A/N: Here is a monster of a one-shot as a Christmas gift to my good friend and fellow author mamamiaf. XOXO.

Quick summary: What you need to know for this is Bamon role reversal happening somewhere during S3. Not nary a Gilbert or mention of a Gilbert in this. I doubt they even exist in this verse. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith/CW Network. Copyright infringement is never intended.

One year ago…

Mystic Falls was a quiet town but one steeped in tradition. Founders events celebrating its antebellum history by way of balls, candle vigils, speeches, and parades. But Friday nights belonged to football, at least between the hot, humid month of August to the chilly sweetness of November.

He clapped his hands together and howled with the rest of the home team side, but ask him what the score was and he wouldn't be able to tell you.

She was here. He spotted her way too easily out of the crowd of hundreds, but it hadn't been particularly hard. While everyone had shot up from the bleachers when the Timberwolves put up points on the scoreboard first, she had remained seated. She sat five bleachers up and to the right. Her hair, which she typically wore down was pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a Timberwolves t-shirt. She blended well enough but managed to stand out, draw stares and surreptitious glances from those seated around her.

So many questions, too many questions surrounded her and her family. All anyone had been able to gleam was they were from Salem, Massachusetts. They were aunt and niece and very private so it was a surprise to seem them apparently taking advantage of Friday night football.

Every now and a then she would lean over to listen to something her aunt said. But she never replied. Didn't even nod her head, but pulled off looking engaged in the obviously one-sided conversation.

Her eyes shifted in his direction, and for one second he found himself frozen and panicking. He didn't know if he should smile or act as if she weren't looking directly at him. He didn't listen to any of his instincts, lifted a hand, and waved.

Her head tilted almost like a bird's and she presented an unusual smirk.

He swallowed and briefly returned his attention to the game. When he felt enough time had passed, that it was safe, he looked up the bleachers to where she had been sitting and found…she was gone.

In the morning it would be all over the news that the Timberwolves Head coach Joshua Tanner was dead. Murdered by animal attack. More killings would follow and the pretty new girl from the game…well she would end up being just the tip of the iceberg.

One year later…

Damon Salvatore knew she was near. He hated when she snuck up on him like this because it often left him scrambling and feeling unprepared, but that was the way she preferred him to be. Off his game and lost in the sauce. He straightened his spine, gripped the strap of his messenger bag tighter on his shoulder, and even began whistling to give off the appearance of nonchalance when he was anything but.

The park this time of day was usually packed with families, joggers, and couples but today people seemed to be scarce. It was almost as if they knew she would make a rare appearance, and wanted to stay clear of the area like there had been a gas leak. Damon tried not to let the isolation get to him, but it was hard because every time he turned around, someone else was in his face belittling him while making obscene demands on his time and power.

Damon could really hate this life. He'd give anything to go back to being that cocky sonofabitch who was good at cleaning out the heavily lined pockets of the jocks during poker, and shyly making his way into the good graces of the prettiest girl at Mystic Falls High. His life had been simple in its complications, but it all came to a screeching halt one cold night last September.

The darkening sky plucked Damon out of his musings making him hyperaware that his day was going to start sucking long before walking through the front door of his antediluvian home.

His whistling puttered out as he heard the bushes rustling. Damon ignored that. It was a trick of the wind and nothing more. He could make it home without anything catastrophic happening. It was the lie he told himself each and every single day.

Clearing the park, he was now approximately a mile away from Roxbury Drive where the Salvatore villa, of sorts, resided on ten acres of land. Damon counted the steps in his head while also going down the list of things he needed to do so he wouldn't have to hear his father's loud ass mouth. At the last second, Damon remembered he was supposed to drop something off at the Lockwoods and cursed. He had left it sitting atop his dresser. He cursed again because he knew he'd be questioned about it before having the chance to step one inch on the grounds.

"Dammit," he wagged his head and swung his bag in front of him so he could dig out his phone.

"Hello, Damon."

He stopped walking immediately and nearly slammed into the body that had literally materialized in front of him. Damon caught himself in time, and when his heart stopped palpitating, he saw just how close they stood. His nostrils flared and his back went straight, and he swore he lost all feeling in his hands as they fell listlessly to his sides.

She was tiny enough that he could pretend he hadn't seen her and continue onward, but he was smart enough not to even try. He wouldn't get very far anyways. She wouldn't let him.

If her eyes weren't so cold, Damon would say they were the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen. They were green but more. Flecks of hazel and ocher were interwoven, changing the hue of her eyes in any given light. They were expressive and daunting and confusing and could speak a thousand words that could cut him in half without her having to open up her mouth. And if she didn't treat him like a means to end and that his life was expendable, he might have even flirted with the idea of asking her out.

But their kind didn't mix, and if they did, the results were near fatal.

Damon climbed out of his head long enough to take in the immortal who had directly and indirectly ruined his life. Perhaps he was being a touch overdramatic, but things were just fine until she and her aunt showed up and brought hell with them. But that wasn't all. It appeared one of them had been involved with his brother's doppelganger. Learning his brother was a copy of someone else had been mind boggling in its own, and watching his brother be pursued by a vampire…it was laughable, and troubling in equal measure.

Between Bonnie Bennett and Qetsiyah or Tessa as she preferred to be called, Damon couldn't outwardly decide who was worse. Each had a temper, and each liked using provocation and threats as a way to get their way. And it worked. Who wanted to tangle with two women who've lived longer than the combined ages of everyone he knew? And until the Originals showed up, who had been strong enough to combat Bonnie and Qetsiyah and actually live to see another day?

He had his magic, he had spells, but he was a young warlock learning things on the fly, executing in the dark hoping to hit his target. By the time Damon caught his breath, saved the day, something else combusted and his phone was ringing off the hook with demands he get his ass in motion and fix it. Never received any kind of thanks, never received any kind of praise, and he'd be the first to say he didn't need it. But with his tank nearly running on empty, Damon doubted he'd live much longer. Graduating high school was looking to be more of a miracle than a rite of passage at this point.

"This is the way of the world, son. Witches and warlocks serve nature. We keep the balance. It's on us to make things and keep things right."

Bull-fucking-shit, Damon fumed every single time he thought about the day he was told the truth about his family, about his heritage. He just wanted to be a normal, horny guy with the occasional bells and whistles in the form of a bad ass car, and a smoking hot chick to occupy the passenger seat. Well he had the car he was restricted from driving because he was grounded. The babe…he was working on that.

Yet first things first, he had to deal with the annoying and deadly vampire in front of him.

