Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bonnie knew it long before she was ready to admit it. She spent far too many nights in the prison world asking herself why and how. Why did she love him? How could she love him? But she did. She loved the parts of him riddled with cobwebs and shadows; the good in him that he seemed intent on pretending never existed. She saw through it. Saw through the bourbon-colored film that dressed his idea of who he was, drowning him in regret and mistakes. She couldn't wash those away; they were his to carry and make amends for. But she saw the other parts of him too; the parts that missed his brother and wished he'd made better choices and wondered what his great, great niece might look like if he hadn't killed her and her mother before she could greet the world. Regret was a state of being for Damon. He lived and breathed it, used it as an excuse not to hold himself up to a higher standard. It was in him to do better, to be better, but the fear of eventually making another mistake, of not living up to expectation, constantly kicked any progress out from under him.

Maybe she loved broken things; things just as fractured and lost as she felt. She was better off than him in some ways; she knew she was good; she stood by a lot of her decisions, even when they ended in her pain or her death. She had her own laundry list of regrets, beginning and ending with the deaths of her Grams and her father. Her grief threaded through her veins, pushing her forward, making her stronger even as it chained her to her heartache. She kept her hope because it was all she had; she hoped for herself and her friends and even for him, because he had none. Her Grams always told her not to pity those who couldn't want more for themselves, but to believe enough for the both of you. She imagined that probably wasn't a sentiment Sheila Bennett would apply to vampires, having an ingrained distaste for them. But Bonnie had seen the best and worst of all too many of them, and those she called friend had carved out a special place in her heart, making hating them impossible.

So she believed in Damon, even when he showed her the darkest parts of himself. She saw the grief and the regret that mired his every drunken night, desperate to get away from the memories that plagued him, the belief that it was his hell they were trapped in. And in the process of keeping her hope, she fell for him. For the man who stole money from the bank in Monopoly. Who made those awful pancakes, every day, smiling at her like it was some kind of inside joke. Who sang off-key to every 90's hit ever made and danced like an old man with no rhythm. She fell in love with the way his eyes looked brighter when he smiled and how easy he was to laugh, even on the days when she couldn't stand waking up. She loved the way he called her Bon-Bon and how he made Miss Cuddles dance with him whenever she refused. She loved those plaid shirts he wore, barely buttoned, and the spicy scent of his body wash. She loved that little flip his hair made when he didn't bother brushing it and the way he tugged on her hair when he was bored and he wanted her attention. And she loved how he never quite knew what to say to make her feel better, so sometimes he would just hold her hand or pat her shoulder or distract her with some pointless errand ("You know what we need? Pork rinds. C'mon, I'll even let you drive.").

She fell in love with him when the world around her was empty and the only person she had to rely on was someone she never thought could be a friend. She sent him home, left herself bleeding on the cave floor, and she told herself it was okay, it was the right thing to do, maybe he would come back. She believed in him, even as she thought she was dying, as she let her one chance at freedom and hope slip through her bloody fingers. And for weeks, trying and failing to avoid Kai before being left alone completely, she held onto that hope. She held on to the memory of him, trusting, despite everything, that somehow he might still come back. But it wasn't him. And she could have laughed at herself for thinking it would be. Because wasn't that always the way of it? She had to get herself home. She had to save herself. There was no knight in shining armor coming to her rescue. It was all on her, yet again.

She told herself it was okay, at first. He was happy to have her back and she was happy to be home. It didn't matter that she spooked when people got too close and loud noises made her jump. PTSD kept her awake at night, terrified that when she closed her eyes, she would open them to find herself back in the prison world, dying on a cave floor or in the yard of Kai's childhood home or in the garage at the boarding house. Bitterness welled up inside her, chewing away at her insides, reminding her that no one came, no one got her out, no one cared. She drowned her fear and her uncertainty in school and the false promise that she was okay, she was getting better, she was coping. But Caroline was on a humanity-less tear, Stefan joining her, she was in love with her best friend's boyfriend, and his mother wanted to use her to bring back her witchpire family and potentially release Kai. It felt like every time she made any progress, it was destroyed by a swooping reality check, and she was so tired.

Tired of wanting more and getting nothing. Tired of trying so hard to have a normal life and having it discarded daily; Death courting her at every turn. Tired of falling for someone who just barely called her friend. Tired of coming in second to someone she loved, laying down her life and the lives of everyone she cared about in the process. Tired of being told she should.

God, she was just exhausted.

And nobody noticed, or cared, or intervened.

…

To be honest, she wasn't sure why she went to him. Sometimes she just missed his voice; missed having his energy around her. In all reality, Damon wouldn't be at the top of her list of people who could help her through a mini-breakdown. But when it all started to pile up, she found herself in her car, headed back for Mystic Falls and walking into the boarding house, searching him out. Unsurprisingly, he was in the living room, standing by the drink cart.

"Hey," he greeted her over his shoulder. She must have looked more distressed then she thought, because he followed it up with a, "You okay?"

She swallowed, nodding jerkily. "Yeah. Fine."

"You sure?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "You look a little rough around the edges, Bon-Bon."

Folding her arms over her chest defensively, she hoped her voice didn't sound as rough as it felt when she replied, "Just what a girl likes to hear."

He held his hands up in surrender. "My bad. You want me to lie?"

"It's nothing; I just needed a break from Whitmore. Thought I'd come home, see what was happening."

He grinned then. "You're in luck. I just popped The Bodyguard in and I've topped up my bourbon supply." He wiggled his eyebrows as he held up a bottle. "Interested?"

She stepped down into the living room, eyes darting around curiously. "Elena's not here?"

"Nope. She's got a big test or… something." He shrugged. "Anyway, she's nose deep in her books tonight. So, what do you say? Spare a night for your bestie?"

She snorted, even as her chest warmed up at the moniker. "Is that what you are?"

"What? I haven't earned the title yet?" He offered her a glass and reached for his own before tapping the rim against hers. "Cheers."

Half-smiling, she sipped at her drink. "You said something about The Bodyguard? I thought you were tired of it."

Shrugging, he tipped his head, asking her to follow, and started for the stairs. "I'm feeling nostalgic."

"For the prison world?" She followed him up, her hand sliding over the banister, and down the hall to his bedroom. It felt like ages since she'd been there, having spent many of their 'movie marathons' sprawled out on his bed, watching his top-of-the-line (for 1994) television with built-in VCR. His system was much more updated in this day and age. "Would've thought you'd be glad to be out of there."

"Oh, I am," he agreed, before dropping his drink on the end table beside his bed and fiddling around in search of the remote. "But you've gotta admit, we got a few good things out of it."

Putting her own drink down, she shrugged her jacket off. "Sure. What would my life be without Kai in it?" she scoffed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and toeing her shoes off.

Damon grabbed up the remote from beside the television and joined her, his back against the headboard, a pillow tucked behind him. "Screw Kai," he dismissed. "You got me out of the deal. Which, if you think about it, might just make it worth it."

"What? Dying?" She raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"You don't think I'm worth dying for?" He pressed a hand to his chest rather dramatically. "I'm hurt."

Snorting, she wiggled back to lean against the headboard beside him, their arms brushing. She swallowed back the shiver that attempted to run through her and grabbed up her bourbon, twisting it around in her fingers. "I don't know if I'd go so far as saying it was worth dying, but… I'm glad. That we had that time together." She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. "I didn't really understand you, your motivations, for a long time, but I do now."

"Do you?" He turned to her, mouth turned up faintly. "You got me all figured out, Bon-Bon?"

"I do." She nodded seriously. "Four months is a long time. I bet I know you better than most people."

He stared at her searchingly, his brow furrowed, and seemed to think it over. "Hm. Maybe you do."

She watched him, before glancing away. "Does that bother you?"

"Should it?"

"Well, you do like your damaged, mysterious shtick…"

He laughed throatily. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"You have issues. A lot of them. I think they started long before you ever became a vampire and, I don't know, maybe it heightened all of it. Those feelings of being disposable and not good enough. You fear of being abandoned. And I'm sure a hundred and fifty years of being rejected and told you were awful and irredeemable didn't do much to change that thinking. So, what are you supposed to think about yourself when everyone you care about constantly tells you that you're not worth it? Not worth loving or staying for or saving…" Her eyes fell to her lap. "I think I know a little about that."

He was quiet for a long moment, and she tensed, wondering if maybe she'd made everything a lot heavier than she should have. But these things, these thoughts, had been weighing on her for a while, and it was nice to let them out.

"That how you feel?" he wondered, his voice lower than usual.

"I…" Her voice cracked. "I feel lost, mostly. And alone. I thought the worst it could get was in the prison world, when there was no one around, but I was wrong. I can be just as lonely surrounded by people. And I am. Every day, I wake up wondering if today is the day I'm going to have to save someone, or sacrifice myself, or if anyone's even going to remember I'm here." She glanced at him, offering a trembling smile as tears bit at her eyes. "Sometimes I don't think I'm really here, and it terrifies me."

He stared back at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"But the worst part…" Her breath caught in her throat. "The worst part is that if I am here, then what's the point? What's the point of being back when nobody cares?"

"I care."

She shook her head, closing her eyes tight. "Don't. Don't say it because you feel bad or you want me to stop crying or you don't know what else to say. Don't say it because it's the right thing to say."

"I'm not," he denied. At her unconvinced face, he frowned, reaching for her hand and squeezing it tightly, drawing her eyes back to his. "I know I've been busy with all of this stuff with Stefan and my mom and the cure, but… I wasn't kidding before. You're the closest thing I've got to a best friend. And when you were over there, when everything I tried to get you back failed, I… I was lost. After everything you did, the one time you need me and I can't deliver… I didn't know what to do. It's usually us, you know? We're the ones that make the plans and fix the problems and without you here to help, we were like sitting ducks."

Bonnie licked her lips, looking down at his hand covering hers. "Do you remember that talk we had, when we were sitting in front of the fire, and you told me that just once you wanted someone to pick you? That sometimes you wondered what would have happened if Elena wasn't turned. If you would have spent the rest of her life trying to convince her you were the better choice…"

He nodded slowly.

She took a deep breath, and let it out on a shaky sigh. "I know what that feels like. When everyone you want to care looks past you for someone else. When they walk away and give you excuses and pick someone over you. My dad picked his job and my mom picked her new life and her new son. And Jeremy picked a dead ex-girlfriend." She turned her eyes up as she let out a wet, strangled laugh. "And every time Elena's been in danger, I did my best to get in the way, to help her, to save her… And maybe some of that was just who I am, maybe it was just ingrained in me to put others first, but sometimes I think I'm doing it because just once… Just once I want someone to pull me back from that edge and tell me no. That I don't have to. That I shouldn't. That my life matters just as much." She stared up at him searchingly. "You know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do." He watched her a long moment, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. "Guess we've got more in common than you ever expected, huh?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I guess so."

He reached up, swiping at a tear trickling down her cheek. "I know I'm the guy who made a lot of those bad choices in the past, who sent you off to pull the Hail Mary even when we weren't sure you'd survive it… but I'd like to think I'm not the same guy I was. That maybe this time around, I'll make better choices."

Her eyes fell for a moment, catching on his hand, his fingers still pressed to her face. She looked up then, meeting his eyes, pale blue and just as charged as her own. "I hope so too."

Damon inhaled deeply, letting it out on a heavy sigh.

Bonnie swallowed, and shook her head, attempting a smile. "Not what you were hoping for when you asked me to stay, huh?"

Mouth ticking up at the corner, he let out a snort of a laugh. He stretched his fingers back and tucked her hair behind her ear, thumb rubbing along the hinge of her jaw. "You have a track record of surprising me."

"Is that a good thing?"

He shrugged, admitting, "Sometimes."

Reaching over, she shoved his shoulder. "Thanks."

He grinned at her, unapologetic. "You ready for The Bodyguard now?"

"I'm always ready for Kevin Costner," she told him.

Scrunching up his nose, he shook his head. "Gross."

"Please! Like you don't drool over Whitney."

"Whitney's an icon," he defended.

Laughter bubbled up from her chest as she shook her head.

His smile softened as he gazed at her a moment longer. "You gonna be okay?" he wondered.

She swallowed thickly, before nodding. "Maybe. I think so."

"You'll say something if you aren't? No bottling it up anymore?" He searched her eyes, demanding honesty.

"I will try to talk about it," she offered, shrugging at his frown. "I'm not used to laying out all the cards."

"I can be persistent," he warned. "Like a bloodhound. I see anything off about you, and I'll be the first person signing up for 'talk Bonnie off the ledge' duty."

Her lips twitched. "Noted."

"Okay. As long as that's established..." He sat back then, grabbing up the remote to press Play. "I want to hear you hitting the high notes," he told her.

"Only if you stop trying."

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "My singing is impeccable."

"Your singing is terrible."

"Rude."

Chuckling under her breath, Bonnie turned toward the TV, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

She should have known it couldn't last.

…

Lily was just as persistent as her son. In order to get her 'family' out, she was willing to do whatever it took, and it appeared that Enzo was too. The full moon was on them quicker than expected, and the next thing Bonnie knew, she was standing in the living room of the boarding house, a fire roaring in the grate and an ultimatum at her feet.

