I have been facing writers block lately. I know where I want to get to, but I don't know how to get there, so this is a short one to hopefully get me out of my rut. I hope to have another chapter up in the next couple of days which I am working on at the moment. In the meantime, sorry for the slow updates, I hope you like this chapter.
Merry Christmas :)
Chapter 13: Progress
Elena stared at the glowing screen of her phone, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. A simple text to Bonnie shouldn't feel monumental, but it did. For weeks, her best friend had reached out with calls and messages, only to be met with silence. And now, here Elena was, crafting the barest of olive branches.
Telling Jenna the truth had been terrifying, but afterward, she felt lighter. Not just from the relief of unburdening herself, but because she had taken control—chosen to act instead of letting chaos dictate her. It wasn't everything, but it was a start. Caroline might be out of reach for now, her loyalty to Stefan creating a distance Elena didn't know how to bridge, but not all was lost.
Elena thought of reaching out to Damon, of letting him in, but quickly shut down the thought. It was too much to handle for now, and she was determined not to make the mistake of letting a vampire too far in again. She pushed the idea aside, her jaw tightening. Focus. She needed to start somewhere.
Elena took a deep breath and typed: Hey, are you free tomorrow? Can you come over?
Her thumb hesitated over the send button, nerves unravelling the fragile resolve she'd built. What if Bonnie didn't respond—or worse, what if she refused? Shaking her head, Elena hit send. The soft whoosh of the message flying off sounded louder than it should have, like the final word in a long, drawn-out argument.
Her phone chimed almost immediately. Bonnie's response was simple but warm: Absolutely, I'll be there after lunch.
Elena exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. A smile tugged at her lips, and for the first time in days, she felt… grounded. It wasn't comfort—she had found that after her talk with Jenna—but it was control. Like she could finally start getting her life back on track. She set the phone aside, stretched out on her bed, and let her eyes close. The soft cotton sheets felt cool against her skin, and for the briefest moment, the noise in her mind quieted.
Bonnie tilted her phone to the side, letting it rest against her chin as a small smile crept across her face. Elena had texted her first. After weeks of radio silence, her friend was finally reaching out. Cautious hope bloomed in Bonnie's chest. Maybe they could fix this, piece by piece.
She was still smiling when her phone vibrated again, snapping her from her thoughts. Damon's name flashed across the screen. Her smile vanished.
"What do you want, Damon?" she asked, her tone flat.
"Witch," he drawled, his voice carrying its usual mix of charm and impatience. "Where are you? Meet me at the Grill."
Her brows knitted. "Why?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
"Just meet me there," he insisted, sharper now. "Five minutes. I'll wait."
Bonnie groaned audibly, rubbing her temple. "Fine." She hung up, muttering under her breath as she grabbed her jacket. Whatever Damon wanted, it was bound to be a headache.
The Grill was quieter than usual, the late hour leaving only a few tables occupied. Damon sat at the bar, his back to the entrance, nursing a glass of bourbon. His grip on the glass was tight, his knuckles pale against the amber liquid.
Bonnie slid onto the stool beside him, her voice tinged with irritation. "You rang."
Damon didn't glance her way. "Do you know a guy named Freddy?" he asked, his voice low and clipped.
Bonnie blinked, momentarily thrown. "Freddy? Vaguely. He's a freshman at the community college, used to be on the football team at our school. Why?"
"I need you to do a locator spell," Damon said bluntly, finishing off his bourbon and signaling the bartender for another.
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Not with that little information," she said, her tone sharp. "A first name and 'used to be a football player'? You might as well ask me to find a needle in a haystack."
Damon sighed, his frustration palpable. "Of course you don't know anything useful," he muttered, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
Bonnie clenched her fists. "You asked me to come here," she said, her voice measured but firm.
"Yeah, and now I'm asking you to leave," Damon growled, his tone a low, dangerous rumble.
Bonnie stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not afraid of you, Damon."
"Well, you should be," he shot back, his blue eyes gleaming with an edge of menace.
Before the tension could escalate further, Damon's attention shifted. His gaze flicked toward a table of jocks in the corner, his posture sharpening as he stepped away from the bar.
Bonnie followed his line of sight and groaned. "Damon, whatever you're planning, just don't."
"What are you, my keeper?" he shot over his shoulder, his tone laced with mockery.
Bonnie had reached her limit. "You know what? Forget it," she snapped, standing abruptly. "I'm sick of playing babysitter to vampires. Do what you like."
Without another word, she stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her. Damon didn't bother to watch her leave, his focus already fixed on the table of jocks.
The group of young men hushed as Damon approached, his smirk both disarming and menacing. He leaned on the table, his blue eyes scanning the group with predatory calm.
"Which of you can tell me where to find Freddy?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.
One of the jocks chuckled nervously. "What's it to you?"
Damon's smirk widened, but his eyes darkened. "Let's just say I'm on a fact-finding mission. Now answer the question."
Another jock, emboldened by the laughter of his friends, leaned back in his chair. "You don't look like Freddy's type, man. You hitting on him or something?"
The table erupted in laughter, but it died as Damon's piercing gaze locked onto the speaker. The guy straightened, his bravado faltering under the weight of Damon's stare.
"You're funny," Damon said, his voice as sharp as a blade.
Damon leaned forward, his voice dropping to an almost imperceptible murmur, his piercing gaze trapping the guy in place, "Let's see how funny you are in five minutes. Meet me outside, alone. And don't keep me waiting."
He turned on his heel, sauntering toward the back exit without a glance back.
The alley behind the Grill was silent, save for the faint hum of distant traffic. A faint mist hung in the air, turning Damon's breath into ghostly clouds as he leaned against the wall, waiting with the patience of a predator.
The jock stumbled into the alley moments later, his breath visible in the cold air. Damon wasted no time. He grabbed the guy by his jacket and slammed him against the brick wall, his grip unyielding.
"Where's your teammate Freddy?" Damon demanded, his voice cold and sharp.
"I—I don't know," the jock stammered, panic thick in his voice. "I haven't seen him in weeks!"
Damon growled low in his throat, releasing the guy abruptly. He turned away, dragging a hand across his jaw. "It's a shame," he muttered darkly. "I guess you're of no use to me alive."
The jock's eyes widened in terror, but before he could react, Damon turned back, his eyes glowing red, black veins snaking across his face. With a feral snarl, he lunged, sinking his teeth into the guy's neck. The jock let out a strangled cry before going limp, his terror silenced as Damon drank deeply.
