Wish upon a star

That's the last of them.

Bonnie watched as Damon disappeared into the world of the living. She wrapped her arms around herself, a hot tear falling down her cheek as she realized, she was alone.

"Greetings, witch."

Her eyes snapped open. She turned in the direction of the familiar voice, and saw him.

"Kol."

He was walking against the wind, towards her, his hair pushed back, his mouth set and firm. Behind him, the Other Side was chipping apart, being sucked up into oblivion.

Bonnie was breathless as he walked toward her. "What are you-"

"I saw." he said, striding forward until he was standing before her. His hands opened and closed at his sides. "I just have to touch you, right?"

Bonnie took a step back. "It doesn't work like that…"

He clasped his hands on her forearms. She closed her eyes.

But he didn't disappear.

She felt him release her and grab hold again. She pressed her hand lightly to his, shaking her head. His fingers curled into her skin, though it didn't hurt.

"It's too late," Bonnie said. She opened her eyes, slowly, lashes fluttering up. Kol's were welling up, but he was nodding, and he was about to let her go, when -

The white light blossomed, and they were gone.

…

1994, Mystic Falls.

Bonnie's eyes, wide and determined, were locked on his when the white light cleared. They were a stunning, piercing green. The kind of eyes that could see right through you. Kol averted his gaze. He let her go before she could shrug out of his arms.

Kol's eyes narrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. "Where… are we?"

"It looks like Mystic Falls," Bonnie said, her voice hushed. She had wrapped her arms around herself again.

Kol took two steps away, and then, hovered. He studied the sky. "But it isn't."

"My Grams…" Bonnie did a complete 360, taking in the city. "She said she'd found a way…"

"There don't seem to be any people here," Kol interrupted. He slid his hands into his pockets.

"It looks… different, somehow." Bonnie picked a direction and started walking. Kol hesitated, for just a moment, before following her.

"Different how?" Kol asked. She walked a bit faster, but he kept apace.

"I don't know," Bonnie shook her heads. The cars were different – they were newer versions of older models. The prices advertised in windows seemed lower than they had only a few months before. And, he was right – there was no one there, but them. Bonnie pressed her lips together, and glanced at him beside her, his brow as set and focused as hers. "You must have come with me, because we were touching."

"Touch," Kol's familiar, flirtatious half-smile appeared. "My favorite kind of magic. You know, once…"

"Don't want to know."

"It was a particularly good spell, though."

"Don't want to hear it."

"Particularly good witch, too," Kol's grin increased. He nudged her with his shoulder as he walked passed her towards the fountain where Carol Lockwood was murdered. "Or bad, I guess, depending on your stance on public nudity."

Bonnie sighed. Two fingers rose to her temple: "Kol…"

He leaned down, and flicked the skin of the water. It reacted exactly as water would. He frowned, and touched the water to his lips. Disgusting, just as it was supposed to taste.

"The point is-"

"Oh, there was a point?"

Kol grinned. He swung to face her, and was secretly pleased that all of her attention was centred, firmly, on him. "Magicbrought us here. Magic will get us out."

Kol lunged towards her, fangs bared. He pushed her forward, onto the ground, and placed one hand against her neck. His eyes vamped out and he descended. Bonnie raised a hand between them, her eyes screwing shut. She tried to push or hit him off of her, but it was pointless.

"That's it?" Kol asked, releasing her. It was almost comical, how unimpressed and disinterested he sounded while his face was covered in black veins.

She raised a hand out between them, but nothing happened. He climbed off of her.

"No magic," they both concluded.

"Look," Bonnie said, back still on the ground. She stared up at the stars of Mystic Falls, ever the same. "I don't want to be here with you, and you don't want to be here with me."

He clicked his teeth together. He slid his fingers against blades of grass, pulled them out, then sucked a few between his teeth. "Do you know what grass tastes like?"

Bonnie didn't dignify that with a response. Instead: "Let's just divide the world in half – you go your way, and I'll go mine."

"I can't do that," Kol said, turning to face her. She felt his brown eyes on every inch of her face.

"Why not?"

"Because, my favorite little witch," he tapped her nose with his finger. "This isn't Mystic Falls."

"I know-"

"We're not in Grams' little hideaway, either." Though his eyes were heated with anger or frustration, his smile was firmly in place: "We're in a prison."

"A prison?" Bonnie's face grew serious again. Her voice dipped. "Why would you think that?"

