hear:" I need to talk to you."

BONNIE

Bonnie took a deep breath, the morning wind blowing against her face. The air was cold and crisp, even though the first day of spring was yesterday. Bonnie tried to focus on the blue beer can before her, but her mind wandered.

As soon as Enzo had carted her away to shoot at cans, Bonnie knew that he and Damon would discuss her minor slip-up earlier. But promise me that it's just the two of us. Bonnie couldn't lie and say she wasn't referring to her eventual death. However, she hadn't expected them to pick up on her meaning.

She couldn't let herself believe she would live. Death had a hard-on for her; eventually, he would get what he wanted. She doubted she could escape his clutches a third time.

Bonnie felt eyes boring into the back of her head and couldn't help but turn to look. She expected to see Enzo's loving and concerned attention but was met with Damon's electrifying blue eyes instead. Bonnie took a deep breath, turned away from him, and renewed her focus.

As she pulled the crossbow string back and prepared to shoot her first arrow at the middle target, she noticed that she was biting her lip, a nasty habit she had whenever he looked at her.

The witch let loose the arrow, hitting the can dead on.

Her hands were shaking from the adrenaline running through her veins. But she knew it wasn't from successfully knocking down her first can. It was from catching Damon's gaze. Bonnie hated that three whole years later, that motherfucker still had a painful hold on her.

Bonnie shook her shooting hand, trying to will the jitters away, but they wouldn't budge. Bonnie had been good at calming her body once. She had been able to rationalize away all the unwanted feelings. After three years, she was out of practice, and part of her worried Enzo would start taking things the wrong way. It didn't help that Damon didn't seem like he could pull back his emotions either.

Damon had been staring at her all week, locked in like some possessive beast, like a wolf howling at the moon. At breakfast earlier, she could see from the corner of her eye how he was observing her and Enzo. It was apparent he was jealous.

Bonnie notched back a second arrow, aiming briefly before completely missing her target.

Damon's jealousy should have disgusted her, but it didn't. It just raised her blood pressure, put her on edge, and even excited her a little. She knew better; she hadn't forgotten that he had chosen Elena. But there was something about the way he reacted to her and Enzo. It satisfied something in her just as much as it unsettled her.

When he returned, her initial plan for Damon was to make him a good man before she died, but the idea of revenge entertained her—nothing serious like torture, more like teasing.

If she had more time than Bonnie wanted to get, even for all the years she had pushed down every desire to take what Damon was so desperately offering. She had refused him out of devotion and respect for her best friend. A dedication and respect that could rival, if not match, one sister's devotion to another. But even more than that, Bonnie had been Damon's best ally against himself in his relationship with Elena. She supported them willingly, ignored his duplicitous nature, and instead focused on the good in him. She had even become his best friend; however, it didn't matter; he eventually left her broken into pieces anyway.

Although she would never get the opportunity to take her time with the revenge, she was experiencing a bit of it now. Damon was forced to watch as she got on happily with his best friend. And based on the rules she put in place, he couldn't get close or talk to her.

His only outlet was to support her relationship from a distance, as he had promised to do all those years ago in Barcelona. Maybe she would talk to him again if Damon could muster an apology worthy of starting a conversation and find a way to keep her alive—an increasingly unlikely outcome.

Her impending death was even more reason she expected that Damon would be begging her to forgive him, begging her to listen to his bullshit reason for why he had left her. She hoped he would continue to tell her that the past didn't matter. That things would be different now. However, that was not the case. He hadn't even brought up the stupid letter again since she told him off. He had stopped trying as she asked. And even though she told him to get lost, he was still there, protecting her like she was still his to protect.

Bonnie picked up the next arrow after letting her arms rest a little. She struggled to load the crossbow again, but she took a breath and decided not to rush it. She lowered the crossbow and let the wind brush the hair from her face. She relaxed the collar of her jacket, letting the cool air touch her neck. She could feel eyes boring into her back but didn't dare look behind her. She didn't need Damon's gaze to unsettle her further.

It was so confusing to feel this way after all this time apart. Bonnie knew it was silly to think Damon would apologize, let alone that she would believe it if she heard it. Some part of her felt it better for him to abandon her again. And yet Bonnie knew just by the feverish look in his eye that he couldn't leave her alone; he needed something from her. No time apart could erase her recognition of that in his eyes. And as much as she hoped his desire for her would motivate him to do better at reconciling things before she died, she wasn't a fool.

Bonnie knew what Damon wanted from her. Bonnie knew that what he constantly searched for in her eyes was not friendship. It wasn't even unconditional devotion and loyalty he showed her that wasn't enough when he left. Damon wanted her soul; he wanted her to acknowledge those feelings from before. He wanted her to give in to him, to submit. But she wasn't going to; she would die before she gave him that.

It wasn't just because she was being loyal to Elena. It was because, after all these years, she had finally realized he didn't deserve her in the first place. He never really tried to. So despite the fact he made her heart pound in her chest or the fact that she wanted to be on good terms before she died, she refused to let Damon win the game of who gives in first.

If he wanted things to be good again, Damon would have to bury his pride and fast before they buried her.

DAMON

"What did you want to talk about, Enzo?"

"Less a what and more a who."

"I think you mean whom."

Enzo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, not making eye contact with Damon as if he couldn't be bothered to deal with him. Damon knew Enzo must have been worried. The man usually didn't balk at eye contact. He dealt with things head-on.

"What did she mean by only us?" Damon asked directly.

"You know what she meant," Enzo stated.

"And you're okay with that? With her talking like that?"

Damon was frustrated by Enzo's apparent calm. The woman he claimed to love was willing to lie down and die, and it seemed like it didn't bother him.

"Of course not," Enzo stated, still studying Bonnie.

"So…"

Enzo finally turned to look at Damon, bravely interrupting the older vampire.

"I am going to ask her to marry me, Damon."

It took Damon a minute to process it all. Was he serious? Judging by Enzo's staring into his soul, the brown-eyed vampire was deadly serious.

"You think you deserve her," Damon asked, unable to hide the overwhelming disgust in his voice.

"Of course not, but…"

"So why are you telling me this," Damon cut him off and instead focused his smoldering gaze on Bonnie, his eyes boring into the back of her head. Bonnie almost immediately turned to look at him; a brief blush passed before she turned to look away quickly.

"Because I think she still has feelings for you," Damon's head snapped to look at the younger vampire, incredulous. He wanted to ask further questions, but Enzo continued.

"And I need to know that she isn't going…"

"To fall for me again."

Damon wanted to laugh, but he couldn't manage it. He twirled the broach in his hands. A deep, penetrating feeling engulfed him. It was a mix of excitement and dread.

"Yeah," Enzo said, studying Damon's face," Long story short, I need you two to talk."

"And what if we don't end up talking," Damon taunted as he nervously twirled the broach in his pocket.

Enzo looked intensely at Damon, searching his face. Perhaps Bonnie had told him about their time in 1994 and how things had almost happened. However, almost happening was not happening.

Enzo looked away," If she loves me like I believe she does, then nothing will happen."

He was disappointed in Enzo. How could he love her if he couldn't trust her enough to know she wouldn't cheat? Damon's mind returned to 1994 and the countless times Bonnie had denied him for the sake of what was right. Damon knew there was a good chance she would laugh in his face if he just brought up his feelings. However, the broach in his hand might be what he needed to level the playing field.

"So, I have your permission, is that right?"

Enzo sent Damon a chilling look matching Damon's. For a moment, the older vampire was concerned they would end up in a fight right there.

"As long as you don't force yourself on her."

Damon's grip on the broach tightened as he ground his molars. He was doing his best not to smash his fist into Enzo's jaw.

"Consensually is the only way I'll have it."

"Your track record…"

"I wouldn't do that not to Bonnie. Never her." Damon growled.

Enzo smirked," So, you hold her in higher regard?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Then you won't bother with the challenge. I know my insecurities about us are what are speaking for me now. Bringing up this challenge is nothing more than me indulging my orphaned nature. However, if you are half the man I thought you once were. You won't step a foot toward her. You wouldn't dare try to confuse her. After all, you have made it clear that Elena is yours. You even left Bonnie behind for her."

"I didn't dessicate for her."

"What?"

"I didn't do it for Elena," Damon smirked, taking his hand off his broach," just like I didn't try to break Bonnie from 1994 for Elena or stay behind in Nova Scotia."

Not even charting a path for the cure was for Elena.

Enzo's questioning gaze increased as Damon revealed himself. He had no clue why he was exposing himself to Enzo. Perhaps because he was his best friend once, or probably because Damon knew he wouldn't reveal it to Bonnie. Enzo would never take the chance of actually losing her, which is why he was proposing the challenge now and not at some later date when she was well and in her right mind.

"So you want me to believe this lie that everything you do for Elena is secretly for Bonnie."

Damon stared at Enzo, an unwavering confidence easing over him. He could tell from Enzo's body language that if he revealed his feelings to Bonnie, Damon would stand an excellent chance of stealing her away. Why else was he so nervous and her so defensive? Damon wondered if she still dreamed about him; had she whispered his name in her sleep?

"You're lying, Damon. She's a consolation prize for you because you don't know how to be alone."

"Bonnie was never a consolation prize," Damon stated firmly," and I plan to tell her that."

"And what if Damon, she dies, and Elena returns? Will you tell Elena the same thing?"

Damon paused. He never thought about Elena returning. He was too caught up in the idea that Bonnie needed to be protected. It seemed like a waste of time, even considering it.