Bonnie couldn't begin to guess what Enzo's reasons for acting as Lily's muscle could be, but he appeared to be enjoying himself, holding a vervained and weak Elena in his arms, a knife pressed to her throat. "C'mon then, let's get this show on the road, hm? Or do I need to carve out Elena here's pretty heart?"

"If you kill her, you lose your leverage," Bonnie said, looking between him and Lily. "And then I have no reason not to burn you both to a crisp."

"Those are strong words," Lily acknowledged, hands folded together demurely. "But, from what I've heard, sacrifice is in your nature. Are you truly ready to allow your friend to die?"

Bonnie ground her teeth together, looking from Lily to Enzo, who was smirking delightedly, pressing the knife down enough that a sliver of blood pearled against Elena's neck.

Elena's eyes shot wide and her mouth fell open. "Bonnie," she gasped.

Bonnie wondered if it was cry for help or a 'don't do it, please.' But Elena followed it up with nothing, leaving Bonnie to fill in the blanks, and she could guess what they would be.

"If I help you, you'll let those things out… They'll terrorize this town, and when they're done here, they'll tear apart the rest of the world." Bonnie looked back to Lily, shaking her head. "I can't risk that."

"And if I were to promise you that I would be able to control them? That we learned how to control the blood thirst… What then?"

Raising her chin, she said, "And I should just take your word for it…? I can't do that. I can't be the reason those things get out. I won't."

"So you would let her die, your best friend?" Lily asked, her eyes narrowed curiously.

Bonnie swallowed thickly. "You don't have to do this. Elena has nothing to do with any of this. I'm sorry that you lost your friends, I'm sorry that you were stuck over there for so long, but you have a chance now… To be better than what you were, to be a mother to your sons…"

Lily's eyes darted away briefly. "They're not just my friends; they're my family. What would you do, Bonnie, to have your family back? What lengths would you go to?"

A well of emotion burned her throat. "I can't have my family."

"But if you could…? Would you sacrifice the life of one to get them back?" She tipped her head, staring at Bonnie speculatively. "It was her fault, wasn't it? Why you lost your grandmother, your parents? Lorenzo told me of your loss, your sacrifice…"

Bonnie winced.

"Do you remember that pain? When your family was rendered forfeit for one person? Do you remember that hollow feeling inside of you that nothing could fill?" She shook her head. "Would you force that upon me as well?"

Lips trembling, Bonnie said, "My family never hurt anybody. They didn't kill thousands of people. And if I could bring them back, they would never want me to do it at the expense of someone else."

"Then you are a better person than I," Lily admitted, raising her chin. "Unfortunately for you, I am not so sacrificial." She waved a hand toward Enzo. "I regret this, truly I do."

Enzo dug the knife in deeper against Elena's throat, causing her to cry out in pain.

A whoosh of air at her back told her Damon was there, taking in the situation frantically.

"Damon," Lily greeted. "So good of you to join us, son."

"What the hell are you doing?" he barked.

"I think the answer to that is quite obvious." Lily waved a hand toward Enzo and Elena. "It's simple, really. Your friend Bonnie takes me back for my family and Lorenzo will release your beloved Elena. Quite unfortunately, Bonnie has made it clear that she cannot condone releasing my people. She forces my hand, I regret."

"Mother… don't do this. We can find another way," Damon gritted out. "Please."

Lily stared at him, her face unmoved. "I haven't been your mother for a very long time. My family, my real family, is waiting for me. And the only way I can have them is through your witch. I wish it were not this way, truly I do. But there is no other option here. Bonnie will return my family to me, or I will be forced to end Elena's life. And then your friend Caroline will follow. And Stefan after her. And you, if I must. Whomever it costs until she returns them to me."

Bonnie' lip curled in a snarl. "I'll kill you first," she vowed, before turning her gaze toward Enzo. "And when you beg me to spare you, I won't even blink."

Enzo's smirk only widened. "I like this side of you, Bonnie. Quite fetching, I must say." His hand tightened in Elena's hair, yanking her head back. "Decision's made then, hm?" Blood spurted down Elena's chest and Bonnie flinched as Damon lurched forward, stopping when it only seemed to hurry Enzo's hand.

"Stop!" he shouted, his expression twisted painfully.

Lily turned to Bonnie. "This is your choice."

Damon whirled to face her, his eyes darting over Bonnie's face. "Bonnie, please."

She stared back at him, her heart clenching. "If I go with them, it's over for me. Do you get that? They need me to get there and they need my blood to get back, but that's it… So not only will I be dead, but I'll be releasing those monsters to wreak havoc back here. Is that what you want?" Swallowing tightly, she felt tears bite at her eyes. "They will kill me, Damon," she whispered thickly.

Was it wrong, she wondered, to want him to choose her? That was his girlfriend, the self-proclaimed love of his life, kneeling there. But hadn't he said things could be different? That she wouldn't be the proverbial neck on the chopping block every time. And she'd believed him, hadn't she? She'd let herself believe that it could be better. That she might actually survive this time. That someone might choose her. And she knew it wasn't fair, that the scales were so clearly tipped out of her favor, but still... She hoped.

His chest heaved, hands balled up into fists, indecision warring on his face. He turned around, looking at his mother, and then to Elena, kneeling on the floor, eyes fluttered half-closed, her skin a chalky color. His shoulders tensed, and when he looked back, Bonnie knew he had made his decision. She knew that, once again, she was on the losing side of the equation. Once again, she was worth sacrificing.

She didn't think it would hurt as much as it did. It had happened so often already, she should be used to it. But seeing it in his eyes, seeing the hollow apology that lined his tormented face, she felt defeat weigh across her body. A breath left her heavily, almost a laugh, because how ridiculous she was to think it could ever be any different? This was her lot in life. This would be her legacy. The girl who died too much, who sacrificed herself too often, who nobody bothered to save.

Nodding, she licked her lips, feeling her heart crack open and the tears finally break free, falling quietly.

"It's Elena."

"Right." Resignation colored her voice. She stared at him a moment longer; this stupid, awful boy she'd recklessly let herself believe in and hope for. And for what? To remind herself what disappointment and abandonment felt like? As if she could ever forget.

She stepped forward, pausing at his side when his hand reached for her elbow and squeezed. There was no hope in her now, no restless twist of heart expecting him to change his mind. He looked down at her, searching her face, and she wondered if this was how he would remember her. If she would haunt him like the others had. If, when he died, this moment would be his true hell.

"I was wrong," she whispered thickly.

His brow furrowed, lips parting in a silent question.

As a tear slipped down her cheek, she said, "I don't know you at all."

With that, she stepped away, her arm slipping from his fingers. She walked to Lily in a daze, every step feeling like a nail in the coffin, thumping along with her trembling heart. She raised her chin proudly as she came to a stop, and she held a hand out, the ascendant in her palm.

It was Enzo that cut her hand for her, the same knife that had slit Elena's neck. She squeezed her fist over the ascendant, letting her blood spill over its cogs. Turning, she felt the fire roar at her back as she faced her so-called best friend. Who, only a week ago, told her he was different; that he would make better choices; that he cared.

The words came to her easily, the spell leaving her lips in a toneless chant. Enzo released Elena, letting her slump to the floor, before he moved to stand at Bonnie's back, his hand on one of her shoulders, the other covered with Lily's cold fingers.

She stared at Damon through the blur of her tears, her heart racing in her chest. She said a silent goodbye to him; to the love that wanted so deeply to be enough for him; to the friendship he'd once offered so blindly. She said goodbye to Elena, to Caroline and Matt and everyone she had left. She released the flightless hope that maybe she could have it better now, maybe she could be free. She said goodbye to all of it, and she let go.

The room blurred around the edges and she felt her magic catch, pulling them away. The cold steel of the knife against her neck made her breath catch, but there was no surprise left. Only acceptance.

"No!" he yelled, and she smiled emptily.

What a predictable boy. Always too late.

The world faded out of view, and the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was his stricken face.

She was tired.

She was so tired.

Maybe this was her reprieve.

Chapter Text

Damon stared, wide eyed, at the empty space she'd been standing in, letting out a strangled noise. He blinked wildly, stumbling forward and falling to his knees. Blood. There was blood on the floor. From the knife across her palm or her throat? He pressed his fingers to it, cringing when he found it warm, and closed his eyes as his palm pressed flat to the floor, sliding against the slick surface. Bile crawled up his throat, and he shook his head.

("What's the point of being back when nobody cares?")

"I cared," he murmured. "I care. I… No. No, no, no." He sat back, arms hanging limp at his sides. "Come back. Come back. Please. I'm sorry. Bon, I— I'm sorry."

("There's always a choice. Whenever you make one, someone else suffers.")

"It was the wrong choice. It was the wrong…" His eyes darted around, tears brimming. "I made the wrong choice."

("Just once I want someone to pull me back from that edge and tell me no. That I don't have to. That I shouldn't. That my life matters just as much.")

"I should've. I should've stopped you. I…" A sob welled up in chest, the pressure making him cough.

Behind him, Matt rushed into the room, stumbling to a stop in the doorway of the living room. "Damon," he called. "Jesus. Elena?" He hurried across the floor, falling to her side, his hand on her shoulder while the other cupped around her neck in a pointless gesture of trying to stall the bleeding. "Damon, where's Bonnie?"

("She sacrificed herself so I could come back.")

He shook his head, his brow furrowed.

"Damon?!" Matt exclaimed. "Where the hell is Bonnie?"

"She's gone," he choked out, tears spilling over the edges. "They took her. It was her or Elena. She… Enzo was going to kill her if she didn't go. I… I didn't know what to do."

("I'd like to think I'm not the same guy I was. That maybe this time around, I'll make better choices.")

"Is she alive?" Matt wondered, his voice cracking.

Damon shook his head jerkily. "Enzo had a knife. He…" His gaze fell to the floor, and he lifted his hand, his palm stained with her blood. "He cut her throat."

"No." Matt shook his head, his shoulders slumping and his breath hitching. "No."

Damon stared at his palm, his vision going fuzzy around the edges. A tear fell, blotting at the blood, washing it away. He curled his fingers into his palm to preserve it, and shifted, pushing himself up from the floor, taking the ascendant with him. His knees shook beneath him as he stumbled backwards, drunk on his grief.

The fire flickered, making shadows dance over Matt as he held a bleeding, unconscious Elena in his lap, his flushed face twisted up as he cried. She was breathing, her color slowly coming back, Matt's split open wrist pressed to her parted lips.

"I have to go," Damon said distantly, his eyes darting in every direction, refusing to land on anything in particular.

"What?" Matt stared up at him, confused. "You can't go. They took Bonnie. They'll come back with those things! What the hell am I supposed to do? What about Elena?"

Damon shook his head, his arm reaching behind him, trying to steady himself on the wall and smearing it with blood. "It's over."

A choking noise answered him before Elena jerked her head up, blinking sluggishly. "Da— Damon?"

He looked at her, blood drying down her front, her throat slowly healing, eyes glazed, and he grimaced.

Elena's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What happened?"

"She just needed one person… One person who cared enough to stop her."

Elena shook her head faintly. "It's not your fault. It's not…"

"She just— She walked right into their arms, let herself die. For you."

Elena flinched, her breathing labored as she stared back at him.

Damon pushed off the wall then and stumbled up the step to the hallway.

"You can't leave. I need you," she called after him, her voice strained.

("I know what that feels like. When everyone you want to care looks past you for someone else. When they walk away and give you excuses and pick someone over you.")

Damon paused, looking back at her over his shoulder. "It's not about you anymore."

"Damon."

"I should have saved her… I have to live with that."

Tears blurring her eyes, she shook her head. "Don't go. Please."

His gaze fell away from her, landing on the fire. "You never should've remembered me…" He shook his head, his mouth turned to the side. "I should've stayed away from you." He turned, and walked away, right out the front door and directly for his car. He could still hear her, crying his name, but he didn't stop. He got into his car and fumbled with his keys when his fingers shook.

"Fuck. Fuck!" he yelled, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel.

Damon bowed his head, hyperventilating as his heart crawled up into his throat.

("With all that power, is there no way to increase your odds?")

"I can fix this," he told himself, over and over again. "I can fix it. I can bring you back." He shoved his keys in the ignition and leaned back, staring out the windshield, his face set with determination. "I will."

He turned his car around the driveway and started for the main road, foot pressed down heavy on the gas. All he needed was Lucy; he could have her take him to the other world. He would get Bonnie's… her body. And then… whatever it took. Resurrection couldn't be too hard, right? Bonnie had done it enough times. If they wanted a sacrifice, he'd bring them eight; his mother, her witchpires, and Enzo. And if they wanted a human, then he'd grab the first schmo he saw on the street; hell, he'd throw in Donovan if he had to. No more excuses, no more regrets or apologies or anything.

He would fix this. All of it. And this time, when he got her back, he wasn't letting her go. Not for anything.

…

—You've reached Damon. I'm not able to come to the phone right now. Or I don't feel like it. You decide. Leave a message and I'll get back to you… Probably.—

beeeep.

"Damon. It's been three days… Please, pick up. At least tell me you're okay…" Elena sighed. "I know you're upset. I know you blame me. I blame me too, okay? I… I should've done something or stopped her or—I don't know, but I know she did this for me. I know I'm the reason she's gone and… And I know you cared about her. But you need to come home. Please."

…

Damon could feel a migraine sneaking up on him, and not one of the witchy variety. Just a very average migraine, brought on my circumstance. His eyes were itchy with exhaustion and his patience thin. Still, he attempted a somewhat civil tone.