Today she was donned in her customary black and leather jacket, heeled boots that gave her a four-inch boost, but she still barely came to his shoulder. Wearing black was one thing they had in common. Damon shook that thought away. He didn't want to share any commonalities with the bloodsucker who would just as soon kill him once he stopped being useful to her.

He did his best to remain passive and not let his displeased flag fly, but could feel the muscles in his face scrunching and frowning, which naturally made Bonnie smirk in that sinister way that sent chills down his spine, and turned his bravado into mush.

"What the hell do you want?" he snapped.

"Where should I start, Hufflepuff,"—yeah the Harry Potter references were way past old to Damon—"but since I'm not in the mood to waste words on the likes of you, why don't I just get right down to it?" every strand of civility bled from her ethereal face. "I still don't have my dagger."

"I'm not seeing how that's my problem," Damon skirted around Bonnie and gripped the strap of his bag, the palm of his hand sweaty.

He groaned because she fell in step with him as he predicted she would. Bonnie liked having the last word and she hadn't promised to bend him into a pretzel. A conversation between them wouldn't be complete until they exchanged at least five glares and three death threats.

"It's your problem because your brother fucked up and woke up Elijah who now has the last white oak ash dagger in his possession, which is bad for me. You know since it was my idea to dagger him in the first place," Bonnie was in front of Damon again, placing a hand on his chest.

He recoiled instantly at the brush of death and lethal disdain whenever he came into inadvertent contact with a vampire. It was even worse with Bonnie. He often questioned why and chucked it up to the fact they despised one another; so of course the feeling would run deeper, the sensation much sharper like walking barefoot across ice.

However, Damon wasn't totally convinced of his own theory.

Her chin was tilted up as she dared him to defend himself and say something smart. "You want me to play my part in keeping the inhabitants of this lame ass town safe…you need learn to work together."

Damon frowned. "It's not working together if all you do is bitch and complain at me. I get enough of that at home."

"Aww, you want a cookie," Bonnie mocked. "I really don't give a shit, warlock. I just need you to realize we're dealing with issues that are unfortunately bigger than the both of us. We want the same thing. Right, Damon?"

That was the thing. Damon wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted the vampires to die, he wanted his town back, and the people he cared about safe. There was something else dancing along the periphery that was just always out of reach. Whatever it was, the mirage always faded when he consciously thought about it.

Bonnie moved closer. She had a bad habit of infringing on personal space. Under different circumstances, he'd be blushing horribly while his voice cracked due to his nervousness. However, in Bonnie's presence, it was never hard to remember she was a killer and an abominable one at that. If she didn't need him, Damon was positive his blood would be writhing in her veins right this second. She was still hot though.

For her part, Bonnie smelled his defiance and it irked her. Sometimes she could whittle her way under the warlock's skin, get him to break eye contact first, and seethed he didn't have the balls or wherewithal to actually end her life.

But it also tickled her that she could get him so worked up that it definitely came through in the spells he managed to pull out of his ass that saved hers in a clutch.

Damon was beautiful for a guy so young, budding on adulthood. Unfortunately, he was at times unsure of himself yet covered it up with a gargantuan amount of cockiness. His cockiness typically went hand-in-hand with over promising and under delivering. Sure, Bonnie could give him an allowance and say he was a novice, still young in the craft and was doing much better than expected, but he could be better if he wasn't so consumed with always being right.

"We want the same thing, right, Damon?" Bonnie reiterated her question.

Jaw hardening as well as his eyes, Damon fumed, "Right. I want the Originals gone, you as well but we all can't get everything we want."

Bonnie smirked and shrugged. The movement so fluid Damon was almost charmed by it. Almost.

"You'd be bored if I were gone."

"That's doubtful," Damon averted his gaze to a point over the vampire's head. It wasn't terribly hard since she was so incredibly short. "Seriously, Bonnie I don't know if I have the kind of juice it would take to make an indestructible dagger."

"You have your family's grimoire. It shouldn't be that difficult. You're the same warlock who had the power of a hundred witches. You're not a sapling though you like to behave as one. Carve out what's in you, Damon Salvatore. We have ancient vampires to kill."

"Maybe you've forgotten what happened to that power. I used it to save your ass after you got that pesky werewolf bite."

Green eyes rolled, "I'm sure I thanked you somewhere in there," she replied flippantly. "But I never asked you to do that. I never asked you to save me."

That was very true. The times he had saved Bonnie weren't because she specifically came to him pleading for his help, and he didn't do it because he cared about her. He did it because his brother considered Bonnie a friend, although Damon didn't understand why. She was a bit nicer to Stefan and managed to divert her aunt's attention periodically in order for Stefan to live as normal a life as possible.

They stared at one another. Damon cleared his throat. "I need to get home."

Once again, Damon maneuvered around Bonnie and continued on foot to his residence. He didn't hear her trailing after him, and he ordered himself not to look to see if she were following.

"I wasn't finished talking."

He jumped slightly at her disembodied voice and swung around. Bonnie wasn't behind him or appeared to be anywhere in the vicinity.

"Why do you always do this shit?" he began summoning his magic in the off chance she was two seconds from getting rough with him.

A strong breeze blew across his face and Bonnie was strutting up to him, "Because it's fun. It keeps you on your toes. Never let your guard down, Damon. That's how people die. I'm serious now," and her face reflected that. She would take no excuses from him. "I need the dagger."

"And for the last time I don't have the power to make it."

"Or maybe you just don't have the right kind of inspiration," Bonnie locked her arms behind her back, a contemplative look brightening her features. "There's a particular brunette you're fond of. About yea high," Bonnie lifted a hand to her eye-level to illustrate who she was referring to. "I wonder how loudly she can scream."

Damon felt the first drop of power leak out of him and he focused it on Bonnie's kneecap, picturing it twisting like someone wringing out a dishrag.

She wagged a finger at him, discouraging him from reaching in his goodie bag to extract a trick.

"Stay away from her," he gritted out.

Bonnie smiled insolently. "It's so cute. Your little crush. Have you even held her hand yet? Better question, does she even know you're alive, or is she too busy…well let me stop," she giggled a bit. "I don't want to have to get nasty so don't force me to."

This is what he hated the most. How, even with all his power, Bonnie could make him feel so powerless. She could so easily go after Nora, slash her throat, drain her dry, tie her up and torture her before he'd even be able to rattle off the first line of a spell. His hand consciously balled into a fist. His blunt nails dug into his palm. If he were reading things properly, Bonnie had already imagined the "fun" she could have with Nora while he watched and those scenarios weren't anywhere near pornographic.

He knew lashing out wouldn't be in his best interest. Damon briefly remembered the times he actually shut Bonnie up by popping the blood vessels in her head, but the pain was fleeting and made little change in how she treated him.

