Author's Note: If you made it thus far, then bless you, love! I've always wanted to write a fic that incorporated this here, here, and here concept inspired by the song of the same name by Meg & Dia. I finally found its home. And also, this final segment is firmly M RATED. A thanks for the warm welcome back :3

HERE
3/3

He doesn't visit Tilly's for a month, and for a while Bonnie's okay with that. Business is steady and Greta fills the void with talk of her new beau, the sweet paramedic with a scary resemblance to a man from Bonnie's past. Soon, though, she begins to imagine things. Scenarios of him walking in the door and what might happen next. How her unwavering insistence will drive him to push her against a wall, knocking plaques askew, and lose his resolve. Finding the wellspring from where his hot heat resonates whenever she's come close to his skin. Having their way with each other on the carpet in her office...

Then come the dreams. They're really more like hallucinations. Sometimes in the middle of the day, sometimes at night.

Visions of her being chased by an unidentifiable monster, her lungs burning and tongue dry, only for the reveal that she's running from Kai. Sometimes she's the one chasing him. Through dark woods, through the snow. He may not even be there in the delusion, but she knows in her gut she's after him. One night, she swears she feels him in the dark laying beside her, no, against her in bed. Him spooning her, the hard outline of his chest pressed to her back, his charged touch painful but has her waking, wanting more. But when she rolls over, he's gone.

Bonnie aches for Kai, and she hates it.

Greta suggests she go out. Dance with people she can touch. Make out with some drunk fratboy. Go home with someone, anyone. "Do something because you are insufferable right now."

She isn't completely off-base. Bonnie has been distracted. Her readings still remain on-fucking-point, yes, but she isn't engaged either. Curtain of her act is being pulled back and a distracted witch is bad for business. Any manner of riff-raff could swoop in. Greta's been doing sage cleansings after every customer nowadays just in case.

"Gret..." Bonnie sloshes her third mimosa in its glass then follows with an eyebrow raise at the woman licking peanut butter off a knife. They've all but ignored whatever plays out on the television in front of them. "You know I can't go off and sleep with some stranger."

"If you won't sublimate, then find him and tell him how you feel!" She kicks her heel into her cousin's thigh across the couch. Throws his advice at her, a dagger. "What's the point in life if you're not being honest?"

"Have you... You haven't talked to him, have you?"

"Please. We're not friends. He's just lived a long life in a short amount of time, so he has lots of stories. But he was always all yours. Besides, Bon." She wiggles her fingers, tips glowing with magic. "You're a witch. So locate him."

...

"Locate him?" Bonnie loves Greta but what shitty advice. She'd have to have something of Kai's to make a locator spell work, and that is as much of a problem as not being able to touch him. They'd exchanged money, but bills change hands all the time. He'd touched things around the store, but again so have plenty of other customers.

Greta passed out on the couch, her long legs hanging over the arm, Bonnie slinks to her room. Any idea of a possession he might've left behind goes up in smoke, like her hope.

She can't make out much past the glare of the torches positioned around them. The flames flicker wildly as their chanting grows louder. Shadows hover at the edges of the ring, but Bonnie can only concentrate on the hands gripping her own and the pounding in her head. Shit, this hurts but she has to be strong. For Grams, she has to.

Out of the shadows, a gust of wind breaks the circle and the lights die. A cacophony of questioning demands rise and fall, and when the flames cackle again the others are gone.

"So this is it, huh? Where it happens?"

Kai steps around the dark cave, throws a lingering gaze at the markings on the stone tomb, then eyes Bonnie. She gulps. "Here?" He steps into the same spot Grams stood moments ago. His attention drops to the plump bottom lip being chewed by the girl in front of him. He smirks. "Kinda gloomy down here, don't you think?"

"It actually happens later," she croaks, her throat clenched. Her voice sounds higher in her ears, younger. "She goes to rest at home and...I find her moments after."

"Shame. As mighty as Sheila Bennett was, a spell that was completely not worth doing is the one to undo her. Some friends..."