"You're not helping me here, Benny. How hard could it be to track down one witch?" he asked, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Her name is Lucy. Lu-cy. Tall, beautiful, used to tag around with Katherine Pierce. What more do you need? Look, she's a Bennett witch. You're telling me you can't find a witch from one of the most well-known families?"

"I heard you the first three times you explained it to me," Benny muttered. "Look, she's not with who she was before. She was easy to track then; she was slumming it with a coven in Lafayette. But with the Mikaelsons causing waves all over Louisiana, most of the witches out there have scattered. Only the crazy ones are eager to lay their neck down on that chopping block. Lucy's in the wind, which makes her harder to track down."

"She's a witch; call around to Witches R' Us or something. Better, call in that little warlock you were hooking up with. He can track her down, can't he?"

"Do you have something of hers for a locator spell? You got a vial of her blood handy?" he scoffed.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, I carry it with me always."

"Well, then you can see the roadblocks I'm hitting… Look, last time I shook the grapevine, there were whispers that a Bennett was hanging out somewhere near Augusta. That was old news, by a week, maybe two, so she could've moved on already. But maybe start driving in that direction, and when I hear more, I'll let you know."

Damon leaned back in his seat and glared out at the highway in front of him; dust and gravel kicked up by the semi-trucks whipping past him. "Drive toward Georgia and hope for the best, that's your advice?"

"You asked me to find your witch."

"A witch. She's not mine. She's just related to my witch. There's a distinction," he corrected irritably.

"Whatever," Benny dismissed. "You wanted my help and I'm doing what I can. She keeps under the radar; she's smart. It's probably why she and Katherine got along."

"Yeah, great, good for her. I'll let her you know you admire her Carmen Sandiego act, just as soon as you find her for me. And Benny…? Hurry up."

He hung up and tossed his phone to the passenger seat before taking a moment to let the information, or lack thereof, resonate. And then he slapped his hand down on the steering wheel, agitation making his body tense up.

"It's not going to work." A voice piped up from beside him.

Damon shook his head. "You don't know that."

"What make you think that even if you find her, she'll be willing to help? Haven't your burned one too many bridges in the witch community?"

"Then I'll burn a few more," he gritted out. Turning, he stared at her; a red plaid shirt tied around her waist, cut off jean shorts, and a loose-fitting top that screamed 90's fashion. "And she'll help. She has to."

She put her feet up on his dash, crossed at the ankles; he stared at the laces of her boots dangling loose. "Damon, you of all people know just how stubborn a Bennett witch can be."

He swallowed thickly. "Yeah. It's an annoying little habit of theirs."

"Is that what I am? Annoying?"

"You? You're the most annoying. If I had to rank every person I've ever met in my entire life, there you'd be, the reigning queen." His mouth ticked up at the corner. "Bonnie Bennett. Annoyingest Witch Ever."

"'Annoyingest' isn't even a word," she told him, exasperated.

"See? Annoying."

"If I'm so annoying, why are you trying to resurrect me? Hm?"

His smile slipped then and he leaned back in his seat, head falling to the rest. "Because. I do stupid things sometimes… Like let you get killed in the first place."

She was quiet for a long moment, nothing but the whoosh of cars speeding by outside the window to fill his ears. A few minute passed before she said, "You haven't eaten in a while. That's probably why you keep dreaming me up."

"Four, five days, that's nothing. I've starved longer." He smirked. "One of the highlights of the Augustine experiments; they like to test for things like that."

"Did you hallucinate then too?" she wondered.

He stared out the window, his brow furrowed. "Sometimes. About Stefan mostly. Every once in a while Katherine would pop up. Even Lexi. Some grand escape plan in mind… But mostly, I was in the backyard of my childhood home tossing a football around with my little brother."

She hummed quietly. "You must miss her… Me…"

("Defying all possible global scenarios, I might miss you a little bit.")

He ground his teeth before forcing himself to shake it off. "Good thing is, it's temporary. Find Lucy, resurrect you, and voila, things can get back on track."

"You really think it's that easy?"

"Sure. Why not? Something in my life should be," he muttered with false bravado.

"She's going to hate you, you know," she reminded simply.

Damon grimaced, staring down at the steering wheel a long moment. "Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

He reached forward then and signalled to get back on the road.

Destination: Georgia.

…

—You've reached Damon. I'm not able to come to the phone right now. Or I don't feel like it. You decide. Leave a message and I'll get back to you… Probably.—

beeeep.

"Hey. It's me. Look… Me and Caroline, we switched it back on. I… I owe you an apology. A few, probably. But I don't want to do that through your voicemail, so, will you just… come home? Or call me back, at least. Let me know you're okay?" A pause followed, as if he expected him to pick up right then. "All right, well, you know where I am."

…

"What about that one?" Bonnie suggested, sitting on the edge of the table, her legs swinging.

Damon looked up, and tracked the busty red-head making her way toward the bathroom, hips swaying. If he focused hard enough, he could hear her heartbeat above all the rest, a steady thud. He bet she tasted delicious. His mouth watered at the mere thought. He could already feel the veins spidering out from under his eyes and his teeth itching beneath his gums. But he blinked it away, scowling, and turned back to the drink in front of him, fingers curled into his palm.

"Not my type," he muttered.

She scoffed, hopping down and swinging around to sit across from him in his otherwise empty booth. She rested her chin on her palm and stared at him searchingly, her head tipped as she took stock of him. "Everyone's your type. Blood is blood, Damon. And you haven't had any in, oh… Seven days."

"Who's counting?" He knocked back his drink and then topped it off with the bottle, his phone sitting on the table as he waited for Benny to call. Augusta was a bust, but there was a chance Lucy was still somewhere in Georgia, so he was… lingering.

"I am." Bonnie shook her head. "You can't keep this up."

"Sure I can." His eyes flashed wide in emphasis. "I won't start desiccating for a few more weeks, at least."

"What happens if you need to do something, help someone, you'll be too strung out and weak to do anything."

He snorted, shaking his head. "Who the hell am I going to help? If you haven't noticed, I've got one thing on my mind. Everyone else is expendable."

"And Lucy? What if you get hungry when you find her? Or what if when you bring her back to Mystic Falls, your mother and her vitches attack Lucy? I mean, I don't want to bring you down any more than you already are, but if you lose Lucy you're officially 0 for 2 on the Bennett witch front, which means your plan is completely blown."

"A) We already agreed on witchpire. And B) if you're so worried, I'll raid a hospital before I do a little meet and greet with cousin dearest. Happy?"

"I'd be happier if you drank less." Her nose wrinkled. "You're starting to smell."

"You're a figment of my imagination," he reminded her, rolling his eyes. "You can't smell anything."

"Yeah, well, then your imagination is aware you stink and is trying to tell you take a shower."

"Duly noted." He poured himself another glass and raised it to her in mocking cheers.

("You're disgusting."

"I know.")

…

—You've reached Damon. I'm not able to come to the phone right now. Or I don't feel like it. You decide. Leave a message and I'll get back to you… Probably.—

beeeep.

"I don't know where you are, and I really don't care," Caroline snapped. "But my best friend is dead, again, and you're the only person who ever changes that. So you need to call me. At least tell me you're doing something to fix this. I can't… I just lost my mom, Damon. I can't lose Bonnie too. I just got her back! So please, tell me you're going to bring her back. I need her back!"

…

Damon stared at the ceiling of his motel room, his arms tucked behind his head. He counted the cracks and the water damaged spots, again and again, until he was cross eyed.

"What's your favorite memory?" she asked, lying beside him, mimicking his position.

"You already know that one. I told you in the prison world," he replied.

She rolled over onto her stomach. "Tell me again."

He frowned, squinting his eyes a moment. They'd talked in front of the fire; Bonnie liked to make pillow beds on the floor, said they were cozy. She would curl up there most nights to read her books. He couldn't count how many times he'd have to carry her up to her bedroom after she'd fallen asleep. When she was feeling particularly chatty, she would invite him to share her space and coax him into talking. The night she asked him about his favorite memory, they were both a little tipsy, and he remembered how pretty she'd looked, with the fire flicking around her face.

"When I was human, I used to think it was the first time my father ever shared his bourbon with me… He poured me a glass and told me that I was a man now, and real men drank… I choked on the first sip, coughed so hard my lungs hurt." His lips curled at the memory. "But I drank every drop, just to prove I could. And he clapped me on the shoulder, like he was proud… All I ever wanted back then was to make that man proud. Make him treat me like I was worth his attention."

Frowning, he shook his head. "When I got older, and I realized how much of an ass he was, it changed. First to an afternoon I spent with my mother where all she did was read to me and stroke my hair. Then to the first time I saw Katherine. But if I really had to pick something, it was probably the first time Stefan said my name. I was ten years old, and he was still tiny, drooled on everything, but mother insisted he would become my most treasured companion… I thought she was exaggerating at the time, but, as it turns out… she wasn't so wrong."

Bonnie was quiet a moment, just like she had been that night. But instead of offering him a top off on his drink like she had in the prison world, this time she said, "You should call him. He's probably really worried."

He turned his eyes toward her and tipped over to lay on his side, peering at her. Some of her hair had fallen to her cheek and his fingers itched to reach out and tuck it away behind her ear. He curled them into his palm instead; if he touched her, he'd remember she wasn't real. "What's your favorite memory?" he asked.

"You already know it. I told you in the prison world," she mocked.

"Tell me again."

She smiled. "Or you could tell me."

He hummed, and cast his eyes away briefly.

"Don't tell me, you forgot."

He shook his head faintly. "You were six years old, and you tripped in the driveway, scraped your palms up pretty good. You were crying on the stairs because you got it in your head that your dad would find out and leave you. Like your mom did. You thought…" He clenched his jaw. "You thought he wouldn't want you if you weren't perfect."

She watched him silently, her gaze bouncing around his face.

"Your dad came outside and found you like that, trying to hide your hands in the skirt of your dress. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened, so he took you inside and sat you on the kitchen counter. He cleaned your hands up and he kissed them both and he told you that no matter how many times you fell, he would always be there to pick you up." He swallowed tightly then, blinking roughly. "You still loved him, even though he worked too much and he missed a lot of those spills. But that's you… holding out hope for people who don't deserve it."

"Maybe they don't," she agreed quietly. "But maybe they need it."

He hummed, but said nothing, turning his eyes toward her, lying there, so close but so far. He fell asleep counting how many times he let her down.

("It means there's hope for you.")

…

—You've reached Damon. I'm not able to come to the phone right now. Or I don't feel like it. You decide. Leave a message and I'll get back to you… Probably.—

beeeep.

"You know, I'm a little disappointed… I expected when me and Mummy Dearest came back, you'd be the first one there to greet us," Enzo teased. "But I hear you went on a little sabbatical of some kind. Can't blame you. I know Bonnie was a special breed…" He chuckled lowly. "She was brave, if you're wondering. Such a plucky little witch… And delicious. Did I mention that? I got a little taste before she went…" He smacked his lips obnoxiously. "'Til next time, brother."

…

"I'm sorry. I thought she was there! I… It was a bad lead. But it's not over yet. I have a more people I can talk to. Just give me some time to—"

Damon hung the phone up abruptly, and let it fall from his hand, bouncing on the mattress of his hotel bed. He sat the edge of it, elbows on his knees, staring at a dent in the wall, the paint just a shade darker there then everywhere else. The blinking Motel sign outside beamed through the closed curtains, giving the room a red glow, and then green, and back to red. He rubbed his hands over his face, his skin feeling paper thin and his dry and itchy.

"How many is that?" she wondered, seated at the head of the bed. "Four, maybe five false Lucy sightings… Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you might be chasing your forked tail on this one."

He scoffed, dropping his hands from his face to hang listlessly between his legs. "So that's it, huh? Hang up the cape and walk away? That's your big advice."

She reappeared in front of him then, kneeling at his feet, and she peered up at his face a long moment, her eyes searching him over. Her hand reached up, fingers outstretched, and gently glided down the side of his face. He couldn't feel a thing; a bitter reminder that she wasn't really there. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the burn of anger and resentment and guilt build up in his chest.

"Sometimes you just have to cut your losses," she murmured. "Maybe it's time to stop fighting and start grieving. It's okay to let go, Damon. It's okay to accept that sometimes… we just can't fix what we've broken."

He shook his head, his breath leaving him in a shuddering noise. "No. No." His eyes shot open to glare down at her. "I don't get to walk away from this. I haven't earned that yet. And you—You're not her. Because she would tell me to keep going, keep fighting. She would tell me to do something."

She offered him a serene smile. "Haven't you? You tried, didn't you? You looked for Lucy, you made a plan, you did your best… Isn't that all she could ask for?"

He swallowed thickly. "I should've saved her. I should've stopped her."

"It's too late for that now." She reached up, covering his hands in hers. "Damon… You're not the hero. You're the monster." A giggle left her then, and she shook her head. "You were just living up to your image."

He snarled down at her, his teeth bared. "Stop it."

"Don't you remember…? 'If it comes down to you and the witch again, I will gladly let Bonnie die.' You said that." She grinned then. "This was always going to happen. You had to know!"

"It was different then," he gritted out, his eyes burning. "I was different then."

She tipped her head curiously. "Are you sure?"

