I'm not the one who wants to hurt you

- "I'm Not the One" by 3!OH!3

"Why am I carrying the shovel?"

"Because I'm busy reading the names on the gravestones, whiny. What, did your witch ancestors not give you the power to carry a measly shovel?"

"Watch it, Damon, or I'll knock you into one of these holes."

"Go ahead. Try."

"You really want to test me?"

"Your bark is worse than your bite, Bonnie."

They had been going at it like this since they had left the car at the dirt road, trekking through the forest to reach an abandoned gravesite. Supposedly, Stefan had heard a rumor that the Grimoire of an influential witch was buried with her dead body in this area, and Bonnie wanted to at least attempt to find it. Any new spells were important ones.

"If I knew you were just going to make fun of me this whole time, I would have waited for Stefan to get back," Bonnie said, making it a point to walk just a step ahead of Damon now.

"If I had known you would've been so sensitive, I wouldn't have pretended Stefan was over at Elena's," Damon shot back, looking over to Bonnie to gauge her reaction.

Her head whipped to him, but the distraction made her trip. Luckily, she caught herself by grabbing onto a headstone. Damon stopped walking to face her.

"What? You lied?"

"Yeah, that's so out of character for me, isn't it?" Damon said, sarcasm almost dripping from his smirk.

"I don't believe it. Why would you volunteer for this?" she asked, genuinely dumbfounded. Damon shrugged, his nonchalance only irritating her further.

"Dunno. Seemed like fun."

"Digging up graves sounded like fun to you?"

"Almost as much fun as bothering my favorite witch," he said, gesturing to her. Confused and annoyed, Bonnie began to walk forward again, shaking her head. She hated it when Damon's motives were unclear to her.

"Whatever. I would have preferred Stefan," she said. There was a pause, wherein all Bonnie heard was the snapping of twigs and crackling of leaves beneath her feet.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one," came the bitter reply from behind her, and Bonnie stopped. She closed her eyes, regret seeping into her heart without her consent.

"Damon-…"

"It's over here," he said, emotionlessly, and took the lead. Bonnie watched him for a moment, sighing.

It's fine, she told herself, following. Don't feel sorry for him. He hardly has any sympathy for anyone besides himself, anyway. Don't feel bad. He's fine.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, only the occasional caw of a crow or the rustlings of a breeze disturbing the quiet. She tried to tread carefully, to avoid stepping directly on graves, but it was difficult to do in the waning sunlight.

She nearly ran into Damon, who stopped abruptly.

"This is it," he said, turning to the side so she could see it. It seemed inconspicuous enough, the ground having been left alone for quite some time, for weeds and flowers were growing around it. The gravestone was carved out of ancient marble, and the top was pointed and had flowing lines etched along the edges, framing the inscription.

It read:

R.I.P.
Lynn Dahlia

1762-1786

"Stefan said the grave was marked under a false name and dates, because the witch didn't want anyone to find her and her Grimoire," Bonnie mentioned, crouching to give close inspection, using the shovel for balance. "Supposedly, she lived for 60 years thanks to her magic."

"That's a great story," Damon quipped sarcastically from above her. "But can we move this along? I don't want to stick around for an old witch's curse to get me."

Bonnie closed her eyes, laying her palm flat on the center of the slightly raised ground. Reaching out mentally, she felt out the area, using her magic as a radar for other spells. This technique made it seem like she could see through her eyelids, and it was similar to using a heat sensor- if there was a place with a concentration of magic, it would appear as a glob of vibrant, squirming colors in comparison to the rest of the static, dark environment.

But there was nothing. The world was nothing but black and motionless.

She opened her eyes.

"No witch curses here," she told him, then laid the shovel down and positioned herself so she was on her knees.

"What are you doing?" Damon asked, and Bonnie felt a flare of irritation. His demeaning tone was the one he used to use with everyone, back in the beginning, and she knew he was using it because he still resented her earlier comment. She resisted the urge to snap back.

"Paying my respects," she said, clasping her hands together. She heard Damon sigh impatiently, but she tried to ignore it.

I deeply apologize for disturbing your eternal rest, she thought, imagining her words channeling to the coffin below. I only hope you can understand my plight as a witch in this age, in this town. There is much danger here, and it is my moral duty to protect all the innocents here. Please, forgive me for this discretion and know that I want to use your work only for good.