Her seventeen year old body shivers when his hands stretch out and grasp the ends of her colorful scarf. He steps closer, the fabric wrapping around his twisting wrists. It was chilly that night, she recalls, but heat rises throughout her at his closeness. She becomes aware of parts of her that are so different. Thighs that haven't yet experienced the firm grip of a man's greedy hands. Lips not yet appreciated. The way her spine was always too fluid, too quick to bow. She hates this night so much.

The illumination from the torches make his eyes flash, sympathetic and somehow cold at the same time. Her trembling hands find his waist, and she swears she hears him sigh. Her palm settles on a lump in the pocket of his jacket. Her violet amethyst crystal from the shop. She holds it by its silver chain in between their faces.

"You feeling sleepy, Bonnie?"

She shoots up in bed, a sheen breaking across her forehead. Her limbs shake with nervous energy but she's got it. His license plate! She'd watched him drive away a number of time in some upscale car and saw his license plate number. Who needs magic when she's got the internet?

Brewing a pot of coffee and hoping to not disturb Greta, she emails an old friend from another lifetime ago. She heard he went into law enforcement, but she's more shocked that he's still alive. An hour later, he responds:

I could probably lose my job for this, but you know I'd do anything for you.

Love,

Matt

P. S. We miss you. Hope to hear from you soon.

She thinks to shoot back a reply, balk that there are others alive to miss her, but she refrains. Opens the attachment instead. It's a scan of a Portland driver's license. Malachai Parker. Born May of 1972. The picture looks just like Kai, as if it were taken on a day he'd decided to shave but very recently. Not in the 90s like the issued date reads. The plates, though, are registered to an older model sedan manufactured in the 80s. Not the sleek one he drives now.

Matt Donovan also attached a list of known residences. Kai's initial Portland address, which matches his ID. There's a time-jump of about twenty years and then an address in the town a hop, skip, and drive from Mystic Falls. Where Grams' alma mater is. Whitmore College. Bonnie had almost gone to school there but couldn't bear the proximity after everything.

Okay, he definitely knows things. Of the witch and vampire variety.

The email gives her another address and it's a lot closer than half a day's drive. Hell, she could be on his doorstep in five minutes if she leaves right now. So, she does. It's not until she sits behind the wheel of her jeep, idling at the curb in front of the property rented in his name does she begin to question her sanity.

What the hell is she doing? What is she thinking! She's got on fuzzy, white bunny slippers, dark silk shorts, and a black tank top. What exactly is she expecting to happen here? Does she really expect him to finally spill the beans because she showed up on his stoop? Where is her mind?

Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and thinks back to every single one of her readings.

She has three rules.

She touches her clients, leans forward and places her hands first over their ears. Then presses her fingertips to their temples. Finally she takes one of their hands into her own and puts it to their chest right over their heart.

She mimics this ritual on herself. Cups her ears with her hands, concentrating on how the vacuum sounds like an ocean. Presses her fingertips to her temples and rubs in a backward motion, easing the tension in her head. She places her hand over her heart to steady her intentions.

Next, she asks her clients one question: "Do you want this?"

Bonnie, do you want this?

...

It's three in the morning when she strides up the cobble walkway to the tiny cottage. It doesn't take long for her knocks to be answered, but she can tell she wasn't expected. He rubs his knuckles into his eyes, gazing down at her. "Well, aren't you a squirrel after a nut?"

She shrugs.

"Locator spell?"

"Google."

She then launches herself at him, pushes him into the house, and when his back finally hits a wall she kisses him.

She's stuck by an onslaught of information. An abusive home environment and a mental illness left untreated. Magic practiced by everyone around him – but not by him. He does have a knack for taking other's magic, though. All he needs is skin-to-skin contact. Then the kicker. Murder. Blood and a lot of it. Two bodies strewn over a stairwell, a boy bludgeoned to death. A sibling who was drowned and another gutted with a hunting knife. A circle of witches shouting incantations as Kai crumples to the ground before being tossed into an alternate dimension. A day stuck on repeat and a world all to himself. For years.

She pulls back, the touch of him like electrocution. They stare at each other across his long foyer. Breathing heavily, he smirks. "Have you had enough yet?"