His eyes darkened, veins spidering across his cheeks. "I fucked up, I know that, but I won't make that mistake again."

"Maybe. But for that to happen, you'd need another chance, and… last I checked, you were out of those."

Shaking his head, he stood up. "Someone here saw Lucy… And if she's anything like her cousin, she never shuts up, which means she could've let it slip to someone where she was headed to next." He smirked then, all teeth. "And I'm going to find out."

He walked to the door of his motel room and yanked it open. Bonnie stood in front of him, leaned back against the rail, arms crossed over her chest. She smiled. "Careful, Damon… I might start to think you actually care."

He stared at her a heavy moment, before managing, "Wouldn't want that."

Making is way down to his car, he climbed in, unsurprised to find the image of Bonnie already waiting for him there. "Ready?"

She nodded back at him.

They had a witch to find.

…

—You've reached Damon. I'm not able to come to the phone right now. Or I don't feel like it. You decide. Leave a message and I'll get back to you… Probably.—

beeeep.

"Damon, please, just answer your phone," Elena begged. "Do something. Text me! Call me back! A smoke signal would work, just… I'm freaking out over here. I need to know you're okay. Stefan hasn't heard from you, and he— He's worried. Look, your mother… She's back. Her and Enzo and those… things. They're all over the place and they're killing people faster than we can hide the bodies. And I— I don't know what to do, okay? I'm scared and worried and… I miss you. I know you're upset with me, and I'm sorry. I am! I'm sorry that Bonnie's dead. I'm sorry I'm the reason she's gone. I'm sorry I'm always the reason. I… I'm just sorry," she cried. "Please come home. Please."

…

The banging coming from the trunk was more than a little annoying. Damon turned the radio up to drown it out.

"She doesn't sound too happy," imaginary!Bonnie mused, sitting in the passenger seat beside him.

"She doesn't need to be happy. She just needs to do what I tell her to," he answered, shrugging.

Bonnie eyed him skeptically. "Are you usually accommodating to the people that stuff you into trunks?"

He pursed his lips at her. "We were on a strict time schedule. I didn't have time to explain it to her."

"That tape won't last forever. As soon as she gets it off, she'll spell that trunk open and then focus all of her anger on you."

Sighing, he lowered the music and glared at her. "Shouldn't you be on my side?"

"All I'm saying is that if Bonnie could see this, she'd be pissed. You kidnapped her cousin and stuffed her in a trunk, Damon."

He rolled his eyes. "There's plenty of room back there."

Shaking her head, Bonnie clucked her tongue and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What? So now you're going to give me the silent treatment?" He scoffed. "Typical."

She continued to stare out the front window, while he glowered at her irritably. "You know, I dreamed you into existence, shouldn't you do what I want?"

Turning to look at him she raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever thought about why you imagined me?"

He shrugged. "I thought that was pretty obvious. I'm terrible at grieving; my coping mechanisms are shit. But, since I'm not falling back on killing everybody in sight, I needed a little Jiminy Cricket around to remind me what I needed to do. Trust me, if this fails, you'll be long gone, and I'll be standing on top of a pile of bodies." He smirked at her, flashing his teeth.

Unperturbed, she merely stared at him. "You know, maybe this is different for a reason… Maybe the reason you're not killing people is because you don't want to kill people. Maybe, in some weird way, this is you showing signs of actually maturing."

He frowned at her, skeptically.

"Look, whatever happened in that prison world, it changed you. Not completely, because you're still you. But parts of you changed. They… grew. And that's what you wanted. That's what you told her. That you hoped you weren't the same person who made all the same bad choices. And now, here we are, and you're being tested again… She's gone, Damon. She's dead. But instead of losing yourself to that pain, instead of destroying everything and everyone, you put that energy into getting her back. Which is… it's good, I guess."

"You guess?"

"It's growth… Until it isn't."

He ground his teeth. "Explain."

"I know you don't want to think about it, but there's a reason Lucy is in the trunk. And it has everything to do with the fact that if you open that trunk and you tell her what happened, there's a very real chance she's going to tell you there's nothing you can do to change it."

He turned his eyes forward, staring out at the road, his brow knotted tightly.

"For the last thirteen days, you've done nothing but chase a hope and a dream with a ghost. And as much as you wanted to find Lucy, you also know that she's the only one who can tell you that there is no hope left."

His chin quivered, but he clenched his jaw to make it stop.

"Damon."

"What?"

"You know how she felt about you. I know you do. She wanted better for you, she believed in you, and she… She lo—"

"Don't," he interrupted, turning red-rimmed eyes in her direction. "Just don't."

Imaginary-Bonnie offered him a soft, sympathetic smile, and he had to look away, his heart twisting up in his chest. "You won't know until you open the trunk," she said quietly. "Until then… you've got me."

"So that's it, huh? I open the trunk and you just… go away."

"For now." She turned in her seat, eyeing him thoughtfully. "I have a feeling I'll be back if the answer isn't what you want."

He snorted. "What, so you can judge me while I'm tearing out throats and leaving bodies in my wake? Just what I need, a judgy witch on my tail."

"I think you'll miss me when I'm gone… I think you miss her more than you ever thought you could miss someone."

Damon swallowed tightly, and reached down to hit his turning signal, pulling his car over to the side of the road. He lingered there, the ticking of his signal still going, until he reached for it to turn it off. He looked over at her, curled up in the passenger seat wearing that same plaid shirt around her waist. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad… You coming around sometimes. If I… I can't get her back…"

Leaning forward, she reached for him, her hand hovering near his cheek. "I'm not so easy to get rid of."

He nodded jerkily, and then he reached for the door and pushed it open. He cleared his throat and readjusted his jacket as he walked around to the trunk. She was kicking her feet up against the trunk; a constant thumping. He stuck his key in the lock and turned it, letting the trunk pop open so he could stare down at the angry, glaring eyes of Lucy Bennett.

She was trying to speak from under the tape; he'd put money down it was a promise to make him pay.

"All right, so sticking you in the trunk was a bad move," he admitted.

Her eyebrows hiked in a 'you think!?' fashion, but he merely shrugged a shoulder.

"Look, I'll make it simple…" He licked his lips and shuffled his feet before he managed to tell her, "Bonnie is dead."

Lucy went still, staring up at him searchingly.

"She was killed by a vampire and yanked over to a 1903 prison world. You know about those? Sheila had a hand in making them; they're locked up tight with Bennett blood and magic…"

She nodded slowly.

He stared at her seriously. "I need your help… I need to get Bonnie back. Not just from 1903… I want to resurrect her. And I want you to hear me when I say this… I'm getting her back, by any means necessary."

Lucy blinked, her eyes falling as she seemed to think it over, and then she looked back up at him, that infamously stubborn look that seemingly all Bennetts mastered at birth. She gave him a short, severe nod, and he reached down to peel the tape from her lips.

He should've expected the aneurysm; truth be told, it made him laugh a little as he stumbled backwards, clutching his head. It wasn't quite as potent as one of Bonnie's, but it was close enough.

"That's for shoving me in a damn trunk," she shouted, sitting up. "Now get over here and untie me. We have work to do."

Breathing through the pain still ricocheting through him, he walked forward, reaching for the rope bound around her wrists. "So you think we can do it then? We can bring her back?"

She stared up at him, her mouth set in a firm line. "We can sure as hell try."

He half-smiled, stepping back as she climbed from the trunk and stretched her arms out. Closing the trunk, he paused, staring through the back window at the now empty passenger seat. Imaginary-Bonnie had fizzled away; as much as he'd miss her constant chatter, he hoped that, soon enough, he'd have the real thing.

("I'm not going to make it… but you are.")

…

—You've reached Damon. I'm not able to come to the phone right now. Or I don't feel like it. You decide. Leave a message and I'll get back to you… Probably.—

beeeep.

"You need to come back," Stefan demanded. "Damon, I'm not kidding. I don't care if you're spiraling. I don't care if you're fangs-deep in someone and you've left a string of bodies in your wake. I don't care. But you need to come back here, because this… Part of this is your fault, and you need to clean it up! I can't do this on my own, all right? Are you happy? I need your help, Damon. So just… come back."

…

When Damon crossed the border back into Mystic Falls, he had an irritated witch in the passenger seat. Sure, she was on board with getting Bonnie back, but that didn't make her any more forgiving for the whole trunk debacle. Apparently negotiating with Lucy went over a lot better than kidnapping her. Who knew? Regardless, she was still up for helping him, and that was all that mattered. Imaginary-Bonnie hadn't popped up since Lucy had taken up position in the passenger seat, but every once in a while, he'd look in the rear view mirror and swear he caught a glimpse of her. Clearly, he needed to feed. And he would, just as soon as he got to the boarding house and his plan was well underway. Nothing was going to get in his way now.

That's what he thought at least, until he drove through town square and found half the buildings on fire.

Lucy turned to him, her expression sharp. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

His mouth curled with disdain. "Witchpires." He shrugged. "Not our problem."

"Not our…" Her eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling me, Damon?"

He glared at her. "The only thing you need to worry about is getting me into that 1903 prison world so we can get Bonnie. After that, you work your little Bennett mojo to bring her back to life. Then you're free and clear to leave and never come back. That was the deal, remember?"

She stared at him searchingly. "You never said what happened. Why they killed her."

"They need a reason now?" he scoffed. "She was an enemy. If they brought her back, she could've put them down. So they took her out before she could. Sounds pretty cut and dry to me."

Shaking her head, she said, "Nothing with you ever is."

"Right. Because you know me so well." He bared his teeth at her in a mocking grin. "We've been on the road all of a day, sweetheart. Trust me, you don't know anything."

"I know you're letting your home burn around you to get my little cousin back. I know something happened, something changed, if the only thing you're worried about is Bonnie. So spill. Or I'm not taking you anywhere." Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back in her seat, raising an eyebrow at him.

Damon gnashed his teeth and continued down Main Street, watching uninterestedly as the sign on a florist's shop crashed to the ground, charred and smoking. The street lamps were mostly blown out, but fire lit the way easily. People were running, racing up and down the sidewalks, screaming and crying from some, yet unseen, enemy.

"You want a sob story, or you want your cousin?" He pressed down on the gas and took off toward the boarding house, dodging scared humans as he went. He couldn't care less who his mother's witchpires ate or who had to die; he had one mission, everything else was just collateral damage.

Lucy set her lips in a dark frown, but she turned her eyes out the window and said nothing, flinching as a man ran down the street, his clothes on fire. "It's chaos out there."

"It's hell," he said, something distant about his tone.

She looked back at him, but Damon kept his eyes on the road.

Nothing more was said until they reached the boarding house. Damon climbed from the car, shaking his legs out before he walked to the front door, Lucy behind him, her eyes darting around cautiously, expecting someone to jump out and attack at any moment.

"You remember the spell?"

"You had me recite it to you for most of the drive here," she huffed. "Yeah, I remember the spell."

He offered an empty smile in reply. "Just checking all the boxes, Morgana."

Rolling her eyes at him, she hauled her bag off her shoulder and dug around inside. "We still need a celestial event."

"We'll have one. Tonight. Meteor shower."

"You weren't kidding. You really thought of everything." She followed him into the living room as he walked toward the drink cart. "So? We've got a lot of time to burn..."

"Which you can spend making sure you know that spell back and front," he said, before offering her a glass of bourbon.

Lucy took it and crossed to a couch, taking a seat and balancing her drink on her knee. "We haven't talked about what happens after we bring her body back… Resurrection isn't exactly easy."

"If it were easy, I wouldn't need a Bennett." He knocked back his whole drink before refilling his glass. "We get her back, you trade some miserable human's life for hers, and voila, balance is kept and Bonnie's safe. Done."

She watched him carefully. "And if she refuses?"

He paused, turning his head to look at her. "What?"

"Bonnie's a witch. I'll have to commune with her spirit before I make any kind of trade. She can reject it and, well, we both know she won't let someone else die for her…"

"So go over her head," he ordered, fiercely. "Tell her you found another way. Lie if you have to. Just make sure she comes back."

"It's not that simple."

"Make it that simple!" he shouted, slamming his glass down on the cart hard enough that it shattered. He let out a huff of a breath and looked down, staring at his hand, where blood had collected in his palm. He let out a choked noise and blinked hard, swallowing thickly.

Lucy stared at him, the stricken look on his face, and she sighed as all the pieces finally slotted together on the puzzle. "You love her."

He whirled his head to look at her, his brow furrowed. "What?" he snapped, before pulling his shirt up from the waist of his jeans and wrapping his has hand in the fabric.

"I was trying to figure it out before, how it tied in with the doppelganger. But it's not about her, is it…? You want Bonnie back because you love her."

Damon looked away, focusing his eyes on the fire. "The meteor shower starts in four hours. Be ready." He turned on his heel then and walked out of the room, climbing the stairs two at a time. He walked down the hall to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Leaning back against it, he closed his eyes, fingers digging sharply into his palms.

("I realize that I might not be able to explain what I feel for her, but it is something. And yeah, maybe not all love is 'true love' in the messed up way that you and I have experienced it, but I think that this could turn into something even better.")

Damon pushed off the door and crossed toward his shower, pulling off his clothes and letting them fall to the floor as he went. He turned the water on as hot as it would go and climbed under the spray. His breathing was picking up and his lungs were burning, panic threading through him. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes against the water, pressing his hands to the tile wall.

