A/N: I'm putting this out here as a test. This is a story I would love to develop because in my opinion I've yet to write a really good Bamon story. I've drawn inspiration from S1 Episode 22 (I think) where Damon thanks Bonnie for saving his life. If I do continue this it won't be following the show from that point to season 3. I like being as original as I can. So thanks guys in advance for stopping by and showing this WIP some love. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.
Everything in the world has a taste. From sugary sweet, toffee goodness, liquid delight, to sour bitterness, there was a taste for everything. Hatred was included on that list.
Bonnie Bennett mostly rolled hers around on her pink, spongy tongue as if it were tar whenever she had to talk to Damon, which was becoming an everyday occurrence. But she didn't want to think about Damon as she snapped pictures of Elena and Stefan standing proudly on the Ms. Mystic Falls float.
There were several things Damon loathed doing. One) Dealing with Stefan. Two) Watching Stefan make out with Elena as if he weren't standing in the room. Three) Apologizing even when he knew he screwed up. And four) Saying 'thank you' to someone who just saved his life.
Bearing those things in mind, as he walked through the crowd at the Founder's Day parade and waving his fingers at Elena and Stefan on the float all decked out in period clothing from the not-so-good days, a tingling sensation ran down Damon's spine and that only happened when he was around a witch.
Turning around he caught sight of Bonnie who had been in the midst of taking pictures of her best friend. They merely stared at one another waiting to see who would draw their gun first.
Bonnie didn't disappoint. "What do you want?" she asked with an almost accusatory tone in her voice.
Damon, arms folded over his chest wondered why he even felt compelled to give her an answer. He did anyways.
"Just watching the parade."
Bonnie stared at him blankly for a moment before turning to walk away.
"Hey, where you going?" he asked and almost wanted to question himself why he even cared. The farther away they stayed away from one another, the better off his life would be.
Bonnie stopped and turned back to face him. "Away from you," she responded.
Well, that one certainly didn't mince words. Damon approached and saw her stiffen.
"I want to say something to you," he confessed.
"Just leave me alone," Bonnie retorted lowly and with a hint of warning.
"Thank you," Damon blurted.
The green-eyed girl merely stared up at him unblinking.
Her silence propelled Damon forward, "The device Emily spelled could have killed me. You saved my life and I don't take that lightly so…thank you."
Very briefly Bonnie was at a loss for words. She never would have imagined Damon thanking her for anything—let alone saving his life.
"I did it for Elena," she confessed in lieu of saying "you're welcome".
He knew that but couldn't fight a sense of obligation to thank her.
"Thank you and I owe you one," Damon muttered humbly, for him. "Enjoy the parade," he added before walking away.
On the inside, Bonnie felt the world was going to end. Damon thanking anyone for anything was the recipe for a natural disaster.
Hours later, driving home that was Bonnie's one persistent thought. Staring up into Damon's ice-blue eyes and hearing the earnestness in his voice as he thanked her for saving his life. Her, a seventeen year old girl who until three months ago lived a complete and utterly boring existence. An existence punctuated with keg parties in the woods, and helping solve her friends relationship crises. She was being thanked by a centuries old vampire? Now Bonnie had evolved into the protector of her hometown with one best friend in love with a vampire, and the other determined to sleep her way through town.
People on the outside looking in wanted to give Bonnie slack because she didn't let Damon slide when he did something maniacal which just happened to be every other day. Their excuses were pitiable: he was good-looking, smoking hot with a pair of abs you could fry bacon on. He had eyes the color of a glacier, and hair as black as the sands of Hawaii's volcanic beaches. He couldn't possibly be held responsible for his heinous crimes against humanity.
So what? Bonnie wasn't bewitched by his fatal handsomeness. Hadn't fallen victim to his lethal charm. Hadn't even batted an eyelash when she heard he was about to be roasted alive in Grayson Gilbert's old doctor's office. Good riddance is what Bonnie thought mainly because Damon tried to kill her.
Almost being killed wasn't something she could just go to bed, wake up the next day, and say all is forgiven. If Elena and Stefan hadn't shown up when they did, Damon would have left her body there to rot and feed the animals. It struck her to know she meant so little to someone. Bonnie had never met anyone so cold before. That was the part of Damon she despised. The part of him that didn't give a crap.
Now she was learning not to give a crap either. Not when it came to his kind at least. She would do whatever was necessary to protect her town and the people she loved. If she'd have to sacrifice one to save the lives of many—she wouldn't hesitate.