"Because," Kol licked his lips. "I've been in one of these before. And you know what that means."

Bonnie nodded. She swallowed, once, loudly, before answering: "We're not alone."

…

One day in

Kol insisted that they stay at her Grams' house.

After visiting her old home, she didn't protest. It was covered in baby toys and baby clothes and children's books. There were photos, everywhere, of her mom and dad, before they had split. Kol had followed her from room to room, checking out the beginning of the end for her family.

This must have been just before her mom left, to dessicate his father, to save Elena…

Bonnie couldn't hide the contempt in her eyes. Kol didn't ask her to.

He picked up a picture of her and her mom, and smiled, almost wistfully. "Abby Bennett."

"Yeah," Bonnie said, not bothering to look over her shoulder at him. She was rifling through her childhood closet, not quite sure what she was looking for.

"She tried to kill us."

"Yeah."

"She's a vampire now, right?" she heard him set the photo frame down now.

"Yes," Bonnie said, glancing back at him before she got to her knees to peek under her old bed, "Thanks to your brother. And Damon."

She heard the frown in Kol's voice. The moment he began to drift away, to shut down. "It's not natural," he said, at last, "Witches becoming vampires."

"She did it to be a better mom," Bonnie admitted. She reached a hand under the bed and poked around, but didn't find anything. She shrugged, all the monsters were out here, anyway…

"And was she?"

"No," Bonnie's voice echoed under the bed, bouncing back at her. She wanted to cringe at the pathetic self-pity she heard in her own voice.

Kol scoffed.

"Look, it's not that simple," Bonnie said, pulling herself up. Kol had his back to her – was fiddling with something else, out of her line of vision, at her dresser. "It wasn't easy for her, okay? She lost what little of her magic she had left. She lost her connection to the earth, which is really important for a witch. She lost everything."

Kol didn't say anything. She saw his shoulders raise and drop. Then he spun on one heel, offered a crooked smile, and extended, by both arms, a teddy bear.

"Were you looking for me?" the teddy bear said in Kol's voice.

…

Three days in

They moved into her Grams' house, Bonnie sleeping in the room she used to use on sleepovers. Besides a few children's books, and child-safety bars on either side of the single bed, it was pretty similar to how she had left it in the real world. Grams' room was off-limits, so Kol made himself comfortable on the downstairs couch.

"I feel like I really missed out on this decade," Kol said, from his spot on the couch, flipping through television channels. "When did MTV stop playing music videos?" He muted the television as a woman appeared with very short bangs and an even shorter, midriff-revealing shirt.

"What, were you imprisoned in the '90s?" Bonnie had responded, flicking through the newspaper. It was the same one as the day before, and the day before that. Kol had shrugged when they discovered this, almost as if they were expecting it. But knowing they weren't alone, Bonnie couldn't help pouring over every word.

"Something like that," Kol said, turning his head towards her. She was sitting in the little breakfast nook, still in his line of vision through two doorways. Her bare feet were crossed at the ankle, and she was wearing one of her grandmother's cotton nighties which pulled up, just an inch, every twime she swung her legs. He arched a brow. "Daggered."

"Right," Bonnie took a sip of her coffee. "Klaus."

"Bingo." Kol kept smiling at her, though she didn't turn his way. "I picked up some croissants while you were sleeping," he said. The words unfurled slowly between them. "And I was exploring the basement. Found some raspberry jam."

Bonnie turned her narrowed eyes towards him. "How did you know…"

"That that's your favorite?" Kol's half-smile grew, and he was leaping off the couch to join her. When she moved to stand, he held a hand out to her, said a quick "nuh-uh" and had the food spread before her in no time at all. "I pay attention."

"I don't think I mentioned that," Bonnie said, frowning at the snack before her. She took a tentative bite. She closed her eyes to disguise them rolling up in her head. "I can't remember the last time I had my grandmother's jams…"

"I can't remember the last time I had my favorite either."

Bonnie didn't dare open her eyes then. Because she knew those brown eyes were staring at her neck, watching her blood pulse through her veins.

…

The first few times it happened, they watched it together: the eclipse.

"They used it to bind the spell," Kol said, softly, as if she wasn't standing right beside him, "whatever it is."

Bonnie glanced up at him, wondered how he knew that, but didn't dare speak. She didn't dare break whatever reverie he was lost in, his eyes distant, his fingers tight in the curtains.