"You know," he began conversationally, "would it kill you to ask for something nicely just once?"

"Possibly."

Damon snorted derisively. "I'm the one with the magic."

"Who doesn't know how to use it."

"Now imagine whose fault that is."

"Well, it certainly isn't mine. Do this one thing for me, Damon and I'll leave you alone. I give you my word."

"Until the next crisis happens. I'm not falling for that."

"Tell your brother to stop being such a danger magnet and you'd probably see my face less and less."

"Sure, so long as you tell your aunt that pedophilia is actually illegal and frowned upon these days."

Bonnie turned, her body going in one direction while her eyes stayed focused on him. "If I have to come look for you, Merlin, it won't be pretty. Kiss your papa for me."

In the blink of an eye she was gone, but Damon never released the breath he had been holding.

"You're starting to become obsessed."

Her fingers stilled on the page she was about to turn while her eyes lifted and stared straight at the window. "Obsessed with what?"

Qetsiyah sauntered into the living room of the two-story, previously foreclosed property she shared with her "niece". The niece who reminded her so much of her little sister, she couldn't resist turning Bonnie; although she hadn't been dying of a fatal disease or was about to meet her end at the end of a noose. She introduced her to a life of vampirism. Though Qetsiyah felt twinges and pangs of guilt, that emotion never lasted long enough for her to really atone for what she did.

They had been reluctant companions for the last two hundred years. That meant two hundred years out of the two thousand Qetsiyah walked the earth in which she could say she was mildly happy. Bonnie hated her for what she did and Qetsiyah accepted it, but constantly tossed in Bonnie's face that her survival hinged on her grace. Qetsiyah had sired a lot of vampires. Only a handful of them were still alive because she either killed them herself or they abandoned her when they had the chance.

Bonnie was different because Bonnie was family. Something else Qetsiyah used against her progeny, which often bent the younger vampire to her will. That and perhaps the fact there was a sire bond between them.

Yet another point of contention between them.

Nevertheless, it was difficult to say what they truly were in relation to one another. If they were indeed aunt or niece, or even if Qetsiyah was Bonnie's several times great-grandmother. But they were blood and blood stuck together.

How they found themselves in Mystic Falls, Virginia was another mystery. A mystery that began a little over a year ago with high schoolers frolicking on the sandy isles of Myrtle Beach. A caramel-haired surfer who was the splitting image of the first man she had ever loved, Qetsiyah learned what she could about him. His name, his age, where he lived, flew into the house she and Bonnie were squatting in, told her to pack because they were moving to Virginia. She never revealed the exact reason, made up a story about an artifact that one of her descendants had hidden there that she wanted.

Of course nothing could stay secret for long. Bonnie learned the truth, was livid, and when she was livid body counts rose.

"What do you want with a sixteen year old boy, Qetsiyah?" Bonnie had questioned with narrowed eyes.

"He is Silas' doppelganger, I'm sure of it. The resemblance is uncanny. Silas was a witch. I merely want to discover if this boy is gifted like his ancestor."

"So I'm stuck while you perv on some kid so you can relive your glory days with that loser Silas? Who betrayed you by the way. He's the reason you're a vampire, and you're the reason I'm a vampire, which I still hate you for, in case you were wondering."

"Watch your mouth!"

"No, how bout you face facts. The both of us, when we get too close to toys, we break them. Remember that, Qetsiyah."

Sometimes Bonnie had too much rage, too much anger, and too much passion that it never did anyone anything good. It was something Qetsiyah loved, even admired, but a bad habit she had to tame in ways that left the both of them bloody, battered, and silent for days on end.

This was a calm phase. A respite from the destruction that inevitably followed wherever they traveled.

Qetsiyah fingered the open atlas on a decorative table that was propped along the back of the oxblood couch. Her motives for being here had not been with the explicit notion of curing her curiosity, or waiting for Stefan Salvatore to mature and to finally make her move. Turn him at the right age, it was possible. Nevertheless, Qetsiyah was after power, plain and simple. To her disappointment, magic did not course through Stefan's veins, but through the veins of his older brother, Damon the warlock Bonnie loved to antagonize.

She looked at her progeny over her shoulder who sat rigid in the padded arm chair. She could see what was happening even if Bonnie wanted to ignore it or write it off. If something got on Bonnie's nerves she ended it, no questions asked, but the warlock still lived and there was only one explanation for that. One.

"You went to see the warlock about the dagger."

"If I want something done…" Bonnie trailed off. "However, you're accusing me of being obsessed."

Qetsiyah joined her at the table, bending over it, resting her elbows atop, "I am. Every little spell that you need you run off to him, or call him when there are plenty of other witches around. More powerful witches."

"He's convenient," Bonnie muttered drily and resumed flipping through an old psychology textbook. Don't ask her why, but she was bored and this was the least homicidal way she could pass the time.

At her answer, Qetsiyah grinned knowingly and stood to her full height. "The Originals aren't our problem, Bonnie. I'm older than them, more indestructible."

"Yes," Bonnie swung her head in her creator's direction, "but you can't make hybrids and you can't kill Klaus…so what are you good for?" Fury swept through Qetsiyah. "Klaus needs to know he can't hog everything. He must learn to share and he's…hurt Stefan. Returning the favor is only fair."

Standing directly behind Bonnie, Qetsiyah whispered in her ear, "Funny you should say that. Stefan wasn't the only person he hurt. He kidnapped Damon."

"Your point? I could care less what he does to Damon."

Qetsiyah laughed wildly. Bonnie frowned and felt her annoyance flare.

"I'm glad this is amusing you so much."

"It is," Qetsiyah sobered. "You can say you're keeping Damon alive because of his magic, but I know that's not the only reason."

"If you're trying to suggest I have a thing for an eighteen year old wet-behind-the-ears warlock, you are sick in the head."

"Be that as it may, you have a soft spot for him. For the first time in two hundred years you actually do give a damn about someone other than yourself. I must say I'm impressed."

Qetsiyah left her alone to marinate on that.

"Bitch," veins undulated under Bonnie's eyes that she closed, inhaled deeply, and released it.

"I heard that!"

"I didn't exactly whisper it, did I?"

Qetsiyah was wrong. She didn't have a soft spot for any damn body. Least of all Damon whom she was watching…

Hours ago she had been sitting at her usual spot at The Grill listening to the inane human conversations around her. Bonnie had overheard the glee of underage students conspiring to crash an upperclassmen party in the woods. Seriously again? she thought with a curl of her lip prior to tossing back a shot of bourbon, though she didn't look old enough to be drinking. Compulsion was a beautiful thing.

