Chapter Title: Once

Chapter Summary: The First time it happened.

Work Text:

Damon Salvatore was grumbling as he made today's pancakes. Yes, admittedly he had a lot of fun hearing Bonnie whine about eating the same darn thing every day but today, he had found out that he belated this place... This personal brand of hell.

You'd think since he was being made to relive this day over and over, everything will start off everyday replenishing itself. Everything, that is, like blood.

In his first month in this place, he had rummaged every blood bank he could get to —and yes, admittedly he had binged on the blood bags when he had first discovered them in the Mystic Falls hospital because he had been famished— but he half expected, that since he had to live with the blasted eclipse every darn day, he should be replenished on blood too.

How sorely wrong was he.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Bonnie asked a little absentmindedly, not looking up from the newspaper she held in her hands. She figured whether or not she was sitting upright, Damon was going to say what he wanted to say. No more, no less.

"It's official. I've run out of blood." He grumbled again, turning the pancake over and pressing the pancake turner to it gently.

"Well you'll have to make do with wine and any other liquid you can find. I recall telling you to ration the blood well so you won't run out."

"And I remember telling you I hate rations. They bring back memories I'd much rather forget." He offered with a calm he didn't really feel. Over the last few months, having no one to talk to and no one to be angry at, or fight with except Bonnie, the two of them have reached a certain agreement of codependency... They were each other's release from pent up anger, stress, frustration... They were their own shoulder to cry on, a word of discouragement or encouragement depending on the circumstances...

Bonnie Bennet has been his rock in the last few months and the one person who had kept him sane through it all but she didn't need to know that. It was enough that he admitted that to himself. He didn't need to take a megaphone and announce it to the whole world —in their case, Bonnie—

He scoffed. Bonnie Bennet was literally his whole world. Who would have thought. Groaning for the millionth time that morning, he set the pancake down in front of Bonnie, not bothering with the usual decoration he did and started gulping down on wine.

"It's been four months, Damon... I can't keep eating pancakes everyday for however long we have to stay here for. I mean, I know I'm the one who said I enjoyed pancakes but how long do you think someone can survive on just one thing before they feel like killing themselves?" She folded the newspaper and laid it to the side but picked up her fork to start eating anyway.

"I can survive on blood forever... However long that is. just blood." Damon quipped, swirling the wine around in his glass. If he shut his senses and made a conscious effort, he could lie to himself and pretend that the red wine was in fact, the succulent blood of a naive virgin girl.

"Oh please. You know it's not the same thing." Bonnie's voice snapped him out of whatever zone he had been about to slip into.

"Pretty much the same thing to me. And yeah, you'll have to make do with what you got... Since you understand the import of rationing so well."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and opted to ignore the sulky vampire before her. She already had trouble swallowing the food. Adding a Damon–sized plug in her throat was just pushing the limits, even for her.

The room fell silent after a while. They didn't always feel the need to communicate. They have come to accept the moments of silence as they came and although it was initially very uncomfortable, recently, it was considered a moment of peaceful thoughts where they each had the liberty to let their thoughts run wild in whatever direction they would go.

Damon's thoughts always found their way to Elena. Those last moments with her in the car... the words she had been about to say, the words that resonated in his ears as loudly as though he had heard them. Her face, her smile, her glorious laughter and the way her skin glowed particularly after a heavy bout of sex... Those visions kept him going just as much as Bonnie's presence did and sometimes he wondered what kept the Bennet witch going... Was it the little Gilbert or some force of nature that only witches are privy to? Somehow, they never breached the subject of what are you living for? or why are you trying so hard to survive in this place where there is no possible way out?

He imagined Bonnie knew he was trying his damnedest to hold on much longer, for Elena.

And somehow, he imagined the witch was doing same. For the same person.

Elena.

He sighed, rubbing his fingers through unruly black hair, setting the wine glass dejectedly on the table and watching as the thin liquid splashed on the inside of the glass. Who was he kidding?

"You can try the blood banks in the hospital in the neighboring towns." Bonnie provided helpfully as she got up to wash her plates. Damon insisted on cooking as long as she washed the dishes afterwards which she didn't mind. I would be better if she wasn't always washing pancake dishes. Maybe a steak dinner perhaps?

"You think I haven't done that? This place is absolute hell. Apparently, on May 10th 1994, there weren't quite as much blood bags in any of the hospitals." Damon sulked further.