…

One week in

"So are we just going to sit around," Kol asked, from five steps behind her. Bonnie froze in her tracks. She hadn't expected him to be following her, out for a walk in the woods, in the early evening hours. And she hadn't expected his voice to be so close it raised goosebumps on the back of her neck. "Or are we going to figure out how to get home?"

She spun on her heels to face him. "Are you following me now?"

"There's someone else here," Kol reminded her. "Someone who deserved to be locked in a prison."

"Like you were," Bonnie reminded him.

"Exactly," Kol bit back. He sauntered towards her. "Which is why you shouldn't be walking around on your own."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. She let out a long, irritated breath as he stopped right in front of her. "So, what? You're going to protect me from him?"

"Yes," Kol said, like it was obvious. "You're my ticket out of here, Bonnie Bennett."

"Even if I could, I'm never helping you get out of here," Bonnie spat. "You're exactly where you belong. Away from people you can hurt."

Kol's jaw clenched. He tilted his head. "Don't you mean, I'm exactly where I belong, right next to you?"

Bonnie let out an exasperated groan.

"What do you mean even if I could," Kol imitated her voice. "You can do anything you want. Need I remind you, you're a Bennett witch?"

"Need I remind you," she jabbed him in the chest. And he, annoyingly, kind of liked it. "That I don't have any magic?"

"Bonnie," Kol's entire demeanour shifted. His expression was serious. "I can help you with that."

Bonnie tapped her foot and crossed her arms. "No more innuendos about touch and…"

"You are most certainly not the first witch I've come across," Kol said, sliding his hands in his pockets. He circled her, eyes scanning the woods as he spoke, "I know my fair share of spells."

Bonnie scoffed. "You expect me to believe-"

"My mother was the Original witch," Kol pointed out.

"You expect me to believe that that makes you an expert on magic?" Bonnie raised a brow as Kol returned to stand in front of her. He tilted his head and regarded her with a playful smile.

"Let's just say, I have an," his smile grew, "appreciation for magic that has taught me certain things."

When Bonnie said nothing, he felt victory close at hand, and continued: "Such as, restoring magic to witches who have… misplaced theirs."

"Why would you help me?" Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

"Because, believe it or not right now," Kol said, "You're going to help me, too."

…

Kol made a list. He wrote it on the fridge: all the types of spells he had seen used to restore magic, all the different exercises he had seen witches practice to strengthen what little they had. He had been racking his mind since they had arrived there, trying to figure out just what it would take to give Bonnie just enough juice to get them out of there.

"How do you know all of these?" Bonnie had asked, skeptically, with her cute little skeptical expression on her face, and her arms crossed to demonstrate just how unimpressed she was. Kol wanted to take a bite out of her stubborn nose.

He smiled instead. "Let's just say, it was a passion of mine."

"Well," Bonnie walked up to the list and ran her fingers over it, as if she could absorb the magic just through the words, "It's worth a try, I suppose."

"Step one – getting your magic back," Kol said, leaning against the fridge. He enjoyed the way her eyes snapped over to him, untrusting and guarded, but beautiful all the same. "Step two – figuring out the spell."

"Step three," she said softly, her eyes turning back to the list, "Going home."

…

Two weeks in

Kol hated blood bags. He didn't know why the damn things had been invented. The hospital's supply seemed to replenish every day, so at least he didn't have to keep taking the Salvatore's puppy blood. But still, they were so… impersonal.

He hadn't been lying when he said touch was his favorite kind of magic.

So, since Bonnie clearly wouldn't let him tap a vein this early in their relationship, he had settled for the next best thing.

He pushed her, hard, into the lake at the bottom of the Mystic Falls waterfall.

They had been working on a type of practice associated with elements. Bonnie had always favored fire-based spells, so Kol figured he would try, first, with the magic muscles she had not fully flexed yet – the ones still waiting to show what they could do. She was meant to be making it rain, or stopping the falls, or making them run backwards when she let out a small growl of frustration and he rewarded her with a sharp push backwards.

When she emerged, she was soaked, gasping for air, her eyes wide and startled, her lips dewy and damp, and her mouth open. "Kol!" she muttered, coughing up water.

From his perch up above her, he laughed.

"You could've killed me!" she screamed up at him, treading water. Her white shirt clung distractingly to her breasts as she bobbed up and down in the water, and Kol had to clear his throat for her voice to sound at all.