Bonnie would deny she perked up a bit when Mason Lockwood asked his best friend, Damon Salvatore if he was going to the party. Damon answered in that indolent way of his, making it hard to gauge his level of interest.

They left sometime later. Bonnie drained her fifth glass of bourbon. With nothing else to do and her curiosity getting the better of her, Bonnie had followed the drone of engines driving along dark roads, leading to a secluded area of the woods.

Her thirst flared at the back of her throat as the brown-skinned immortal thought of the campers she fed on when she and Qetsiyah first settled here; the gush of their lifeblood filling her mouth which she swallowed gluttonously. Those were, figuratively speaking, happier days.

It didn't take long for her to find the warlock. With inebriated teens prancing around listening to horrible music that did nothing but grate her ears, Bonnie let the commotion fade to background noise as she propped up against a tree.

The warlock stood a little distance away from three barrel drums that were makeshift fire pits, a bottle of Crown Royal in his hand that he swigged from occasionally. He stood in a group of what Bonnie would grudgingly describe as the best looking guys in his class. Of course someone as pretty as Damon would surround himself with people who shared his level of hotness. Bonnie couldn't say if he were merely following the pattern designed by nature for the strong to seek out the strong, or it was the fact his friends were the male and female descendants of the founding families…she was willing to place her money on both.

Out of her peripheral she saw the Nora girl, already tipsy, dancing like a rhythm-less lush; a discombobulated tumble of limbs that were sloppily graceful. Nora was beautiful. She had the kind of face that was timeless in its own way, a facsimile of throwback beauties from the 40's. Add in the fact she was a transfer student from England upped her value in terms of exoticism in this small, rural town. Bonnie could see why Damon or anyone for that matter would be taken with her.

But did the girl have a brain in her head was the question.

Viridian eyes shifted back to the warlock who seemed to have taken notice of Nora. His mouth hung open like a dope, and he seemed to forget how to blink and breathe, if Bonnie were seeing things correctly.

She snorted, losing interest.

However, five seconds later she was back to observing.

Nora had bounced her way to Damon's group. Bonnie was sure her breath was foul with drink. No one would care about that because they were all just one cup away from alcohol poisoning themselves.

Damon suddenly grew interested in the bottle in his hand, concentrating exuberantly hard. Nora, she leaned into Mason who laughed at whatever quip she just made.

Then the warlock's head snapped up when Nora grabbed his shoulder to steady herself. The mask on his face dissolved and Damon was as open as a book, nostrils too. He whispered something that had the girl throwing her head back, wavy locks flying through the air like she was filming a gotdamn shampoo commercial. Her laugh reverberated through the woods, and her reaction made Damon smile while looking painfully nervous and relieved in equal measure.

For just a second, like the snap of the fingers second, Bonnie felt an inkling of jealousy. No, not because Damon was talking to Nora, but at the fact she had never been in Nora's shoes. Carefree; free, period. The age she grew up in…Bonnie didn't even want to ponder the horrors she saw, the life she led, the life she only escaped through vampirism. Only, vampirism turned out to be another curse, prison, a life escapable by a painful death.

She blinked and the feeling was gone. She unintentionally brushed her shoulder as if physically removing that alien feeling.

Bonnie didn't see any trace of the headstrong and self-assured warlock she went toe-to-toe with when shit needed to get done. Perhaps that was just a side he reserved for her. Deep down, Bonnie would even say she liked the idea. She grimaced once the asinine thought sauntered through her mind.

A distant scream caught the vampire's ear. Bonnie straightened her stance, concentrated. It could have just been a dumb kid being scared by another idiot, but when the scream came again, it was coated in terror.

Digging her cell out of her pocket, Bonnie shot Damon a text. She walked off without waiting to see if he'd even bother to answer it. She knew he would. Knew he would jump at the opportunity to prove what a badass he was even at the expense of securing a hook up with the girl of his dreams.

Fifty meters into her walk, Bonnie's nose picked up the coppery scent of blood and also…sniffing deeper now…hybrid. Sneering, she was two seconds from taking off when she heard the warlock running up behind her.

"What's going on?" Damon panted.

"We have company in the form of Klaus' lackeys."

The gurgling sound of someone choking on their blood was loud enough for the human and immortal to hear. The duo took off at a full run and stopped when a shape on the ground came into view. Damon rushed forward landing on his knees next to the girl who was gasping for a breath, but with the way her throat had been savagely bitten it was futile. Blood spurted from the wound painting the dried leaves beneath her. Anger cinched his jaw as he ran through spells that would help ease the discomfort…

"Leave her. We need to find the hybrid."

Damon whipped his stormy blues in Bonnie's direction repulsed by her indifference. "She's dying. The least I can do is make her comfortable."

"I need you in tip top shape. Don't waste your energy."

"You can't possibly be this cold."

"I'm dead. There's nothing warm about me."

Just as Damon opened his mouth to rebut, they heard loud shrieks and screams.

"Shit!" Bonnie sped off towards the more populated area of the party.

When she got there, three hybrids were chasing the humans mostly just to scare them, but she knew what this was. A diversion. For a second she was inactive trying to think. Damon was alone and she wasn't with him.

The hybrids caught her scent. They swung in her direction. Two of them, their mouths and chin were covered in blood.

"Where's the warlock?" the tallest one asked, soulless eyes penetrating her through the darkness.

Bonnie hunched an insouciant shoulder. "At home doing his laundry, washing his hair, I don't know."

"Such a pity," the bloodiest hybrid wagged his head. "I was in the mood for Italian after all."

Bonnie pulled a dollar from her jacket pocket and threw it to the ground. "Treat yourself to the ninety-nine cent menu instead."

One hybrid cracked his knuckles while another grinned filthily at Bonnie. With kids still running like spooked deer, she didn't let it distract her as her vampirism took completely over. She had nothing but tunnel vision.

The hybrids had the strength of vamps and wolves vying for domination within them, but Bonnie had age on her side. Cunning and ruthlessness. She took off, her feet hardly touching the ground as her body moved with the agility of a cheetah.

The two bloodied chinned hybrids separated leaving the immaculately clean pretty boy in front of Bonnie who braced himself for impact. Only…she blurred out of sight. He looked around, turning in a full three sixty. Like a bus hitting him out of nowhere, a fist slammed into his jaw. The force of it alone sent out a sonic boom that shattered the bark of a nearby tree.

Bonnie stood over him unfazed by the fact half his face was missing. She smirked at her handiwork, blood dripping from her knuckles. The hybrid kicked and writhing unsure of what had just happened to him. The green-eyed immortal ended his misery by plunging her fist inside his chest, snatching out his heart.

Which she threw at the hybrid running up behind her but she was tackled by the other. They rolled over the ground, a hand wrapped around Bonnie's throat, squeezed.