She sat there for another moment, as if waiting for a response. When none came, predictably, she stood, picking up the shovel with her. Turning to Damon, she hesitantly pointed it toward the grave. "I can dig first, if you want…"

Wordlessly, Damon grabbed the shovel from her, moving to the other side of the grave to begin digging. He refused to even look at her, and her anger at his pouty behavior was only counteracted by the fact that she was, against her will, feeling pity for him.

Since the whole ordeal with Jeremy, she was all too familiar with the feeling of coming in second to someone better.

She let out a breath, trying to expel her inhibitions along with it.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, knowing that if she did not say it then, she never would. Damon did not so much as pause. "Listen, ok? I didn't mean it," she continued, in spite of herself. "I was just…annoyed. You have a knack for getting under my skin." Still no reaction from Damon, so she crossed her arms and kept going. "But that's no excuse. You came out here to help me, and I was ungrateful. I'm sorry."

Damon shrugged, heaving a large chuck of dirt over his shoulder.

"I'm used to it by now," he said, and Bonnie wanted to be infuriated at him for how difficult he was making this apology, but she understood. If she had felt so devastated from Jeremy's rejection, she could not imagine how much it must have hurt to have it happen twice in a row with Elena and Katherine. How much it must have destroyed his heart. After that, any form of preference of Stefan over him must feel like a slap to the face.

"No, I mean it," Bonnie persisted, kneeling again so she was more on his level. "Believe it or not, I prefer your company most of the time. Stefan is comfortable to be around, but you…you keep me on my toes, to put it mildly," she said, smiling and cocking her head, trying to get him to look at her. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw a smirk. "And I like it that way. You challenge people, Damon, make them think about what's keeping them going. It's easy to say that you would die for the ones you love, but I realized that I would. I would do more than that. Stefan didn't teach me that. You did. Sometimes not through the best teaching methods," she remarked, and this time she did see his grin, "but it still counts."

Damon stopped his progress, sticking the shovel in the shifted soil and leaned his elbow on the top, looking up at her.

"You certainly know how to make a vampire blush," he said, smirking, then became serious. "But…thanks. No one's ever said that to me before."

The sad truth of that sunk in, resulting in Damon averting his eyes and resuming digging. Bonnie frowned, wondering what she would feel like if she spent over 100 years feeling inadequate, to taste the promise of acceptance, only to have it snatched cruelly away, just as before.

"Well, they should have. I should have," she corrected. "At the very least, you've come a long way from the jerk you used to be."

She waited, and smiled when she saw his expression.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to stop doing that aneurysm thing to me, then?"

"That's for when you start acting like a jerk again."

"Fair enough."

"Damon?"

"Yes, Bonnie?"

"Not to sound ungrateful again, but can't you use your super vampire speed or whatever to make this process easier?"

Damon paused mid-dig, glancing to her, the corner of his mouth curved upwards.

"But then we wouldn't have time for this lovely conversation," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She hugged her knees to her chest, giving him a look to humor him, though she did not altogether believe that Damon was doing all of this just to spend some "quality time" with her.

The thought was just silly.

"So you set your school on fire?"

"Not on purpose!" she exclaimed, embarrassed at the way Damon had to stop shoveling just to laugh. "He started it!"

"He called you weird and threw your lunchbox into a garbage can, Bonnie. That hardly called for the forces of nature to wreak havoc on an elementary school."

"It's not my fault I couldn't control my powers at the time," Bonnie retorted defensively.

"Your grandmother explained this to you when you got older?"

"After she told me I was a witch, I asked her about the…unusual things that happen to me as a kid. Turns out, most of it was because I had power that I wasn't trained to control. Not for a lack of trying on Grams' part. She would always fight with my dad about telling me about my heritage, but he never let her." Her vision unfocused as images of her father shouting over the phone floated to mind.

"Join the club. My dad was never too thrilled with me, even when I wasn't a vampire," Damon said, the unresolved resentment still clear in his tone. "I was always the disappointment, and Stefan was always the perfect son."

"I was always the mess my father never wanted to deal with," Bonnie muttered, but she could not help but smile and shake her head in disbelief. "Who knew we would have this much in common?"

Damon grinned up at her. "See? Told you the conversation was lovely. And look," he said, gesturing. "I'm done."

Alarmed, Bonnie peered over the edge of the hole he had dug and saw that he was right- there was the exposed coffin, ready to be broken into. Time had passed so quickly, Bonnie had almost forgotten what their original purpose for being there was.

She tried to appear excited.

"Want me to help you?" she asked, pushing herself to her feet so she could prepare to jump down. Damon held up a hand.