"You're a lifeguard," he dismissed her as she swam to the shore. When she emerged from the water, her clothes sticking and transparent, he found he couldn't speak at all.

…

Next, they tried a necessity test. It hadn't worked when he'd tried to scare the magic out of her when they first arrived. But maybe it would work now, with a different kind of necessity.

Kol burned her old house down.

Bonnie watched.

"Aren't you going to do something about it?" Kol taunted her, circling her. "There goes your crib and cradle. There goes all the pictures of mommy and daddy."

"Yeah," Bonnie said, almost wistfully. There it went, all of it. She turned to him, squinting from the sun in her eyes, bracing herself for the coming eclipse. "What's next?"

…

They were sitting, cross-legged, in the high school basement, candles encircling them. The last place they had both seen each other, when the veil was down. When he had extended a hand towards her, and she had refused him.

"This one I didn't get a chance to try, or see tried," he quickly amended, "But I learned about it in Argentina. The coven I learned it from designed it to awaken the magic of the dead," he took her hands in his, and she let him.

Touch, she thought.

"After most of their coven Elders was slaughtered, the survivors sought to gain knowledge of those who came before them by enhancing the magic of the dead to a degree where they could hear it." He rubbed his thumb against her palm and felt her pulse skip. "It amplified the noise in the land on which they died."

"Like the witch house," Bonnie whispered.

"It's rumored to be powerful enough to give even the dead their magic back."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. They held, stuck for a moment, seconds slipping into seconds. She forgot to breathe. Then he closed his eyes and whispered the change. He flexed his fingers against hers, then opened his eyes and said: "You try."

Bonnie repeated his words, several times, with her eyes closed and her lips hurriedly moving, and Kol's hands tight over hers, but the only thing she felt – the warmth in her hands, and arms, and stomach – had nothing to do with magic.

When they let go, the both looked at their own hands.

Bonnie looked at hers, and Kol looked at his.

She felt nothing, no magic in hers. And then she realized: neither did he.

…

Three weeks in

"Here," he said, handing her a cup of coffee with a cinnamon stick for a stirrer, "I picked some cinnamon up when we were in town."

Then he sat down, opposite her, and started picking at his unmixed, undressed salad in between slurps of O negative. He didn't fidget under her gaze, and he didn't look back up at her. Instead, he split the paper in half, taking the sports section, and began to read it as if for the first time. It was so strange – who knew Kol Mikaelson could be so domestic? Him and his baseball bat of terror? Who knew he could sit there, quietly, opposite her, after a long night of her chanting uselessly, and him listening reverently.

She took a sip of the coffee and frowned. Cinnamon. Her favorite. "How do you know so much about me?"

"Denver is pretty boring," Kol said, taking a crunching bite of a carrot. He grinned as he chewed and she looked away.

"You compelled Jeremy."

"Only for the good stuff," Kol sounded offended. "But you two hadn't had sex," he stared at her until she looked away. He could practically feel the heat burning off her cheeks, the frantic pace of her heart. "Yet, by the looks of it."

"Shut up, Kol."

"I would never ask him about that anyway," Kol said, leaning back in his chair. He looked at Bonnie, flustered, as she shook out the newspaper she had read fifty times before, and searched for the crossword. "Some things are better coming straight from the source."

"Man, I wish I had my powers back," Bonnie muttered.

Kol grinned. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be quite talented, even without them."

"Shut. Up. Kol."

He crunched his carrot.

…

"It's obvious that you don't think I'm worth saving," Kol said, almost nonchalantly, over breakfast one day. He took a slow slip of coffee, looking at her over the edge of his mug. Then he set it down, waved his hand in the air dismissively and said, "Or at least, that's your excuse."

"Excuse me?" Bonnie was physically taken aback. She felt her shoulder blades press uncomfortably into the chair's back.

"You heard me," Kol said, violently rubbing butter on his toast. He gestured with the knife still in his hand. "You don't want to risk me getting out, so you're not trying to save yourself, even if you can figure out a way to leave me behind."

"That's not it," Bonnie said, stunning both of them with her honesty.

Wasn't that it? Or, something like it?

Kol sighed, uncharacteristically: "I think it is."

…

Four weeks in

"It's not working," Bonnie said, staring at the list of spells that they had not yet crossed out, stuck to the fridge door. Soon enough, they would have tried more than they had left. "Maybe we should just accept that I don't have magic, and it's not coming back."