In the thicket of the woods, Damon held the hand of the girl who had been fed on, while his other hand tried to staunch her bleeding. He knew her vaguely, had seen her face in the halls of their school, but had never once talked to her. Regret punched him and when the life went out of her, Damon closed her eyes.

"How touching."

Jolting to his feet, Damon licked his dry and alcohol stained lips as the voice of the creature he probably hated more than anything slithered into view. The magic inside of Damon began to form into a ball of energy, of flames he pictured but fizzled once he realized that the majordomo himself, Klaus Mikaelson wasn't alone, that he brought company.

That company happened to be in the form of a very scared and bewildered looking Nora. She hobbled along in front of Klaus who held her captive by the neck. She was missing one sky high pump, and was bleeding from a cut on her knee. Her cheeks were slick with tears, and every time she exhaled, a cloud of vapor wafted through her parted lips.

"…please…h-help me-eee…" Nora cried.

Damon knew saying this would be pointless but it was a reactionary statement, "Let her go."

Cherry red lips kicked up into a dazzling smile before flattening into a hard line. Damon had wondered when Klaus would strike back at them for Stefan's fuck up as Bonnie so eloquently put it. Stefan had taken it upon himself to un-dagger Elijah, who had already proved what an untrustworthy asshole he could be. The warlock had no idea of what that particular family reunion must have been like, but apparently it hadn't been a good one if Klaus was attacking them so openly.

"Come now, Damon you should know by now how this game is played. You sent my brother after me in the hopes he would finish the coup you orchestrated during the sacrifice, but here's one variable you and your band of misfits failed to take an account of: family is forever. You can no more turn my brother against me as I could turn yours against you."

"Yeah and if that's so, why are you and your fucking hybrids here now?"

Klaus gripped Nora a little tighter who wheezed and clawed at the hand restraining her. Damon made a move to draw closer, but stopped when Klaus lifted the girl several inches off the ground.

"Stop it!" Damon raged.

"The reason I do anything, you little bastard, is due to the fact you people only seem to respond well to violence. So here we are."

The moment Klaus' face changed, Damon lifted up his arm, "Motus."

An invisible force crashed into the Original hurtling him backwards, smashing him into a tree. Nora dropped to her knees and scrambled.

Damon began charging ahead screaming, "Run, Nora!"

Her feet kept sliding while her hands clawed fruitlessly at the ground. She managed to push herself upright.

But it was futile. Klaus was on her faster than Damon could even comprehend. The Original viciously twisted her neck.

To his human eyes, Nora executed a pirouette before falling limply, face first on the hard earth. Unmoving. Damon heard an inhuman sound coming from somewhere. It wouldn't be until later that he realized it had been him.

He threw out spell after spell knocking Klaus sideways, breaking his bones, popping his blood vessels but it did nothing. Damon ran forward and landed a solid punch that did manage to turn the Original's head, but that was all it did. It didn't knock him out, and it certainly didn't make him bleed, which just infuriated the younger man more.

The hybrid seized Damon's throat, grinning as he struggled. "Face it, you're a half-assed witch and you'll never be powerful enough to stop me."

Damon felt said powers waning because he was looking his death right in the eye. He could almost hear the bones in his neck being crushed as his lungs were cut off from taking in another drop of precious air. The only joy Damon could find among the agony was the belief he'd get to see his mother again. Otherwise, death was cold and lonely, and they were the only things he saw consuming him in the afterlife.

Right before his eyes shut for good, Damon was ripped out of Klaus' grip and flung aside landing painfully on the ground. Lights burst; he unintentionally bit down on his tongue tasting blood as tears filled his eyes. He coughed and retched violently.

At first he had no concept of what was happening besides the very real fact Nora was dead, he couldn't save her, and Klaus was going to treat him like a chew toy before ending his life. But a loud snarl had him blinking at the sight of Bonnie perched on Klaus' back as if he were giving the small vampire a piggyback ride.

Her fangs glistened somehow in the dim moonlight to which she buried in Klaus' neck. She pulled a mouthful of his flesh, stretching the skin until it ripped; her glowing green-on-black eyes on Damon the whole while.

Klaus roared, reached awkwardly for Bonnie, pitched her over his shoulder, and roundhouse kicked her in mid-flight. She landed in a crouch in front of Damon.

Bonnie spat out the hybrid's putrid blood who wiped at his neck, scowling.

"Well if it isn't the bitch," Klaus advanced menacingly. "Here to protect your human pet. We could end him together, Bonnie. I know you've been craving to have a drop of his blood."

"I don't want it as much as I want yours."

"Touche," Klaus leered menacingly. "I think I've taught my lesson," he spared Nora the briefest of glances. "How many more people are you willing to lose to learn you'll never get the better of me?"

Bonnie cricked her neck, "Hey Klaus." He merely lifted a brow, "there's something I thought you should know." She paused for effect, "You fight better than you fuck."

The Original bared his teeth, clenched his hand into a fist. But after a tense second he smirked.

Klaus vanished and everything in Bonnie told her to pursue but it would be pointless and a waste. Klaus was too strong, and though she was tough, she recognized she was no match for him. Admitting that weakness was like tar in her mouth.

By the time she stopped glaring at the spot where the Original stood just seconds ago, she heard the boy crying.

Down on his knees, humiliated and scared, Damon wiped the mucus from his nose as the cold air seeped into his North Face wind breaker, but he hardly felt it as he cradled Nora the best he could.

Bonnie hovered far enough away to give him room to get himself together, but to also remind him he wasn't totally alone. She heard him muttering over and over, berating himself for not being strong enough.

"You have to give her blood."

The vampire blinked. "What?"

Damon's voice was stronger the second time he said, "Blood, she needs your blood! Please, Bonnie. I've never asked you for anything but I'm asking now. Save her and I'll make the dagger."

A strange emotion tackled Bonnie and grabbed her tongue. Her mouth opened and the only thing to come out was vapor. "Damon…"

He clutched the dead girl tighter. "Give her your blood. You can save her."

"I can't. It's too late. She's gone. I'm sorry."

Pain crumpled Damon's face, brow collapsing, eyes shutting to mask the defeat and sadness that was wafting from the young warlock. It was so potent Bonnie's breath hitched and she wished she could be anywhere other than here. Be anywhere else than witness this boy lose a girl he convinced himself he loved or was at the very least special to him.

Bonnie told herself to look away, to leave. She didn't have to stand around and witness this but…but she couldn't. Damon, for his faults, he was a good person. She wasn't too heartless not to see that. Someone he cared for was used against him to send a message, and Bonnie couldn't help but feel partly responsible. After all, she had threatened the girl as well, but she really had no intentions of actually carrying out her threats. Klaus had shown he didn't hold back in that regard.

