Forever-After

Bonnie sighed into his neck as he tightened his arms around her, pressing her small form to his own as if it were the final puzzle piece. He was sure that this was what he had been longing for all his long life, but it was almost too good to be true.

Damon kissed her forehead as gently as he knew how, but he knew she had felt it anyway. She said his name with the same gentleness, whispering it as if in her sleep. He pulled her back from him gently and moved her hair so to better see his face. She had her eyes closed, but there was a smile touching her lips.

It's my name there, he thought of the shape of her lips, and for a moment filled with a longing he wanted to see if her mouth would taste of him too. He knew that the concept was stupid, the only place he had laid his mouth, was at her forehead. That had been back when he was capable of rational thought around her – now, now she clouded his mind, his better judgement, his long self-imposed belief that the only thing that mattered in his life was him How could it have all changed, all too quickly, so that now it was her?

"Damon?" she asked, an extra layer of shyness in her voice, "I-" she seemed to lose her words, "Damon, I don't... I don't understand what just happened... how we can be... like this..."

He peered down at her, his once frightening beauty now overwhelmingly beautiful and at peace. He suppressed a chuckle; it wouldn't help him answer her and she might construe it as if he were mocking her timidness. If he had more time to give an answer, he might have picked her question apart to find it's real meaning, but instead he answered, "What just happened was Stefan and Elena," he said the name venomously, "found their happy-ever-after."

"Would you like a happily-ever-after, Damon?" Bonnie asked him once his face had relaxed again, inwardly cringing at the echo of her words. She instantly wished she could take them back, and opened her mouth to do so, but before she could work her jaw to form the words he had it clapped between his long, graceful, fingers.

"There isn't a happy-ever-after for me." he told her, as certainly as if it were printed somewhere in a book, and his eyes turned to the ceiling. He wouldn't cry in front of her, he was a full-grown man for goodnesses sake, but tears filled his eyes. He thought he was past any hope of redemption, that that train had left the station centuries ago, and that karma would find a way to punish him somehow.

"Oh," Bonnie whispered, not hiding her tears but instead letting them cascade down her cheeks. Her tears left red stains on her fair skin and were wet on her hands as she swiped at her cheeks. "I always thought there would be – even for you." she turned her face away from his.

Damon smiled kindly down at her, "Even for me?" he asked, in a teasing tone that meant she hadn't offended him as she thought she had, and he grinned that wicked grin although he had often himself wondered the same thing.

Could he hope for a future with this good girl after a long past of being a bad boy?

"There must be," she replied, her tone lighter than before, comforting him, "After all, you have me and I'll be with you for as long as you want me." she blushed.

He chuckled at her forwardness. He would be happy as long as he was with her?

"Happy Forever after," he whispered into her ear, "let us be together always."

2

"I love you, Damon. I love you. I love you." Each word was punctuated by a kiss on the perfect curve of his lips. Although Bonnie tried to hug him as tightly as he was holding her, her petite arms were not long enough to wrap around him fully and were instead locked at either side of his chest. His hands were unusually warm against her back as he rubbed it with sensual tenderness, but instead of feeling smothered she only felt his love. "Oh Damon, there just aren't words!" She doubted that there was an adequete word in any language that could properly describe the way that she was feeling. She knew from his expression that he was suprised that she felt so strongly for him, which was just silly. Who could resist him, the egmatic Damon Salvatore? Not her, that certainly was true.

Damon kissed her again, tracing the tracks of her now dried tears with his lips. He hadn't done this before, he thought wryly, thinking that before he had been satisfied with the almost certainty that he would never taste her lips. Now he could not imagine living at all without her sweetness, her light, and being eternally bitter without knowing the reason. He knew that he could never let her leave him, although in time she enevitably would. Every minute that passed without her at his side was another minute wasted. Unlike him, who would endlessly go on to live, time was stealing her vitality with each passing day. But he would not change her, as Katherine had changed him; he would not make her bitter, as he knew she would become over time, over the fathomless eternity that was gifted to the damned.

"I love you too, darling." he told her with a heavy heart, "like you have no idea..." He could feel the emotion building inside him, wanted to switch it off like only he knew how, but there was nowhere he could hide while she gazed up at him with adoration. Even whilst in the vampire Katherine's thrall, he had never felt this strongly for anyone before in his life. It was dangerous—the passion gripping him as he stared into her eyes. How had he ever thought his infatuation with Elena, because that had been what it amounted to now there was something to compare it to, had been enough to risk his life for? It makes him embarrassed to think of it now and his cheeks flush a soft pink.