It's a lot to process. The magical mythos and his own experience. A spell powerful enough to create a whole new world, a prison world. But then, Kai... He murdered his family members. His brothers and sisters. They were all just kids. He was just a kid, lacking the proper tools he needed to survive his horrible family, his coven. He wasn't any better than the horror she left behind in Mystic Falls.

There's a shade of disgust in her gut. She glowers at him from where she stands, her hands against the cool of the closed front door. She could leave now. Escape as quickly as she arrived. But... Last she saw he was stuck in that world. How did he get out? She wants to know more.

"No," she breathes and goes to kiss him again. This time he meets her halfway. Picks her up, her ass in his hands, and slams her against the same wall he'd just been. Grinds his growing erection, hard and needy, between her legs. He carries her down the hallway, pauses here and there to press her against the wall and take full advantage of her mouth. Warm, inviting. Her tongue wet with coffee and notes of citrus. She hopes it doesn't bother him that her mind is a little preoccupied. If he knows how to do anything, it's to make a moment last.

Her senses go haywire.

It's bad enough she's being confronted with all these dirty deeds he's kept from her. How another Bennett witch was roped into someone's bidding for the sake of a replica of the cure for vampirism and how that turned into his route out of imprisonment. How high on his list of priorities was to find the witch responsible for supplying the blood needed to activate the spell which put him away but upon finding her long dead and her granddaughter alive, well, he formulated other plans.

No, on top of all that his aura is a barrage of energy bold enough she almost suffocates and he's got hands that won't quit. Loathe to break away from his attentive lips, every gasp of pleasure is swallowed by his mouth. He's got a good grip on her as he weaves through the house, but she clutches his shoulders for dear life. Digs her nails into the meat of his back. His fingers play with the flimsy fabric of her panties before sinking deep into her bringing a wave of lightheadedness, and she's close to passing out. Lucky for her, they make it to his room and he lays her down on his bed.

Their lips separate, but he continues stroking at her core and trails kisses down her neck. "So, this...is whyyyy...you didn't want me to touch ahh."

He yanks down her camisole and blows warm air, making her nipples pebble. "If we touched, you'd never want me to stop, Bon," he says before flicking his tongue against and sucking at her breast. He's being arrogant but he's not wrong, either. Anticipation of him has fortified itself within her and it'll take a lot more to satisfy her. He seems to sense this thought drift through her mind, because a third finger dives between her folds and a hearty moan escapes her.

"We're going to have to - talk about your twisted, revenge fantasy after this." She bucks against his hand, and he's pleased that she's not averse to the information overload she experienced. Good, because he has more.

"Bon..." She shudders as his hand abandons her hot center, and he raises his glistening fingers to her mouth so she can taste herself. "I think we've talked enough for now."

He captures her lips once more, while their hands start to remove their clothes. His body is as muscular as she imagined, and yet more so somehow. Like the month and half she hadn't seen him had been spent in the gym. She's suddenly embarrassed to be kicking off bunny slippers. Then again he just pulled off a vintage Milli Vanilli shirt. Well, vintage to her. She slips out of her shorts and panties and he helps lift her camisole over her head.

Knelt between her knees, he drinks in the image of her taut, squirming body in the dim moonlight. He appreciates what he sees and Bonnie likes that. But a frown forms on his face. She takes a hold of his hand with her own and put it against his chest. "Do you want this?"

His smirk returns. "Do you?"

Grabbing him by the ears, she pulls him down and onto her and kisses him because that's all she's thought about for months. Even when with clients, their lips slanted against her own, her mind was on Kai. How his skin might feel against hers, if his heart skipped when she was near to it, if she was on his mind as much as he was on hers. Would his mouth taste like mint or cinnamon (neither, it's cloves)? Had he visited that same coffee shop numerous times hoping to hear her coffee order roll off her tongue?

The images ebb in and out, her mind finally focusing on being here in the now with Kai. He does, however, impart a couple more tidbits. Kai bleeding information out of a blond police officer, without the blood, thankfully. The brunette, for whom Bonnie's distant relative had been tasked to get the cure, remained a vampire. That was Kai's doing, the heel of his boot crushing the large red capsule. A quick alliance with the tawny witch saw the downfall of the two brothers responsible for Gram's death. Knowing all of this now gives Bonnie a sense of sick satisfaction. And she's thankful for it.