"Elena won't return," Damon turned, staring at the witch," 'cause I'm going to save Bonnie."

"And afterward, I will take you up on your offer to ruin your life. I'm an amazing homewrecker, ask Ric," Damon smiled, swallowing down his fear as the wind whipped around his face. He chanted in his head that he had to save her.

Damon walked back to where Bonnie was, and Enzo followed.

BONNIE

Bonnie notched another arrow with some effort, hearing the footsteps in the grass come closer. She focused on her target, feeling that electrified gaze digging into her back, encouraging her to take in a breath as she bit her lip. She pulled the trigger, the arrow knocking the desired target off the fence.

"Nice," Enzo stated, coming up on her left side, his hand on the small part of her back.

"Make sure you watch your elbow," Damon was on her right, his voice sending a shiver down her spine as he lightly touched her elbow. The shock it sent through her body was immediate; she dropped the bow.

Bonnie twisted away from Damon, stumbling into Enzo's arms.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted.

Damon initially looked hurt, but his smirk quickly appeared as he studied her face. The blush was heavy on her cheeks, and she knew what had happened would be evident to Damon. It was always apparent to him.

Bonnie mustered all her anger and frustration and removed herself forcefully from Enzo's grasp, blabbing the words, 'I am going to take a nap,' at them as she sauntered off.

Bonnie wasn't tired but couldn't deal with being in Damon's presence anymore. She was out of practice and patience.

Before she even touched the door, Enzo had vamped past and was opening it for her. Bonnie wanted to thank him for his gentlemanly behavior, but she couldn't even speak, let alone look Enzo in the eye. So she pressed on to the bedroom without a word.

Bonnie was disturbed. She loved Enzo. She had been in a relationship with him for almost two years now. And yet, with just a look and a touch from Damon, she was a sweaty, riled mess. It wasn't right, and she hated herself for it.

"So you are just not talking to me then?" Enzo snarked lowly.

Bonnie paused on the stairs and opened her mouth to explain, but she noticed that Reyna, the hunter, was only a few feet away. She was sketching out clues and deciding on the next most dangerous target. Although she was grateful the hunter cooperated, Bonnie didn't want Reyna in her business.

"Come."

Bonnie went up the stairs, not waiting to see if Enzo had followed her. She stayed at the side of the door, closing it as soon as he entered.

Enzo stared at her for a second, looking concerned and perplexed. Bonnie stared at him, feeling all her pent-up adrenaline and frustration ready to explode. Before she could think it through, she pushed her boyfriend against the door, her lips on his as she scrubbed her hands into his hair and rubbed her pelvis against his. Bonnie needed desperately to get off. She hadn't done anything since she found out she was dying, and she needed to get her stress out somehow.

"Bonnie, wait," Enzo protested.

"Why?" she protested right back.

"Why now?" Enzo looked concerned, his eyes communicating his insecurities.

Are you this way because of Damon?

But Bonnie couldn't hear anything over the thrumming of her own heart.

"Shut up," she whispered, tugging Enzo's hair and pushing him into her lips before walking him back to the bed.

"Bonnie," Enzo growled, letting himself be pushed down on the bed," I love you."

"And I love you too," she reciprocated before ripping off her top," And don't you dare question that again."

Bonnie began to straddle Enzo, kissing him along his collarbone. And just as she started to kiss him again deeply, she heard the third step creak. Enzo didn't react. Instead, he flipped their bodies so that he could be on top.

Bonnie tried to focus on the love Enzo was giving her, but her mind kept returning to the third step. The witch had learned that particular step creaked one night after she and Enzo got back together.

On many nights, Bonnie had woken up in fright just as Damon's name was about to slip from her. So she would slip downstairs, turn on the faucet, and finish her sleep in peace. The first night, the witch had used the third step and woke Enzo up, and they had an hours-long conversation where Bonnie didn't feel comfortable revealing a thing. After that, she learned to avoid that third step whenever she wanted to escape.

But now her mind was playing evil tricks on her, imagining that Damon was listening in on that third step from the top. The thought made her nipples even harder, and she tried to focus twice as much on Enzo despite the fact images of Damon filled her mind.

DAMON

Damon had considered turning around when he heard the third step from the top creek, but something kept him pinned. He was used to intruding on folks in various states of undress and consummation, but what he heard wasn't just anyone. It was Bonnie whimpering because of Enzo.

Everything in him wanted to tear down the door and rip her from Enzo's grasp. Or better snap that vampire's neck and make Bonnie watch as he pulled her beloved in two. But something stopped him, and it was the sounds she was making. They sounded almost performative to him.

Damon felt his fingertips tingle as they stroked the broach. If only it worked in reverse. Then he could touch her with it and reveal what was happening in her pretty little head. Damon's eyebrow twitched; she was only meters away. He could quickly run in and find out.

"Enzo!" she whined loudly, loud enough for even Reyna to hear downstairs.

That was Damon's final straw. He barged right in. Enzo, in shock, slid off Bonnie and, in haste, she covered herself with one of the many accessory pillows on the bed.

"Knock much," Bonnie growled.

"Oh, don't pretend that moaning wasn't for me. You all but screamed my…"

Bonnie threw the pillow at his head, shouting get out. Damon dodged quickly, his head snapping back around instantly to see her perfect tits on display. Damon was speechless for a moment before she covered herself up again with a blanket.

"Uh, umm, there is a new umm guy. We should go…" Damon stuttered uncharacteristically before turning to leave, bumping his head on the half-opened door before departing.

Bonnie always had nice tits; Damon had seen them once or twice. But now they were just more ...well …more.

Damon had the worst hard-on; he could barely walk, let alone think straight.

Damon entered the living room and grabbed one of Reyna's road maps, which caused the huntress to glare at him.

"So I don't look like a liar," he explained half-heartedly," Not that you care."

He headed to the kitchen to splash water on his face. The vampire felt uncomfortable and restricted every second, still stuck in his jeans. He took several deep breaths as he tried to manage himself, but her image kept teasing him. The image of his beautiful bare woman had united his heart and mind with a furious desire to get Bonnie back at all costs. But first, he had to save her life, one dead vampire at a time.

BONNIE

"Did you have to flash your tits," Enzo scolded.

"It was an accident," Bonnie replied innocently.

"Sure," he growled, grabbing his shirt and heading downstairs.

As soon as he left, Bonnie finally permitted herself to smile.

Staring into the closet mirror, she examined her breasts. She couldn't blame Damon for reacting the way he did. Her breasts were, after all, perfect. She recalled that night in October when he gave her her nickname, Little Bird.

"Not so little now, huh," she thought.

In her reflection, she could see her first genuine smile in years—all because Damon had ogled her breasts. Not just ogled, he was made speechless at the sight of them. Bonnie wanted to feel wrong for liking the attention, but she couldn't.

She was hot, and she got leered at all the time. It only made sense that Damon Salvatore was no exception. She didn't have to feel sorry for what she couldn't help. And besides, she deserved this little bit of revenge.

Bonnie remembered the day after she returned from the Prison World and the awkward moment she was forced to endure when she found Elena and Damon half-naked in the kitchen. It was poetic justice, and there was no reason to feel wrong about it.

Bonnie put on a new shirt, suppressing her mouth and eyebrows in an indifferent line before going downstairs.

DAMON

Bonnie came downstairs in a red, low-cut, three-quarter-sleeve top with nothing underneath. Damon could tell she was only a cold breeze away from a nipple peeking through. Damon thought he was about to lose his mind. However, the only loose thing was his tongue.

"Gorgeous as usual, little bird," he crooned.

She gave him a haughty, carefree glance before taking Enzo's arm, but he didn't mind.

Bonnie was in his colors, and that low-cut top was clearly for his benefit. Enzo may have her physically, but she was his and always would be mind and soul.

Damon rushed to Bonnie's side of the car and opened the door. She reluctantly got in, careful not to make eye contact. But he could see from the hair on her neck and arms that she noticed him.

Damon bit his lip, smirking as he walked over to his Camaro. His mind was running on how best to lure Bonnie alone.

BONNIE

When Enzo got in the car, it was deadly silent.

"You aren't speaking to me now?" Bonnie asked, feeling her heart beating irregularly.

She was doing her best to control her anxiety, but it was hard. Although her little revenge against Damon had intoxicated her, Enzo's stoic face as he entered the car sobered her up.

As much as she loved the idea of torturing Damon with what he could not have. It was too much like she was playing their old game of who could cave first. Even though she knew she would never cave in a million years, the game was dangerous because it could ruin her relationship with Enzo.

Unlike Elena, Enzo seemed to pick up on every little detail of what was going on between Bonnie and Damon. They couldn't get away with playing with each other with Enzo in the picture. And she shouldn't want to play anyway. Damon was a problem from her past; she needed to let go, not torment.

Several minutes had passed, and Enzo finally answered her question," You flashed him."

"It was an accident, as I mentioned earlier," she defended herself, despite knowing what she had done was inappropriate.

"Um-hm."

Her palms were sweating, and she couldn't help but hang her head low briefly as she stared at her hands. She could see her cleavage easily. Anyone could easily see it. She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her chest.

What was I thinking? She stared out the window, wondering why it had been so easy to take it so far. Bonnie knew the truth had something to do with the part of her still clinging to the past. Instead of digging that out and confronting it, she moved on to the next problem.