"Damon..." she began hesitantly, burying her face even deeper into the dips between his perfectly defined muscles. She didn't know what had possessed her, but suddenly the need to voice her latest concern about their relationship was on the tip of her tongue. "... I've been thinking... about our future... about life... about time—" Her next breath caught in her throat and the most painful sob was wrenched from her chest and she could no longer speak. Her mouth was full of her heart-break and sorrow, so much so that she chokes on it. "But Damon," she whimpered the moment she could catch her breath, "Damon—If I become a vampire... oh Damon! There will be no more McCullough witches... ever!" She was torn between her overwhelming love for this man and her responcibility to her families' magical legacy.

He understood her distress, and to know that he had had a part in it's creation almost broke him. The last thing he wanted was her to be in pain, but he knew leaving would help nothing. He knew that he had been the cause of much heartache over the years, something he had once been proud of, but never had it hurt him like her's was now. He wanted to reassure her any way that he could, but he knew not how. There was no way he could fix this without hurting her somehow, and that made his teeth grind. She had maybe eighty years left if she remained as she was, if she was lucky. Most human's did not reach their nineties, though, and in Mystic Falls the mortality rate was unusually high. If she left he might never see her again, and that would be torture on them both. He usually had an answer for everything—but not this time.

3

It was a few hours later, just as the sun was setting in the sky, atop a bed, in the Salvatore mansion that Damon could bare to even broach the subject again with her again. She was tucked safely in his arms with a blanket pulled up to just below her chin, pressed to a broad chest by arms that were strong enough to crush her bones in a nano-second but were holding her gently as if she would shatter at the slightest pressure. He kissed her lingeringly on the temple and she purred into his chest.

"I would love you even if you were old and wrinkly, my little red bird," he mumured against her bright red hair. "I will love you forever, Bonnie." and he meant every word. He had had to resign to the fact that she would never, ever, let him make her what he was: immortal and for forever, but the thought of losing her to even something as mundane as old age burned a hole through his chest and left him hollow. What could he do? He knew that he could not stand by and watch her die a little every day—frail and human—but what other choice was there? Witches lived longer than humans, true, but they were not immortal. Maybe it was because they weren't damned, like vampires, that they could reach heavan?

She raised her head from where it had been nestled between the muscles of his chest. "And I will love you, even when I'm old and wrinkly, Damon." She tried to make light of it for his sake—because he seemed so depressed by the idea of her getting any older than she was right now. "What's wrong, Damon?" she asked him, brow furrowed and lips tight. She had seen that expression before, on his brother, and knew he must be thinking self-deprivating thoughts too right at this moment. She had never wanted to make him sad, and yet she could sense that she had something to do with his sorrow now. What on earth could she do to fix what was broken between them? If only she knew, maybe then she could fix it.

"I find the idea of you ever leaving me... even for a moment... to be beyond repulsive, do you understand that?" He did not mean to make his tone aggressive, though he growled the words from between clenched teeth. "I don't want you to ever go away, ever." It felt good to be speaking what he had been thinking out-loud. He felt her stiffen in his arms and worked to make his voice more gentle, "I will find another way if there is one." It was a heart-felt promise.

"There isn't another way..." not in all the books she could find. She had wanted to find an immortality spell after learning that her two best friends would probably out-live her by decades, but her seach had been fruitless. Whether it was because most witches were all about nature, and thus wouldn't try to gain eternal life, she didn't know and didn't much care. Some witches might look at ever-lasting life with scorn, but right now she was lusting for it. She wanted it so much she would be willing to do anything to make it happen—anything short of losing her powers.

Damon ran his long, elegant fingers through his coffee-bean coloured hair, giving it that sexy, just got out of bed look that Bonnie loved. He hadn't done it intentionally, but when he saw her shy smile he found himself grinning back. They may not have forever, but they had right now, and now it was all that mattered. Right at this second she was radiant, glowing almost, like his own personal sun. Unthinkingly, he grasped the lapis ring between his two fingers and pulled at it. He was suprised by how easily it was removed, and how light it was when he tossed it into the flames of the fire burning across from the bed.

She gasped, unable to take her eyes from where she had last caught a glimpse of the ring in the flames, and felt her heart plummet down into her feet. Was that his answer to what she had told him about never, ever, becoming a vampire like him? Was he going to leave this room and commit suicide... for her? Because of her? Was he insane to think that this would work? Was she?

"Damon! Your ring!"

"My ring..." he murmured, not taking his eyes from the consuming flames, as if he could hardly believe what he had done either.