"Don't tell me...—" Bonnie wheeled around on her heel, having a hard time believing.

"Yes, Bon bon, Where do you think I go every afternoon when I leave home for two hours? I have combed all hospitals within a 500 mile radius of here—

"And drunk all the blood too, I presume." Bonnie accused.

"And drunk all the blood, yes. Have you not been listening to me? There wasn't enough blood to begin with. Were people that stingy with blood in '94?" He got up and started pacing the floor. It has been a whole week since he tasted blood and yes, he admitted he shouldn't have drunk so carelessly before but still, when living in a time such as this, reliving one of your worst days and not knowing how to get out, when you will be able to get out and if you will be able to get out at all, you tend to be a little reckless.

A lot reckless if you are Damon Salvatore and as it turns out, he was Damon Salvatore.

He'd be damned.

"You'd know. What were you doing on May 10th 1994 anyways? Robbing a blood bank?" Bonnie threw nonchalantly over her shoulder and sensed Damon stop dead in his tracks. Okay so something was starting to make sense to her... All the time he had spent whining about this being his personal hell... Perhaps it had something to do with why he would stop dead in his tracks at a question like that.

That, or she was overreacting and thinking about things she shouldn't. She set the plates to the side to dry and turned around, ready to be corrected.

Instead, she got a good convincing. Damon Salvatore was definitely not happy about the events of May 10th 1994.

"I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean—" She started to apologize only for Damon to cut in.

"I wasn't robbing a bank." His listless voice mumbled, eyes unfocused for a while longer before literally snapping himself out of his trance to direct piercing blue eyes at her. "I was...—"

"You don't have to tell me." Bonnie quickly jumped in. She figured if he reacted like this to a simple harmless comment, then he sure as hell wasn't up to sharing.

"Yeah. Maybe later." Damon agreed. It didn't help that he literally won't have any other time to tell her since all the days now are blended into one. There really was no way this was not hell. Nothing —absolutely nothing— can be worse than this, and for the first time, he didn't think he had been living such an awful life to deserve this punishment.

Or perhaps, he was just getting punished for everything he had done before now.

Sighing, he walked out of the house.

Damon had been gone all day and although that was the longest time apart they have been from each other since coming into this alternate universe, Bonnie was worried. The plus side was that, considering Damon's tendency to snap necks when he was upset, she was happy there were no such necks to be snapped by him which meant whatever mischief he was getting up to, was not the kind that could get anyone killed.

Except perhaps himself?

She sighed again. She had gone grocery shopping and got ingredients to make steak but had waited till 7:00pm to start cooking because Damon usually preferred to do the cooking.

At 8:00pm, she had gone through a series of emotions from worry that something has indeed happened to him because he hadn't been home and Damon Salvatore, in spite of his many faults, will not leave her to starve... To hoping that he had taken a zoom trip to the next uninvaded hospital to find some blood bags.

She finished setting the table and kept their food in the microwave oven, waiting for him to come back.

She fell asleep at some point.

Damon had lost track of time, partly because he was agonizing about massacring a room full of people and how to break the news to Bonnie. He had no idea when it had started but her opinion of him mattered and he feared, in this solitary place, that if Bonnie Bennet ostracised him, he would truly lose his mind.

At a quarter to midnight, he pushed open the door to his house and stepped through, confused by the mixture of aromas that hit him. The lights were off so he moved to where he knew the switch was and flicked them on only to be rewarded with a groan.

He turned the corner and was met with a sight that melted his anxiety away like wax.

There she sat at the head of the wide dining table, candles melted to the hilt, plates and wine set up before her and she had her head in one of the plates, asleep.

He hated to assume that she had waited for him, not eating, worried... And he had just been lost in himself. Smiling wistfully, he walked to the sleeping witch and pulled a chair carefully to sit by her, his hand moving just as cautiously to pat her head, brushing away the strands that had escaped the bunch and were cascading onto her face.

She twitched in her sleep as his finger accidentally brushed her forehead and slowly her eyes cracked open, unfocused and clouded over. She looked at him hazily for a while and smiled when she recognized him. "Damon"

"Bon bon" He whispered in response, the caress in her hair much bolder now that she was awake and he had no fear of waking her up.