Yet Bonnie ignored that small voice in the back of her head that asked her what separated her from vampires? If she was willing to sacrifice one life it would seem she was cut from the same cloth as them.
However, in her mind, vampires weren't people. They could put on a façade and act like they gave a damn about humanity. Yet at the end of the day one had to go back to what they ate.
Damon was an opportunistic leech, always had been and always would be. And he would put his agenda before anyone else's.
Bonnie deemed it her personal responsibility to watch him closely.
Nevertheless, she was still on the fence on how she felt about Stefan. Bonnie knew he'd do everything in his power to protect Elena, but…who would protect Stefan from himself?
Well, those were issues she'd have to deal with at a later date.
Out of nowhere, Bonnie slammed on the brakes, tires screeching along the asphalt. There was a man standing in middle of the road, his back to her. Breathing erratically, heart hammering in her chest, Bonnie merely gawked wondering if he was going to hustle to the other side of the street. A minute passed and the stranger made no move to move.
She honked her horn. If her town were the innocent place it used to be, Bonnie would have climbed out of her car to ask if he were all right. But she didn't trust anyone. Not anymore. Especially not strange men who stood in the middle of a two-lane road with sharp, blind curves.
Feeling her patience waning, Bonnie honked her horn again, holding it longer than necessary.
"Get out of the street!" she bellowed from the safety of her car. She wasn't overly worried about him hearing her. She simply wanted him to move so she could continue on her way home. It was getting dark.
She watched as the man, dressed in head-to-toe black slowly began to turn around. Bonnie held her breath. She wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe he was lost. Maybe he just had a car accident somewhere along the highway, bumped his head, and he was suffering with a concussion. Whatever the case may be, she just hoped he'd hurry it up.
When he faced her fully, her jaw dropped and Bonnie's anger spiked. She snatched off her seatbelt, and climbed out of the car.
"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Is this what you do? Stand in the middle of the street waiting for a concerned citizen to come along and ask to help you before you pounce?"
The man she was berating merely blinked at her with…obsidian eyes. Bonnie gasped sharply. What was wrong with his eyes?
"Damon?" she asked cautiously and gradually began to inch her way back into her car. Was he possessed by something? She watched Supernatural from time to time and black eyes was a symbol for demon possession.
Damon furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked at the girl. She knew him?
"How do you know my name?"
Bonnie laughed sardonically. "Why are you talking with a fake Italian accent? I get it your last name is Italian but this is overkill don't you think?"
In a flash he was standing before Bonnie, clasping her tightly by the arms. Her eyes flashed in one part anger the other part fear.
"How do you know my name?" he reiterated with a growl.
"Why are you playing this game like you don't know me? Fine, I'll bite. I'm Bonnie…Bonnie Bennett who not too long ago saved your ungrateful life," she glared at him trying her best not to be unnerved by his bottomless orbs.
Damon searched her face for any signs of recognition, but he didn't know this girl. But her name…her name was too similar to people he did know.
"This isn't making sense," Damon mumbled more to himself.
Bonnie huffed. "Yeah. Did you fall and bump your head? Drink some bad blood or something?"
Damon snapped to look at her face again. His veneer turned menacing. "You know what I am?"
She snorted. "Okay you know what? You need to let me go."
How was it that she knew him but he didn't know her from Adam? And how did she know his secret of all secrets?
Just then a car pulled up behind Bonnie's and its occupant blew his horn.
When Bonnie directed her gaze to the person, she had to blink.
"What the fu-," she trailed off and watched as…Damon rose from his convertible!
Her eyes widened when they flew back to the guy who was still holding her prisoner by the arms. Bonnie began to struggle against him which only prompted the Damon restraining her to tighten his hold on her.
"Bonnie, can you and your boyfriend get the hell out of the road?"
"This isn't possible," Bonnie intoned as she looked at the Damon in front of her with midnight eyes, and the Damon parked behind her vehicle with ice-blue eyes.
When Midnight-Eyed Damon looked over to Blue-Eyed Damon, their jaws collectively dropped. Midnight-Eyed Damon relinquished his hold on Bonnie who felt the blood zinging back down her arms and fingertips.
"The hell..?" both Damon's burst simultaneously.
Blue-eyed Damon Salvatore slammed his car door shut with enough force that it rocked his vehicle. He marched up to the imposter.