Bonnie darted up from where she had been laying next to him and pounced on the nearest open curtain, pulling it closed with almost in-human speed. Her mind could not consider possible reasons for this latest act of self-destruction when he was so vulnerable to the sun just beyond the windows. The room became dimmer and dimmer with each drape she closed and soon the only light to see by was the one beside her side of the bed. Right now she was glad that she had insisted on having it. "What the hell?" she demanded to know, once she found and held his black gaze in the soft glow.

"I can't be without you, love." He made it sound like a threat.

4

"I don't know how I would go on without you if anything happened..." his voice trailed off and he scrunched his eyes together as if to keep from crying. Bonnie wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was alright to cry because she would hold him, but somehow the words would not come. She felt guilty for not being strong enough to support him, to assure him that everything would be okay. She wished that he could glimpse inside her mind and see and feel all the love for him she possessed. If only he could see just how much she adored him—maybe then he would believe this was real, like she hoped that it was.

"For gods' sake, Damon! Why couldn't you have just said," and now she put on her best Damon-voice she could muster, "I can't be without you" she tsked at his foolishness, "and kept the ring on your finger—I mean, honestly Damon?" How could anyone as old as he was behave so childishly? She had intended to scold him more but one look at his expression was enough to undo her completely. She heard herself whimper, which was knew, and Instead of harsh words there was soft touches on his cheek as she whispered, "Oh, Damon. I am so sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about." The sound of his voice after the pause sounded rougher than it had ever been before. He got of the bed and stood, running his hands through his hair, silently. There was nothing she could identify in his expression other than tierdness. "I just wonder..." he shook his head, dismissing the thought. He turned and met her eyes with his. "What about me is so hard to love?" In a burst of sudden movement he had ripped a post, that held the cloth canopy above the bed, and cracked the broken wood over his knee. "Why do I always find myself alone, while Stefan," he threw the pieces of wood into the crackling flames, "is loved by everyone!?" That was what was really eating him: his brother had friends, someone to love him, people to care about him, while he was alone in the world. It just wasn't fair.

"You're not alone..." she said quietly, her voice so weak that it could barely be heard over the crackling of the fire, "... you've never been alone..." He needed to understand, but she did not want to sound harsh. Hopefully he would hear the vehemence in her voice and know that she meant what she said. She wished in that moment that she was stronger and capable of caring for him in a way that would benefit him somehow. She had always been comfortable in her position in Elena's circle of friends, as the timid, shy one, but now she wanted to be the stong one instead—for them, for him.

"Yes I have, Bonnie." he argued, "I've been alone for the better part of my existance." he gazed at their joined hands, felt her thumb brushing his palm. "I've had my brother at my side all this time, but that is not the same thing, I don't think. Perhaps I should be alone, after all I've done, but I don't want to be if there is a chance..." he swallowed thickly. "I don't want to be without you, ever." He was breathless with emotion and the last few words were breathed out. Just the thought of her leaving him made his insides clench unpleasantly. He would do anything to keep that from happening—anything, anything at all.

"If there were a spell... would you have me use it?"

He stared at her, astonished and a little skeptical. "What spell?" he was unsure of what she meant.

"A spell for what? What spell?"

"A spell for ever-lasting life... but..."

His eyes became alight with hope and he clutched her hand as if letting her go was the last thing he wanted in the world. He gazed into her eyes, looking for any clue that might be shown there as to why she seemed reluctant to broach the subject with him. Surely nothing could be worse than knowing they had only a limited time together?

Bonnie gulped loudly. "But it's black magic, Damon. It's dark and it's powerful. If I tap into that sort of power there is a strong possibility that I will be taken over, and I hate opening myself up to things that can possess my body. Damon, I—I—I.." her fear was so great that even imagining being consumed by that darkness made her want to scream. "I can't do that again, Damon! I just can't!" She clutched her head to try and stop the throbbing ache that was spreading across her forehead. Black magic always exacts a price on the weilder, always, and a spell as strong as this one could threaten both of their lives. Her life meant little to her, Damon's life meant everything and she would not risk it for anything. Nothing was worth the loss of him.

5

"I knew it was here somewhere..." She murmured, to herself since Damon waited outside, after pawing through at least five dusty volumes, searching for the right one. If she hadn't been absolutely certain this book was here, somewhere, she would have announced it lost forever; Sometimes it was so difficult to find anything up here in the attic. The rays of sun which shone through the small window high up between the eaves made the air hot and increasingly difficult to breathe. Even with his hyper-sensitive hearing, she doubted that Damon would be able to hear her even if she shouted.