"We just haven't found the right trigger, yet," Kol said. And he was getting desperate, because he could feel its presence, like a boot against his throat. There was someone, or something, trapped their with them, biding their time. He might still have his vampire strength, but it was waning the longer he went without blood from the vein. And without her magic, Bonnie was defenseless.

"What if there is no trigger, Kol?" Bonnie said, swinging around at him. She jabbed her finger into his chest once, twice. On the third try, he grabbed it and held it there. "What if we're just stuck here?"

"Then at least we're stuck here together." He gave her a wry smile. "Nothing worse than being alone."

…

Five weeks in

Bonnie almost laughed at his next suggestion.

They were sitting in the woods, surrounded by nature, bare feet in the soft earth. She was wearing an airy maxi skirt of her grandmother's, and a crop top she took from a neighbour's house. She felt like a proper hippy.

"Should we hold hands, as well? Sing kumbaya?"

Kol had picked a bunch of daisies and began stringing them together as he explained: "Starting with the basics can sometimes trigger a reaction."

"I learned feathers first," Bonnie said. "Levitation."

He frowned at that. "Really?" He tilted his head then shook it. "You should've started with the earth."

He took her hands and held them out between them, over saplings. She was getting accustomed to his hands on hers. They were rough, which meant he had not led as extravagant a life as a human as he did as a vampire. His fingers were long and knotted, but his thumb was as smooth as it was hard – as if it had been sanded down. When his fingers slid over her wrists, massaging her pulse, waking her up, it almost felt like he was washing her hands for prayer. Or maybe, with prayer.

"I didn't exactly…" when their eyes met, his had a darkness that made her throat catch. She tugged her hands away from his grip, but kept them extended over the sapling. "Have a typical magical education…"

"Bennetts usually start with the earth," Kol said, clearing his voice. The sun danced through the trees, casting a pattern of light and shadow beneath them that both illuminated and hid her face. When she shifted or turned her face, the patterns shifted and captivated him again. He almost forgot what they were doing, looking at her like that.

"Alright," she said. She pressed her lips together, held her hands above the sapling, and chanted.

They didn't blossom.

By the time she gave up, Kol's daisies had formed a crown. With a pout for a frown, he placed it crookedly on his head.

Bonnie did laugh that time. And it only got louder the more confused and offended he looked.

"Alright," he said with faux annoyance. He pulled a daisy from the chain, spilling the rest of them down over him, and offered it to her. When she reached up to take it, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips at the same moment he slid the daisy behind her ear.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes at him, though she couldn't help the smile from ghosting across her mouth.

"Trust me, these fingers," he said against her palm, "still have some magic in them."

…

Six weeks in

"I'm hungry," Kol said.

"You know where the hospital is," Bonnie responded. She had been in a funk all week. She was frustrated and tired. They were nineteen spells down and twenty one left to go. If she did one more, they really would tip the scales. And she didn't think she could deal with that – hope just disappearing.

"I'm sick of blood bags." He said.

Bonnie opened one eye from her place on the couch where she had been about to nap in the sun. "Kol, there's no one here to feed on."

"There is."

"What, the prisoner?" She said the last word with mocking airquotes.

"No," Kol clarified. "You."

Bonnie sat up immediately. Kol's fangs distended and he licked one end. She pressed her thighs sharply together at the sight of his tongue flicking out, thought she wasn't sure why. Her hand, a second too late, swung up to protect her neck.

"You're not feeding from me," Bonnie said.

"Bonnie," Kol whined. He sat down on the coffee table opposite her. When she jerked away from him, he held two hands up defensively. "I've been helping you with your magic. Surely, you can help me with this."

"My magic will get us out of here," Bonnie countered. "There's something in it for you, if you help me."

"If you don't betray me." Kol hedged.

"Exactly," Bonnie said, just as seriously.

"And if the prisoner shows up in the meantime?" Kol linked his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. His eyes lingered, a bit too long, on the pulse in her neck. "Who is going to protect you, if he attacks?"

Bonnie's mouth opened then shut. "I can protect myself."

Kol was on her in the blink of an eye. He had her back on the couch, his hands on her shoulders, pinning her down lightly with the weight of his body. One leg was bent between hers, the other flat on the ground. "Really?"