"No, I got it. Wouldn't want you to get hit by a splinter," he said, half mocking, and Bonnie just glared at him good-naturedly. It was a genuine concern- she was sure Damon was going to open the casket none-too-gently, and shards of the wood could easily injure her. For good measure, she backed up from the opening.

The loud crunch of crumbling wood met her ears, and, as expected, pieces of the coffin went flying through the air. She waited for him to speak to come back by the edge.

"Mission accomplished," he said, and she saw him holding up the Grimoire. "You owe me for this one, Bennett."

"I thought this was supposed to be like a good deed for you? Something a friend does?"

"Please," he said, shaking his head and holding out the book for her to take. He was flashing her a playful smile. "We're not friends."

And, suddenly, he dropped the Grimoire. Bonnie gripped the corner of the ground.

"Damon? Damon, are you ok?"

She asked because he clearly was not.

His eyes widened as he collapsed into the dirt wall behind him, one hand scrambling to steady him and the other clutching his throat, which had several veins visible through the skin. Not bothering to ask again, Bonnie dropped down into the grave, despite frantic waving from Damon to dissuade that action. His mouth seemed glued shut, for he kept making guttural, humming sounds from beyond his lips. Wild and desperate, his eyes were trained on her, as if trying to send her a million messages at once.

She had missed a curse.

The part of the casket that they were standing on was not broken, so Bonnie was able to balance herself well in front of Damon. The first step was to find where the spell was gathering its strength. The obvious spot was the neck- Bonnie immediately put her hand there, only to rip it back just as quickly. Her hand was burning with pain. Heartbeats threatened to tear open her chest with their force, but she drowned them out. She had to focus on talking to Damon and trying to keep him alive.

"It's ok, it'll be ok, I got this," she repeated in hot breaths, his panicked stare making her pulse heighten even more. He seemed frozen to the wall, unable to move or breath or even blink. His hands were scratching at the soil behind him, like he was trying to bury himself to stop the agony.

She needed to get the spell out of his throat. She could feel it there, living and throbbing, trying to spread. Her magical pressure was slowing its progress, but she needed to expel it from his body. Now.

Spells often needed force or motion to enact their power. It was a way for the spell caster to sacrifice some of their physical energy to enact the magic. Bonnie knew the spell to remove toxic magic- like curses- from the body. It was hard to remember when Damon was suffocating right in front of her, but luckily, she had performed under stress before.

But. The motion. The force. She needed something to draw out the curse from his throat so it would unblock his airways. And since she could not touch his neck….

Don't think. Just act.

She grabbed his face, pulled him toward her, and kissed Damon.

With her mouth open.

Despite her assumption that his mouth had been sealed, his lips moved apart when hers pressed against them, and she sucked in. Hard.

It took two tries for it to work.

The spell slammed against the back of her esophagus with the force of a bowling ball barreling out of a cannon. Stumbling backward, Bonnie fell and hit her head against the opposite dirt wall, her vision suddenly blurry and her thoughts incoherent. Things were jumbled, and she felt very dizzy.

The last image she saw was Damon kneeling beside her, holding her head and saying something. Something important.

"Keep breathing!"

Keep breathing.

Keep…

I do not want to kill you.

All was black. All was nothing. It was as if she was in a dark room with her eyes closed, and she was thinking. Except that wasn't her own voice in her head.

It was Lynn's.

My name is Embra, the voice said. Lynn was my mother.

She sounded raspy with age, but there was never a quiver in her voice. It was strong and regal and deep. It was solid, like a boulder, and something about it felt just as immovable.

I'm Bonnie, she tried to respond, but her own voice sounded so weak in comparison. Softer. Quieter.

I know. I'm in your mind. I have access to all information here, Embra said, and Bonnie would have felt a chill had she been conscious in her body. You are from the Bennett line, an ancient and respectable family of witches. As I said, I do not want to kill you, Bonnie Bennett.

But…you're going to, Bonnie said, not angry, not scared, just matter-of-fact.

Yes.

Why?

Because you brought a vampire to defile my grave. Such an act is unforgiveable. Her tone was cold, distant, and Bonnie wondered if Embra purposely left the most apathetic part of her spirit behind, so it would protect her at all costs.

I meant no disrespect, Embra. I must continue my studies as a witch…

I have no aversion to helping witches who are on the side of the just and good. However, I will never help destruction. And that is all vampires reap.

A pause, and Bonnie knew the challenge. She had to go up against centuries of prejudice, stereotyping, vengeance, and miscommunication. She had to face the countless generations of witches who could not trust vampires. It was only her with the weight of doubt ready to crush her. Literally.