She tangles her legs with Kai's and when he thrusts inside her, she knows he's right. She never wants him to stop.

...

"So, the touching in three places? I think you were a little too busy to explain."

Her head resting on his wide chest, she pinches the skin at his ribs and he flinches. "The mind is to get a feel of what the client wants." She reaches up and rubs one of his temples. He hums into her wrist. "The ears are to figure out how the client has been influenced. Nature, nurture sort of thing. What they ingest shapes what they want." She strokes the shell of his ear with the pads of her fingers.

"I think I can guess the heart thing." He grabs her roaming hand and holds it against his chest. "Then the kiss is just a way to steal their memories?"

She scoffs. "No. It helps me get a clearer picture at what energies they're attracting."

"Or maybe you've found a way to make a business of a kissing booth."

"Maybe. I do have a customer who visits on a weekly basis."

"Who, little ol' me?"

"Actually, I meant this girl Anna but you count, too. Or, you used to."

His chuckle vibrates the both of them, and Bonnie knows or, at least, hopes this isn't a one-time thing. Because whether or not he intended it, his treatment towards her old friends was an act of solidarity. Retribution for wronged witches. Even if he hated Grams for her part in the things that happened to him, he made sure her death wasn't in vain.

"You never really said… The no-touching was…"

"An experiment in resisting temptation," he admits breezily. "It was one hundred percent for your benefit. The fact that it drove you damn near crazy, well, that was just a bonus."

"Can you show me?"

He gives her hand, which he still has sandwiched between his own and his chest, a quick squeeze. "Only if you really want me to. I mean, I can siphon your magic either way. All I have to do is hold your hand and suddenly your magic becomes mine. But I'd rather you want it to happen."

Siphon is the word she kept catching in his memories. Along with "abomination", "freak", "leech", and many colorful others. And, yeah, she gets how that would bother him. A "flaw" that has, through no fault of his own, kept him at an arms distance, while everything around him preached the one thing he didn't have was the one thing he absolutely needed. Until he decided to just take it. And keep taking it.

There is a gravity to this request, despite his nonchalance, and Bonnie doesn't take it lightly. "Do it."

With his eyes cast up at the ceiling and his pillow smelling of Bonnie's hair, a smoky scent with a hint of sage, he sets his jaw. They meet each others' gazes and she gives a tiny nod. Slowly, he draws out her magic. He's careful and controlled and watches her the entire time. Her face goes through a few expressions. Light surprise at the initial sensation, followed by discomfort. It's an electrical pulling but somehow runs deeper, in her marrow. In the neurons of her very cells. Finally, her eyes shutter closed, her fist contorting in pain, and he quits.

Her breath comes in and out in shallow gasps, trying to regulate the rhythm of her lungs, so he waits. When she's leveled out, he wraps his arms around her body and pulls her closer against him. Then, a feeling like static on her nerve endings tickle through her, as if her limbs are waking up after having gone to sleep, and all the magic he took returns.

"I finally have my own generating magic, after having to practically promise my first born away to my twin sister if I dared touch a hair on my coven's head. Which makes no kind of sense. She never even liked being a witch," he rambles hoping to ease the air. "I should probably thank Lucy. That was the witch who helped get me out. She'd gotten in a bad way with a vampire, who then passed her off to some other vampires... There was a mutual scratching of backs. She even convinced my sister, my coven. They never quite trusted me after what I did."

Bonnie eventually looks up at him, her jade eyes shimmering with a mist she blinks away. "You know what they say about dogs and tricks."

He chuckles. "Are you ever going to tell me my fortune?"

She bites her lip. "I...I don't know it," which is a half truth. When she kissed him beyond his past, she only saw her. It was like watching herself on a video she hadn't realized was filmed or snapshots from angles she doesn't normally see in reflections. Her in places she'd yet to visit, smiling for reasons she can't quite grasp.

"Hey, what happened to not changing my future, only being able to tell it?"

For a girl who is always right, the smile that breaks across her face is huge. "I guess I was wrong."