9:05 P.M.
Fell's Church Cemetary
*I'm going to kill him.*
*And how will you do that Petite? He's got that whole 'preturnatural strength' thing on you.*
Bonnie pursed her lips at Aurora's logic as she shivered her way through the dark cemetary. Although she'd managed to convince her that she had to see Damon alone, Aurora had insisted upon maintaining constant psychic contact. Bonnie had given in easily, secretly glad for the reassuring accented voice in her mind.
*I don't care how strong he is,* she stubbornly continued, *he knows that we all hate this damn place. He's just trying to unnerve me.*
*Well, from what I've gathered,* Aurora's dry voice sounded mischievious. *He unnerves you with his very prescence.*
"No comments from the peanut gallery," Bonnie muttered to herself, while mentally turning her back on Aurora to show her annoyance. She was further displeased to hear the dark-haired vampire's rich laughter echoing in her head. She clenched her teeth and quickened her pace down the moonlit path to Elena's grave.
Firmly telling herself that she was not cold, Bonnie forgot about Aurora and slipped into her own memories. It was unavoidable in this place. As she glanced off to her right, she saw the path that led to Honoria Fell's tomb, and just as clearly saw a stoic group of seven marching toward it, determined to save the town, and ideally, maybe even the world.
Not even three years had gone by, but as far as Bonnie was concerned, it might as well have been a lifetime. The people who had gone down into that crypt were not the same people she had seen earlier today. She sighed and considered the changes she'd observed in her friends.
Alaric, although just as ready to study and analyze as he'd always been, now regarded everything with an outward edge of cynicism. . .as if he wanted to win, but knew that fighting was a moot point, as failure was an imminent occurance.
And Meredith, she was almost unrecognizable to Bonnie. The old Meredith had been calm, quiet, and determined--determined to fight and to win. The Meredith that had entered Bonnie's apartment that morning, had been just as calm, quiet, and determined as before, but for a different reason. Meredith no longer was determined to fight, she was determined to never have to fight again. She seemed eager to dispel any supernatural aspects surrounding Caroline's death so she could return to her "normal" life at Duke with Alaric.
Meredith wasn't the only one obsessed with normalcy. Bonnie had seen Matt almost everyday for the last two and a half years, yet she barely knew him. Even while they were dating, he strove to make her forget the things they had gone through, to make her move on and reach for that damned pickett fence life. She was almost relieved when he'd slept with that little blond bitch. . .what's her name.
"What is 'normal' anyway?" she asked herself. After living in Fell's Church for almost twenty years, blood and death seemed pretty normal to Bonnie. And although those things scared the hell out of her, she knew she didn't want to forget them. She wouldn't be who she was today without the experiences she'd had with Katherine and Klaus. She'd probably still be some little insignificant prep, wandering around in someone else's shadow.
Would that someone be Elena? Bonnie snorted. The former queen of Robert E. Lee High School had changed drastically since she'd last been in Fell's Church. She was no longer full of that light that had drawn everyone to her like a beacon in the night. Bonnie had followed her willingly, glad to be in her prescence. Now she seemed weak, and not fit to be leading anything. Bonnie no longer wanted to follow, but Elena's apparent defeat left her feeling unsure and a little scared. Could they win this time if Elena wasn't strong?
And what about Stefan? He too had lost all his fire and spirit. He was still inquisitive, she'd had a hell of a time sidetracking him that morning when he'd asked about the person in her dreams. But even his questions weren't as driven as they used to be. He seemed distracted, unsure of why he was there, lost without a mission. He and Elena were no longer fighting for each other. Or were they? Bonnie frowned as she recalled their interactions that morning. They'd said maybe two words to each other and had remained on opposite sides of the room the entire time they'd been in her apartment. Bonnie didn't understand. *We won. Shouldn't they be living 'happily ever after'?*
*Don't lose yourself in your thoughts, Petite. Be alert.*
Aurora's gentle chide jolted Bonnie out of her musings. She had reached Elena's grave, even while set on auto-pilot. Looking around brought no sign of Damon. She checked her watch. 9:10. *Damnit! He drags me out here in this cold and now he doesn't even have the grace to be on time!*
"On the contrary, I am the one who's been waiting for you."