Bonnie shoved him, tried to push him off. "Kol, if you-"

"Think about it," Kol said, sitting up and back. His face relaxed into almost human again, and Bonnie shuddered at the realization that there was something about him, even in that form, that was so, so dangerous. "I need strength to protect us both."

"Don't-"

"I'm not going to hurt you, little witch," Kol promised. "I won't bite you, if you don't ask."

Bonnie set her lips. "That's not going to happen."

"Then you better get your magic back," Kol flicked his eyes at her. "Fast."

…

Seven weeks in

"You look at the stars a lot," Bonnie said, one night, when she caught him standing on the front lawn, hands in pockets, eyes bent to the skies.

"Yeah," he said.

"Why?"

"They're not… right," he said slowly. He narrowed his eyes, glanced at her, and then back up at the sky. She shivered, and he took a step closer to her. "I've seen these stars change, subtly, over the past thousand years, but now they're… shifted a bit – almost like they've been knocked off-centre." He smiled ruefully at her. "The details are never right, in spells like this."

"You were really trapped, in one of these, before?"

"Yup," he said, popping the last letter. He rocked back on his heels. She waited until he said: "Esther… mom, put us in one in the early days, until we sorted out our shit."

"Well, that worked," Bonnie said.

"Snarky, much?" Kol smirked. He had always been partial to pretty little things with sharp tongues.

Bonnie grinned. "So, that's where you learned all this prison stuff?"

Kol shook his head: "Not exactly." He turned to face her, a playful smile on his lips. "Like you said, mommy dearest's little plan didn't work out too well. A few hundred years ago, I met a witch passing through New Orleans who specialised in this kind of magic."

"Let me guess," Bonnie snorted, "You broke her heart, so she trapped you-"

"Not quite, little witch," Kol said, shaking a tsk-ing finger between them. He tapped her nose. "He was helping me design a prison for Niklaus."

"What—really?" Bonnie blinked at him. "What happened?"

His jaw clenched. "Niklaus staked me."

"So," Bonnie fidgeted with her hands. His shoulders seemed tense, but she didn't think she should rest a hand on them. His hands clenched at his sides before sliding into his pockets again. She smiled at him. "That's where you learned the details thing?"

"Yeah," Kol said. "And the fact that these prisons don't come easy, and they don't hold your run of the mill bad guy. These things… they're for monsters."

Like me, he almost added. But the look in her eyes said otherwise, so he bit his tongue, and turned back to the stars.

…

Two months in

They were down to six spells. Six more spells that might, maybe, bring her magic back.

"Are you sure you don't know any more?" Bonnie had asked him.

"I'm sure," Kol had said. He seemed weaker now. He stared out of the window into the dark night, the stars appearing as they always did, a little to the left.

She grabbed his hand, force him to look at her. "Kol, are you sure?"

He tugged his hand from her grasp and laughed humorlessly. He smacked his lips together. He said, suddenly angry: "I'm sure, Bonnie."

…

Ten weeks in

When she finally gave in, they had one spell left, uncrossed out, on the fridge door.

Bonnie had been practicing, every day, all the other bits and pieces Kol had scrambled together from his memory, of the things that strengthened a witch's magic. But there was only one spell left that could, allegedly, instantaneously bring her magic back.

They agreed to try it tomorrow. Not the real tomorrow, but yet another May 10, 1994. With the same shows on television, and the same songs on the radio. Right after Whatta man came on the radio, and right before the weather report began.

Kol was sitting on the couch, legs askew, head leaning back, eyes closed, listening to the hum of '90s radio.

"Okay," Bonnie said, kicking his leg.

He opened one eye. "Hmm?"

"Okay," she said with a shrug. She was wearing overalls and a lacey, red shirt that hung off of one shoulder. "Let's get it over with."

"The spell?" Kol arched a questioning brow. "I thought we-"

"No," Bonnie rolled her eyes. She pressed her lips together, paused, then tugged the collar of her shirt lower down her shoulder. She undid one strap of her overalls, giving him unfettered access. His mouth, involuntarily, watered.

"Are you serious?" He reached out and took her hand. She didn't pull away.

"Yes," Bonnie said on a shakey exhale.

He narrowed his eyes. "You don't have to do this."

"I need you," Bonnie admitted grudgingly. "To protect me, if this spell doesn't work tomorrow. And you can only do that if you're at your best, so… let's just get it over with."

