You guys, I wrote something! It is Bonnie/Damon, and could easily be read as gen if you are still pairing-skittish, but whatever! Finished a story!

the same source
by gale

SUMMARY: In which destruction of property does not negate a verbal agreement, no matter how old.

Bonnie’s had nightmares since she was a kid. That’s not surprising, everyone does, but hers have always been more vivid. Terrible things – shambling things in the woods, shapeless forms that leech onto you and won’t let go. Foxes that look like people with wicked-sharp teeth. Trees the size and shape of men, down to the anatomical correctness.


She used to keep a journal where she wrote them all down, as detailed as she could remember, but that stopped when her mom died. Stupid things in dreams didn’t seem as important when your waking life was just as bad.

Bonnie can’t always get to sleep right away. She still has nightmares, but these days she doesn’t remember them, and when she wakes up she goes to her window and sits on the sill, looking outside. When she leaves it open, she’s careful not to lean outside; it’d be too easy to just grab her arm and pull—

“That’s just asking for trouble.”

The voice is too close to her ear, too familiar. Bonnie shoves herself backwards, falling to the ground, and reaches out with whatever’s inside her to shove the window closed.

Damon pushes it back open with a stick. Nominally a stick; it’s more of a tree branch. “You forgot the latch,” he says, eyebrow raised, but doesn’t come any closer.

“Thank you,” Bonnie grits out, and gets up to fix that.

”Why do you hate me?”

She stops, one hand on the latch, and looks at him, incredulous. “What?

“Why do you hate me?” Damon asks again, leaning against the side of the house.

Bonnie looks at him for a minute, mouth working soundlessly. The question is so ridiculous she can’t believe he asked it. Is he kidding--

Well, no. It’s Damon.

“You kill people.”

”I killed people,” he corrects. “I’ve been a lot better about that recently. And before you get all high-and-mighty, Stefan killed people, too. He just looks more emo about it.”

She doesn’t say out loud that she doesn’t entirely trust Stefan, either. It’s too much like agreeing with him, which is the last thing she wants to do.

“You ate Mr. Tanner.”

He tilts his head. “I was irritated. That’s on Stefan, too.”

”You used Caroline as a snack bar!”

“And I tried to kill her,” Damon adds, helpfully. “Twice.” Bonnie stares at him again. ”What? I thought we were making a list of pros and cons.”

God help her, she’s pretty sure he is actually trying to be nice. Or whatever passes for nice with Damon, anyway.

“--Stefan. If he hadn’t locked me in the basement, I wouldn’t have been starving.” He makes a face. “I actually had to eat my bird. Can you believe that? I haven’t had bird since 1935. It’s all gamey.”

“You tried to kill me!” Bonnie shouts, and immediately ducks down in case someone heard. Damon doesn’t move, just smirks.

“No,” he says, “I tried to kill Emily. She happened to be in you at the time. In my defense, though, it’s not like you can really kill a ghost once it’s incorporeal again. The best you can do is banish i—“

”That’s not the point!”

“So what is?” God, he has the audacity to look bored.

”Why do you even care what I think about you?” Bonnie snaps. “Look, your crystal’s destroyed. I don’t know how to make another one, if that would even work, and if it did I wouldn’t do it. Anything you ‘owed us’—“ she does finger quotes “—is done, okay? Thank you for making sure we didn’t die of whooping cough or something, but now we’re done.” She stretches forward and goes to set the latch.

And she must stretch a *bit* too far forward, because Damon’s hand is around her wrist. Bonnie shouts and tries to jerk back, but – apparently – that doesn’t really work when the person who has hold of your wrist is a vampire.

“It’s not that easy,” Damon says. “See, I made a deal. And until the terms of that deal are concluded, I’m sort of…stuck here. With you.”

Bonnie just gapes at him.

”Well, not literally. I could leave town.” His expression is narrow and—furious, sort of, banked and waiting to flare up. “But if you were in danger, it’s—it’s a little like having a Lojack in your head, tugging you back.” He glares at her. “I don’t like it.”