Steam rose up and clouded the room; he scrubbed his fingers through his hair and pressed them against his eyes when they began to burn.

Four hours. He just needed four more hours and then he'd have her. She'd be home.

He could wait that long.

For two weeks, he'd barely slept or ate, only stocking up when he thought he might have a lead on Lucy, drinking to curb the worst of his hunger pains. Some part of him didn't think he deserved it, didn't think he should be allowed to indulge in blood when it was his fault that Bonnie was gone. Tracking down Lucy gave him a purpose, and imaginary-Bonnie had managed to keep him from teetering off the edge. But it was okay now; he had Lucy and his plan could finally get some traction. If it wasn't one Bennett, it was another. It seemed the only time he ever got anything done, he had a witch in his corner.

When he finally climbed out of the shower, his skin was an angry red, irritated from the water, but as he wiped the fog away from the mirror, he could already see it fade away, healed in the blink of an eye. Bonnie hadn't been so lucky. He imagined she laid in that snow, blood collecting all around her, slowly choking, gasping for air, struggling to live, while they watched on, unmoved by her pain. On the rare occasions he'd managed any sleep, that was what he dreamt of; haunted by her sad, betrayed eyes, staring up at him, blaming him as life drained out of her.

As soon as she was back and ready, they'd kill every last one of them.

Starting with Enzo.

Damon left the bathroom and dressed quickly. Leaving Lucy alone for too long could prove problematic. Just because his mother and her witchpires seemed to be occupied in town didn't mean they would stay that way. And she was his only chance at getting Bonnie back.

He walked down the stairs, whistling, a little pep to his step as he realized that his endgame was finally in sight. She was going to be pissed at him, he knew. She would probably scream herself hoarse, and he would welcome it. Every defaming word, every insult, every aneurysm. He would welcome every last second of it, as long as she was alive.

He wasn't expecting to walk into the living room and find it filled with the Scooby Gang. He didn't know why, since they almost always holed up in his house to plan.

His whistling abruptly plummeted as he cast his eyes around the group, all of them looking like they'd gone toe to toe with a train and lost.

"Someone looks like they need a stiff drink," he said, making his way toward the cart.

"Damon," Elena breathed, taking a step forward. "You're back!"

"When'd you get here?" Stefan wondered, following his trek across the room with brooding eyes.

"Half hour, maybe forty-five minutes ago." He took another look around and frowned. "You see a tall Bennett witch lurking around anywhere?"

"Lucy's here?" Caroline asked, a hopeful note to her voice.

"Bingo. Got it in one. Who says blondes aren't smart?" Damon poured himself and his brother a bourbon, and handed it off to him before taking a seat on the arm of a couch. "So? Mother Dearest do this to you?"

Stefan's shirt was torn up, the arm frayed and burnt black. Dried blood smeared his neck and hands. "Her and her new little 'family' are tearing apart town square."

Damon hummed. "Yeah, I saw that on the way in."

"And you didn't help?" Caroline accused.

He raised an eyebrow. "What, you want me to pull over and start applying CPR?" He snorted. "What do I care if the town burns?"

"Damon, this is our home," Elena told him, staring at him searchingly, her expression hurt.

"Yeah, fully aware, thanks. Look, I'll deal with her and her little witchpire gang after."

"After what?"

"After we get Bonnie back from 1903," Lucy piped up, walking back into the room, her arms filled with a familiar grimoire.

Damon's mouth flattened into a line. "Where'd you get that?" He stood, reaching over to snatch it from her hands. "I had that hidden."

"Yeah? Well, you suck at it. All I needed was a simple locator spell." She frowned. "Why'd you have her grimoire anyway?"

"None of your business." He looked her up and down irritably. "You were supposed to be studying the spell, not playing 'Where's Waldo.'"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I was. But if we're going to resurrect her, we're going to need a lot more than what I already know. Bonnie's the only person I know that's actually brought someone back to life. She also died doing it. I was hoping Sheila might have written about it in her grimoire, but I can't find anything…"

"She died because she traded her life for Jeremy's. You'll have someone else to sacrifice. Don't go changing anything that already works."

Hand on her hip, she pursed her lips at him. "And which spell did she use? Were you there for that?"

"You think I'd let her die so Baby Gilbert could come back?" he snarled. "I wasn't invited to that show. Just the clean-up after."

"Wait, wait, what is going on?" Elena asked, waving her hands. "Are you saying you can bring Bonnie back?"

"Ding, ding, ding. Someone give this one an award," Damon mocked.

Elena flinched. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I've had two weeks to think about every stupid thing I did, for you, and now that the casualty list is slapping me in the face, I'm regretting them."

Her brow furrowed. "I know that Bonnie's death hurt you, but I didn't force her to die for me…"

"No, you don't force her to do anything," he scoffed bitterly. "You just convinced her that her life doesn't matter as much. All of us convinced her that on the scale of what's important and what doesn't matter, she falls firmly on the side of 'die so someone else can live.'"

"I would never ask her to do that. I—I could barely breathe. If I could, I would've stopped her."

"But you didn't!" he shouted. "You didn't do anything. You just let her die, again."

Tipping her head, her face cleared. "This isn't about me. You're not mad at me."

"Aren't I?" he wondered, taking a step toward her. "Because it definitely feels like I am."

"You're lashing out, and I get that, but this isn't about me, Damon. It's about you."

His face twisted up, but no words left him.

"You're upset because you didn't stop her. I didn't remember it at first, but I heard her… I heard her tell you that she would die over there. They would kill her. And you didn't stop her, did you? You let her walk to them. You had a choice, and you picked me."

Damon swallowed tightly, and he shook his head, baring his teeth as he said, "I chose wrong."

Elena reared back. "You're upset."

"No, I'm finally seeing clearly," he bit out. "All those times I thought it'd be worth it… When I asked her to do it knowing she might die… Every time I picked you over her… I let her think she didn't matter. I let her die, Elena. I let her walk away, and I never should have. I should've grabbed her and taken her away. I should've left you there." He blinked back tears, shaking his head. "But I didn't. And now she's gone, and you're here, and you shouldn't be."

"Damon," she said quietly, reaching out for him.

"No," he told her. "You think this is just grief, that I'm upset because my friend is dead, and when I get her back, I'll apologize and wish I'd never hurt you. But you're wrong. I'm done picking you over her. I'm done picking any of you over her. She wanted just one person to care. She wanted me to care. And I failed her. The only chance I have at making this right is getting her back and then getting her the hell away from all of you. From this screwed up town where nothing ever goes right."

Elena blinked back tears. "We never meant to hurt her."

"No, you just didn't care enough to notice you were hurting her in the first place."

"That's not fair," Caroline whispered thickly. "If I'd known she was here, that she was hurting, I would've tried to be there for her."

"Oh, spare me the crocodile tears, Blondie. You were too wrapped up in your Stefan-drama to pay any attention to Bonnie."

"No, shut up," she ordered, marching forward. "You are not the only one who loves her, and you're not the only one who made mistakes and wants to take them back. So don't act like you're some superior voice in this fight, because you said it yourself. You let her die. You let her walk away." She poked his chest with her finger. "You had a chance to save her life and you didn't take it!"

Grabbing her wrist, he squeezed until she winced. "A mistake I won't make again."

Caroline yanked her arm free of him. "You make all the promises you want, but if you think bringing her back will wipe your slate clean, you're wrong. I made a mistake turning my humanity off, but I never let Bonnie think I didn't love her. Can you say the same?"

He snarled down at her, his eyes turning a bloody black.

Stefan intervened, stepping in between them, a hand against Damon's chest. "Okay. I think we all need to take a breath. It's been a long day…" He looked up at his brother, brows arched. "Caroline's upset. We all are. We've been fighting all day and this is already an emotional situation. I think everybody just needs to take a minute to calm down."

"Fine." Taking a step back, Damon turned to Lucy. "We have things to discuss anyway." He made his way to the hall then, Lucy just behind him.

"You're not the only one who misses her," Caroline called after him. "I loved her too."

Damon looked back at her, his mouth set in a faint frown.

Caroline was a mess; her hair in disarray, her clothes shredded and burned, bags under her eyes that came from a lack of sleep and not enough blood. And for the first time in two weeks, he found himself looking at someone that embodied exactly how he felt. She hugged her arms around her waist and shifted her feet, her eyes falling to the floor briefly. "Just get her back," she said, before turning and walking away.

Damon followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight, and then his gaze moved to his sullen brother, staring back at him. With a sigh, Stefan nodded, and left to find Caroline.

Elena was standing by the fire, watching him, her brow knit.

Damon offered nothing more, turning and making his way upstairs to his bedroom. A silent Lucy followed him in, accepting the grimoire when he passed it to her.

("She sacrificed everything for us, over and over again, and then we were supposed to be there for her... She's all alone.")

…

Damon was pacing, back and forth from one end of his bedroom to the other.

"That's annoying. Can you just sit down somewhere and stop fidgeting already?" Lucy sighed, exasperated.

He ignored her. The closer they got to the meteor shower, the more anxious he felt. What if it didn't work? What if they went over there and they couldn't find the body? What if they buried her? Or worse. His stomach twisted at the idea. Rippers were notorious for playing with the bodies afterwards; Stefan had always staged his victims. What if he got over there and Bonnie's head was— He closed his eyes and gave his head a shake, the image far too real for him to handle.

"Have you slept?"

He paused, looking over at Lucy with a frown. "What?"

"Have. You. Slept?" She looked him over, her lips pursed. "You look like roadkill."

"I showered an hour ago," he defended.

"Doesn't change the fact that you look like you haven't slept or eaten. No wonder you're biting everyone's heads off."

"What are you, the defender of the 'Bonnie Who' squad?"

Sighing, she said, "Clearly there's some animosity going on there, but I don't think they're as bad as you're making them out to be."

"You don't know them."

"I barely know you," she agreed. "But Bonnie obviously loved them and trusted them, which means there must be something redeeming about that little rag-tag group."

"Yeah, she grew up with them," he scoffed. "She's sentimental like that."

"The blonde one, Caroline, she cared."

Damon gritted his teeth. "Look, I don't feel like playing 'which of Bonnie's shitty friends is least shitty' with you. So let's just focus on the endgame."

"Was she right?"

"Was who right?"

"Did you have a chance to save her and pick the doppelganger instead?"

Damon's stomach plummeted. "Who are you? Dr. Phil?" he accused defensively.

"Is this all just an attempt at redeeming yourself?" she wondered unperturbed by his irritation.

"Enough with the questions already," he growled.

"Do you think she will? Forgive you, I mean."

He went still, standing stiffly by the window, staring up at the clear night sky. "She shouldn't."

A knock at the door drew their attention then and he turned, frowning. "What?" he asked loudly.

"It's me," Elena said, the sound of her shuffling feet and fiddling fingers reaching him. "Can I come in?"

He rolled his eyes, turning to face the window again.

The door opened, as if she'd heard the 'whatever' he hadn't spoken. She stepped into the room closing the door behind her and hesitated.

"Did you need something?" he asked, his voice cutting.

She swallowed, and he could see her raise her chin in the reflection of the window. "I want to come with you."

He blinked. "No."

"Damon. She's my best friend."

"She's Blondie's best friend too, and the answer's the same for her."

Standing a little taller, she balled her hands up into fists. "You can't keep her to yourself. We want her back just as much as y—"

"Save it," he interrupted. "Lucy's only got so much juice, and I'm not wasting it dragging anyone else along. This is a two-person rescue mission. No tag-alongs. You'd only get in the way."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it? The last time I let you come along, Bonnie got left behind while you played tourist, visiting your old house."

"You think I wanted to leave her behind?" she yelled. "She was on her way!"

"And we should've gone to meet her."

"Why are you blaming me?" she cried.

"Because everything comes back to you! Everyone picks you. Everyone wants you. And by the time we figure out we've made the wrong choice it's too late."

"So that's it, I'm just the wrong choice?" She shook her head, her eyes bright with tears. "When did Bonnie, or anyone, become more important to you than me? I thought you loved me."

He stared at her a moment, his eyes tired and his chest hollow. "I did. And some part of me probably still does. But loving you means hurting other people, people that don't deserve it, and I won't do it anymore."

"That's not fair."

"Life's not fair," he sneered. "Learn it and grow up."

Wiping at her cheeks, she shook her head. "I know that you're just grieving and lashing out and when you get your head together, you're going to wish you hadn't said these things"

"Stop forgiving me. Stop trying to see something in me that isn't there. Stop expecting me to be someone I'm not," he told her. "How many ways do I have to spell it out for you?"

"So this is it? You're just going to break up with me and walk away?"

"No, I'm going to break up with you and then I'm going to go get Bonnie back. And then I'm going to walk away, dragging her sacrificial ass with me."

Elena shook her head, her hair swaying at her shoulders. "She won't go with you. She won't abandon us."

"Why not? You've done it to her enough times, she's probably due for a little rebellion."

"Damon, please, think about this…" She stared at him searchingly. "I told you I'm sorry. I didn't want Bonnie to die. I—"

"You just wanted to live, and you expected her to do what she always does."

She gaped at him, stunned.

"Tell me, if it really came down to it, between you and her, how long do you think you'd last before you just shoved her into the line of fire…?"

She glared up at him. "Screw you."