They traveled silently as Bonnie tried to think of a way to rectify the situation. Even though she had done something inappropriate, she hadn't done it intentionally or to hurt Enzo. She hadn't been thinking. And even if she had re-initiated their game, she would never choose Damon over Enzo. Not in a million years. Damon had hurt her. Enzo had to have known that. She knew she had been wrong earlier, but that didn't mean she would cheat. But it felt like Enzo was accusing her of doing just that.

"You don't trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you. I don't trust him."

"What do you mean?"

"He's got this impression that he can win you back. And that "accident" might be the excuse he needed to pounce on you."

"One, there is nothing for him to win back. He never had anything in the first place. And two Damon wouldn't dream of …"

"Oh, I am sure he dreams of it, Bonnie. A lot."

"Well, he isn't going to get anything from me. You have to trust that."

"And what if he takes it."

"Damon's not like that."

"Now you're defending him!"

Bonnie gave Enzo a stern look after he raised his voice, which he caught from the corner of his eye. He instantly settled back into his seat, putting both hands on the wheel.

"I'm just saying he's never been that way with me."

"That was because you had powers before now."

"He wasn't like that in 1994. And I doubt he would be now, Enzo," Bonnie stared out the window, wanting this conversation to end. She bit her thumbnail in anxious repetition.

"Your dying people get desperate."

"There's even more reason why he won't. It's a game to him, Enzo. My consent is what he wants more than anything."

"And that is okay for you?"

Bonnie bit her lip, trying to hold in her anger and frustration. Here, the accusation was again. Do you like the way Damon makes you feel? Do you want to be with him instead?

"Do I like having a possessive asshole fighting over me and questioning my every move and thoughts, looking for some weakness or fault?" Bonnie asked pointedly," No."

The car went silent again as steam began to fog the windows. Enzo turned the defroster on, and Bonnie held herself back from shooting an angry stare when she noticed he was looking in her general direction. She was so angry and tired of having the Do you still want conversation.

"I'm sorry."

Bonnie let Enzo's apology marinate for a second as she collected her breathing.

"This is why I didn't want him around."

"Cause you'd knew I'd be a jealous mess," shame was heavy in Enzo's voice, so much so that Bonnie instantly felt sorry for him and changed her tone.

"No, 'cause it's Damon. Getting under people's skin is his favorite pastime."

Bonnie sighed, throwing her head back against the headrest. Feeling so fucking exhausted after being forced off the world's most thrilling roller coaster. Fighting with Enzo was not what she wanted.

"Are you upset?"

"I am just disappointed," she thought, unsure of a better way to say it.

Enzo sighed, whispering a sorry under his breath as he leaned against the driver's side window. Bonnie watched the long highway spill out before them, unsure where to go next. But she knew she wanted it to be with Enzo by her side.

The green-eyed witch caressed the back of Enzo's right hand, feeling his soft skin. There was no overwhelming sense of belonging or magical sparks. Touching Enzo felt nice because touching felt nice. Bonnie realized long ago that those sparks people love so much were overrated, especially if you only felt them for the wrong person. It was better to just feel nice around someone; it was safer. Bonnie's heart wouldn't get broken this way because Enzo could never hurt her like Damon.

" He really does love getting under people's skin," she whispered, squeezing the loose skin on Enzo's knuckles.

"Yours in particular."

"Yeah, mine in particular," she admitted.

Gently, he wrapped his right hand over her fingers as he maintained the steering wheel with his left. Enzo's warm and clammy hand was a pleasant notice that things would be okay.

"I think he is in love with you, Bonnie." Enzo's voice was stern; she knew he was sure about that.

"He obsesses over me, but I honestly don't think Damon would know to love if it bit him," she winced, feeling like the words didn't sound right.

Damon could be obsessive in love, but to say he was obsessed with her just felt off. Especially since she had been sure, Damon loved her once, in his way.

"Love and obsession can sometimes look alike, "Enzo replied.

He was looking more concerned than before. Bonnie was sure there was something he wasn't telling her. Perhaps it was about Damon. Something new that wouldn't let Enzo put his demon of insecurities to rest.

"As long as you know I love you, that's all that matters," Bonnie replied, squeezing his hand. She wished she had her power; she would reach into his mind and sense what he was thinking, maybe even use her ability to ease his mind a little.

Enzo kissed her hand, and they traveled the rest of the way in a baited silence.

DAMON

Damon closed the door to the Camaro, chasing after Bonnie, who had just arrived in Enzo's car and was back at the cabin. They had succeeded in defeating a group of 13th-century monastic vampires that had inhabited the bodies of three teenage girls. It was a shitshow, to say the least; all three girls were dressed like they belonged in The Craft and acted like they were demons resurrected to do the dark lords bidding.

Damon had only gotten so much tedious backstory because Bonnie insisted they talk to them. As if connecting with the girls' souls would help them kick out the vampires. It would never work; Damon could tell by the specific cuts on the girl's wrists that the vampires had lucked up on willing sacrifices—the how didn't matter to him, just the finishing of the business part.

Damon wasn't sure why Bonnie was trying so hard to save them, but he assumed she was concerned because they were practically middle schoolers. Either way, they had a bar full of bodies at their feet and a desire to serve their Lord and Savior, the devil.

Despite Damon's best efforts to warn Bonnie, she approached one of the girls, who started to cry. The young girl had just nicked Bonnie's neck with the tip of her knife. That was when Damon snapped and rushed to kill the girl; however, before he could reach her, Enzo lunged forward and took care of it.

The other two satan worshippers stepped back and were prepared to run when Damon cut them off by quickly vamping behind them. He grabbed each by the back of their neck, prepared to crush them to dust in his hand, when Bonnie's voice rang out like a sparrow of sympathy—sympathy for devils.

"Damon, stop, wait." Damon felt his vampire's eyes begin to recede briefly, but he started to hear the priest in his left hand chanting in Latin—some broken attempt at cursing Bonnie.

"Shut up," he growled, his fangs coming out fully.

"Damon, they are just kids and scared."

Bonnie was trying to rationalize, but her hand was on her neck, and she was covered in blood. Enzo was by her side, but she refused his assistance. Damon could smell the acrid blood; he knew if he drank from her, it would taste like the world's most bitter poison. The reminder of Bonnie's impending doom made him angry and tightened his grip.

"Damon.." Bonnie started, but he interrupted.

"The time for talking is over, Bon-bon; it ended when that little bitch tried to stab you."

"What if we tried to kick the vampires out? We can still save these girls."

"Look closely, Bonnie. These girls are hopeless, and if I don't kill them, you die."

"We can still try," Bonnie pleaded.

Damon could tell she was blinded by her good nature, too blinded to see the apparent self-mutilation marks that would make it impossible to save these girls. Damon knew she would be angry with him right now, but she would understand when she had time to calm down and explain it later. She always understood.

"Remember what I told you before, Bonnie. You can't leash a demon; you either join them or kill them," and in a blink of an eye, he had snapped the neck of both girls.

Bonnie fell to her knees, but Enzo was there before she hit the ground, grabbing her arm. The witch, however, steadied herself before ripping her arm away from Enzo, a painful look of disgust on her face.

Enzo immediately apologized, explaining that it had to be done to save her, but Bonnie didn't hear anything about it. Instead, she turned to look at Damon. Her eyes were red with tears. Damon could practically hear the word monster pulsating through her eyes.

"They were children," she spoke shakily.

"They were dead."

"They can't inhabit the dead."

"They can inhabit the soulless, and I'm pretty sure the girls sold theirs."

"You don't know that."

"Check their wrist, the pentagrams…"

"I use a pentagram; I have shed blood; it doesn't mean I'm selling my soul to the devil, Damon. God, they were just kids."

"Kids or not, it's them or you. And I chose you so there."

"You chose yourself, Damon; this had nothing to do with me."

Damon stared at her, not even sure where to begin. He was sure he had just saved Bonnie's life and got her one step closer to living a long one. Yet she was acting like he had been a selfish prick.

However, instead of staying longer, Bonnie had run away. Face it to say, both Enzo and Damon were in the dog house after that, as Bonnie sped off in Enzo's car without him.

Back at the Comfort Cabin, Damon chased Bonnie down, but she refused to acknowledge him. Enzo dragged his feet behind him, acting like nothing bothered him.

"Bonnie, wait," Damon shouted after her, but the door slammed shut, interrupting his words.

"We should give her a minute, mate," Enzo suggested.

"Mate?" Damon turned on Enzo, feeling the need to fight," I thought you hated my guts."

"I do," Enzo replied, bringing out the spare cabin key," But at the moment, I hate you just a bit less."

Enzo opened the door," Let's give her a minute and grab a drink."

As soon as they made it through the door, Bonnie slammed the upstairs door shut. Damon turned to Enzo, who poured him a drink with a cheer as he shot the rest back.

"If you want her to forgive you, you have to give her space," Enzo stated gruffly, the alcohol still tickling his throat.

Damon sniffed; it was gin," Got anything besides this piss. Like bourbon?"

"Nope," Enzo stated," Bonnie hates bourbon. It's not allowed in the house."

Damon sat down at the table, feeling even more buried in the shit. Then he got up again, feeling like an idiot for staying downstairs. He needed to go up and talk to her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate. If you even want to change her opinion of you, you'll leave her alone."

Damon wanted to punch Enzo again for several reasons. He kept smugly calling him mate just because they were both in the dog house, and he thought he had an advantage. Two, Enzo thought he had an advantage. Three, he only had gin on hand. Four, Bonnie was pissing him off. And five,e his face just looked fucking punchable.