Bonnie gasped and whirled to find Damon behind her, lounging against an oak tree.
She'd had a million things to say to him--insults to throw, accusations and burning questions, but they all left her mind the moment her eyes took him in completely. Her gaze unconciously travelled up his well-muscled frame--the all black attire, complete with seasoned leather jacket, and settled on his face. As with Stefan, Bonnie never grew tired of Damon's inhuman beauty. The aristocratic way he held his head, the classic roman nose, perfectly sculpted cheekbones, the cleft in the chin, the silky jet black hair, and those lips. God--she remembered those lips. . .soft and sensuous.
She could feel herself trembling, and mentally scolded herself. *Get it together McCullough!* She squared her shoulders and met Damon's gaze, all at once lost again in the midnight depths of his eyes. *How does he do that?!*
It occured to her that of all the people she'd had been to Hell and back with, Damon was the one who had changed the least. She sensed this, even though she knew next to nothing about him. Damon was a mystery, but a constant one, and this thought, though vaguely frightening, was oddly reassuring as well.
"As cliche as this is going to sound," he murmured with a trace of amusement in his voice. "It's good to see you again Bonnie."
Bonnie's eyes danced with mirth. "I can't say it's entirely unpleasant to see you again either Damon."
She was rewarded with a wry grin and unconciously wondered if it was the first time she'd ever seen him smile. Feeling encouraged, she asked quietly, "How've you been?"
He seemed taken aback by the question, as though no one had ever asked it to him before. "Me? I've been. . .busy."
Lost in wondering if "busy" meant taking in some Broadway shows or killing a few dozen people, Bonnie almost missed his following question.
"How are you?"
She couldn't have been more shocked by his inquiry if he'd made it while wearing tights and reciting Shakespeare. *Well, maybe the tights. . .* She couldn't recall Damon ever caring about how she was, or he'd never voiced it before. To hell with the graveyard unnerving her, this did it ten times quicker.
She felt a giggle escape her lips and coughed to cover it up. "I'm okay," she replied. Thoughts of Caroline made her add, "I've been better."
Giving an imperceptible nod, Damon's gaze held her's unwaveringly. "Why am I here Bonnie?"
She was relieved that the small talk was over. Death, chaos, destruction--these were familiar topics she could cover with Damon. She got right to the point. "You've been in my dreams."
His eyebrows rose. "Really? You know, you're not the only girl who has ever said that to me." His smile was intoxicating.
Bonnie blushed. "No--not like that."
*Not that you haven't considered it.*
Choosing to ignore Aurora's teasing remarks, she struggled to maintain her composure and continue her explanation. "It seemed like you in my dreams," she went on.
"Seemed?"
"Yeah." She discovered it was easier to talk to him if she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she concentrated on Elena's headstone, memorizing the details she already knew so well. "There is a man in the dreams, and he sets up this whole seduction scene. I never remember the previous dreams at the beginning. Then you-he-whoever begins talking about my powers and how he needs my help."
"And?" Damon's voice was level, emotionless.
Bonnie sighed. "And then I remember everything and I wake up."
Damon crossed his arms and took a few steps toward her. She backed up in response, almost unconciously. Damon observed this and stopped his approach. His eyes were hooded as he asked, "You're alone, aren't you?"
Again she marvelled at his incredible ability to fill her equally with fear and need in one sentence. "You know I am," she whispered. He didn't respond, and taking a chance she questioned, "Have you been sending me these dreams?"
The look on his face made her think he wanted to take credit for everything. . .the dreams, the murder, her mental anguish. So she wasn't surprised when he mocked her even in his denial. "You know I didn't."
She let out her breath and sagged against the headstone behind her. He was right--she knew he wasn't lying, and that she hadn't really ever thought it was him in the first place. What wasn't clear was how he knew her so well.