”I’m not thrilled about it either,” Bonnie says. She can feel bones grinding in her wrist, but she’ll be damned if she lets it show on her face. “But since all this started when you came back to town, you could just leave. It’d stop. Poof! no more Bennett-sitting.”

“You’re. Not. Listening.” Damon leans in closer, their faces inches apart. “I don’t need this in the back of my head for the rest of my life. What I need is for you to find some way of fulfilling the terms of the original agreement.”

“If you think I’m letting your psycho ex-girlfriend and her minions out from under the town—“

Don’t call her that,” Damon says, lunging in closer.

And that’s when Bonnie grabs the stick long enough to smack Damon in the head with it and jerk her wrist free, falling back onto the ground.

He gapes at her, at least as startled as he was on Halloween, and Bonnie uses the split-second to reach out and shove the shutters closed, latching them shut. She lies on the carpet, just breathing.

So, okay. Moving things heavier than a feather: check.


Bonnie has a dream that night, which isn’t unusual. Maybe it’s a dream. It might be a memory, though if it is she doesn’t want to think about whose it is.

The town is burning. It’s Fell’s Church, Mystic Falls V.1.0, the one that existed before vampires showed up. She can see the smoke, even waves it away from her face, but she doesn’t cough. It’s really vivid, in the unreal way most dreams are.

A few feet away, deeper in Muir Woods, she can see Emily and Damon talking. They both look sooty; Emily looks desperate and furious, but Damon just looks desperate. Emily reaches out and points at Bonnie.

Bonnie’s heart stutters for a second, before she realizes she’s not pointing at her. There are two children a few feet behind her: a boy and a girl, both dressed in what Bonnie guesses were pajamas back in the day. They’re sooty, too, and serious; most kids Bonnie’s met would be screaming their heads off right now.

Emily takes something from around her neck and presses it into Damon’s hand. Bonnie doesn’t have to look to know what it is, just watches him slip it into his pocket and—then he’s there.

He looks pale from this close, pale and streaked with soot and gore. There’s no sign of Stefan, which surprises her more than it should.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Damon says to the children. He looks – exhausted, maybe, or beaten down; there’s no trace of a smirk, and he’s not even as bored as he should be.

“Is Mama coming with us?” the girl asks. If she’s surprised to see a strange pale man with blood on his shirt and face telling them to come with him, she doesn’t let it show.

“No.” Damon’s voice is brusque, but not cold. “I’m getting you out of here. Someplace safe.”

”Is Mama going to help Miss Katherine?” the boy asks.

Just for a second, Damon’s expression cracks. He is exhausted, Bonnie realizes; he’s new on his feet, like a kitten. He can’t be more than a day old, if the math is right. He’s new and he loves Katherine, as crazy and fucked-up as that is, and he’s sealing her away for a century-and-a-half to save her. Bonnie is starting to wonder if Katherine knew, or if he just did it.

She doesn’t feel sorry for them, exactly. Just—something. She really hopes it’s not sympathy. That’s two doors down from Stockholm Syndrome.

“Yes,” Damon says, “she is,” and holds out his hands. The children, still serious, each take one and let Damon lead them away – towards the river, she realizes. Away from the direction the fire’s spreading. Towards safety.

She watches him lead them off, solemn-eyed and hungry, and wonders whether or not this counts as a nightmare, too.

i don't know. i like bonnie/damon, i like the idea that he might be stuck acting as some kind of entirely unwilling batman, honor-bound to save the bennetts no matter HOW MUCH HE DOES NOT WANT TO, STEFAN, OKAY, DON'T YOU MAKE THAT EMO FACE AT ME.

(anyway it's basically sanctioned by lj smith, who is totes leading to a stefan/elena and bonnie/damon place in the books, which is why i heart her. that, and the bisexual healing pixies. and the incestuous kitsune. and the virus that makes people go slutty and self-mutilate--you know what? i love this shit for a bunch of reasons. i should do a separate post for that. Why You Should Read the Books, And No, I Am Not Making Any Of These Up [No, I KNOW].)


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