" I know how to handle Bonnie," Damon growled, knowing that was a lie.

" Ha, that's why you're downstairs right now, right? Trust me, mate. You should know by now there is no way to handle her. But if you want to go up there and risk it all, be my guest."

Damon considered taking that risk to spite Enzo, even though he knew it wouldn't work out in his favor. Luckily for him, they both heard the shower turn on. Damon sat down, studying the glass of gin as if it were a foreign being from another planet.

BONNIE

Bonnie was pacing back and forth as she waited for the shower in the main bathroom to heat up. She still had her hand on her neck; she wasn't worried about bandaging the tiny knick. Based on the files she read about the pills, she knew her blood would act differently at first, thinning, so it appeared she was bleeding out before the wound would scab over heavily. Bonnie removed her hand and looked in the mirror, noticing the scar crystalizing.

Bonnie felt awful, exhausted, and like none of this bullshit she was going through was worth it. People were dying; potentially good people were losing their access to life because of her. The thought had her breakfast at her teeth. She was disgusted with everything.

It had all seemed like a good idea: kill evil vampires, and she got to stay alive. It was fine as long as she didn't ask too many questions. However, the potential that someone innocent would get hurt was always there, but she was too distracted to see it. She was distracted by Enzo's appeals, Damon's general presence, and her selfish desire to live no matter the cost.

Bonnie felt a chill run down her spine, and she realized once again that she was in her bathroom covered in blood. She took her bloody clothes off and dropped them on the cold white marble floor. She hated the bathroom color and had been trying to convince Enzo they should change it. But now, seeing her red blood flowing on the tiles with every step, she was more than sure he would agree.

Bonnie felt her stomach bile rise; how could she think of tiles at a time like this? When she was the catalyst for the death of three innocent teenage girls, possibly young witches went astray. She stepped in the water, which was way too hot, but hesitated to change it initially. Somehow, she believed she deserved the scalding.

Bonnie walked directly under the water, letting her perfectly straightened and curled hair flow away. In its place, her loose natural curls started to form. Bonnie felt like she was drowning as the water covered her eyes, and her head got heavy from the weight of her wet hair.

She willed the images of the dead girls to wash down the drain the way her blood had, but they wouldn't disappear. Her brain tried to rationalize the situation; It was Enzo and Damon who killed them. But they had done it for her. At least Enzo had for sure; it was a reflexive response to her being in danger. It had happened before and would probably happen again if they kept it up. Either way, she could forgive him because he only did what he could to protect her. It was her fault she was in danger in the first place.

She, however, had been able to stop Damon. She pleaded for their lives, and yet he had killed them anyway. She wasn't sure what she had expected. Damon was being himself, and she had occasionally appreciated that about him. He could take charge and decide no matter how difficult the situation. But now, it was the reason she couldn't stand him; somewhere along the way, he stopped just being decisive. He stopped listening to her advice or even discussing things with her. Right around the time she came to discover that he cared for her, when she used the broach to see his thoughts, is when he stopped giving a fuck about what she thought. And now Damon was probably downstairs toasting himself to a job well done while she was in hell over her part to play in the destruction of three innocent lives.

Yep, everything changed after she released him from the Phoenix Stone. Her world completely went to shit. And sometimes, she wondered if she should have left him there. The tears in her eyes rushed forward at the idea, and despite her anger and frustration with him, the thought of never seeing him still hurt her, even if it would have made her life easier, even if she hated him too much to breathe right at the moment.

"I hate you," she whispered, feeling no relief from saying those words out loud.

DAMON

Damon felt the back of his neck tingle as he listened carefully to the white noise of Bonnie's shower. The blue-eyed vampire was listening for anything, a sign of life, a sign of struggle, anything that would clue him into what was happening with Bonnie. He was now tuning out Enzo, who was looking at videos on his phone.

Damon couldn't understand how Enzo was so relaxed, but Enzo had assured him that Bonnie always got a bit like this after he killed someone who was trying to hurt her. Damon couldn't remember that ever being the case with him. However, he and Bonnie were often on the same page about these things.

Evil in all forms must die was Bonnie's motto back in the day. At least, he believed it was. Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps it was just if they were vampires, assholes, or threatening her friends. Which was fine; he could respect that even more. However, the killing that occurred today did not please her, even though it was for her sake.

Damon remembered she had been like that, briefly unhappy at the site of death, which was expected, but he would always be able to explain. The only difference between those times and now was that they weren't killing to protect someone else. They were killing to protect her.

Damon picked up the glass of gin, trying to take his mind off rushing up the stairs and harassing Bonnie with his questions. It was a nice glass, something he would have loved to own back in the boarding house. The whole kitchen was something he admired.

Despite the size of the kitchen being insufferably small, Bonnie made good use of the space; her color palette was dark granites to match the fireplace in the living room, African blackwood cabinets, pops of green decor, with vibrant plants and herbs that somehow survived the winter in the perfect house. Damon liked what he saw and was reminded of his dream to build a greenhouse for Bonnie on the property. He might have to upgrade it to a personal cottage if they could get past this disagreement. Of course, she would have to ditch Enzo as well.

Damon sniffed the gin, but he still hadn't taken a sip of it. The pit in his stomach of anticipation grew deeper as he waited for anything to latch on to and move forward.

Suddenly, Enzo got up, his face still buried in his phone as he headed upstairs. Damon didn't even bother asking where he was going; Damon knew Bonnie had summoned him. Damon finally shot back the gin, ignoring the urge to destroy the little kitchen he loved so much just cause he knew it would piss Bonnie off.

Enzo was probably up there getting Damon's deserved attention, acting as a poor replacement. Despite the crappy taste, Damon poured another shot, trying to ignore his feelings just a bit longer until Enzo returned. He knew he needed to win Bonnie back, but he had to be careful. If he broke in right now, it would only be a fight. On top of that, he couldn't stand to see Enzo's smug face.

Damon got up with a bottle of gin and decided to forgo the cup as he wandered around the house. The blue-eyed vampire observed all the curiosities and artwork Bonnie had collected over the years. Thankfully, he hadn't seen any photos of her and Enzo; however, he had seen bits of her in everything. Her taste was like a siren call to him, evident when it was something she loved. Damon found his fingers tracing beautiful art deco paintings and sculptures that looked good enough to be displayed, yet amateur at the same time. That was sufficient for him to believe she had done them.

He also noticed the music collection hidden in the corner of the room in a private sitting area he imagined was for Enzo. Yet a ball of yarn and an unfinished crochet project were in the seat. Bonnie, ever the craftswoman, probably used this area often as several little crochet pieces adorned the record shelves. Damon checked the record player to see the last album played and noticed it was empty. He checked the shelves and pulled out each one, a mix of classical, jazz, some newer things, lots more metal than he thought, and finally, one album that was dustier than the rest. He pulled it out, and although it was bought at a second-hand shop, Damon could tell the person who bought it was diligent in caring for it. When he removed the disk, it looked like it had been freshly waxed.

Damon popped the record in, turning the volume high before guiding the needle down. The Very Thought of You by Nat King Cole started buzzing around the house, connected to the cabin's surround sound. Damon took another disgusting swig of gin, the bottle nearing its completion a lot sooner than he expected. He hardly had a buzz yet, although he was close. Despite his dissatisfaction with the drink, he held it close, pretending to dance with it.

Damon knew it looked silly, but he felt out of it. Bonnie was mad at him in a way he couldn't understand. She was different than he remembered, and it scared him to think they would never be able to work it all out.

The bedroom door opened, and Damon turned in excitement but only heard Enzo's footsteps come down into the living room where he had been dancing, the door locking prompt after him.

"You, of course, would find the one album with the song she hates the most," Enzo teased before stealing the bottle of gin from Damon.

"Is that what she told you?" Damon retorted, calling Enzo's bluff. Damon knew Bonnie well enough that she wouldn't have mentioned this song to anyone, let alone Enzo.

"How did you find out about the song Enzo?" Damon asked when the other man refused to answer. Damon smelled weakness, was bored, and needed to gnaw on something.

Enzo refused to answer, so Damon moved on to the next question.

"I bet she hummed it, didn't she? Maybe she talked about it in her sleep?"

Enzo's shoulders momentarily stiffened before he grabbed the remote and muted the record player. Then, he turned on the TV and tuned Damon out completely.

Loser, Damon thought bitterly as he headed up the stairs.

"She needs to sleep, Damon," Enzo projected as soon as Damon made his way toward the stairs," she lost a lot of blood."

Damon wanted to tell Enzo to mind his business, but Enzo had a point. Bonnie needed to rest, but he couldn't not see Bonnie either. All he wanted was to look at her and ensure she was okay.

Damon backed away from the stairs, deciding on a new plan to use a bird to spy on Bonnie, just like old times. In hindsight, his plan was silly and dumb but simultaneously a stroke of romantic genius. Damon couldn't say everything went according to plan the way he wanted at that moment, but it was often the moment he credited most for the happiness he enjoyed in the future.

BONNIE

After talking briefly to Enzo, apologizing for pushing him and freaking out then subsequently requesting her space, Bonnie was determined to spend the rest of the evening taking care of herself. It was the opposite of what she wanted, but she needed to do it. Unless she let herself fall back into a hole of depression, that would be too hard for her to climb out of by herself.