Resting the leather-bound book on an old garden table, it's once white plastic hideously discoloured by time and damp, she solemnly lifted the cracking front cover and began to read the name printed in oddly elegant script as best she could. The handwriting was flowery to the point of unreadability and she spent some time gazing at it uncomprehendingly before she began to recognise the squiggles. Lorna McCullough was written just below the strange symbol she had also glimpsed on the cover. What did it mean? Was it a warning for her to search somewhere else? Was it an invitation to look inside? Maybe should invite Damon up here to hear his opinion?

Bonnie opened her mouth to call down to him, surely he would hear her shout? But just as she did something from the corner of her eye caught he attention and held it. Something had moved in the shadows between the boxes of junk, she would have sworn it if she could speak, and she froze with the mystery book open in her hands. Why hadn't she brought Damon with her, she chastised herself as her heart raced, making enough noise to deafen her to anything other than the slow creak of the floorboards as it approached.

"Stay away from me!" she yelped, moving so that the table stood between them, clutching the dark volume to her chest as if she were drowning and it was the only thing keeping her head above water. As the thing, the shadow, the monster, the whatever, crept closer and closer, making that horrible crackling grunting sound, the strange tingling sensation at the back of her neck grew. She had never meant to create a monster, but she had known that wanting to use dark magic would only lead to trouble. If her love between her and Damon hadn't meant everything to her she would have never knowingly unleashed yet another evil into this world. What had she done?

Damon's ears picked up a sound from within the house and he straightened from his slouch against the side of the building. He'd agreed to wait for her on the porch outside only because he knew that his kind were not welcome—not that he thought Bonnie wanted him to stay outside. He could sense, almost as if he could read her mind, that she had wanted him to accompany her to the attic despite how scandalous it would if anyone caught them. Witches were ruthlessly protective over their own, and he didn't really feel like getting his ass fried by any of them, but the sense of foreboding was impossible to ignore.

He stopped at the threshold, unable to move any more inside the house, and called up the stairs, "Bonnie? What's wrong? Invite me in!" There was only a strangled gasp from upstairs. Something was attacking her, he could feel it in his bones, but he was helpless on this side of the door. "Invite me in!" he shouted as loud as he could, his stomach churning with the need to get to her. The invisible barrier preventing him from entering the house was impossible to break through, and she still hadn't given him permission. What could be happening to prevent her from making a sound?

There was a crashing sound from the landing upstairs and the invisible, indestructible wall keeping him from entering a dwelling place for the living suddenly vanished.

6

The sound of him hitting the floor was loud in the still, silent house and he knew that if he hadn't given himself away before he had now. Why had he allowed her to be alone when she obviously was not safe? The answer was simple; he hadn't even considered the possibility that she would be in danger in her own house. How stupid he had been to think that, though, all things considered? He should have insisted that she let him inside. Now he slowly, silently got to his feet and used all the predatory quietness he could wield to creep up the stairs in the direction in which he had heard the ominous thud of something hitting the ground. He took one step at a time, instinctively stepping over the places were the wood would creak, and could hear nothing but his own breathing.

Two shoes, small and feminine, were the first he saw of her as he climbed to the top. He saw her white socks and bare legs next, and the pale skin bore deep, vicious scratches as if from a slashing knife. Her trousers were in tatters, allowing him an unobstructed view of the terrible wounds that had been inflicted on her. His sweet Bonnie, his love, wore an expression of terror even now while she was unconscious and he felt a shock run through him like sword. She wasn't dead—he could see her breathing—but whatever had attacked her had most likely expected her to be by the time Damon found her and the thought of that, more than anything, gave him strength. Her shirt was in one piece, if not stained, and he was glad that she had been allowed some dignity. She was tough, his darling Bonnie, his princess of the light.

His hand found his phone and he pulled it from his jacket with a lightening fast move. He hurriedly dialled a number and pressed it to his ear. He was trying to calm his breath when Stefan answered, sounding distracted and less than pleased. Damon did not give a damn if he had interrupted anything, nothing was as important as this. "Stefan—get your ass to the McCullough house—do it now!" he hung up before Stefan could even think to protest. He didn't have time for any bull' from Stefan, he needed advice on what to do next. He hoped that for once Elena would just stay at home, he didn't need her yelling at him too.

He held her to his chest as he waited for Stefan to arrive, listening to her heart beat and her breath go in and come out, not wanting to miss anything. She felt so insubstantial in his arms, like a porcelain doll, and lifeless. If—no, when—she regained consciousness he would ask her what she had seen and whether she had seen anything like it before. She had been to the Dark Dimension and had seen things that even he hadn't before. He felt tears on his cheeks but he did not swipe at them because that would mean relinquishing some of his hold on her. Even if he stayed in this position until he starved, it would be better than letting her go.