"I vividly remember you already doing that."

Jaw ticking and teeth gritted, she shook her head. "Fine. Don't bring me, don't forgive me. Just bring her home. That's all that really matters."

"For once we're on the same page."

She stared at him a moment longer before turning on her heel and marching out of his room, slamming the door behind her.

The silence lasted for all of thirty seconds and then Lucy said, "Well, that was awkward."

"Recite the spell again," he told her.

Lucy sighed, but listened, letting the words coil around her tongue easily.

Damon turned back to the window and felt his heart lurch as what appeared to be a meteor streaked across the sky. It wouldn't be long now.

("I'm doing this for Bonnie, Elena. Not for you.")

…

"It's time," Lucy declared, standing from her seat, a knife in one hand and the ascendant in the other.

Damon turned to look at her, swallowed back the last of his fears, and followed her out the door. They waked downstairs in tense silence, making their way to the living room, where Bonnie's blood still stained the floor in front of the fireplace. Damon moved to the window throwing the curtains open and letting in the glow of the meteor-lit sky.

As he walked back toward Lucy, he could feel the others crowding into the room, keeping their distance. He glanced over at them, pausing on Stefan's grim expression, and then he turned back to Lucy. He tucked his hand in under hers as she raised the ascendant up, and took the knife she offered, her palm left raised and waiting. He dragged the sharp steel over her skin, watching blood pearl up. She turned her hand over and squeezed her fingers in close, letting blood dribble down onto the ascendant.

Her lips parted as she began to chant, her voice deep and concentrated. Nerves made his knee jump as he waited for things to take hold.

But just as he swore he could feel magic beginning to coil around his body, the front door burst off its hinges. Lily Salvatore swept into the room, veins crawling eagerly beneath her eyes. Behind her, her witchpires stood together, their eyes black and their clothes soaked through with blood.

"Get the ascendant," Lily ordered. "Destroy it."

Damon snarled at his mother before holding onto Lucy's hand a little tighter. "Keep going."

Lucy glanced at them briefly before beginning the spell again.

The witchpires attacked, and he dug his heels in, waiting for impact.

Stefan intervened with the first one, slamming into the man from the side and taking him to the floor. Caroline grabbed another by the neck, but was soon screaming and grabbing her head as she writhed in agony. The rest of the Scooby gang, vampire and human-alike, ran forward to fight.

Lily stood, untouched and unafraid, in the center of the chaos. She walked forward, staring at Damon with an eerie smile. "My sweet boy, you didn't truly think it would be so easy, did you?"

"I'm coming for you," he snarled, his teeth flashing and his eyes swimming red. "And you'll regret you ever put one finger on her."

"Is this about your little witch?" she scoffed, her laugh musical and dismissive. "I gave you a choice, did I not? I deserve credit for that at least."

"You don't get credit for what you don't finish," an unexpected voice interrupted.

The room stilled suddenly, and everyone turned in tandem to see the new player.

Damon's brow furrowed as he set eyes on her, his mouth agape. Voice hoarse, he choked out, "Bonnie?"

("The one and only.")

Chapter Text

-part three-

The snow was cold beneath her, melting through the thin barrier of her top to chill her skin. She stared up at the blue sky, her vision swimming. A crow squawked as it spooked, swooping down from a gnarled tree branch, black feathers cutting a shadow across her eyes. When she blinked, it was gone, if it was ever there to begin with.

Bonnie choked, a gush of blood coating her tongue and spilling out over her chin. She blinked, tears collecting at the corner of her eyes before they tumbled down her face.

Enzo stood above her, peering down, an eyebrow raised and a smirk tipping his mouth. "You'd think by now, that hero complex of yours might warn you, hm?" He shook his head. "Damon Salvatore only looks out for himself, love. Trust me, I have first-hand knowledge there."

Bonnie wondered where Lily was; she couldn't hear or see her. Only Enzo, kneeling down beside her now, hands on his knees, a curious look in his eyes. She coughed, blood spraying over her lips.

He reached out, finger gliding over her chin, lapping up some of her blood to bring to his own mouth. He dabbed it on his tongue and hummed appreciatively. "The power in you… Mm. Never tasted anything quite like it… Damon ever tell you what you taste like?" His gaze bounced around her face. "Like fire. Passion and simmering rage, cloaked in such a beautiful package too. It's no wonder you caught his attention. He didn't prepare for you, did he? No… He's had doppelgänger on his mind for so long, he missed what was right in front of him…"

Flicking her hair off her face, he traced a finger down her cheek. "Don't worry though. He'll get his. He's had this coming for some time. Oh, I can see in your eyes, that conflict, that uncertainty about whether you should want him to pay… I felt that way myself. We're honorable people, Bonnie. Loyal. Unfortunately, we put that loyalty in someone who couldn't return it, not the way we deserved." He sighed, turning his gaze away a moment. "I found mine, you see. I have my family now, just as I was promised when all of this began… But you. You have no one."

He looked down at her once more, a frown playing over his lips. "Which leaves me with a conundrum… Do I put you out of your misery, or do I offer you what I was offered?" He stared at her searchingly. "Well, I shouldn't make the choice, really. It's up to you. So? What will it be, Bonnie Bennett?" He bit into his wrist and held the offensive limb near her mouth. "Do you want to live or are you ready to greet Death herself?"

Bonnie stared up at him, her brow furrowed so tightly it hurt. Breathing, what little air she could get, burned her throat, her lungs. She could feel her heart slowing, but she wondered if maybe the magic of this world would do to her what it had done to Kai. Preserve her. Or maybe it would only slow the process, giving Enzo the time he needed to make his long-winded speech about friendship and betrayal. Not that he was wrong, exactly.

Regardless, she was facing a choice. She could lay there, on the cold ground, and watch the clouds pass above as her life ebbed away. She could stop being tired, stop waiting for someone to pick her, and put an end to this whole ridiculous attempt at life. Or she could pick herself. She could choose to live. She could be her own savior and no one else's, ever again. Grams' voice piped up in her head, promising her peace, exchanging her own so Bonnie could have some semblance of a life. She'd given everything she could for Bonnie, and it was wasted on people who never appreciated what she'd had to lose in order to offer it. No more. No more sacrificing herself. No more hoping others would see her. No more hope period.

If she was going to do this, she would do it alone. She would make a life for herself elsewhere. She would leave behind everything and everyone that hurt her. A new beginning, fresh from the ashes of her old life. She could do this. She would.

Bonnie lurched forward, despite the agony that tore through her, and she latched her mouth to Enzo's wrist, licking at the split skin to keep it open, sucking at the self-made wound to get every last drop of vampire blood she could. And she could feel it, feel her skin knitting back together, feel her heart beginning to pick up in tempo. When she finally fell back, she was panting, her head spinning, and her neck sore but mostly healed. She would need time. Rest. But she would get better. She would live. And that was all that mattered.

She startled suddenly, when arms lifted her up from the ground, tucked under her back and her knees. Enzo carried her away from where her blood had soiled the snow. He raced across the ground so quickly that the trees blurred around them. She wanted to ask where they were going, where he was taking her, and why, but her throat burned just from breathing and exhaustion was creeping around the corners of her eyes.

When the wind stopped whipping against her face, she blinked to clear her vision, and found herself in a familiar cave.

"You'll be safe here for now, until we're gone."

"Gone?" she croaked.

"If I take you back, Lily will put an end to you on sight. No hard feelings, just cleaning up loose ends, you understand." He shrugged, placing her down on the ground, her back against the cave wall. "From what I gathered, the ascendant will still be here after we leave." He stared at her searchingly. "I'm probably not the first person you'd ask advice from, but, if you want mine, it's this… Get out. While you still can. Mystic Falls, Damon, your little gang of friends… Leave them behind. Start over somewhere new and don't look back. Trust me, as someone who should've let go and moved on a long time ago, sticking around and waiting on a half-arsed apology does you no favors." He stood then, dusting himself off. "Well, better go see how the new family's doing… Wouldn't want Lily to get too trigger happy and leave without me."

Bonnie stared up at him, her shaking hand pressed to her sore neck. She watched Enzo as he walked to the mouth of the cave, and she choked out a noise somewhat resembling his name.

He looked back, a brow raised.

She wanted to ask him why. Why he would hurt her only to save her; why he would choose Lily over Damon; and more than anything, though she doubted he would know the answer, why she chose to live. Maybe her conflict was obvious on her face, because he seemed to know exactly what she was wondering.

His mouth quirked up at the corner, but it was a hollow gesture. "I know what it is to love and get burned in the end. I may not have the kindest methods, but if I hadn't, Lily would've killed you, and she wouldn't have saved you after… I wasn't kidding about the power in your blood, Bonnie. You're stronger than anyone gives you credit for, and you have more magic in you than I've ever tasted. It'd be a waste to let that die, don't you think? A waste of a Bennett."

Her brow smoothed then.

Bennett.

She was Grams' granddaughter, descendant of Qetsiyah herself, she was no regular person, nor was she the average witch. She had power in her. Greater than anyone knew. Greater than any heretic vamp-gang could ever possess. She pursed her lips as that violent rage Enzo had spoken of began to simmer and bubble inside her.

Maybe she would start a new life. Maybe she would walk away with her head held high and her priorities straight. But not until they paid. Not until she made sure Lily and her witchpires were dead or locked away. Kai too, for that matter. And then she would light a match to her old life, let it burn in the rear-view mirror, and she would never look back.

Enzo grinned then, this time full of mirth. He let out a deep chuckle, one of knowing, and he tipped his head at her in farewell before he turned and walked out of the cave, making his way back to his newfound family.

She wondered if he knew it was them she would destroy, or if he believed she would go home to set her friends alight. He would know soon enough. She needed to gather her strength, pool her resources, and then she would strike. When they wouldn't expect her, when even Enzo thought she'd simply skipped town and left the others to clean up the witchpire mess. Only then, when she was at her strongest, when she had the element of surprise on her side, would she make herself known.

And destroy everything in her path.

…

There was a noise, sharp and abrupt, a crying crow, that woke her.

Bonnie startled, her eyes shot wide while she shivered, cold and deeply confused.

She was still in the cave, but the light of before had long faded into night. Her bones ached and her limbs were numb, but she forced herself onto her knees and slowly grappled against the cave wall until she managed to get herself upright. Her shirt was stiff, both from the cold and the dried blood that caked it. She hadn't exactly dressed for winter, her arms bare and her skin chilled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she ventured out of the cave, turning her head back to look at the Aurora Borealis painting the sky above. Taking a deep breath, she trudged forward. Lily and the others must be long gone by now, at least she hoped they were. She stumbled her way back to the clearing, her eyes darting around her and her ears perked for any sign of life. There was nothing, of course. No people or animals to speak of. Except the eerie ghost of a bird that shouldn't be here. Wasn't here. And still her gaze wandered to branches, to the open sky, searching for black wings and beady eyes.

The blood patch she'd left before was covered in a new sheet of snow, but she fell to her knees in its general vicinity, giving a deep shudder as she patted the snow in searched of—aha! The ascendant. She wasn't sure when, exactly, she would go back, but she would need it. For now, however, she wanted to get warm. Going home would only cause her more stress. At least here she was alone. Everyone assumed she was dead, so no one could hurt her. Gripping the ascendant between her numb hands, she pushed back up to her feet and started toward the house. It took her a little longer than usual, her body still weak from blood loss, but eventually she was there, climbing the stair and walking into the stately house.

She was dripping on the floor, and she didn't bother kicking any clinging snow off from her shoes. Instead, she let the door close with a loud bang, and made her way to the living room to start a fire. Everything hurt and her body was screaming from exhaustion, but she wouldn't let it stop her. She stacked wood in the grate and, though it took a few tries, eventually she managed to light it. She considered collapsing right there in front of the fire and not moving for a few days, but she would need more than that. So she pushed herself to find a blanket and a bottle of bourbon. She would search the cupboards for food in the morning. For now, all she wanted was to curl up and get warm. And maybe to cry herself to sleep in a bottle of expensive liquor. She deserved that, didn't she? Guzzling back a long drag, she decided she more than deserved it.

…

Bonnie didn't leave the couch or the fire for two days. On the third day, she uncoiled her stiff body and got to work. First, she examined her neck. Enzo's blood had done its job and removed any sign of what had happened to her. It was with purpose that she pressed a hand to her neck and produced a scar to mark where the knife had sliced through her. A reminder to herself more than anything. It was a pale pink color, standing out against her brown skin, and it served its purpose well.

She was still tired, exhausted, really. Returning to the regular world wasn't an option yet. So instead, she decided to wander. Given that the 1903 prison world housed so many witches, she wasn't surprised to find that they had taken to journaling, or that some of them had written out a number of their own spells. Beau seemed to write the most; his journals filled with avid descriptions. He was smart too, going over various herbs that could be used for all kinds of things; healing, incapacitation, death. There was a grim bitterness to much of his writing, but she liked his journals the most. He was insightful about himself, the position they found themselves in, and his fellow heretics. If Bonnie had the ability to feel any kind of compassion for them, she would show it for him. But, as it was, she knew what they were, what kind of hell they would bring to the world, and given what he'd written about Lily, she knew he would get in her way when she inevitably destroyed his entire family.