Bonnie added some leave-in conditioner to her hair, deciding to put her hair up in braids before playing phone games with a hydrating face mask on until she fell asleep—self-care at its best. However, Bonnie doubted that sleep would happen quickly, not with her guilt at an all-time high.

Bonnie opened her vanity drawer and grabbed the sleeping pills she was prescribed before leaving. Bonnie had been prescribed a couple of other things, primarily for her depression, but she didn't want that to be her life, so she refused those pills. Bonnie would rather deal with things her way than become reliant on something to feel normal.

Besides, her brief stint with alcoholism was enough for her to see that she had a problem with attaching herself to things that made her feel good. And her continuous and tumultuous "affair" with Damon was a sign she could be addicted to bad people. Well, Enzo and her friends were excluded. She believed that Damon was the outlier in her otherwise perfect record.

Bonnie shook the pill bottle, unsure if she should take them. Her brain needed help, but her mind told her she would not be better off. She thought bitterly; why was it always such a struggle to do things to help herself?

A thud of the window shook her out of her thoughts. She looked at it, only to find what appeared to be a dead dove sitting on her window seal. In a panic, Bonnie rushed to the window, opening it so she could assess the little bird. However, her hands shook as she descended into total panic. She had no clue what she was doing. Bonnie put the bird on her bed, searching for her phone so she could look up birdy CPR.

Bonnie hadn't realized she was freaking out, out loud, until she saw Damon in her room soaking wet for some reason, telling her that the "cute little birdy was going to live because he knew birdy CPR" or something like that, but whatever it was she knew he was mocking her word choice. Regardless of his unwanted Damon-essness, Bonnie was grateful he could help.

The witch stared in awe as she watched the skilled but gentle vampire take care of the dove. For some reason, she recalled him telling her he wanted to be a vet in his human life, even though she knew no such conversation took place. Besides, she didn't think they didn't have birdy CPR, let alone CPR, in the 1800s.

Bonnie was about to question if Damon knew what he was doing when the bird returned to life after a few heart palpitations and life-saving breaths. Damon put it back on the window sill, and Bonnie expected it to fly away, but it stayed there, staring dumbly at Damon as if it had fallen in love with its savior. There was something so strange about it.

"Do you mind?" Damon asked, heading to her bathroom," I'd like to rinse my mouth out."

Oh yeah, she trailed off, finding it useless since he was already in her bathroom with the door closed. But just as quickly as the door closed, it opened again, and Damon, in a whisper, asked for a change of clothes since his clothes were soaked. Still confused by the events, Bonnie agreed and grabbed Damon some of Enzo's clothes. Every once in a while, she looked back to ensure the dove was still at the window. And it remained there the entire time, stupified or just stupid she couldn't tell.

Bonnie gave Damon the change of clothes and found herself whispering as she passed them along. Damon took them, whispering back with a bright smile, his cheeks tinged in pink. Bonnie felt her heart flutter before he closed the door and started running the shower.

Bonnie heard her phone ring and checked it, a text from Enzo," You okay?"

"Yeah?"

"Heard the shower running. Just want to make sure you aren't bleeding again."

Bonnie was about to text, "No, I am fine; it's just Damon."

Finally, her brain seemed to catch up to the situation: the dove, Damon knowing CPR, Damon being wet, Damon whispering, just Damon being Damon.

"Fucker," she growled under her breath, staring at the bathroom door.

"Btw, Damon ran off somewhere. Hopefully, he doesn't come back, right?" Enzo texted.

"Yeah," Bonnie replied.

Bonnie knew she should have told Enzo where Damon was and what was happening, but she didn't feel like it. Bonnie was angry and stressed but also tired of running from Damon. Besides, based on the effortless success of his dove CPR plan, it was pointless to keep avoiding it. Damon was a master at exploiting people's weaknesses. It was better to tackle the problem now than draw out the battle and worsen things. Besides, the man had kissed a glorified pigeon to talk to her so she could give him a minute or two for sheer audacity.

Bonnie almost wanted to laugh at the fact that he manipulated a little bird to manipulate her. It was far too poetic. It was almost like fate was reminding her not to trust Damon.

Bonnie tried to enter the bathroom to end things, expecting the door to be unlocked. To her surprise, Damon wanted some privacy. I figured you wanted me to see you naked, she thought.

Bonnie sat on her bed adjacent to the large window, wishing she had a glass of wine or something. She felt like she needed one, especially when dealing with Damon. However, she knew better than to indulge, especially now that she was experiencing such cognitive dissonance. She wanted to avoid Damon, and here she was, waiting for him to get out of her bathroom so they could talk. She reasoned that if they finally had this conversation, they may never have to speak again. Which at the moment sounded alright since she was tired

Yawning, Bonnie grabbed Mrs. Cuddles with the tartan bow, a sign that she was the one she discovered in 1994, not Caroline's rediscovery. She hugged the bear tightly and closed her eyes, her torso swimming with many feelings.

Bonnie's ears perked up at the sound of Enzo, changing a few channels on television until he got to the History channel. Enzo loved watching World War II documentaries, and she tolerated watching them with him. However, they never really discussed them much afterward. So it felt more like his hobby, which she could never fully join in on. The shower shut off, and Bonnie felt her stomach settle with a new anxiety in the form of excitement.

Bonnie knew better than to be excited for Damon, but she couldn't help herself. The wind started to pick up, and Bonnie noticed the rain had begun slanting into the room. She shut the window, moving the stupid bird somewhere safe on her vanity. It stared at her aggressively, stupidly, and cutely on her jewelry stand as its head bobbled to look at her from all angles. Bonnie wasn't sure if it was the resuscitation that made it seem so dumb or the fact that Damon had compelled it. Either way, she felt terrible for the poor bird.

As Bonnie sat back on her bed, Damon appeared from the bathroom. Of course, he was shirtless, she thought, unable to look away from his moon-like skin. He was exactly as she remembered: gorgeous and effortlessly toned. However, this time, her eyes were not so shy, and she found herself visually devouring how his hips and abdomen cut into a v-shape, which was cut off seductively by the gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Bonnie couldn't help but guess what lay beneath those precariously placed sweats. The way the muscles of his pelvis bulged told her whatever was there was solid and healthy. Judging by the way the too-tight fabric was bulging around that offending organ she was curious about, it was either happy to see her or suffocating in pants far too small. Bonnie wasn't sure what excited her more, the former or the latter. Either way, she couldn't stop thinking about bending down and placing her cheek there. Just to feel the warmth of his cock on her face before she attempted to unwrap him and envelop him in her mouth until she choked. Whether it was by girth or length, Bonnie knew Damon would make her choke on it. She swallowed hard, her mouth-watering.

Damon waved a hand in front of his groin to recapture her attention before gesturing for her to look at his eyes. Bonnie knew he was trying to appear playful, but she remembered that he tried to hide being flustered through an exaggerated brow furrow. His cheeks always told the truth. They were a hot pink now, which meant he didn't know how to handle her gaze this time.

Hell, she didn't know how to handle the situation herself. Only minutes ago, she was depressed about Damon's decision-making, and now she was imagining giving him a blow job. It was such a dramatic shift that she could only imagine it was her body's way of handling the stress of having The Conversation with Damon.

Damon pulled up her vanity chair to sit in front of her; before they started talking, Damon attempted to offer the bird a finger to land on, but it ignored him in favor of pulling out molten feathers instead. Bonnie wondered if that meant it wasn't compelled.

Damon waved an angry hand at the bird, bunching his tight pants at the thighs before sitting down. Bonnie did better ignoring his dick this time, even though it was technically a little less than a meter away from her face. The blue-eyed vampire attempted to put his feet up on either side of her to lock her into this conversation, but she pushed his right ankle away, forcing him to put both feet on her left side.

Bonnie, tired of trying to ignore his cock threw a pillow Damon's way, and in return, she grabbed Mrs. Cuddles and became incredibly preoccupied with her tartan bow. Bonnie felt Damon staring her down, and she tried to take deeper breaths to prepare to engage him. But each breath just made her more aware of her own body. Her slender body was currently only in a gray tank top and short- short pajama set that only managed to cover her nipples in good faith, doing nothing to stop them pebbling under his gaze.

Bonnie didn't know how she had done it before, lying in bed with him, with nothing but his t-shirt on, without getting highly aroused. Her pussy lips were so moist at the moment she swore the liquid would start soaking through her panties onto the bed. She kept her legs together, dangling her feet off the bed, trading in for her pillow to hide her nipples and attempt to hide the smell.

The little witch looked up briefly to catch his smile and bright blue eyes. She hurried her gaze away initially but then noticed it wasn't as passionate or smug as anticipated. Damon was staring at her curls in child-like wonder, and she could sense that he was resisting the desire to pull on a strand and watch it spring back to form. Bonnie smiled and bit her lip, wanting to explain how she had decided to grow it out and how she liked it so far. But then she remembered this wasn't sharing time with her best friend; she was talking to Damon, who had crushed her by leaving. She couldn't understand why she kept forgetting that when his scent caught her attention.

Damon smelled like the generic soap she used, but there was something else, that familiar little bit of him, that she hadn't realized she desperately longed for. It had been hidden from her for three years, and smelling it again felt like she was chasing the dragon after being on the wagon for a while. It was a dangerous high she was sure was going to kill her.

"You look gorgeous, Bonnie," Damon whispered, and Bonnie remembered that she hadn't told Enzo about Damon's presence.