Damon's shuddering sob broke something inside the vampire who began to inch closer.

"I was going to ask her to the winter formal. Tonight," he wiped his nose. "Now, I can't," that part he whispered.

"Damon…"

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!"

Bonnie froze at his outburst.

"If you and your gotdamn aunt hadn't come here NONE of this would have happened!" he gasped sharply. "The spirits they'll help me. I can take her to the witch house."

"Damon, they're not going to grant you that kind of favor."

"You don't know that! I have to try."

"She's dead and she's human, Damon. They aren't going to bend the rules to bring her back. Plus, what are you going to offer them in exchange? Think of the consequences."

Nothing was said between them for several tense moments.

"Here's what I'm going to say to you," Bonnie drew closer. "Take what you're feeling and use it, but use it to make yourself impervious to ever feeling like this again. Don't let that asshole control you."

"But you want to control me."

Bonnie wouldn't confirm or deny anything. Witches and warlocks had their uses and she wasn't going to not have one in her back pocket, but she could be…a bit kinder to Damon on account of the times he's saved her life.

"What I want doesn't matter right now," she hedged.

The blare of sirens caught the vampire's ear. That was Bonnie's cue to leave. "I'll…take care of Nora. You just—"

"No! You're just going to throw her body down a ditch. She deserves better than that."

"—go home and wait for me there," Bonnie ignored his point while finishing her own.

Damon hesitated. Leaving Nora's lifeless body with a vampire was the last thing he wanted, but his powers had failed them both and he couldn't get a grapple on them to be of much use. He gently lied her back down, and softly brushed the hair obscuring her face aside. "I'm sorry."

Damon backed away from her, turned, and slinked into the shadows head hanging low. With him gone, Bonnie could better process what she hadn't felt in ages: compassion. For the first time since meeting Damon Salvatore she finally saw him. He was finally real to her, a person, not an obstacle that needed to be removed or a tool to be used, but a living, fragile entity who just wanted to love.

His hands were cold, joints practically frozen as he waited on the front stoop of his house for Bonnie.

Damon had avoided running into contact with the police but saw deputies interviewing several of his classmates. Flashing lights and waiting ambulances lit up the area that for now didn't appear to be as gruesome as it would during the day. He ignored all of it as he lopped on foot, trying to make his mind go blank and temper his rage.

A gust of wind announced Bonnie's arrival. Her impersonal features didn't clue him in on what she did with Nora's body, and Damon wasn't even sure if he wanted to know. At least not right now. He hadn't decided if he would help Bonnie, make the indestructible dagger she'd been on his ass about for the last month and a half, but he had to do something because he couldn't let Nora's death be for nothing.

The tears he cried had dried on his skin and, releasing a shuddering breath, he climbed to his feet. His body sore where he had landed on the ground, ego and spirits in shambles like a demolished building.

"Let's go—"

"—what did you do with her?"

"—inside," Bonnie concluded her sentence and shifted her weight on her feet. "Like I said, Damon, I took care of it. Her parents…should know by now."

That could mean anything but it was still hard for Damon to swallow, to accept the facts as they were. Should he be happy Bonnie didn't just bury Nora and compelled her parents that she took off on her own? Was her parents being aware of her death the lesser of the two evils because they could give her a proper funeral, remember her life, mourn her? Thinking about this made Damon's head pound.

He pierced his eyes closed and dug the heel of his palm into his right socket. "Did you just suggest we go inside my house or did I hallucinate that?"

"I did. We can't talk out here. You're cold and possibly in shock. You need to get warm."

Bonnie sounded like she cared but Damon was too tired to figure out if she were being sincere. He extracted his keys and unlocked the front door. Quietly he invited her into his home. Once morning came he'd probably regret that, but for now he honestly could give a shit.

They snuck into his bedroom. His father would blow a gasket if he found out he invited a vampire into their home, but there was no way he was going over to Bonnie's. If he did, he might not be heard from again.

She wearily entered his sanctum taking in the full scope of everything. From the massive bed, dark walls, the hundreds of books, the tables littered with witchy paraphernalia, it was almost exactly as Bonnie pictured the warlock's room to look like.

Damon closed the door behind their entry, looming over Bonnie, slightly red cheeked. Wet hair dangled in his impossibly blue eyes. The heat of his body coupled with the scent of Nora's blood somewhere on his person, and the underlining aroma of his magic made Bonnie thirsty. She said nothing as Damon began stripping out of his clothes, torn jacket and sweater that is, tossing both items in a corner. He stood in front of her in a sleeveless ribbed tank. He shucked it as well leaving his bare torso open for scrutiny.

Bonnie's eyebrows arched at the sight. She learned Damon wasn't as lean as he appeared. He had definition where he needed it. He was pale, no trace of a summer tan left with dusky nipples on chiseled pectorals. A happy trail of black hair led to the waistband of his jeans that hung in that dangerous way; the way they did seconds before they dropped to the floor.

He traipsed to the bathroom shutting and locking the door behind him leaving a slightly flustered vampire with nothing to do but snoop. Bonnie heard water running and slowly approached the warlock's bed.

It was so impeccably made Bonnie wondered if they had a maid because she didn't think a teenage boy could make a bed this neat. The duvet, the sheets, and the pillowcases were all white and somehow Bonnie found that…appropriate. Not that she thought Damon was innocent, but mostly he seemed the type to like clean palates.

Or perhaps she was just overthinking this as she was prone to do.

Bonnie flashed to the armoire, pulled out the top drawer, and learned Damon preferred boxer briefs. She figured that much.

The next place the curious immortal ventured to was the massive bookcase. He had the pick of the liter when it came to classics. As she sidled closer, Bonnie noted it had a hidden compartment. Sliding the two doors apart she expected to see a flat screen television, but was actually greeted to a near billboard size map of the world.

"The TV lifts up from the bed."

His voice made her spin around. Damon was running a towel through his hair. He had slipped on a clean, plain black T-shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants.

"Do you actually watch it?"

"Sometimes," he chucked the towel toward his pile of soiled clothing.

While he freshened up in the bathroom, Damon tried not to think about the fact Bonnie, of all, people was inside his room. He had girls in his bedroom before, had actually lost his virginity—well more like surrendered it—to his girlfriend in his bathroom, on the closed toilet seat to be specific. That had been the greatest moment of his life that was ruined a week later when she dumped him. Since then, the girls who frequented his boudoir came to study, nothing more and nothing less.

