Title: Night Terrors

Summary: Post The Descent fic. Damon/Bonnie friendship.

Bonnie didn't know what had drawn her out of bed in the middle of the night. One minute she was having a fascinating conversation with Einstein and a turtle, and the next she was wide awake and pushing back the covers.

She slipped down the stairs in her bare feet, carefully stepping over the creaky step, and stopped at the front door. Bad things lurked in the dark. She knew that better than most. She heard a noise on the porch, an odd rustling, and took a step back.

Glancing up the stairs, she wondered if she ought to wake her father. And tell him what? That she'd heard a rustle? She grimaced. He already thought the witchy stuff was whacked. If she told him about vampires and werewolves, she'd be on a one way trip to a mental institution.

Anyhow, she was a witch. Yeah, a powerful witch. She could handle this herself. Bonnie nervously tugged her pyjama top in place and tiptoed up to the door. Slowly she turned the deadbolt and opened the door. She paused a moment, but she couldn't hear anything except her own heartbeat thumping in her ears. Carefully she eased the screen door open.

A dark figure was slumped on the front steps. The light of the waning moon revealed a black leather jacket and dark hair. She heaved a sigh.

"Oh, it's you," she muttered.

He didn't even turn around, just lifted a square bottle in his hand as if toasting her. "Yep, it's me. The big, bad vampire."

"Sssh," she hissed, scurrying outside and shutting the doors behind her. "If my dad sees you here..."

His head lolled round. "Yeah? What's he gonna do? Give me a good scolding?"

She pursed her mouth. "You're drunk."

"Nothing gets past you, does it, Bonnie? Now you make sure to take that sparkling intellect and pick out a good community college."

She frowned down at the back of his head, not sure what to do. Finally she said, "What're you doing here?"

Damon moved in a blur to stand before her, so close she could smell the bourbon on his breath. In the dark, the whites of his eyes shone inhumanly bright, but she refused to back down. Not on her own damn porch.

"What do you want, Damon?" she said through gritted teeth.

He turned his head to take another swig, then looked her right in the eye. "You made a promise once."

"Yeah?" she said cautiously.

"You know the one. Innocent blood spilled, yada, yada, me in flames, yada, yada."

Bonnie stiffened. "Did you hurt someone?"

He threw his hand up. "Now there's my favourite judgy little witch." He spun away to the end of the porch, dancing as if he were at a rave rather than a quiet suburban house.

"Damon?" she called. "Damon?"

But he seemed lost in his own world, dancing to music only he could hear. She tilted her head back and groaned. Why her? Why couldn't he go and bother the love of his life with his drunken ramblings? She needed her eight hours, damn it.

Bonnie considered setting him on fire there and then, if only to get his attention, but how would she explain that to her father. She sighed. Looked like her best option was calling Stefan. He was probably the only person who could handle Damon in this condition. At the very least he was strong enough to cart Damon's sorry ass home. She was pulling open the screen door when she heard a loud thump.

Heart pounding, she peered along the porch. Sure enough, Damon was sprawled in the corner, legs akimbo like an abandoned doll.

"I killed her," he said, his voice barely audible.

Bonnie hesitated, then closed the screen door and padded towards him. Oh, she was so gonna regret this. "You mean Rose? You killed Rose." She'd already heard the story from Elena and while she felt sorry for the suffering Rose had endured she hadn't shed any tears over the vampire's death either.

Damon's head bobbed up. "Oh, Rose, yeah. I staked her, you know." Another swig. "It was easy. She didn't even struggle."

She thought she saw tear tracks glistening on his face, which startled her. She hadn't realised he'd gotten so attached to Rose. "But...Elena said you had to."

"Yeah...turns out there's no cure for a werewolf bite." Swig. By the angle he tilted the bottle, it was just about empty. "She was...she was in so much pain."

He sounded so sad, so unDamonlike, that she instinctively crouched before him.

"I'm sorry," she said, and in that moment she meant it.

His gaze drifted to her face. "You're a good person, Bonnie."

"Er...thanks?"

"A good person keeps their promises."

"Damon, I don't under-"

"Kill me."

Her blood froze. "What?"

"Kill me. I deserve it."

Bonnie bit her lip. "I'm sorry about Rose, I really am, but, Damon, she wasn't an innocent."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Why? Because she was a vampire? Right, I forgot. We're not as pure as humans and witches."

"That's not what I meant."

Damon wriggled his legs. "Come on, set me on fire already. I don't have all night."

"Damon-"

"Do it!"

She lurched forward, slapping her hand over his mouth. "Sssh. You want someone to call the sheriff?"

He stared at her, eyes wide. His lips felt surprising warm beneath her palm and Bonnie felt heat rush to her face as she realised that she was kneeling between his legs. Way, way too close for comfort.

Ordinarily she didn't like to touch Damon. He scared her, and with good reason considering he'd tried to rip her throat out. And then there was the cold, withering sensation she felt whenever she touched a vampire. She could feel that even now, but she also sensed something else; a darkness that had nothing to do with what he was and everything to do with what he felt.

Staring into his eyes, she saw an emptiness, a deep despair she hadn't thought him capable of. She found herself wanting to reach in and pull him out...until she remembered who he was and what he'd done.

"You need to go home." Bonnie pushed away from him and started to rise, but he grabbed her wrist.

"Don't leave me."

The longing in his voice moved her, but there was something about the look in his eyes - a feral glint that made her remember just how dangerous Damon could be. The hair on the back of her neck rose, in spite of her urge to comfort him. In the end her survival instincts won out.

"Damon, let go," she said, in as firm a voice as she could manage.

After a long pulse-pounding moment, he did.

Bonnie stood and looked down at his bent head. She couldn't believe she was saying this, but, "I'm not going to kill you." She quirked her mouth. "Not tonight, anyway."

"But I killed her."

"You did the right thing."

He looked up, his face twisted. "Did I?"

She'd never seen him look so anguished and she didn't understand it. Damon was in love with Elena. Why was he so broken up over Rose, a vampire he'd known for less than a month?

"Damon...is there something you're not telling me?"

He stared at her for a long moment, and opened his mouth.

Bonnie heard the familiar click of the front door behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and, as she watched the screen door open, she felt a cool breeze ruffle her hair. When she turned back, Damon was gone, leaving only the empty bottle behind.

"Bon?"

She spun to face her father. "Hey, Dad."

"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"I thought I heard something."

His narrowed gaze slid to the bourbon bottle lying on the floorboards. "You weren't-"

"Da-ad. Trust me, if I was going to get drunk I'd pick a better time and place."

"That's not exactly the reassuring answer I was hoping for," he said, grimacing.

Bonnie bent down and scooped up the bottle. "Whoever left it was gone when I got here. They must have heard me coming."

He glanced up and down the silent street. "Well, next time you hear something, you come and wake me."

"Yes, Dad."

"I mean it, Bonnie. You don't know what could be out there."

It was comments like that that made Bonnie wonder if her dad knew more than he was telling, but all she said was, "I promise."

His shoulders relaxed. "Come on in now."

"Okay."

Bonnie took one last look around, though she knew it was pointless. If Damon didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't be. She let out a long sigh and went into the house.