Bonnie felt her heartbeat thrumming loudly, and her pussy clench. Was she excited about the idea of getting caught with Damon? Bonnie ignored her stupidity and got up to turn on the speaker by her vanity; as she walked by, she saw Damon close his eyes, inhaling her scent, his nose following her pelvis.

Bonnie's body flushed with fever, and she felt her armpits get wet as she gripped her vanity table for dear life. Regardless of how this conversation would end, she would need to get off; she just knew it. Bonnie grabbed her phone and connected it to the speaker, continuing whatever Spotify playlist she was last listening to. She left her phone and returned to her seat, barely avoiding Damon's attempt to brush her fingers with his.

Bonnie may have been on edge, but she wasn't so far gone that she couldn't put up a good defense," what did you want, Damon?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, pretending to look innocent; it didn't help her that his bangs were starting to curl in front of his face, his cheeks still tinged with pink. The only sign of the dog in him was that brief flick of the eye toward her cleavage and the subtle upturn of the left corner of his mouth.

"It is so obvious that you are up to something, Damon. You planned to get in here after I had Enzo tell you to leave me alone. You compelled the dove to distract me so you could get into the room. You even picked the smallest bird you could find. Was that some message about how you could still manipulate me, your little bird?"

Damon looked genuinely confused for a second, but then he took a deep breath and explained," I never intended to get in, I swear. I did compel the dove, but only so it could send me a message about how you were doing. Unfortunately, I forgot that doves are glorified pigeons, and nothing is happening in their heads. Getting up here, I would say, was just a happy accident. If anything, maybe it's just the universe's way of saying that I can help save you, ucellino, if you let me."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, not even bothering to analyze what Damon was suggesting; she knew it was a lie, another angle he wanted to use to manipulate her into opening her heart again. It was bad enough that they were half-naked and alone together. She wasn't going to believe his bullshit story about the universe pulling them together again. If that were the case, it never would have pulled them apart in the first place.

"Next, you're going to tell me that the dove is a metaphor for peace and, therefore, a sign for us to call a truce and reconcile our relationship."

"It is a symbol of peace, Bonnie, and love. "

Damon's voice went all husky at the last part, and she wasn't sure if that was intentional, but it made her spine tingle and the air crackle around her as if she could light all the candles in the room at any second.

"Doves have been symbols of peace and love for millennia." Damon wasn't looking at her but out the window, as he started to ramble on like the nerd he was.

"Biblically, of course, the dove was the one to bring back the olive branch to Noah, a representation of God's wrath coming to an end. Then, of course, there was the lovely Goddess Aphrodite. "

At this moment, Damon started to look at her, his piercing blues not allowing her to escape, but it wasn't like she wanted to anyway. She enjoyed this conversation; listening to Damon nerd out was once her favorite pastime.

"Aphrodite was often depicted with doves, as well as roses and other things…" Damon trailed off as if he somehow just noticed he had been rambling on, but Bonnie picked up the conversation, refusing the death of the moment, even though she knew she should.

"Did you know Aphrodite's association with doves comes from the Phoenician goddess Astarte, who was related to the East Semitic goddess Ishtar, whose cult was based on the Sumerian cult of Inanna? I suspect some of my ancestors were followers. It explains some of the spells in my grams grimoire and my whole relationship with Quetsiyah."

It was Bonnie's turn to trail off from rambling, but instead of picking up the conversation as she had, Damon stared at her in silence, a goofy smile on his face, his eyes lit up from deep within. Bonnie couldn't look at him, but she couldn't hide the stupid smile on her face either. Instead, she tried to bury her chin in her neck and shake the painful tension of her undue happiness from her cheeks, but it wouldn't budge.

God, she was so fucked if she couldn't stop herself. Bonnie imagined that Damon was pleased with himself right then, watching her act like a dork, indulging his ego. However, he wasn't even looking at her when she looked up. The blue-eyed beauty was staring at the window, watching the rain slide down the glass, and the waning crescent moon was just now appearing.

"Where's your lighter?" Damon asked, getting up to stretch. His taught muscles tensed so beautifully that the urge to lick them felt impossible to resist.

"In the top drawer of my vanity, why?" she asked, pulling her pillow closer, taking a few shaky breaths, and ignoring her urge to lay on her back and fix what was now starting to feel like her more immediate problem.

"Because it's after six, and I hate the big light," he quoted their old saying when it was time to wind down at the boarding house. They often had that place lit up almost entirely with candles. It was a fire hazard, to say the least, but a fun one.

Bonnie observed Damon, studying the sensual way he walked around the room, his perfect back muscles teasing her with the way they folded and pulled his form together like a Grecian sculpture of Adonis. Her tongue wanted to trace the hard edges and crevices of each muscle, and for the first time in her life, she truly understood what it meant to want to devour someone.

Finally, Damon finished lighting all the candles, and it wasn't until he turned off the overhead light that she realized what an idiot she was. She was as dumb as the goddamn dove. Lit up by nothing but moonlight and candleflame, Damon looked even more gorgeous, his eyes glowing in the dark, like the unnatural being he probably had always been.

Bonnie couldn't help but inhale and bite her lip, his intense gaze causing her to rock back slightly, rolling her clit accidentally. A breathy exhale left her lips, and a slight sheen graced her forehead. Bonnie's ears were burning with a yummy warmth, and her head was swimming with poetry.

And when I die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.

"She walks in beauty, like the night/ Of cloudless climes and starry skies;/ And all that's best of dark and bright/ Meet in her aspect and her eyes;/Thus mellowed to that tender light/ Which heaven to gaudy day denies," Damon whispered the opening of She Walks in Beauty, his eyes holding her gaze.

Once again, Bonnie realized she had a nasty habit of thinking out loud. Why else would he be reciting such a poem at her? Men just don't quote Byron unprompted.

She stuttered, rushing to explain her mistake, afraid she had taken a severe hit in the controlled indifference game. Yet Damon interrupted before she could speak, explaining that he had seen the book of Bryon's poems on her vanity. He wanted to know what she thought about it, and there, lit up by all the soft light, she could tell Damon was genuinely interested.

Bonnie's heart lurched into her throat; the look of Damon's thoughtful and genuine regard contrasted her expectations of him. In the last three years, she reinforced that he never really cared, that their relationship was just a game for him. And yet now, looking into his eyes, she remembered he did care. He cared a lot.

Because Damon was the kind of guy to quote Byron at you just because, and Damon was the kind of guy who routinely lit all the candles in the house just because it made you feel cozy. He was the guy who always remembered your favorite foods and snacks. Damon was the guy who would watch your favorite movie 99 times even though he hated it just because he cared.

So, although she had three years to get over it, and Damon was now in front of her, the scar of his disappearance felt all the more painful. How could he care so much about her, and yet she still wasn't enough to stick around for? Damon could light candles and speak poetry to her, even make her a sexual mess with just a look, and yet if Elena returned tomorrow, she knew he would abandon her at the drop of a hat. The situation reminded her of her mother. Perhaps it was her destiny to be abandoned all the time.

Damon's hand touched her leg for a second, whispering her name, concerned.

Bonnie hadn't realized she had started crying. She couldn't do this; she couldn't have this conversation.

"I can't do this, Damon. You need to leave."

"We were having such a lovely time, Bonnie, just talking. Why are you crying?"

Bonnie snorted," Just talking," none of this felt like just talking; it felt like foreplay. Good foreplay at that.

But before she could order Damon out of her room again, he surprised her by getting on his knees and taking her hands into his. Unexpectedly, Damon's hands were clammy and shook as they reached for hers. Bonnie could see his veins pulsating with energy; even his throat was pulsating. Bonnie wanted to kiss the beating hollow of his throat, and she wanted to try to push him away and throw up and cry and melt into him beneath him on top of him until she became something new and nothing at all at the same time. He needed to leave her. She needed him to leave.

"Bon-bon, please talk to me. Just for thirty minutes, then I'll leave, I promise. But please, let's just have a real conversation. No fighting, no hiding, or lying to ourselves or each other."

Damon's voice was breathy. She could smell the gin on his breath, but she didn't mind; his pheromones were calling to her. She wanted to taste his saliva; she imagined it would be as sweet as his words.

"I can start, or you can," he wiped away her tears, his hands lingering on her face for a moment longer than he needed.

"Damon," she complained, feeling hot and sweaty and wanting to disappear, but she didn't pull her hands away from his.

"Just one question, and then you can ask or tell me anything. I won't interrupt or fight back."

Bonnie stared into Damon's eyes, anxious about what he wanted to ask her, but she was too curious not to ask," What is it?"

Damon smiled, looking down, a heavy blush on his cheeks," Is it bad? I didn't expect you to agree. Um, well."

Damon looked at her nervously, getting lost in her eyes, searching for something he couldn't have, wouldn't have, shouldn't have.

"Damon, your question," she asked, her voice husky and more sensual than expected.

"Fuck," he sighed, looking down for a moment drawing her attention to his crotch, which she could now see was hard. It had just been resting there before.

Bonnie felt like she was suffocating at their closeness. Their hormones mixed. It smelt like sweat and sex, and nothing had even occurred yet. Or ever, never, ever could would happen, she reminded herself, starting to tug her hands away when Damon tightened his grip.

Damon's eyes turned dark for a second, losing the nervousness and adopting a fearful presence under the veneer of aggression. Bonnie forgot how possessive Damon could be. She returned his look with a scowl, and he let her go, but not before asking his question.