Stefan arrived minutes later, thankfully without Elena in tow, with a bunch of herbs that smelt like rotting flesh—he knew what that smelt like. He pinched his nose between his fingers and gave his brother a dark look. It was a shame that he didn't see it though, fixated as he was on Bonnie's limp form sprawled against Damon. He seemed not to know what to feel for a what felt like a long time, but was probably only a few heart-beats, but at last he settled on anger. If things were normal Damon would have laughed at the range of emotions Stefan was capable of feeling at the same instant, but the truth was that he felt these things too. He felt angry, spiteful, vengeful, but most of all ashamed that he had been unable to save her from this.

"I should have never trusted you to keep to your word, Damon. After all you've done, all the pain and suffering you have brought on others, I should have never taken you at your word!" he punched the wall with enough force that the plaster exploded around his fist. "Elena always told me, 'Damon can't be trusted.' but did I listen? No! No I didn't, I couldn't! Now this..." His head went into his hands. "This is my fault..."

Damon made his decision in that second, standing with Bonnie in his arms. He wouldn't let Stefan monopolise this situation with his misplaced sense of responsibility. This was not about him, or Elena, or even himself. This was about Bonnie, and Bonnie was dependant on him totally. He felt her whole body begin to tremble, as if having a seizure, and he looked down to see her eyes wide open and as black as onyx. He watched one side of her mouth turn upwards in a half-grin and felt his heart sink like lead in his chest. Those eyes were sightless and not her's at all.

"Stefan?" His voice had never sounded so tentative. "I think we have a problem."

7

Stefan took a step forwards, more so he could see better than to offer any assistance, and glimpsed her black eyes and twisted expression. This was not the Bonnie he knew and admired, that much was true, and he blanched at whatever he saw in her body. This had never happened before, to either of them, and neither knew what to do next. His first inclination was to call Elena, she would know what to do, but what could she bring to the situation? Nothing but another life to fret about; She would only be one more thing for him to worry about when he needed to concentrate on saving Bonnie.

Damon struggled to keep her hands from wrapping around her throat, which was what the thing inside her most wanted to do. He did not think for one second that it was Bonnie that wanted to kill him, but it still broke his heart to see her try, anyway. No matter what happened, he would not forget that she was one of the sweetest, most gentle people he had ever known. She would never try and strangle him, which was the belief which drove him to keep on fighting against the imposter. She was in there somewhere and he would free her if it killed him... but he would not kill her body, even if it wasn't her inside.

"Damon..." the thing hissed, it's tongue wetting it's lower lip, as if it were just humouring him until it found a way to escape his grasp, "I know I have nothing to fear from you. You wouldn't knowingly harm her—you couldn't. If it came to a choice, you would protect this body like you would protect her... with your life..." It smiled, as if it was used to having razor sharp teeth, but it only had Bonnie's blunt, human ones. The effect wasn't even as nearly as frightening as it would have been had it been in it's own form, in Bonnie's angelic face. If anything, the sight was only mildly disturbing.

"Stop smiling, you pitiful piece of shit. There is a way to make you vacate that body, and I know what it is..." Despite himself, he enjoyed seeing the expression of smugness on the thing's face dissolve into concern. Ah, so there was a way of defeating this thing. He only had to get close enough to try it. He took a step closer to her, purposely making himself sinister, and the thing took a step backwards the same distance. As if it could read Damon's mind, it pulled it's lips back from it's teeth and snarled.

"Get away from me!" it growled. "There's nothing you can do to let her in again!"

"Well, then. It's a good reason I don't plan on asking you, isn't it?" He said the words venomously, suddenly lashing out with his foot directed at the centre of Bonnie's chest...

Bonnie (the real Bonnie) felt the pain slice through her chest and wished that she knew what was going on. In this place of darkness her senses were heightened and the pain ripped through her, leaving her in tatters. If she could scream she would scream forever. No pain she had ever felt before, even in the Dark Dimension, had ever felt so paralysingly horrible as this did. What was happening? Was Damon all right? Oh... please let Damon be all right...

"Ouch." The thing said teasingly, as if humouring a child. It brought a hand to it's chest, feigning injury, though it was obvious that it felt no pain.

How could anything feel no pain? He guessed that he was just going to have to try harder... And this time when he struck, he used the metal tip on his boot to break the bones in his beloveds chest.

She wished she could scream but every time she opened her mouth the air was ripped from the lungs in a gasp of absolute agony. Who could be doing this to her? The shadow monster that had consumed her? Maybe, but why would it want to torture her? It already had her imprisoned, what more did it want from her? Did it want her power? Because she would gladly give it away to be out of this hell.

