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Bonnie walks up behind Damon, tentatively setting her hands on his shoulders. She can't quite bring herself to look at his face just yet. Spying the bottle she left in his keeping, she sees that it's been emptied. She takes the bottle from his unresisting fingers and places it back on the wet bar. Bending down, and opening the cabinet, she spies a full bottle which looks similar to what he's been drinking, uncaps it and walks over, handing it to him. He accepts the bottle and continues drinking, his eyes reading the fire as if all the secrets of the world are held in its dancing, fickle flames.

Grabbing her bag, she takes a seat beside him on the couch, drawing out her grimoire, hoping to find something to help ease him. After what seems like hours, she spots what she thinks may help him. Studying the simple spell, she figures that all of the ingredients can be found within the manor. Setting off in search of them, she settles another parting hand on his shoulder.

She finds white candles in the utility closet of the kitchen and salt in the cupboard. Heading back to the room where Damon is still sitting, she packs up her grimoire and sets her tools in her shoulder bag. After banking the fire, she removes the near-empty fifth of liquor from his hands, putting it away. Hefting her bag on one shoulder, she turns to him. Using a combination of her arms, legs and a bit of magic, she hoists him up with a grunt of, "Let's go upstairs."

Damon sighs, offering her no hindrance. They manage to make it to the top of the stairs. She looks at his stoic face. "Your room?" He lifts a hand, gesturing to a nearby door. She progresses to it and opens it, fumbles briefly for a light switch, illuminating the room. They lurch towards his bed on the far side of the room. Using one hand, she snatches back a black silken duvet cover, revealing luxurious black sheets. "Only you would sleep on two thousand dollar sheets from Frette, Damon," she says quietly underneath her breath.

Gently setting him and her bag on his bed, she helps him recline. She quickly removes his shoes, putting them under the bed. Standing, she leans over him and makes quick work of unbuckling his belt and removing it. She feels around for his personal effects, divesting him of his keys and wallet, setting them on the oak night table. She lifts his legs, swinging them under the sheets, covering him to his chest.

Taking a breather, she sits down wondering at the business which brings her into Damon's lair. Looking around, she appreciatively notes all the dark, heavy expensive furnishings. Tastefully appointed, yet utterly masculine, she feels ridiculously out of her depth by just being here. But that's not what I'm here for, she scolds herself.

Taking up the ingredients and book, she moves to an open space in the center of the room. Bonnie constructs a pentagram with the salt, setting the candles in the middle and lighting them. After writing on a piece of paper, she rolls it up, lights the paper with the fire from the candles and chants her supplication. As the paper is fully consumed, a warm gust of metaphysical wind blows out the fires of the candles and paper.

Taking a deep breath, she turns to look at Damon. He's eyeing her curiously, but then turns his attention back to the ceiling. Bonnie busies herself, dragging a chair from the other side of the room setting it beside the bed. She grabs a paperback from her bag and folds herself into the chair intending to read and keep a vigilant eye on her charge. Damon again looks at her. She can feel his look. He slides a searching hand across the bed towards her in an unspoken plea. Bonnie sets down her book, leans over and clasps his hand in hers, giving his a gentle squeeze. He turns his head back to the ceiling. They remain like this until Damon drifts into unconsciousness and Bonnie slips into a deep sleep.

A/N:That's a real spell, folks. I'd love to hear your thoughts.