Damon had no designs where Bonnie was concerned because he still didn't trust and/or liked her. She could turn on him at any moment she felt he wasn't up to par. The thought was chilling, but only fueled him to prove she didn't have him all figured out, and that they were a lot more equal than she was willing to acknowledge or give him credit for. He might be way younger than her and did stupid things sometimes, but he wasn't a blubbering idiot, not when it came to magic.

All of that bounced around in his head but vanished the moment he took in her damp, curling hair. How a few strands were caught on the curves of her face. A face Botticelli would give his life to paint. It wasn't that Bonnie was just pretty or beautiful or stunning, she was the kind of gorgeous that would make a doubter believe in the existence of God.

Damon realized he was staring. His neck grew hot. How could he be thinking about that right now, after tonight? Or was Bonnie suggesting he drool over her in lieu of mourning Nora?

Bonnie resisted smiling as she saw the color rise on Damon's cheeks. He was thinking naughty thoughts about her even if he didn't want to.

"I don't have all night, warlock. Let's get this over with."

Damon frowned. "Get what over with?"

"The dagger."

"Should I find it low that you're using Nora's death to manipulate me into making this stupid dagger?"

"Is it really manipulation if deep down you want to do it?" Bonnie rebutted. "That you want to see if you manage to pull it off…what else you'd be able to do."

A muscle thumped in Damon's jaw. Something dark broadened on the inside of him at Bonnie's words.

"Who's to say once I make this indestructible dagger that I won't turn around and use it on you?"

Warlock and vampire scowled at one another.

Bonnie closed the gap between them, her bright green irises poking beneath long lashes. The warlock's heart beat double time. "You could try if you can stand getting close enough to me to do it," she strode away, leaving Damon feeling stranded on a deserted island. "Shall we?"

There were three tables in his room. One which held his computer, printer, and miscellaneous items. The other two Damon considered his working tables that contained his supplies. He headed towards the round table that Bonnie saw had engravings on the surface, some she recognized as hexes mostly. It was booby-trapped so one of her breed couldn't disturb or steal anything. In the center of it were mosaic depictions of the phases of the moon and the earth's position during each phase.

Damon set up his candles in the five points of a star, waved a hand igniting the wicks.

"Burn some sage," Bonnie advised. "If you have any."

"What will that do?" Damon began digging through a rectangular chest about the size of a jewelry box. It was filled with different herbs and plants.

"It'll dampen sound."

Freezing, Damon stared at the vampire askance. "You're in my room, in my house, and now you want me to cancel out sound? No way."

"Don't trust me?"

Damon pursed his lips against Bonnie's amused face. "You know I don't."

She hefted a shoulder. "Fine, let your father hear what we're doing. I have no qualms telling him what I am if he were to mosey his way to your room and ask a few questions."

Needless to say the warlock lit the sage.

"Repeat these words," Bonnie rattled off the Latin it would take to activate the spell. Damon followed her lead, a bit surprised and unsettled she knew something he didn't, but chalked it up to her having far more experience with witches than he's spent time actually being one.

"Try it out," Bonnie prompted.

"Why don't you."

Bonnie screamed at the top of her lungs. Damon slapped his hands over his ears, the good it did. When no one came rushing towards his room, he slowly lowered his hands and gaped at her.

Smirking, Bonnie resumed her reason for being here. She removed a sterling silver signet ring from her pocket. "First things first, make a protection ring. I imagine it would be the same as making a daylight ring."

Damon took the proffered ring, his thumb and forefinger coming into contact with Bonnie's. That same pulse of death was there racing down his spine. He pushed the discomfort away and examined the ring. "For the daylight ring you need daylight. I can't exactly make protection, at least not the kind that will bring a spirit back from the other side," he said.

Bonnie slipped her leather jacket off her shoulders. It hit the floor with a soft thud. Damon felt his eyes go big and his throat shrink. She was dressed in a skin tight tank top in black, naturally, that showcased a wealth of cleavage that enlarged with each breath she took.

Breasts were his weakness. What could he say?

"That's what you need me for," Bonnie ignored his gawking as she held her wrist up. "Grab a bowl or something."

Breaking out of his adolescent sexual reverie, Damon retreated into his bathroom and came back five seconds later with a glass tumbler.

"Don't ask," he placed it in the center of the table.

Bonnie brought her hand to her mouth, fangs descending. She bit into her palm, drained her blood into the cup.

"Vampire blood?" a dark eyebrow rose in skepticism.

Dark red blood oozed into a steady stream. Bonnie flicked her gaze to the teen warlock. "It regenerates, keeps us from dying from things like stab wounds, gun shots."

Damon dumped the ring in the glass. "Yet it becomes pretty useless against fire, stakes, and werewolf venom," he full on smiled.

"Remember, human I've been invited into your home and I like going out for late night snacks." Bonne chomped her teeth at him and drew her hand away once her wound closed.

If that was supposed to be an effective threat to get him to fall in line, well it missed its mark. Damon may have had a love-hate relationship with his brother and father, the latter he spent more time hating than anything else, the threat of Bonnie feeding on either of them really just made him want to shrug. He would protect Stefan despite his idiotic ways, but if she wanted to make a meal out of Giuseppe, well he wasn't going to stop her.

What about you? She could have been implying she wanted to feed on you.

That was a different matter in and of itself. But he'd actually have to register on Bonnie's scale of importance for her to want to eat him. The warlock knew he didn't.

Something about his lack of dietary appeal shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did.

"Besides," Bonnie was saying when Damon yet again snapped out of his head, "I'm supernatural and you need something supernatural that can have access to the other side and can be drawn out."

He nodded, bent down to snatch his messenger bag that he stored specifically beneath this table for safety. He unearthed his grimoire. Damon wanted to be sure he knew the parameters of spelling an object into a protection talisman. He added lavender and salt, closed his eyes and began chanting.

The flames of the candles burned higher and brighter and the air became weightier. Bonnie watched with rapt attention and darkening eyes.

A light wind blew Damon's hair away from his face. He has a nice hairline she mused and thought that was an odd thing to be attracted to. Wait, what? No, she wasn't attracted just making a superficial observation. But she found her gaze locked on the warlock's mouth as he performed the spell, his baritone voice competing with her own thoughts to be heard.

Bonnie forced her eyes away and looked at the glass. She leaned forward as the blood, lavender, and salt drained into the ring that began glowing like a moonbeam. Its iridescent shine began to fade until all that remained was the ring in an empty cup.

Damon ended the spell, wobbling a bit, and paused. He waited to see if he'd have a nosebleed. When nothing of the sort happened, he picked up the ring.

"Congratulations you've made your first protection ring."

"If it works," Damon muttered skeptically.