"What did you do to her? Where's the real Bonnie?" Damon was seething now, ready to explode. This thing either gave him some answers now, while Damon still felt like playing nice, or he would beat the thing until it gave him answers. The thing pointed it's finger to it's chest wordlessly, because there were no need for them. Jesus, he felt sick. His dear Bonnie... what had he done to her?

"What does it mean?" Stefan asked, being obtuse once again. He was standing off to the side, doing nothing at all to help his brother. Damon could think past his horror enough to think: Coward.

8

"Tell me!" Damon roared, the desperation making it easier to shout at the girl he loved. Yes, he did love her still, although she was even now trying to kill him any way she could. He would try not to show it, but it's continued struggle was finally starting to get to him. Even if it wasn't her, it was her face and her body he saw. The more the thing looked into his eyes the more he wanted to release it. He loosened his grip and the creature lunged forwards, though not fast enough to avaid Damon's lightening-fast reflexes. He had her pinned within the second and he shook himself free of his sentimentality.

"You won't do anything to me—to her, Damon, we all know that." It tried to break free of his hold once more, but Damon was expecting it and had it restrained in a split second. Damon growled close to it's ear and could smell the shampoo Bonnie had used still lingering. Strawberries, to vampires it was not as nice a scent as it was for human's, but it gave him some strength to smell it on her anyway. In order to have his Bonnie back, he was going to have to give up a little more of his soul to the dark. "I have nothing to fear from you, Damon..."

Even before he had done it, he couldn't believe it. Every instinct inside of him was screaming at him not to do it, but he could think of no other way of bringing this torment to an end. With a barely human choking laugh, Damon reached a hand back and struck Bonnie with the same amount of force as he would if the beast was in it's own skin.

Her head snapped back and then lolled fowards bonelessly, not moving, not making a sound. He couldn't hear her breathing and he shook her limp body roughly, as if this action could help him bring her back. Tears, big and wet and tainted by blood rolled down his cheeks and ran in a smooth trail into his mouth and back inside him. "I love you, Bonnie... I love you..."

"Damon, I think you've killed—"

"Shut up, Stefan! Shut the hell up!" he couldn't breathe, the pain within his chest was so itense that each breath he took was ripped from him a moment later. No. No, no, no. This could not be happening, this could not be the end of everything already. He had imagined before the apocolypse, but never in his life had he felt as though his world was crumbling all around him. Even Katherine, with all her vampiric allure, hadn't made him want to end it with her death. It had been knowing that he had his brother, that he had someone to care about him, that had gotten him through her death and gave him the strength to go on—but now that was not enough of a reason. He had found love again, a real love that had filled him and made his insides glow, and he had been the one to destroy it. "Leave me," and when Stefan just stood there, "Leave!"

It felt like hours, probably only a few minutes, before Damon could bare even touching her again. He kept his eyes closed—he could not bare to see what he had done—but ran a finger down her cold cheek, down her slim neck, across her shoulders, and down to her hands. She was so small, so pale, so delicate like a china doll left lying on the floor. Her skin was just as cold and just as beautiful, and her hair still shone that startling red as it had in life. He wanted to preserve that part of her, and before he knew it he was biting a clump of her hair, using his teeth to sevor the strands. It came away more easily than he thought it would. He tucked the hair into his pocket and removed his ring from his finger.

"What are you doing!" Stefan asked.

He slid the ring onto her finger and saw how the lapis stone glinted in the rays of sunlight as he slipped it onto her's. Immediately he felt the burn of the sun's rays and welcomed the fires of Hell... knowing that she had been his...

9

Stefan watched, caught like a deer in the head-lights of a car, as Damon began to burn. The smell of cooked flesh was growing stronger in the air as Damon's skin sizzled. The hand that was, even now, clutching Bonnie's was bone-like as the flesh was burnt away by the rays from the sun. Although he wanted to put the ring back on his brother's finger, he knew that he couldn't. Whatever fate Damon had in mind for himself, Stefan knew that no one could sway him from it. Would Stefan do this to himself for Elena? Yes, of course. He would do anything for her—even die.

"Don't do this, Damon," he demanded, daring to move a step forwards, his arms outstretched before him. "It's too late—she's gone. I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." His hand touched Damon's shoulder and he instantly regretted it. With a snarl of animal anger, Damon reached back and grabbed hold of Stefan's hand, breaking and grinding the bones in his fingers with an ease that was not usual for him. Something had changed within his brother, and suddenly he was aware of the danger, very wary of what Damon might do next. When he at last released the hand it was crippled.