"I thought you left..." she croaked and added almost as an afterthought, when Damon opened his mouth to speak, "...me"

"And go where?" He smiled wanly at her. "I'm sorry I was gone all day... I lost track of time and just wanted to sulk for a bit." He explained honestly.

Bonnie sat up slowly, still wearing a smile and stretched. "Yeah I get that... It can be quite stuffy here."

"I personally like my odds." Damon grinned, earning him a shake of Bonnie's head.

"I know you prefer to cook but I got tired of waiting so I made steak and that means—"

"I'm on dishwashing duty tonight." He finished with a grin and stood up to head their food.

"Are you okay?" Bonnie asked cautiously as she watched his tensed back.

"Are you?" Damon didn't look back to answer her.

"No. Honestly, no. But I'm happy knowing you're here... Being here alone would be too much to handle."

Damon smiled as he set the pates down on the table, one in front of Bonnie and the other where he was to sit. "I know this is hardly the romantic candlelit dinner you prepared but I promise I'll make it up to you."

She only hummed her response as she dove into her food. She was famished. "So did you get blood?" she asked after a while when her stomach was no longer growling.

"No." he replied curtly. He had tried not to think about his blood deficiency but the mere mention of blood was doing things to his insides.

They ate in companionable silence and Bonnie retired to bed right afterwards. Damon stayed behind to wash the dishes and after that, try as he may, he couldn't get himself to sleep.

Another week passed and Damon was starting to look worse for wear. For someone who was very liberal with drinking blood, not having blood in his system for such an extended period of time was wrecking him from the inside out.

He knew he wasn't well when he had a hard time helping Bonnie dress a cut wound she had inflicted on herself when she insisted on cooking lunch and by evening, Bonnie had caught on.

"I think it's time we moved out." Damon mumbled darkly that evening when they sat on the porch reading.

"Damon..."

"Come on, Bon bon, let's face it. No one's coming. If they are, they would have already been here. Perhaps they moved on, and quite frankly, I hope they did." He cuts through her words before she even started. "I know why we stayed here... just in case they're coming for us, they'll know where to find us but come on, it's been more than four months, we have run out of blood bags and I can't be sane around you for much longer when all I can think of when I'm with you, is blood." He hadn't intended for that to sound like a whine but it did. He felt guilty as hell, wanting her blood, afraid of what he would do if he didn't get a sturdy inflow soon... Afraid that he might lose control and drain her... He was afraid.

The witch sat there listening to him for a while and understood what he meant, understood how much that must have cost for him to say those words to her... How critical his condition must be to make such a request. She understood that. And yet, she understood that should their friends back home get even a small window of time to get them home, their odds will be greater if they were right where they can be found.

Home.

She set her book face down and stood, walking across the porch to stand in front of him. When Damon looked up, the telltale signs of confusion were written all over his face as expected. Swallowing audibly and hoping the other didn't interpret that as nervousness and uncertainty, she held her wrist up to his face.

"Bon bon" Damon made a sound between a groan and a whimper as her pulse sounded loud and harsh in his ear. He could feel his face changing, feel his fangs start to extend as the sweet nectar that was her blood beckoned him and yet he made no move. Never in his life has he felt so pained. "please...—" it came out as a broken gasp. Usually he would speed off but he couldn't even gather the strength to do that.

"I want you to, Damon..." Bonnie whispered as she moved to stand between his parted legs from where he sat on the porch wall. "Feed on me for as long as we can hold on and when we decide that blood isn't the only factor and we are really ready to give up and live here forever or die together, we can go on that road trip." she whispered, her voice coaxing.

"It's too dangerous, Bon... What if I can't stop? What if after all the hunger I just can't—"

"You can and you will..." She assured him confidently, one hand brushing his hair while she held her right wrist up to his lips.

"Bon...—" unable to resist, his fangs sunk into her veins, hands holding hers to keep her in place. In the distance, he heard her hiss and Damon moaned as the sweet metallic taste rose into him mouth, washing over his entire body. He could literally feel every joint, nerve and tendon jump back alive... Eyes closed, legs pulling her close as he drunk what he had so wanted for so long... He was on a high.

"That's... Damon that's enough... Damon you're hurting me!" Bonnie used her last bit of energy to scream and sighed when Damon let go of her sharply as though he had been burned. "You did it." she managed to whisper right before she passed out.

When she woke up, she was in her bed, the sun's rays making occasional splashes across her face every time they peeked through the curtains and Damon was nowhere to be found.