"Call up one of your dweeb friends and have 'em try it out. I'm willing to snap a neck in the name of science."

"Ha, you're not funny." Damon faced Bonnie. Several beats passed before he spoke. His face and voice, stoic, "It hasn't slipped my mind that you did save me tonight. Thank you."

That was certainly a first...Damon thanking her. Something warm speared through the immortal that she ruthlessly brushed aside.

"I guess you're welcome," Bonnie cleared her throat, and got things back on track. "This is part one. Part two is actually making the dagger indestructible by using this ring."

"And when will that part come?" Damon placed the talisman on the table.

"Tomorrow at the latest." In truth, Damon could have made the dagger tonight in one fell swoop, but Bonnie decided to leave that detail out. She noticed he was staring at her peculiarly. "What?"

"I realized I've been going about getting you off my back the wrong way."

"There is no right way to do it, junior because you're stuck with me."

Damon didn't look mollified in the least. "You think so?"

"I know so. Salvatore witches are extremely rare."

"So are Bennett vampires; which means you should be nice to me."

"In case you haven't noticed, this is me being nice to you."

"Hard to tell the difference."

One minute he was standing and the next he was flat on his back on his bed, a fun size vampire on top of him.

Damon didn't mean to, honestly, but he got an erection which made him feel repulsed with himself. Nora, the girl he actually liked was killed, and here he was catching wood for the vampire he couldn't stand.

Bonnie felt his excitement, brow raising. She didn't shrink away or even called attention to it. She had spent enough time on earth to know that arousal sometimes couldn't be helped. Besides, Damon was emotional even if he weren't showing signs and she wouldn't take advantage of that. The night wouldn't be about her anyways and she was no one's filler or stand-in.

But she settled comfortably atop him, his muscles imprinting along her curves. Her ears twitched at his nearly inaudible breath. Her hair fell forward curtaining them in silky strands of curly, mahogany locks that emitted a decadent smell. Damon wondered idly what brand of shampoo she used.

Cold fingers gripped his chin and his head was jerked back, exposing his neck. He swallowed thickly, artery beating wildly.

Bonnie leaned down until their noses were almost touching. "When you're out of high school we'll revisit this conversation. For now…go walk your dog. I'll see you later, Draco."

Maybe he had a burst of insanity, but Damon's hands gripped the swell of Bonnie's hips. With the twitch of his powers he restricted her movements. Recognition flashed and those telltale veins wiggled beneath her eyes. A warning that if he didn't let her go he would regret it.

Whatever protestations Bonnie was working up to spew, they were inexplicably cut off when the warlock leaned his head off the bed, and smashed his mouth into hers.

Damon thought he'd be bombarded with images of rotting corpses, decomposed bodies with their throats ripped out, but instead he saw…snow. It was the strangest thing. He certainly didn't feel cold while kissing Bonnie. No, he felt the opposite. Piping hot which was puzzling and bizarre because she wasn't exactly warm, not in the sense that humans were warm. She was soft, impossibly soft which added another layer of confusion in the teen's mind. She made no sense to him, but this didn't exactly feel as wrong as he thought it might; a witch and vampire kissing that is.

His mouth moved across her lips that didn't shrink away or even try to fight. Bonnie gave in, practically melted. It was the unspoken knowledge that if Bonnie wanted, she could take over and literally have him on his knees, but she was allowing him this.

Damon's magic slipped and Bonnie could freely move her limbs. She did so by taking his wrists and pinning them next to his head. Pulling away, she ended the kiss panting for a breath she didn't need. Her nipples were shamelessly hard and her core…well that was throbbing. Her bloodlust and just plain lust collided, and she wanted to rip into the warlock for knocking her off her equilibrium but more that. For exposing her.

She didn't want to feel for anyone. Contempt had been her surefire way to prevent attachment from happening. But those threads were unraveling and she was beginning to want more. For so long her belief was all she really needed was blood because it would never lie to her, fail her, or run out on her, but what this warlock was digging out of her…Bonnie wanted no part of that.

She scrambled off Damon, flashed to collect her jacket off the floor, and shrugged it on. Flipping her hair from between the inside of her coat and back so that it draped on her shoulders, she faced the rumpled warlock. He was leaning up on his elbows, lips puffy, hair sticking up in a hundred different directions.

If that was his plan to get her to leave him alone…well it was working.

"Did you really have sex with Klaus?" Damon asked.

Bonnie was surprised he even heard that part when they were in the woods, let alone remembered. "It was one night. That's all you need to know."

Bonnie tore out of his room like a tornado slamming the door unnecessarily hard in her wake. She didn't care if she ran into his vampire hating father or his wide-eyed, naïve brother. She'd fuck them up and keep it moving.

"Bonnie."

Her head snapped in the direction of the summons. It was Stefan walking down the hallway presumably to his brother's room. From the raindrops on his leather jacket, mug caked on his boots, it was obvious he had been at the party in the woods.

"What…what are you doing here?"

"Helping Damon with something. I need to go."

She was gone before Stefan could pose another question. Once outside, the chilly air became a soothing balm. Bonnie leaned against the door and for a while said nothing.

A chuckle escaped followed by another until she was laughing. Reigning in the urge to go back upstairs and show Damon what he just unleashed, Bonnie cricked her neck and became one with the night.

That little warlock didn't know the game he just started. And Bonnie wouldn't mind teaching him the rules.

-THE END-

Epilogue…

He wiped sweat from his brow, winced as he arched his back. He hated moving but loved the fact he had a space to call his own now. Out from beneath Giuseppe's thumb, Damon Salvatore felt like he shred the jacket of his childhood and fully embraced the arms of adulthood.

Dainty footsteps caught his attention. He didn't immediately swing in the direction he heard them, choosing to wait instead. The echo of heels along hardwood stopped and, biting down on his lip he knew she was right behind him.

"You're out of high school now…ready to finish that conversation?"

Grinning, Damon finally pivoted to face the green-eyed vampire. "Oh, yeah. I'm ready…um as soon as I put the bed together."

Her soft giggle made him swallow, "Who needs a bed?"

-THE END FOR REAL THIS TIME-

A/N: So much happened I'm not even sure if I can sum this up. There are things I omitted since the length was already ridiculously long and trying to explain how certain pieces fit, just would have added to the length. But Stefan is sort of like Elena only he's not a total dimwit, and he was used for the sacrifice. So just picture the Originals always needing his blood for something. Bonnie and him at some point struck up a friendship; how, that remains a mystery to myself. Trying to write Damon as Bonnie but still keeping him was Damon was hard af, won't lie, so it is what it is. And Bonnie of course was loads of fun to write. All right, love you guys. Happy Holidays! Drop me a line.