"What aren't you telling me, Bonnie?"
"What?"
"Why are these dreams so important? Why do you think they're prophetic?"
"Oh." No one had asked her that question yet. They'd all just assumed that her dreams meant doom and had gone from there. Of course her dreams were important--they had to be. Otherwise, she was losing her mind for nothing.
"Well?"
She glared at him. "Of course they're prophetic!"
His eyes glittered. "Oh, well, excuse me while I go call the Psychic Friends." Bonnie narrowed her eyes at his sarcasm and watched him stalk over to Elena's stone and sit on it unceremoniously.
"Fuck this," she murmured.
*Bonnie! We need his help! Tell him.*
*Can't I just hurt him instead?*
*Non, Petite. You cannot. And besides, you don't even really want to. You just want to throw a fit about something.*
"Hell!" she swore. She heard Damon chuckle.
"Aurora lecturing you?" he inquired cooly.
"If you'd quit being so damned belligerent, maybe I'd tell you something."
She knew he was a vampire and had witnessed his powers on several occasions, but the speed at which he crossed the space between them, overwhelmed her. She gaped up at him. *He's really angry at me.*
"And what makes you think I could care enough to listen to what you have to say?" he asked her sharply.
He had to smell her fear, she knew it was that strong, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "You're here, aren't you?"
For one instant, she thought he was going to kill her. Then, slowly, his posture began to relax and his eyes became unreadable again. He remained standing over her, reaching his arms down to rest on the stone on either side of her hips.
This was worse than the fear of death. Bonnie was acutely aware of just how close Damon's face was to her own. Numbly, she recalled the last time she'd been in this position. . .the helplessness she'd felt. Leave it to Damon to reduce the older, wiser Bonnie to the innocent girl she used to be.
"I'm here to get some answers," he growled. "Make no mistake cara mia, I am not looking to be a hero. Now, are you going to tell me the whole story or not?"
Everytime he spoke his lips barely grazed hers. Bonnie could feel her heart in her throat with each brief contact. Not trusting her voice, or another brush against his mouth, she nodded and was relieved when he took a step back.
"The man says something to me," she whispered. Not wanting to say the words, she projected them into his head.
"I am always with you?" Damon snorted. "How trite."
"I didn't think it had much significance until Caroline. . ." she broke off, feeling her lips begin to tremble. *No, I can't cry. Not now.* "There was a note found," she continued resolutely. "It had that same phrase on it."
Damon absorbed this information quietly. "And you never told Caroline of these dreams?"
"No. I've only been having them for a week, and I never really discussed my powers with Caroline." She was losing the battle with her emotions, and she cursed herself silently as a lone tear trickled down her cheek. Why did she have to do this in front of him? He already thought she was weak and pathetic anyway.
*I do not.*
Bonnie looked up quickly at his unspoken comment. He was holding out a hankerchief to her and looking uncomfortable. His eyes warned her not to push the subject, so she took the proffered cloth and blew her nose loudly.
"Thank you," she said quietly, attempting to give the hankerchief back.
Damon grimaced. "Keep it." He turned his eyes toward the path Bonnie had come on. "Aurora is worried about you," he stated. "Why did you block her out of your mind?"
Bonnie stood up and met his gaze squarely. "You were invading it. There wasn't enough room in there for both of you."
He let this pass. "Go back. I'll watch you until you reach her car. Tomorrow, I will come to your apartment."
She nodded. "What about the others?"
"Don't tell them I'm here."
"But Damon--"
The warning look he threw her stopped her in mid-sentence. "I just think we should all work together," she finished lamely.
He smirked. "Yes, and can you just picture the warm welcome I would receive?"
She started to reply, but he cut her off. "Go. I will come tomorrow."
Not wanting to press her luck, Bonnie turned and headed back the way she came. She knew he was behind her, but further knew she wouldn't be able to see him. She smiled.
*Some things never change.*