After browsing the collective journals of the heretics, for weaknesses and information, Bonnie began working on her powers. She needed to be at full strength and for that, she needed to focus. She went through the meditation routines her Grams used to teach her, back in the early days, when she was still skeptical about her abilities and the supernatural world in general. Reaching inside, she searched for the power that lived inside her. Qetsiyah's magic from her visit to Nova Scotia could still be felt, weaving its way into her own magic, bolstering it. And that untethered connection, like reaching fingers, searching for a source to link to, a never-ending well of magic, to the balance and nature itself.

Every day she mediated, and every day she felt her strength grow. She felt her power feed through her veins and deep into the marrow of her bones. Discarding of the bottle of bourbon, she replaced it with a pot of herbal tea, swirling hand-written tags on each tin can in the cellar. Raiding the cabinets, she found stocks of canned and dried foods; it wasn't what she would usually eat, but it would work. To bathe, she magically warmed the water that spilled from the rattling lead pipes and sunk herself deep into the tub, letting it soothe her body.

The house creaked at night, every inch of it seeming to whine under age and the bellow of the wind outside. It was strangely soothing. She was alone. Completely and totally. And though that very thing had terrified her not so long ago, it was oddly comforting now. At least when she was alone, there was no one to hurt her, to disappoint her, to leave her. There was only herself.

…

Bonnie woke up early. She spent the morning in the kitchen, sunlight beaming in from outside. Eventually, the Aurora Borealis would blot out the sky, but for now, at least, she had the sun to comfort her. So she sat at the wooden table, hand carved and sturdy as ever, while she sipped at a cup of coffee she'd ground the beans for herself, and nibbled at the pair of eggs she'd fried up.

There was a fluttering noise that sent a skittering sensation down her spine, but she refused to lift her head. Every day, the crow came to sit at the ledge of the window, to knock its sharp, narrow beak against the window, as if to ask for entrance. And every day, Bonnie ignored it, pretended it wasn't there, shut its existence out. She wouldn't let it in, because it wasn't there. No animals lived in these worlds, only the people sent here to live out their days in a makeshift purgatory.

Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe she'd lost more blood than she thought. Maybe it was a waking dream of some kind. Or maybe it was another way for her PTSD to manifest. She wouldn't be surprised. It was one terrible thing after the other, it seemed. Her mental health had been in pieces long before she'd been sent back here, but she'd been working on it. Maybe that was the point, though. For so long, she'd been fighting what the world threw at her, slowly getting crushed under the weight of it all. Every day the world told her that her life didn't matter, and every day she had to prove it did.

It was a roller coaster of fight or lay down and die, and every day she asked herself which one she wanted to do. Every day she wondered if it was time to just stop, to lay down arms, to let the world consume her whole and find peace in the absence of herself. But maybe it was time to fight a different way. Not to survive, not for the people who couldn't care less if she lived or not, but for something better. For a life away from this. A life at all.

So she let her hair fall to cover her eyes, to shroud herself from the outline of the bird sitting at the window ledge, cawing and scratching, pecking at the glass, seeking out her attention, her welcome embrace, her very life. She turned her gaze instead to the journals in front of her and she murmured the words to the incantations Beau had written himself in his artful cursive.

…

After a few days, she started to piece together the memory of her own family grimoire. Searching through a dusty office, she found faded out parchment, a pen and inkwell. Sitting in the creaking chair, she wrote out what she could remember. Her mind full of the collected writing of her ancestors, some small and neatly printed while others were sprawling, coiling letters, each spell speaking of the witch who created it, of the life they lived, of the chaos and misfortune they saw in their lifetime.

Bonnie started small, with the easy spells she'd first learned, to light fires and float feathers. With each spell came another, another moment and memory of a time she'd been happy to research her family history, to ask her Grams who wrote it, who they were, what they wanted, what they found in their short time on earth. And then the others came, the memories of exhausting herself to the bone, of nosebleeds and headaches, of blacking out from the barriers of what she wanted and what she could do.

Sometimes the spells weren't words at all, but thoughts and feelings and a picture in her mind of just what she wanted to happen. Sheer stubborn will and the raising of a hand, her fingers gnarled as bones crushed and brains exploded and blood spurted from burst arteries. With those came the reminder of each time her body had been on a sacrificial pyre, when her life had been linked to the downfall of the next enemy, when her existence was outweighed by the survival of Elena. And the tears fell, they littered and burned her eyes and scored her cheeks. She chewed her lip until it bled, writing spell after spell, each memory assaulting her with images of her walking, barefoot, to the very edge of life itself, and teetering over.

More often than not, she fell. The ground gave out beneath her, crumbling under what little weight her body offered, and she'd tumble toward the bleak nothingness below. Her hands would scramble for purchase on the craggy wall at her back. Sometimes she'd catch it, crawl back up to life with bloody fingertips, drag her poor body back over the edge. And there, close enough to reach for her, but never having the time, were her friends, relieved to have Elena alive and well, saved yet again, unaware of the cost, uncaring of the battered witch that lay tattered and torn, spent and sad.

When the sun would die away and the Aurora Borealis would cover it, she would light a candle to write by, until eventually, there was nothing left to scrawl across the paper. Every spell she could remember was written before her, good and bad. And so her attention would have to turn to the magic that would invoke them. Taking her tea, she went to the living room, to coil herself atop the couch, seeking the warmth of the fire. She slipped away listening to steady ticking of the clock.

In the morning, she unwound herself, shook out the blanket, and made her way to the kitchen. Fixing a quick breakfast, she raided the house for warm clothes, discarding the fancy dresses for more easily maneuvered-in pants. She stalked outside to the snowy yard to begin practicing.

Above, on the branch of a skeletal tree, sat the crow. Watching, curious, its head turning left and right. It cawed as she took a seat in the snow. She wondered if it was a warning or surprise, and then berated herself for thinking this strange, non-existent, bird cared at all.

Snow seeped through the thin fabric of her clothes, sending a chilly sensation across her skin. Bonnie sunk her fingers down through the snow until they found the cold dirt beneath. There, she channeled all of her energy and focus. She reached down into the earth and connected with its core. The very stems of her abilities spread themselves out, high and far, crossing countries and oceans and time itself. She held a hand out to nature, to the very magic that created the world she lived in…

And it reached back.

…

It began slowly.

The first day, it was curious about her, about the witch that offered respect, that spent hours at sitting outside, patiently extending herself toward it. Bonnie sat in the snow until she couldn't stand the cold anymore, and then she pulled herself up and dragged her cold, stiff body inside to warm by the fire. The crow followed her, sitting at the window, peering into the living room, cawing at her and fluttering its wings, like it was complaining. In her head, she imagined Damon's voice, calling her 'witchy' and 'judgy' and telling her not to be so her. She threw a pillow at the window to spook the crow and rid herself of the ghost of a man she'd built up in her head. Of the voice threaded with equal parts derision and concern. Or maybe it was all derision and she'd convinced herself of the concern.

Either way, the bird flew off, for a time, and she dug out Nora's journal to distract herself and drown out Damon's voice.

She fell asleep reading, curled up in a knit blanket, hoping tomorrow would have better results.

…

The following morning, she went through the same routine, deciding to shower afterwards to loosen up and warm her cold limbs. She made herself a hearty breakfast before walking outside. Purposely avoiding the heavy gaze of the crow, perched atop the porch railing, she took a seat in the chilly snow. Her breath left her in a shaky cloud and Bonnie stretched her fingers out wide before she sunk her hands down beneath the snow.

To be honest, Bonnie wasn't quite sure what she was expecting or searching for as she extended her power out toward the core of the world she currently resided in. When her Grams had been alive, she'd told her of the balance, of nature and how it fed itself to the magical core of each witch. Of how having that connection to the earth, respecting it and asking for its help, would help bolster her abilities. Too often, she'd had to settle for what little power or knowledge she already had, having no time to prepare for whatever enemy had crossed the line and needed to be removed. But now, she wasn't cutting corners. Now, she was going to the very source of her ancestry.

And in doing so, she found a well of power. She felt it move around her, like the tiny trembling sensation of an earthquake. The ground shook beneath her; the house at her back trembled and swayed; the trees shuddered, arms rustling like a great wind had moved them. Nature and the power that lived inside it recognized her.

Despite the many times that life and friends and family had rejected her, this did not. Instead, it reached a hand out and touched her soul. And it liked what it found.

…

On the fourth day, Bonnie felt power seep into her ice cold fingers and swim through her blood. It felt like fresh air filling her lungs, deeper and cleaner than ever before. Like every breath she had taken before had been little more than a shadow of what true breathing was. There was something liberating about it, about how alive she felt all of a sudden. It moved from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she felt her nerve-endings spark with awareness. Every inch of her body lit up, tingling with sensation, flooded with a warm, pooling energy that was simultaneously heavy and light.

The power was testing her, she knew. Her resolve, her limitations, her ability to grow with it, and she felt a shift inside her. She felt something crack open; a barrier that was once there was now gone. Like a shell that had covered her had peeled open and fell apart, she emerged from inside, a butterfly escaping its cocoon. Free.

Behind her, as the earth bound itself to her— giving her what she wanted; what she needed; what it wanted her to have— ivy climbed the walls of the house. It wove itself around pipes and wooden beams, collected around window frames, shrouded the porch and circled the length of the chimney. Below, the snow began to melt, leaving glistening puddles that fed themselves into the dirt, and with it, the yellowed grass turned a bright, vivid green. Flowers sprouted up from the earth and the trees grew heavy with leaves and needles and one, in particular, with bright red apples. Life had returned to the world around her; to her, from her.

And for the first time, Bonnie turned a proud smile toward the crow that watched from above, letting it join this moment, acknowledging that it was there, bearing witness to her escape from the chrysalis that was her self-sacrificing prison.

…

By the last day, the house could no longer be seen except for the windows and door and a clear path leading down the porch and stairs. The snow didn't return, leaving the ground a mossy green. Grass prickled the backs of her legs while the sun warmed her bare skin.

Bonnie sat in the yard, her legs folded beneath the short, layered skirt of a dress she'd shorn to fit her and her needs. She placed her hands on the ground and let the tips of her fingers dig into the dirt. The ground beneath her hummed; power climbed up through the soil; dripped from the sap of the trees; bloomed from the seeds of the earth; and gave itself to her.

For a moment, filled with the potent taste of earthy power, she was blessed. Free of the pain of her past, the abandonment of friends and family, the unrequited love of a man who'd sooner sacrifice her than save her, she felt whole. Here, she reconnected with the oft-forgotten part of herself. Her roots. Her love of nature and life.

A part of her didn't want to leave it, didn't want to disconnect from the life force she felt threading through her veins. But it was time. She'd found her healing. The strength that had carried her family through the ages, that had kept her alive when everything around her demanded her death, welled deep inside her once more. There was still anger simmering low in her belly, a cold bitterness that would take time to overcome, but for now, she would use it to get what she wanted. Retribution.

And so, she gathered her things into a leather satchel. The many papers with the Bennett spells scrawled across it, and a few more with the collected work of the heretics, a tin of her favorite tea, and the ascendant. She dressed in the clothes she'd arrived in and made her way out of the rickety house that was now held steady with overlapping vines of thick ivy.

She crossed the grassy yard toward the woods, each step filled with resolve. Behind her, with a whine, the house was consumed whole by the ivy. Wood splintering and glass shattering, it fell apart under the pressure. The closer she got to the field she arrived in, the more the world around her seemed to shudder and split. Trees pulled themselves up by the roots, teetering to and fro before falling over, stacked atop each other.

Bonnie stood in the center of the field she'd arrived in, digging the ascendant out from her bag to rest in her palm. As the Aurora Borealis consumed the sky, everything around it turned black, like an all-consuming ink, it covered everything near and far, until there was nothing but her and the streaking colors waving before her.

Taking a deep breath, she began the incantation, and felt her power, greater and deeper than ever before, reach out and latch itself onto reality. And just as light burst from the sky and she felt the prison world around her dissipate into nothing, the ascendant turning to dust in her hand, she felt a fluttering at her ear. Turning her head, she was met with the intent stare of the crow, its feet curled into her shoulder.

Rather than shoo it away, she nodded. "Let's go home."

…

Truth be told, Bonnie wasn't expecting to find the heretics at the Boarding house. She'd only returned for Miss Cuddles and her grimoire, sneaking in from the woods to climb the back stairs and search out both in Damon's bedroom. However, as she returned to the main floor, intent on slipping away unseen, instead she found her small collection of (former) friends battling it out with Lily's witchpires while Damon and —was that Lucy?— attempted to use an ascendant.

"Is this about your little witch?" Lily scoffed, her laugh musical and dismissive. "I gave you a choice, did I not? I deserve credit for that, at least."

Bonnie would like to say she'd gained some perspective in 1903. That she'd regained the patience she swore she'd once had in great reserve. But if she were being honest, it was quickly blotted out by her all-consuming hatred for Lily Salvatore. Which was exactly what she would blame for blowing up her own plans of moving under the radar until the right time presented itself.

"You don't get credit for what you don't finish," Bonnie interrupted, a hand on her hip.

The room stilled suddenly, and everyone turned in tandem to look at her.

Damon's brow furrowed as he set eyes on her, his mouth agape. Voice hoarse, he choked out, "Bonnie?"

She cast him a dismissive glance before returning her attention to Lily. "You and I have unfinished business."