"Don't... talk to me... like... this shouldn't hurt... Stefan!" Each part of the demand was bitten out, filled with all the pain, from all the death that he had seen in his long life. He knew why her death hurt so much more than the others; he hadn't really loved any of the other women he had been with. And he had lover her so, so much. He could feel the flesh on the side of his face begin to burn away right down to the bone. His ring, now hanging loosely on her finger, shone a rich, metallic blue against her pale flesh but that was all it did.

She was floating, as if in a dream, through a lavender expanse of nothingness which made her feel so calm and so sleepy. Even this place was better than where she had been before, stuck seeing out of a body that she had no control over. At least here she would not have to see the despair in his eyes, or the demonic rage that had filled them too. She wasn't sure that he had known it wasn't really her, and that broke her heart like nothing else could. His last memories of her would be false.

"Damon!" Stefan took him by the shoulders and forcibly dragged him into the shadows. There was no way that he was just going to stand by and watch Damon commit suicide and leave him alone in the world. He had Elena, of course, but what he needed most was a brother. He managed to get Damon out of the light's path before his big brother died from poisoning.

"Stefan..." he growled, his burnt lips making speech awkward. He hoped that Stefan knew that there would be retribution later for this, but even if he forgot Damon was sure to remind him... if he hadn't succeeded in killing himself before then. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his temper under control. Maybe later, when his stupid brother was not around, maybe then he would have his chance.

"You could still save her," Stefan began tentatively, "All you have to do is bite her..." But he was interrupted before he could finish.

"No," Damon shook his head mournfully, "she wouldn't want that—she said so." She wouldn't want to become a vampire, lose her amazing abilities, her heritage, so he would not force it upon her as if had been forced upon him... even if the thought of never hearing her voice again broke his heart. She lived as a witch, she die as one too, because that is how she would have wanted it.

"I think she would forgive you,"

"Stefan, stop it!" It was becoming harder for him to deny this possibility. He wanted her alive, he wanted her back, but was it himself or her he was thinking about when he made that wish? He did not know how deep her feelings for him ran, whether she wanted him enough to not hate him afterwards, and to risk so much on feeling alone was... madness. "I wouldn't do that to her!" It seemed all he could do was shout.

Stefan ran a hand through his thick, curly hair. "Have you ever even asked her?"

"Not in so many words," Damon admitted. "But..."

"Then how can you know?"

How could he know?

The longer she stared into the fathomless purple world around her, the more the insanity threatened to overcome her. Was this it for her? Was this the end? All that time studying magic, believing in magic, had been for nothing. Nothing she could have read in a book would have prepared her for the possible eternity of floating here, alone, in a place that stretched out before her unfathomably. She would do anything, be willing to become anything, for the chance of escaping this fate, and to be with him forever instead.

10

Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly here, and she knew that this was because this place must be something from her imagination. Whereas usually she would pass time, when she had nothing else to do, day dreaming this place made such a thing impossible. Instead, she was achingly aware of each minute, of each second she hung suspended. The lilac world around her wasn't really that bad, she admitted after what felt like forever squeezing her eyes closed. But maybe this place was not as empty as it seemed; If she looked closely, she could even imagine that there were shapes somewhere off into the distance.

Damon gazed down at her, at her blank expression and motionless body, and thought again, should he do this? Could he? If only he could ask her opinion and know for sure how she would feel once he had changed her, maybe then the sick feeling in his stomach would abait. Would she still believe he loved her even if she had said no?

"Damon, are you sure you will be able to do this?" Stefan asked.

He spun around and glared at Stefan with the nearest thing to hate he had ever come to. It was bad enough having that question monopolising his thoughts, but to have it spoken out loud, to him even? It was intollerable. He couldn't stand to be asked that question when there was no answer he could give. Was he able to do this? Did he have it in him to, not only turn her into a vampire, but steal her magic too? There was no guarenteeing that with the change her magic would disappear with her humanity. "Of course I'm sure!" he lied, feeling as though he were about to jump of a cliff to an unknown fate at the bottom.

He bent down over her tiny body and felt the change start to happen, the darkeness creeping back from wherever it went when he was not gripped by blood-lust. He had to remain perfectly controlled if he did not want to lose her for sure, but the world was gradually turning red and there was always the chance that he would take too much and take her life within him forever, or atleast until he found a way to get himself killed. His lips touched the skin of her neck and he allowed himself one last chance at rethinking turning her.

A sharp pain ripped through her and she fell down into the smoke-covered ground, writhing. She was unsure where on her body the pain was centred because she felt it all over. What was happening to her? What was causing this? Who was to blame for the unrelenting agony? She was almost too far gone to even care. The waves of pain just kept on crashing onto her, splintering her thoughts into tiny pieces that she had no hope in ever putting back together. Who was doing this to her? When would they stop?