"Who the fuck are you?" he had to restrain himself from throwing his fist.
Midnight-eyed Damon stood to his full height, his face filled with rage. "Damon Salvatore! Who the hell are you?"
Damon placed his hand on his chest. "I'm Damon Salvatore."
Bonnie looked back and forth between them, mouth open like a fish. After what seemed like an absurdly long time, Bonnie laughed derisively before dropping to the driver's seat of her car. It was official. Mystic Falls was the Twilight Zone.
"Fates…destiny…Santa Claus you are so full of shit. It's bad enough there's one Damon Salvatore walking the planet, you have to drop another one right in my town."
Just as she was about to slam her car door shut and let them sort things out, Damon—the one she was used to dealing with—caught her door, preventing her from closing it.
"You're not going anywhere until you undo this mess."
New anger washed through Bonnie and she shot out of her vehicle. "Excuse me. I know you aren't trying to blame me for this," she nearly hissed.
"Well…what other explanation could there be? You did something to screw the alignment of the earth or whatever. Now fix it."
Bonnie snorted while her face contorted in anger. "Sorry but last I checked I wasn't your slave, Damon. You figure it out."
Just as Bonnie made another attempt to climb back into her car, she felt the rush of wind a second before the blaring horn of an oncoming 18-Wheeler was heading sharply around the curve.
Her life didn't exactly flash before her eyes. Bonnie had never been curious about how she would die; however, she never would have imagined she'd die in the middle of the street with two Damon Salvatore's. Oh, there were worst fates than this—Bonnie was sure, but this wasn't exactly how she pictured her last moment on earth to be.
On the inside she was already cringing against hearing the sound of metal crashing into metal, but that would be after she became the new hood ornament of the tractor trailer.
One of the Damon's grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her out of the road right in the nick of time as the tractor trailer went careening by. Bonnie had no idea which one it was as her back made contact with the ground, but she was cushioned against feeling the full effects of the blow. The wind was knocked out of her, and stars danced behind her eyelids.
Her heart beat furiously while her nostrils were simultaneously infiltrated with the smell of rubber and something manly.
She rolled a little and then peeled her eyes open cautiously when the sounds of the world rushed to her ears.
She wasn't dead. That was a huge relief yet she found herself in a rather peculiar position.
Damon—the dark eyed one—was currently lying chest to chest, hip to hip on top of her, cradling the back of her head in his large palm.
"I've got you, princess," he said.
There was too much blood rushing to Bonnie's skull. She could only nod like a mindless zombie.
"Okay," she breathed staring into his fathomless orbs.
She had never been this close to Damon before—only had the pleasure of looking at him from afar. His lips were as pink as a rose and curved cockily. His hair looked as soft as fur. There was a graceful slope to his nose, and his chin was square shaped with the absence of stubble. Thick eyebrows were lost under black hair that covered an unblemished forehead. But it was his eyes, like staring up into a night sky, eyes so black she could hardly distinguish his pupil framed by lashes that were sinfully long and thick that held Bonnie suspended, and made her feel boneless.
Her thoughts headed south as she became aware of the hardness of his body pressing along hers. Their legs were entwined, and Damon used his free hand to push errant strands of wavy hair off her forehead.
"You have a gash along your hairline. I thought I had cushioned the blow but I guess I didn't."
He spoke with a refinery she wasn't used to hearing from the brash Damon she knew.
Bonnie gulped. For some stupid reason she wanted to apologize because Midnight-Eyed Damon seemed so sincere that he hadn't been able to do more to protect her.
"I-I'm all right," she reassured him. Or at least she hoped she was.
In her peripheral eye she saw the other Damon approach and loom over them. His face annoyed and stern.
"Don't get too attached to him, princess because he ain't staying."
A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this piece but I mainly wrote it in response to some blogs I read about people giving Bonnie hell because she stood up to Damon for being the cold monster he was, and basically giving him a pass because of his hotness. I didn't get to watch the first season but I do watch clips here and there on YouTube so I got the gist of what went down. I wish the writers would have explored Bonnie's grief more or at least had her explain what she was feeling when she came back from wherever she was when Grams died. This piece I'm hoping to develop will give her that voice and I thought wouldn't it be fun to have Book Damon and TV Damon in the same story at the same time and will each compete for her heart, and how will the parallel between their personalities mesh with Bonnie's. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!