This will be Damon/Bonnie and Damon and Stefan bonding too. It takes place in season three after Stefan comes back to Mystic Falls but before he regained control of himself from Klaus.
There has been a complete lack of Damon/Bonnie interaction this season and I'm even more fed up than usual with Damon/Elena. That scene at Klaus' ball in Dangerous Liaisons is really what did it. Their 'relationship' seems to have become abusive on both sides now …
I posted a part of this a long time ago but had to delete it because it was during a time that I wasn't writing much. I'm fully back into writing now, however, and I hope I'll be able to update this one pretty quickly.
I don't own The Vampire Diaries
Everything hurt. That was the first thing he noticed when he regained consciousness. He lay on the hard floor for several minutes, disorientated before he managed to, with a groan; push himself up to his knees.
He sat back on his heels, opening his eyes for the first time only to slam them shut again when the light filtering through the window not far away pierced his skull and made his head pound. He brought one hand up to his head and opened his eyes slower, blinking until his vision cleared completely.
The room around him was completely unfamiliar. The place was large with nice furniture. A couch, a fireplace, a large window. Reaching for the wall, he braced a hand there before slowly lifting himself to his feet.
Confusion reigned, even as he glanced down at himself, at his hands. A heavy ring rested on one finger of his right hand and he was dressed all in black. Black button up shirt, black jeans, black boots.
He walked over to a mirror attached to the wall and leaned forward. Bright, sky blue eyes stared out at him under a mess of thick black hair. Turning away, he rested his back against the wall, reaching up to run his hand through that hair, until his fingers tangled in it.
He let himself slide to the floor again, knees drawn up to his chest, hands still on his head. And he tried desperately to remember how he had gotten into the room, tried to remember the face that had stared back at him in the mirror, tried to remember anything.
Panic began to invade his chest when he came up with nothing. It was all…blank. There was nothing there and the more he tried to pull something up from that blank space, the more his head hurt. He stopped when black began to invade the edges of his vision, searching his pockets instead.
He produced a cell phone after just a moment and quickly scrolled through the contacts saved in it, marveling for just a second that he remembered how to work the expensive looking phone but couldn't remember his own name.
He stared a moment at the list of names and almost, almost, threw the damn thing when they didn't bring up any memories. Instead, he brought up the last number dialed and pressed send before bringing it up to his ear. It rang three times before a soft, female voice answered.
An almost hysterical little laugh escaped him, the panic that he had been so far able to suppress rising up into his throat, making hard to speak, hard to breathe.
"Is that my name?" He managed.
"What's wrong?" An immediate note of concern entered her voice. The sudden sound of the front door slamming made him jump and forced him away from the conversation.
"I have to go," he said, hanging up before she could protest, whoever she was. He was still sitting in the same position when the person strolled into the room. He looked young, even younger than the guy he had seen in the mirror.
The stranger noticed him almost immediately. "What are you doing, Damon?" Contempt colored his voice.
Huh. So, apparently, he was Damon. Unfortunately, the name didn't sound familiar. It was just as foreign as the room he was in. He should get up, aware that he was huddled against the wall like a child but couldn't seem to get his legs to work.
The stranger drew closer. "Aw. What's wrong, brother? You get rejected again?" There was amusement in his voice then and his dark green eyes were hard as they stared down at him.
"Brother?" He asked, his own eyes wide and the confusion in them plain.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" The question came out flat and it didn't sound too much like the stranger cared what the answer was.
"I don't…" He shook his head and finally managed to force himself to stand. "Who are you?"
The stranger's eyes widened momentarily before, faster than he could react, he was slammed up against the wall, his head colliding painfully with it and then there were fingers wrapped around his throat, cutting off his airway.
"Is this another ploy?" Half irritation, half amusement.
"Stop," he choked out before the iron grip tightened and he couldn't breathe at all.
"Whatever you're playing at you can stop. It's not going to work." The green eyed stranger slammed him into the wall again, emphasizing his point and making stars burst in his vision.
The pressure on his throat was gone a second later and he found himself on the floor again, gasping. When he managed to lean back against the wall, the young man was kneeling before him, head cocked to the side, studying him.
Ignoring him for the moment, he reached around the back of his head. He grimaced when he touched the spot where his head had made contact with the wall and wasn't so surprised at the blood staining his fingertips when he brought his hand back.
A hand darted out, grabbing his wrist with the same grip that had been around his throat and then the stranger was staring at the blood on his hand too.
"You're not faking," he said flatly.
"You're a psycho," he said, half shocked, half angry. He tried to jerk away from the boy.
For just a moment, the dark green eyes staring down at him looked completely unsure. The boy seemed to pause, hesitate before, after a moment, his eyes went hard again and he laughed.
The boy was gone a second later, leaving him alone on the floor with the rising panic and a sense that the scene he had just been a part of was both familiar and not.
Bonnie walked warily into the boarding house, her gaze wondering in search of Stefan. She did not want to run into him, especially after what she had done. He was more unstable than ever as of late and, no matter how much he claimed not to care, she was sure he would want retribution if he knew.
When she made it into the parlor, she spotted the one she was really looking for. Damon was pushing himself to his feet while she stepped deeper into the room, studying him.
He spun to face her and she stopped short at the look on his face. His eyes were wide and, for the first time that she had ever seen, frightened. Despite herself, despite how much she had always hated him, she felt a stab of guilt at that look.
"Do I know you?" Tentative, unsure, afraid. All things Damon Salvatore had never been.
Bonnie grimaced and she said something that she had never felt the urge to say to him in the entire time she had known him.