Get it over with. Kol forced his face to remain calm and steady, though all he wanted to do was smirk, and grin, and gloat.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he said, tugging her gently toward him. With quick movements, he had her spun around and sitting between his legs, her back pressed against his chest.

Bonnie's heart pounded as she felt his breath against her skin. His lips ghosted over her nape and she felt the goosbumps blossom. He took her clenched fists in his hands and gently spread her fingers. Then he placed them on either side of his knees. She curled her fingers into his skin and he almost sighed with appreciation. He centred her against him with either hand on her hips.

He lay a gentle lick to her neck, and pressed two sweet kisses to her flesh.

"Kol," she muttered his name with a mix of pleasure and irritation. "Get on with it."

He grinned against her skin. He pierced her skin and sipped, delicately.

His hands, boldly, slipped into the top of her coveralls. He ran his knuckles gently over her skin. When he pulled away, having taken just enough, her back was arched, her eyes were closed, and her knees were pressed firmly together.

…

Three months in

Bonnie had been crying for two days straight. Kol knew, so he kept his distance, keeping an eye on her from close enough to rush in if the prisoner made his appearance, but far enough away that she wouldn't feel the burden of his presence.

The spell hadn't worked. She had gone back over the list and tried a few of the more promising ones, as well. One every day. And every night she felt a bit more defeated than before. Until, finally, it seemed pointless.

Kol had taken to drinking from her in the evenings. He felt stronger and more alert with her blood running through his system. He also felt… happier, if that was a thing that he could feel, given the circumstances. She had gotten so used to him that she sometimes just plopped in front of him, mid-sentence, leaned to one side, and waited for his bite.

But with his new strength, he also grew more wary. He could sense a presence, even if he couldn't see the perpetrator. Just around the next corner, he was certain they would see something. He had taken to memorizing where he had left certain objects, to see if they would move. He had even started staying up at night, peeking in on Bonnie talking in her sleep.

So when she wanted some time alone to cry, to mourn the loss of her magic, it had taken everything in him to ignore the warning bells and let her go.

When she walked back through the door that evening, he almost sprang from his chair to greet her. He reached his arms out and wrapped her in a hug before he realized that she was still crying.

And the second his arms closed around her, she was crying harder. Her tears soaked his shirt. He pulled away, just an arm's length, to look at her face, but she buried it against his chest.

"Kol," she sobbed, and he felt suddenly more helpless than he had in decades. "It's over. We're stuck here." Her little body was wracked with sobs, shaking and trembling between his hands. He felt like he held a restless bird, its wings fluttering against his palms.

"Bonnie," he rubbed her back. He racked his head. How did one comfort a crying girl? It had been so long since…

"I wanted to go to school. Have a career. Change the world. Maybe even," her laugh sounded more like a sniffle, "get married and have kids…"

"You're going to have all of those things," Kol said with a conviction that surprised even him.

Bonnie took a long, deep breath, let go of his shirt. She took a step back, but he pulled her against him and hugged her more tightly.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised. "I swear to you."

She shook her head against him and he eased his grip on her, enough for her to look up at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, yet still welling up and spilling over with tears. She looked tired and despondent. She looked right through him.

He shook her shoulders. He ran both hands up her arms as if to warm her up. Then, when he couldn't resist anymore, he slid one up the side of her face to palm her cheek. He wiped her tears away with his thumb.

"How, Kol? How are we going to get out of here? We don't even know the laws holding up the spell. There are going to be ingredients, and steps, and rules, oh – and magic."

"Rules," Kol rolled his eyes. "My favorite things to break. As for magic, it's going to come back when it's ready."

"You don't know that," Bonnie said.

"It's what everyone said – every witch, every coven. It'll come back."

She shook her head. Leaned, just a bit, into his touch.

"Bonnie," he said softly. "Do you trust me?"

"I don't know," Bonnie said, scanning his eyes. Her voice was fragile, hovering between them.

Gently, he cupped her face up, and her lips parted even before they reached his.

"Trust me," he whispered into their kiss.

The lights flickered and all shut off.

…

Fourteen weeks in

Bonnie liked kissing Kol. His kisses were different from Jeremy's: they were slower, softer, and more deliberate. Like he really wanted to know what her lips tasted like; like he really wanted to know the texture of her tongue and the pressure of her teeth against his mouth. His hands were more tentative too, always pausing as if to ask for permission. And his smile was often, and wicked, and sent a thrill through her every time it was paired with his mischievous eyes and his tousled hair.