" How does Enzo know about our song?" Damon asked seriously, not a hint of a smirk or a smile. He looked a little stoic and hard to read. Bonnie guessed he was upset about that, but how could he have known? Had Enzo been advertising it in some way? That didn't make sense.

Bonnie was confused, but mostly she was annoyed; she already knew that Damon was playing romantic and charming, and now he was about to start turning the screws. Even though he was no longer holding her hands, he was still in front of her, blocking her escape. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, but he wouldn't let her leave.

Now, she was stuck answering this stupid question designed to feed his ego because that's all this was feeding his ego, and she had been so good at doing that today. Bonnie decided to answer truthfully, finally feeling sober in the head. Sure, she wanted nothing more than to be underneath Damon right now, counting the millions of stars he could put in her sky. However, after that thrill ended, she would be left with the scars and shattered pieces of her broken relationship with Enzo. Not worth it. So she would get the Q over with, say her peace, and kick him out.

DAMON

"Well, it would please your ego to know that he caught me humming it a time or two. He tried to play it for me once, but when we got back together," Damon's eyebrow perked up, but she pressed on." I even hummed it in my sleep. He knows I hate that song, though."

Damon had hoped Bonnie would talk to him without snark, but he appreciated a straight answer—even if it didn't explain the minor detail about the record stocked in her vinyl library.

"And yet you have it on vinyl in pristine condition."

"A gift," she growled.

"From who?"

"Your brother," Damon looked confused, but he remembered Stefan asking him about the song he kept humming. He had answered something from the Prison World stuck in my head.

Damon held in a laugh. Stefan was an excellent wingman when they weren't competing for the same girl.

"He loves to give me those little reminders of you," Bonnie growled," and yet he couldn't even take the time to send a letter Caroline's way."

Damon didn't know how to respond, but he thought it best to leave his brother's folly out of the actual conversation he and Bonnie were supposed to be having.

"Do you have anything to say to me or ask?"

Bonnie looked at him, studying his features. This time she wasn't eye fucking him. It was a strange experience, although it was delightful. Damon never remembered Bonnie being so greedy for him in the past. She mostly acted indifferent, only slipping up occasionally. For the most part, he was the one that yearned outwardly. However, three years of separation weakened Bonnie's defenses or made her so pent up for their particular brand of play. Perhaps both were a factor.

Either way, the current situation had Damon on edge. On the one hand, he was trying to build this intimate moment naturally; on the other, he needed to force the issue a bit to use the broach successfully. If he could do that, then he could pull Bonnie away from Enzo and encourage her to take more risks that could keep her alive.

Bonnie's silence lasted a while, and once again, he wondered what she was thinking because she simply answered, " I have nothing I want to say to you."

How about what you'd like to do to me then?

He bit his lower lip to keep that dirty thought inside. Although he was sure he and Bonnie wanted to do the same thing, now wouldn't be a good time. It would too quickly backfire and become a life-altering mistake rather than a life-fulfilling experience.

"Come on, Bonnie. This is the most vulnerable I have ever been," he crooned. I promise I will give you nothing but the truth."

Damon was incredibly vulnerable; he doubted he would have been if his hope hadn't rested on the broach. Even with the broach, Damon was sweating bullets. Seeing something that satisfied her, Bonnie's green eyes softened. Her hand lifted about to touch his face but floated back to her mouth instead. Damon started blushing again. Bonnie could barely keep herself from touching him.

Damon let himself close the distance instead, touching her knee gently, causing her eyes to close briefly. He couldn't help but smile, seeing how it pleased her to be touched by him. Her sex had been perfuming the air since he arrived. If he got her to stand up, there would most definitely be a wet spot in the shape of her pussy lips.

Damon drew circles on her leg, wanting very much to follow his nose to her core, where he would gently kiss her. Bonnie inhaled sharply, which surprised Damon. He hadn't done anything so intense to warrant that response. Then he noticed he had been touching her with the hand still holding the broach. The cold metal must have touched her skin briefly, yet he was almost sure that caused the sharp gasp.

Damon tested the theory by gliding her fingers to the back of her leg, touching the broach to her delicate skin as he imagined lifting that tawny leg above her head, kissing down from her ankles to her mid-thigh. As he imagined this, he watched Bonnie's eyes roll in the back of her head, a deep shiver radiating through her entire body. The sound of Bonnie's bated breath caused his already tense ball sack to tighten further, a deep warmth building just above as anus as the head of his cock started to heat up and stiffen.

I'm so hard for you, Bonnie, he thought, pulling the broach away quickly.

Bonnie looked at him, confused for a second," What was that?"

"I don't know what you mean; I've been waiting for you to make the next move," he lied effortlessly," If you don't want to talk about anything serious, we can just talk about Byron."

"Um, yeah," she stated, looking flushed, a bead of sweat sliding down her neck between her cleavage. Damon would touch her again, but perhaps sensing he was up to no good, she decided to move back onto the bed, temporarily taking herself away from him.

Damon decided to pursue her while sitting on the edge of the bed, which was not far from her. Bonnie moved back again until her back was against the wall of pillows at the top of the bed. Damon scooted forward, lying across the bed at her feet.

Looking away coyly for a moment, he asked," So, do you like Byron?"

When Damon looked up again, he hit her with a smolder, but she wasn't paying attention. Instead, her eyes were staring hungrily at his cock, now bulging against the sweatpants she provided him. For fun and just to see a rise occur in her, he twitched his cock, and he watched as she jumped before looking him in the eyes. All the guilt and shame of staring was evident on her face.

She tried to wipe the saliva from the corner of her mouth discretely, but Damon knew better. He was enjoying this new Bonnie, who couldn't hide her sexual attraction. If Damon kept this up, she might end up with his dick deep inside her, just like she was craving.

Damon wondered if Bonnie had caught on to his little plan because she was staring at him strangely with an intensity that felt neither like lust nor anger.

"I don't know much about Byron," she answered," I am sure you know a lot about him."

" I do," Damon decided to avoid her eye contact as he slowly walked his two fingers along the bed, jumping them onto the top of her tiny little feet. Bonnie didn't move them away, proving that she hadn't picked up on what was going on with the broach. This meant her thoughts were dirty enough to match his own. Again, Damon wished he could know what Bonnie was thinking. He considered enchanting his ring and sharing their dirty thoughts.

Damon couldn't help but smile fully, his vampire eyes flashing momentarily at the thought of sharing a secret mental world with Bonnie. They could reveal a mental world of all their darkest desires slowly to each other, becoming even more intimate. There would be no barrier, no lies. The thought of having that level of openness with someone was so intoxicating to Damon. Especially since he never really had that with anyone. The closest he had ever gotten to that was with Bonnie.

Damon started to prattle on about things he knew about Byron, sharing details about his work, popularity, and romantic life. All the while, his fingers danced around Bonnie's ankles, not yet dropping the broach. Instead, he watched Bonnie as her eyes jumped from his fingers to his face. The witch's brain was working on something, and he wanted to know what.

"What are you thinking, il mio uccellino?" Damon asked.

"I am thinking about how you are trying very hard to seduce me without looking like you are trying very hard," Bonnie chuckled, holding on to the pillow," What do you think about il mio serpente traditore?"

Damon's smile fell when Bonnie called him a treacherous snake. Contractdictorly, her voice remained sweet, but all her venom and stinging power was in her eyes. Damon's heart started beating heavily.

"You don't think I know what you have been touching me with, Damon?" she growled in a low tone before endeavoring to lunge for his hands.

Damon instinctively sat up to move away from her grasp, but he underestimated how fast she was. Bonnie had his wrist in her grip and was working on opening his tightly clasped fingers. Damon tried to pull his hand away gently without accidentally hurting her, but her fingernails were digging into his skin.

Instead of letting the little witch attack him, he simply pushed her away by her hips. After this, she fell back on the center of the bed, her curls falling on her face. Bonnie's green eyes were sparkling, although she also looked like she wanted to kill him. Damon couldn't help but smile at her feistiness despite her vicious attack.

"Give it back, Damon," she snarled out, looking about as aggressive as a kitten as she sat on her knees in the bed.

" Make me," Damon teased, copying her posture childishly, sticking out his tongue at her as he displayed the broach.

Bonnie lunged for it, missing it each time, getting closer to him as she tried until she was close enough for him to grab her by the waist and push her back into the center again. At this point, Damon was giggling.

"You think this is funny, Damon?" she stated, venom in her tone.

Bonnie then tried to kick him, but Damon grabbed hold of her ankles; she only needed his thumb, index finger, and forefinger to keep her tiny self locked away," Yes, Bon-bon, I think it's fucking hilarious."

As he said this, she jerked her legs enough that the broach he had in his right hand fell out of his grip, landing somewhere between her thighs and his. However, the contact was enough for Bonnie's eyes to glaze over for a minute. Damon felt her relax beneath him as the images in his head raced through her mind.

Bonnie was blushing," have you done that before," she asked shyly.

"There isn't much I haven't done," he answered truthfully, and he saw her face turn into a deep scarlet.

"Please, Damon, let me go," Damon gladly let her ankles go, feeling awkward.

He wanted to tell her he thought she was perfectly flexible enough to handle it, but he wasn't sure that would be received well. Bonnie was back at the head of the bed, curled up into a little ball. Operation revealing his true feelings was not going according to plan. For the most part, he had scarred Bonnie with all the sexual thoughts he had about her in his head, and two, the point wasn't just to show her all his dirty thoughts. It was to show her how he felt about her, besides the sex stuff. Now, she probably thought he was a pervert. He was, but not strictly so.