He sucked at her blood greedily, moaning with the pleasure of tasting new blood, a new flavour, his hands at either side of her neck holding her still although she wasn't likely to go anywhere in the state she was in. This was the most delicate part of the proceedure, and the most dangerous. He would have to stop drinking her blood at just the right moment, pull himself away, and leave his venom to begin changing her. It easier said than done, though, and inspite of how strongly he felt for her, there was the chance that he would lose crontrol. Stefan had given his word to stop him any way he could if that happened, but he was still frightened enough to shake. He hadn't quivered like this since he was a little boy and had been the subject of his father's infamous rage.

"Damon..." Stefan warned, putting a firm hand on his shoulder and slowly easing him back.

He tore his mouth away with a growl of fustration he could not control and wiped the excess blood from his lips before turning his darkened eyes to his brother. There was no humanity left in him at this moment, only the predator that had been denied the meal although it was hungry. He snarled at Stefan and tore into his flesh with his sharpest teeth. He held the dripping wound over her mouth and stroked her neck to force her to swallow. She was so pale that he blood tainted her paper-white cheeks with pink.

Storm clouds gathered overhead and she felt the once still air around her whip her cheeks, making them sting. There was a horrible, terrifying sound too. A low moan it sounded like at first, as if a person were making the noise, but as the tornado drew closer all sound came at once. In a matter of seconds the scene that had been so still, so silent, was filled with that moaning and it was growing louder with every second that she stood there, paralysed from her shoulders to her shoes.

Despite the time of day, he managed to get her to his home without anyone stopping and asking questions. They would be stupid to, of course, but the humans that he knew all had a death wish so anything could happen...

11

The more he looked at her, the more he saw the changes. It was not just his imagination, that darkness colouring her normally pale skin, the movement of her eyes beneath the lids.

She had begun twitching from the start, but it was only now that Damon noticed it. Stefan had said something, maybe, but he had been too caught up in the moment to listen. It had taken forever to get back to the mansion and every second of that eternity had been more painful than the sun on his bare skin. Stefan was somewhere behind him, but he was in no mood to wait for him to catch up. Once Bonnie was safe, there were a few things he wanted to say to his good-for-nothing brother. Maybe just beating him senseless would be enough to vent all this pent up energy, maybe not. Maybe nothing short of his death would feel like enough. He barged through the house's entrance and sprinted up the stairs.

It was not until he was laying on the bed beside her, wrapping the covers snugly around her body, that he took another breath. He ran his hand from his forehead down his face, feeling more tired that he had ever felt as a member of the undead with a body that required little sleep. His skin was blackened in places from where the sun had burnt away the flesh, he knew that he ought to feel something like pain, but the only suffering he felt was in his heart. Her burns would heal before she was ever aware of them, and that gave him a little comfort, at least.

Her burns, what a strange concept that was even now. Seeing her laying there, so fragile, it was easy to forget what had occurred that day. It had all been so fast, too fast, at least for him. How could he have known what becoming a vampire would mean for her? He asked himself this repeatedly, trying to convince himself that this, the vampirism, wasn't his fault. Anyone who spent as much time around creatures such as he must be aware of the danger to their humanity. This was not his fault—how come he felt so guilty?

"Bonnie, please come back, please Bonnie..." Damon whispered to her, as if he thought she could hear... "Come back..."

She stumbled and fell, suddenly released from her paralysis and left to collapse to the ground. She tried to take the impact with arms in front of her, but they stayed fixed to her side and she could only turn her face to keep from crushing her nose into the ground; it hurt but not, she suspected, as much. In the moments afterwards she could think of nothing at all except her desire to return to what she knew was reality. Something so cold it was painful touched her back and she heard herself scream, though she could not feel the sound passing her lips.

Stefan felt her neck in search for her pulse and frowned when he found it. For some reason, her heart was racing, as if she were running or afraid. What could she be afraid of? He could see nothing in the bedroom she, him, and Damon occupied that could possibly be so frightening. She must know that he would never hurt her, that his brother Loved her, didn't she? They would never let anything hurt her, but the kind of fear her heart was racing with was too familiar.

Her heart was in her throat as the person, it was human in shape, crouched low and sniffed at her skin. It growled with appreciation and caressed her cheek with the petals of a black rose.

Damon could hear the terror in her rising heart-rate and knew he had to find some way of waking her before whatever was threatening her won.

"Damon, she won't last much longer! You have to do something!" Even Stefan was getting worked up now.

Like in Sleeping Beauty, Damon hoped that this would work...