She liked kissing him so much, she sometimes forgot there was a reason they were stuck together. She sometimes forgot they were meant to be getting back home.

"I know why you know all those spells," Bonnie said, from her place in Kol's arms, her head on his chest. They were sitting in the backyard, smiling up at stars. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

"You were a warlock," she said, testing the words out in the cool air. "Before you were a vampire."

"Once," he said, turning his brown eyes to meet her green ones. "I thought I might be one again."

"I'm sorry," she said.

His lips pulled up into a half smile as he regarded her. "I'm not."

…

Four months in

Bonnie's magic ran on touch. Kisses, in particular. But also other kinds of touch, which Kol was more than happy to provide. They broke open some pillows and laughed themselves into a stupor as she suspended them all in mid-air while Kol's mouth became familiar with her ears. He moved up to her room, and held her close throughout the night.

She fueled herself with kisses, and he fueled himself with blood: sometimes both at the same time.

Bonnie wouldn't say she liked him. But she was used to him. And he did know magic: lots of magic, in every shade from light to dark. Even expression. He knew witch history, even Bennett history – and he regaled her with tales of this ancestor or that, as they lay, half dressed, in bed.

They skimmed grimoires together, which was wonderful, because Kol could read them, so she wasn't at it alone.

They figured out the spell together, which was easy, because Kol knew these kinds of spells already. She didn't have to explain why they might need Bennett blood. She didn't have to explain why it might be tied to an object.

He just knew. And he helped her. And he watched her magic grow with a strange smile on his face – almost proud, like it was his own, like it was a thing they created together.

This is what things were like – weirdly, almost happy – when the prisoner appeared.

…

Eighteen weeks in

It started with a crossword that neither of them filled in. Kol didn't know any Pearl Jam, and Bonnie wasn't exactly a '90s rock kind of girl. When they saw it, they both knew. Their eyes raised over coffee mugs. They both set down their food and went to check it out.

They found Kai, smug and smiling. His open-mouthed smirk and deliberate gaze lingered, a bit too often, on Bonnie. When he made a crack about her hand on his chest, Kol broke his arm.

Kol was always one step between Kai and Bonnie.

When she expressed concern about him, he had silenced her with a quick kiss and a heated promise: "You really think I would let anything happen to you?"

…

"There's a reason he's here," Kol reminded her.

When they figured out just what that reason was, she was determined not to let him out. Even if that meant she was stuck here, forever, with Kol. Or maybe… because of that.

…

Bonnie wasn't letting Kai out, so they killed him.

"He doesn't know the spell," Kol had insisted. "They wouldn't give the prisoner his key."

With two eyes in a grimoire, it was easy enough to find.

He did have the ascendant, but with Kai dead, it was easy enough to steal.

Kol didn't blink when he snapped his neck. And Bonnie didn't hesitate, this time, when he extended his hand toward her.

…

"What are we waiting for?" Bonnie asked. Her smile was tentative, like the hope was just too much, like it would crack and crumble if she wanted it too much. She placed his hands under hers, cradling her fingers. The ascendant sparkled between them. "Let's do it together."

Kol smiled, his eyes bright and wicked. "It's been a long time since I cast a spell."

Her eyes scanned his. "Not as long as you think."

They said the spell, and the white light started up, engulfing them.

"Before we get back there," he said, eyes skimming hers, "I just want you to know that I… I think I love-"

And then he was gone. Sucked backwards. The last thing Bonnie saw was an arrow sticking out of his stomach. The last thing she heard was the whoosh of wood before it hit his heart.

…

Bonnie finished the rest of her sentence in Mystic Falls, present day. The echo of her No! bounced off of headstones: the dead were singing back to her.

…

One week out

"Bonnie, what are you doing?" Caroline's head tilted, her brows drew up.

"Kol's still over there," Bonnie admitted, spreading the grimoires out before her. "And I'm here, and it's not right."

"Bonnie…" Bonnie felt her best friend's hand on her shoulder and paused her search.

"Caroline," Bonnie's jaw clenched and unclenched. She took a deep, steadying breath. She grabbed her best friend's hands in her own.

"You're home. You're safe. Why would you go back there?"

"Because," Bonnie pressed her lips together, the way Caroline knew she did, when she was trying not to cry. "Because I think… I think I love him, too."