"Did I scare you?" Damon asked, picking up the broach.

"No, not exactly," she rubbed her hand over her face, still looking a dangerous shade of red," I just never imagined putting my legs that far back before or having someone you know .."

" You haven't had anyone?" Damon looked at the door reflexively, wondering what the fuck Enzo's problem was.

"I have, but… not like that… anyway, that's none of your business, you fucking pervert," Bonnie threw another pillow at his face, and he didn't bother dodging it.

Damon wanted to tell her it wasn't his fault; she forced herself into that position by kicking him. And he was just a man. And she was giggling, giggling so hard she was crying.

"I mean, I was a fucking pretzel," she laughed, barely keeping her voice down.

Damon felt his cheeks turn beat red. His mind was confused; he had never had a woman laugh at him, and it felt painful.

"And that's sexy for you, Damon?" she asked, but he wasn't sure he was feeling up to answering.

"At the moment, it doesn't feel that weird," he whispered, not looking at him.

"I imagine at the moment everything feels pretty good with you," she whispered, and Damon just caught her, releasing her lip after biting it.

" I just can't imagine the visual being that sexy; you know, a woman's stomach being all scrunched while you know you make her cum. It just seems."

"Well, it's natural for you not to think that way. You aren't a lesbian. Unless…," Damon studied her waiting for her to hit him at his insinuation, but instead, she answered him thoughtfully, making him feel like an ass once again.

"I don't know. I've never really thought about sex that much, Damon. I've been pretty closeted about everything except when it came to you. Well, then, I can't stop thinking about that when it comes to you. The only difference is I was so much better at hiding it before."

Damon didn't know what to say. All he knew was that for the past seven years, he had wanted Bonnie to admit that she desired him sexually at least, and here she was admitting it like it was nothing. Moreover, she was talking without a hint of shame in her voice. This woman was not ashamed of sex or afraid of it, not like his old Bonnie.

"Which is another reason I am on the fence about letting you close to me. I am in a committed relationship, Damon, and all you have done these last couple of hours is try and convince me to cheat. Which I admit is easy for you, seeing as you were my roadmap for what sexuality could be. I felt things in your presence that I never knew I could experience, and we have never kissed, let alone had sex. Damn, you were even my first non-masturbatory orgasm."

Damon was again speechless, his heart pounding at finding out that he had laid the groundwork for her sexual revolution. Damon wanted to tell her there was so much more than the little he showed her. Seduction could go farther, sex could be metaphysical, and they could experience new things together, but he knew better. Damon could feel Bonnie building up to the giant, but.

"But, I don't think seducing me was your reason for using that broach on me. Because I know you, Damon, I spent months alone with you. I was your best friend for a time. I know you would use that broach to make me see how you feel about me."

Damon felt a lump in his throat. Bonnie had so much more to say, and he was afraid of it, yet she didn't speak to him in a tone of fear or anger. Her gentleness made him feel like it couldn't be that bad.

"The funny thing is, I already knew how you felt about me, Damon. I've had three years to figure it out, finally. The thing that never clicked for me was why you left and did what you did."

"I can explain," he interrupted, but Bonnie held up her hand and shook her head.

"You promised I could talk, so I am talking right now," Damon grimaced, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth," More importantly, I don't need an excuse or a letter because, to be honest. I don't even think you know why you left. Or why your plan with the broach failed."

Damon wanted to protest now, that Bonnie was about to put words in his mouth, but he knew that would get him nowhere. He had promised her no interruptions, so he would wait until she was done before he corrected her.

"Damon, I know you love me," Bonnie's words woke Damon up from his angry stupor. He stared at her incredulously. The vampire had not expected the witch to say that. She had called him selfish and so many other names, yet she knew he loved her. Damon was confused by how she could see the truth but still believed that Enzo was her best choice—unless she was just now changing her mind. Damon listened with bated breath.

"However, that doesn't mean I am going to leave Enzo or even open the door for a friendship with you."

Damon felt the world bottom out once again.

"My reasons for creating this boundary are many, but mostly for my mental sanity. Damon, you hurt me. You broke me in ways that I can not describe. In ways that could only be felt by someone who has opened their heart and soul to a person. And frankly, after all that, I hate you for what you did. I thought I hated you before, but now I know what a person must lose to hate someone."

"As much as I know you thought this was all romantic and nice, well, it was pretty damn romantic, you trying to reveal yourself and be vulnerable using the broach like that. It wasn't right. I did not enchant that broach in my right mind. I was desperate and thought it was a love spell at first. It wasn't until later that I learned the truth when I stopped being able to hide my emotions in its presence. Damon, I have been closed off to feeling anything for you for years because I was afraid to. And I used so many excuses in the book to justify it. I admit I always flirted with you and desired you desperately. But I had a good reason to fear giving in to you."

"Today was a perfect example. You conflate love and sex, and they are not the same. Good sex and good love don't always go hand in hand, frankly. You intended to change my mind, but all you did was reaffirm that sex is your highest priority. Intimacy, friendship, mutual respect. All those things come so far below. This pains me so much because you are probably the person I have been the most intimate with in my life. You know things about me that no one else knows. Correct me if I am wrong later, but I think it's the same for you."

"But, you threw our intimacy out the door when you left. You know how much being abandoned scarred me, how much it still scares both of us, yet you left anyway. In Barcelona, you spent hours trying to pry me out of my shell so that I could tell you how much I was afraid that you would leave me, and yet you did it anyway."

"And also, you don't respect me or my opinion. You left without discussion. You decided for everyone without consulting anyone. And Damon, I love how decisive you are. I love that you can take charge and take control of a situation. I think it's one of your best personality traits and makes you a great leader. But Damon, I hate you when you act like a controlling asshole who doesn't listen to anyone. And this morning with those girls. Let's just say I'd rather be dead than watch you make that kind of decision in front of me ever again. I don't need a mercenary without morals or a monster with no scruples. I know you are better than that. I know you are a better man than you let yourself be."

"But most importantly, I am tired of being a consolation prize. And you can say whatever, but that is what I have been for the last seven years, and I have played my role happily but no longer. I refuse to be the girl you run to when your relationship isn't working out. I refuse to be the girl you flirt with when you want to feel whole. I refuse to be your moral compass, especially when you have one you refuse to use because you are too damn scared. I refuse to read your letters because they are just an excuse for your cowardice. Yes, I said cowardice.

"Damon, you are crazy, wild, cunning, beautiful, proud, silly, smart, sweet, loving, and lovable, but you are also the biggest coward I have ever met. And I say that because I've been one, too."

"I may hate you, but it's only because," Bonnie paused for a second, clearing her throat from the tears," but it's only because I loved you."

The room was silent for a while; Damon wasn't sure what to say or do. Bonnie had not yelled at him or said anything he could not believe or see in himself as accurate, yet he didn't want any of it to be true. The vampire wanted it to be that she was just sick and in denial. She was hiding behind her fears of being abandoned to recognize that he was the best choice for her. And yet he knew he wasn't. Damon didn't know what to do.

"I am going to save you," Damon spoke without thinking.

"And if you can't?" she asked gravely, wiping the tears off her face.

"I will save you, just the way I have so many times before," Damon stood up, balling his fist, feeling like he was just another second from flipping the switch off. The only thing keeping him in line was the swirling pool of tears in Bonnie's green eyes.

"I am going to make you eat your words, Bonnie," Damon said, threatening her because it was all he knew how to do in times like this:" I am going to make you regret hating me."

"You don't have to make me regret it, Damon; I already hate that I do."

"Good, because you should hate… know what? I don't care if you hate me," Damon said, legitimately crying.

Bonnie covered her mouth as he stumbled backward toward the bedroom door." I am going to make sure you live, Bonnie, because … because I want it."

"And I need you, and I refuse to let you give up on me. I refuse for you to be right about me. I refuse to be the kind of man you despise. I refuse because I don't deserve to be hated, especially not by you. Especially not after everything I've done for you. The things I have left go for you. No… you don't get to shut me out. You don't get to die. Or refuse me because you think I'm toxic. Refuse me because you don't love me. Not because you do."

"I'm not leaving," Damon said, not sure if he was making any sense anymore. He was just in shock.

"You know why you hate me, Bonnie, because you are afraid. You don't hate me. You hate yourself."

"I do hate myself, Damon, and I hate you. I hate myself for hating you. And I hate myself for how much I still want you even now. There is nothing to prove wrong, Damon. I am not asking you to leave. I'm demanding you do better. Do you think you can handle that?"

Damon stared at Bonnie, who had wiped her tears from her face and was wiping Damon's away as if he were some child. He hated how much it hurt him and comforted him. Damon pulled Bonnie against the door frame, bending his head to meet hers.

"Kiss me," he stated simply," I need it, Bonnie, just once."

"I want to kiss you, Damon, but I will not."

"Because you hate me or because I don't deserve it."

"Both."

Damon wanted to punch the door and shout at the top of his lungs, but instead, he seethed," I will get that kiss from you, Bonnie. You will give it. Because no matter what "boundary" you put on us, never forget that hating means I have your mind, body, and soul. And I will claim what is rightfully mine."

Damon removed his head from Bonnie's, and he could see the lust in her eyes. Damon refused to believe that this passion between them wasn't as crucial as Bonnie claimed. There had to be a reason for it. A reason they still loved each other for so many years and so much pain later. Damon refused to believe this wasn't meant to be and would find a way to prove it to Bonnie. Someday.