Lily pivoted gracefully to face her, eyes turning a bloody black and teeth lengthening with glee. "Indeed we do."

Before she could attack, Bonnie thrust her arm forward and made a sweeping gesture. With a surprised cry, the heretics were suddenly yanked off their feet and tossed sideways, thrown through the front window of the house to crash across the ground in a glass-covered heap.

A snarling Lily looked back to Bonnie, eager for a fight.

Bonnie felt a tremble run through her body; not of fear, not even of warning. It was complete and utter anticipation.

Before she could attack, however, Damon was moving. With one arm around Lucy, he raced past his mother, hooked his other arm around Bonnie's waist, and pulled her along too. In a matter of seconds, they were standing deep inside the dark woods, far out of sight.

Bonnie's lungs seized at the rushing air around them, leaving her out of breath when they came to a stop. Nails digging into his arm, she wrenched it off her person and stumbled out of his reach. Twisting around, she pointed at her cousin, rage coiling up like a spitting fire in her belly. "What the hell is Lucy doing here, Damon? Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is? And you brought my one remaining family member right into the line of fire!?"

Damon blinked at her. "You think I brought her here because I enjoy her witchy commentary? No. I brought her here for you! To save you! To— To bring you back." He walked toward her, his wide, blue eyes searching her face, hands outstretched.

She stumbled back, glaring at him warningly.

He gnashed his teeth, but stopped, holding his ground, and let his hands fall to his sides. "I saw Enzo kill you…"

It wasn't a question, but a statement, and there was something in his eyes as he stared at her, a furrow to his brows. Like he wasn't quite sure she was really there, wasn't sure she was real. He snuck a glance at Lucy and then back to her, as if to make sure they were looking at the same thing.

Bonnie pursed her lips. She turned her gaze away from him, back toward where they came from. "We don't have time for this. Your mother and her gang of heretics are destroying the town…"

"Don't have time?" His eyes narrowed suddenly and he marched in her direction. A muscle ticked in his cheek when she continued to move away from him.

It wasn't fear that motivated her, not of him, not exactly. It was more for that feeling in her belly, that anger that had built up in her stomach, eager to lash out. The power she'd been gifted from the prison world was inside her; she could feel it swimming in her veins. It wasn't like Expression; it wasn't cold and dark and consuming like that. It was freeing. It was like spring rain; like cool earth on her bare toes; the smell of the trees as she walked through the woods; dew drops on grass. It was a direct link to nature, and it was strong.

So no, she didn't trust him. She wanted to hate him a thousand times more than she ever loved him. And truthfully, he would deserve it. He would deserve every last bit of her power destroying every fiber of his being. But not now, not today. Today wasn't about him. She'd outed herself to Lily, to the heretics at her disposal, and she needed to deal with them first and foremost. It was her last hurrah, her final farewell, to Mystic Falls, her friends, and the circumstances that had been eating her alive since she was seventeen. Damon could wait.

"I just spent the last two weeks hunting your cousin down because I thought you were dead," he snarled, mouth trembling with—what? Anger? Confusion? Betrayal?

Planting her feet, she shouted, "And whose fault was that?"

He flinched, turning his gaze away, toward the treeline. "All right, I deserved that…"

She scoffed. "You deserve a lot more than that."

He grimaced, returning his gaze to her. "Look, I have a lot that I need to make up for, I know that… If you'll just give me a chance—"

Bonnie felt a lead weight settle in her stomach. Her expression went flat, icy and removed. "You had your chance. And you made your choice." Turning on her heel, she walked to Lucy. "That's over now. There's nothing left to say."

"There's a lot to say," he argued, pivoting to follow her. "I know what I did, and I know that you probably can't forgive me for that—"

"Probably?" She laughed, high and incredulous. "You let me die. You basically told me to."

His shoulders slumped as he shook his head. "I didn't mean it. I didn't…" He blinked quickly as a sheen of tears clouded his eyes.

Her mouth twisted up and she looked away. She wouldn't be tricked by him, into caring, into believing there was anything inside him that missed her, cared about her, even loved her… She'd deluded herself into thinking that once before, and it only ended in betrayal, in her slit throat.

"Bonnie, please. I was confused. It was all happening so quickly and I just—"

She whirled around to face him. "So what? I'm supposed to just accept that when you're put on the spot, you'll sacrifice me?" She stared at him searchingly. "You were supposed to be my best friend."

"I am!" he cried, throwing his arms out wide. "And you're mine!"

"No. You aren't. You never were. Just like always, I was a means to an end with you. And when it was time for you to prove that you cared, that even a small part of you could put me first, you didn't." She swallowed tightly and closed her expression off, hiding the hurt behind a shroud of indifference. "We aren't friends. We aren't anything." Taking Lucy's wrist, she turned then, walking toward the trees.

"Bonnie… Bonnie, please!"

She bit the inside of her cheek when her heart quivered in reply, but she refused to answer, refused to look back. She just gripped Miss Cuddles' paw a little tighter, and she left him behind.

…

"Where are we going?" Lucy wondered. They'd been walking through the woods for a good hour, and she was beginning to think they were lost. It was so dark, she could barely make anything out, stumbling over bushes and branches alike. Bonnie didn't seem to have any problem, though. Strangely, it seemed like the woods were moving and adapting to every step Bonnie took. Even more strange was that every time she looked up, there was a crow, perched on the branch of a tree, watching. Call her paranoid, but she thought it might be the same crow every time, even though it never seemed to move…

"We're going to find you a car and get you out of here." Bonnie didn't look concerned, as if she'd walked the woods so many times that she knew them like the back of her hand. "It's not safe here, you shouldn't have come."

"Yeah, well, when your only surviving family member kicks the bucket and gets thrown into a prison world, you do what you can to help…" Lucy shrugged. "I wasn't here to fight the heretics. I might've offered, but I don't think Damon's plan went much beyond getting you back."

"Yeah." She scoffed. "Cleaning up his messes is something I'm more than used to. Sorry you had to get dragged into it."

Lucy hummed, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "Listen, can I just say something real quick? I might have it completely wrong, and I might be crossing some lines here, so feel free to tell me to shut up, okay?"

Bonnie hummed, and Lucy took it as a sign to continue.

"I just got finished riding shot gun with that hot mess and he's definitely missing more than a few screws. I'm pretty sure he was hallucinating for a while when he first picked me up – and shoved me in the damn trunk – but besides that… If there's one thing I am sure of, it's that the idiot I just spent the longest 36 hours of my life with is depressed as hell and completely in love with you." She raised her hands defensively. "I'm not saying that makes up for anything. I only have part of the story. And if I know anything, being hurt by someone you love only makes it that much worse. But I am saying that the only reason I signed up for this suicide mission was because he was so desperate to get you back, I half-believed he'd sacrifice his own ass so you could live. We're talking resurrection magic, Bonnie. That's not child's play."

Bonnie shook her head. "You don't know Damon, or our history."

"No, I don't. I just know what I've seen, and that's a devastated man trying to get his best friend back. At the cost of anything and everything around him. He was a mess. He started cussing out everyone back at that house, telling them they didn't appreciate you or deserve you. I just about started making popcorn. He was serving everybody a platter of their receipts."

Bonnie frowned. "Everyone?"

"That doppelgänger friend of yours tried to talk him down, but she only seemed to get him angrier. I'm telling you, his only mission was getting you back. He was ready to let the whole town burn around us, just as long as we got you out of there… Speaking of, how'd you get back?"

"I'm a Bennett. We're resourceful."

Lucy snorted. "Ain't that the truth…" She glanced back over her shoulder, and then over to Bonnie. "You know he's following us, right?"

"Yeah," she muttered, and quickened her steps, as if she could speed-walk away from a vampire and it would make any difference.

With a sigh, Lucy kept pace beside her, and tried not to look up, where the eerie stare of a crow followed them wherever they went.

…

"You're going the wrong way," Damon called out from behind them.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not, and nobody asked you."

"Fine. But Lucy drove to town with me, and my car is back at the boarding house. So is yours, as a matter of fact."

"He's not wrong. He kidnapped me a few states over," Lucy told her.

Bonnie turned a glare back at him.

"Temporarily. It's not a kidnapping after she agrees to come along. And as far as trunks go, I think mine's pretty cushy!" he defended.

"Whatever." To Lucy, she said, "If we keep going this way, it'll lead to the school. There's bound to be a car near there that we can hotwire and get you out of town in."

"Look at you, hotwiring cars, saving yourself from prison worlds…" Damon needled. "Care to explain how you learned to do either?"

"Not particularly." She ground her teeth. "You can leave anytime. You aren't needed here."

"You wound me, Bon-Bon."

Whirling around, she spat, "Don't— call me that."

He stared at her, searching her face, and for the first time since she'd gotten back, she took a real hard look at him. He looked… tired. His face was slimmer, hollow in a way she'd never seen before. While he'd clearly showered and shaved, he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. There was a part of her, buried deep, deep down, that still felt a little worried for him. A much larger part, however, did not. "You look like shit."

"That happens when your best friend is killed in front of you and you spend the next two weeks looking for a way to bring her back only to find out she wasn't dead in the first place." His face curled with anger, but it fled as quickly as it flared, replaced with defeat. "How? Just tell me how. I— I saw Enzo, I saw the knife…" His gaze fell to her throat, and he reached forward, fingers outstretched, to touch the scar she left visible.

She slapped his hand away from her. "Lily left me to die in the snow, Enzo decided to play hero. He fed me his blood and I healed. He told me I had a choice. Live, die, fight, surrender, whatever the hell I want. So I made one."

"You chose to live, and come back here."

"I chose revenge. I don't care if she's your mother, Damon. My last gift to this godforsaken town is to make sure Lily doesn't destroy it and everyone still living here. I'm taking her out, her and her heretics. And then I'm getting the hell out of here, and never looking back."

He nodded, his mouth upturned faintly at the corners. "Not a bad plan. A little vague, but I'm sure I can help fill in some details."

She shook her head. "No. I'm doing this myself." With that, she turned on her heel to walk away.

Sighing, he followed after her. "Bonnie, come on… This isn't just any old bad guy. These heretics are bad news. You're going to need help."

"You don't know what I can do. You have no idea…"

"As someone who's had a front-row seat to your best and worst magical moments, I know a little."

Bonnie pursed her lips, unwilling to answer him, continuing to tramp through the woods.

Damon followed behind her, wielding a stick to absently bat at branches and poke at bushes. "Will you let me apologize? Please."

"For what? For doing exactly what you always do? For choosing Elena? For sacrificing me? For practically begging me to die so she would live?"

He swallowed tightly, his face drawn. "I made a mistake…" His voice caught. "I wasn't thinking. I panicked. I— I never meant to lose you, or hurt you. I just—"

"You just decided it was worth it. That Elena's life outweighed mine. Like it always does." She turned around, and took a step toward him, pointing angrily. He didn't step back, instead letting her stab her finger at his chest. "I told you— I confided in you— How hard it was, how lost I was, how desperately I wanted someone to tell me I didn't have to sacrifice myself anymore. And you looked me in the eye and told me you wouldn't do it again. You wouldn't push me over that edge. But you did."

His face screwed up, eyes damp. "Bonnie, please…"

"You were supposed to be my friend." She pressed a hand to her stomach. "You were supposed to care…"

"I do." His mouth trembled. "I do. I just— I do stupid things. I— I don't think them through. I just— react."

"So that's it? That's your excuse?  'Sorry, Bonnie, but my first instinct is to throw you away.'" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head. "That's not friendship, Damon!"

"I was wrong. I'm an idiot. I don't know how to prove it to you. But I won't make the same mistake again, I won't."

"How am I supposed to believe you?"

"I don't know. Time? You let me prove it to you?" He reached for her, hands sliding over her shoulder, squeezing. "I'm not the same guy that was standing in that room. And I know you have no reason to believe me. You should hate me. I deserve it. But I knew as soon as you walked away, as soon as I lost you, I knew I made the wrong choice…"

Bonnie stepped back, out of reach. "It doesn't matter. I didn't come back here to hear your apologies. I came back to stop Lily, and that's all that matters."

"That's not all that matters! You matter!" He was in front of her so quickly, she hardly saw him move, his hands wrapped around her neck, thumbs brushing against her puckered scar. "If you want to kill Lily, fine. I'll help you and dig their graves after." His face turned sharp with determination. "But at some point, we need to talk. Not because you need to forgive me. I'll understand if you don't. But I need you to know that if I had to make the choice again, I would do it right this time. And that's not about you forgiving me, it's about you knowing that your life is worth a hell of a lot more than we've let you think."

Bonnie stared up at her, her brow furrowed. She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure there was anything to say. So instead, she tugged at his arms, pulling them down until his hands released her neck. "Which way gets us close to Grams' house?" she asked.

He pivoted on his heel and pointed. "That way…" He eyed her. "It'd be quicker if you just let me take you."

"We'll walk," she decided firmly, and turned to walk in the direction he pointed.

"Fine." He stood a little taller, as stubborn as ever. "But get used to having a shadow, 'cause I'm not going anywhere."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, but didn't spare the time to argue. It was useless. He'd made up his mind and there was no changing it.

In the end, it didn't matter. Soon enough, Lily and her heretics would be nothing more than a bad memory. And she would be on the road, headed far, far away, never to set eyes on Mystic Falls or Damon Salvatore again.