With all possible respect, Embra, you're wrong. I know this sounds crazy, but they are all not all bad. I think some witches- myself included- forget that all vampires were once humans. Every single one of them have bonds to their humanity. Some embrace it. Others don't. But that's how regular people do it, too. Some people commit horrible crimes because they reject their conscience, their humanity. Some people are monsters too. But some….some are good. The same goes for vampires. I know it doesn't seem like it, but he's one of them. He's one of the good ones.

I find this highly improbable. Just a moment ago, he decreed you not even friends.

Oh, that was a joke. We do that. That's…how close we are, I guess. We can tease each other and yell at each other and argue with each other, but that's because we know each other so well. It's hard to explain. We've just…come a long way. I hated him at first, just like you. I still hate him sometimes. But he's good now. I just know it. He's changed, I promise you. I don't know if you believe any of this…

There was a grave silence, and Bonnie wondered if this endless void of noiselessness would what death was like.

I do. came the reply, emerging from the quiet like a light at the end of a seemingly impenetrable fog. I see your memories of him.

Oh. Bonnie supposed that memories told more than she ever could say.

You did dislike him.

Yeah, I did.

But those feelings changed. Slowly.

It took forever for me to even trust him.

But now you do. You would trust him with you life.

…yes. I guess I do.

But you are also wrong, Bonnie Bennett.

If she could have felt it, her heart would have been anchored to her heels in dismay.

Embra…

He hasn't changed. His humanity had always been there. His motivations for letting it back into his life…that was what changed.

Oh…I guess I never thought of it that way.

I will spare your life.

A sudden declaration that returned her world to her. That statement meant everything but had been said with the levity of an observation of good weather. Bonnie did not know how to respond.

Oh my god, Embra, thank you…

It was partly because of your words. But mostly because of his.

Without giving Bonnie to even question that, a new voice came to her, but she could feel it outside of her body and reaching her ears. It was Damon.

You see, I told Damon I was going to kill him. That is what this spell is designed to do. To kill whatever malicious being is intruding. He correctly assumed that since the spell is in you now, I would attempt to kill you. He has been speaking to me this entire time. Now, listen to him, Bonnie.

So she did.

"…a lot of terrible things. Too many. And many of them involved Bonnie." Damon's voice rang clear and vibrant, full of its usual inflections and nuances. However, it had an edge, an indescribable tinge of fear and humbleness. He was frantic, but he knew had to get it controlled and keep making sense. Most of all, Bonnie noticed that this was Damon's raw, unfiltered truth. Not his smooth, charming eloquence that he used to get his way. This was pure, straight from his head to his mouth. Heartfelt and authentic.

"But do you know why I did all those horrible things? I'll tell you. Because I didn't have someone like Bonnie Bennett around to make me feel guilty as hell about it. Her most annoying habit is how she never lets me get away with anything. I mean, anything. I couldn't steal a pack of gum around this witch. Incredibly annoying. Incidentally, it was also incredibly helpful when it comes to me reconnecting with my humanity and all that crap."

Bonnie wanted to smile so badly.

"I used to think that changing into a better person for someone else was the right way to do it. I thought it was the only way to do it. But Bonnie proved me wrong. I tried it with Elena, but it didn't work. Something was wrong. Go figure- a relationship with Damon Salvatore not working out. Shocking. You wouldn't know about my girlfriend drama, but ask Bonnie. She'll tell you. Anyway, here's the difference between what Elena taught me and what Bonnie taught me- with Elena, I became who I wanted to be because I wanted to earn her love. With Bonnie, I became who I should be because I wanted to deserve her trust."

Damon took a moment to inhale, and Bonnie was grateful for the pause. This was a lot of honesty to take in. It was like being handed gift after gift on Christmas day and being expected to keep stacking them in your arms. It was lovely and thrilling, but overwhelming, and she just wanted a second to set down a few things to sort them out.

"The thing is- and if you tell her this, I'll deny it- Bonnie is one of the greatest people I've ever known. She's one hell of a witch, and an even better friend. I hope you realize that. I didn't, not for a while. Wish I had sooner."

"You should know that if you kill her, you may as well kill me and the entire town of Mystic Falls too. They wouldn't last two days without her to protect them. I understand that you're angry that I'm here, but if protecting the innocent is what you're trying to do, then keeping Bonnie Bennett alive is the greatest favor you could do for mankind. Trust me. If only one of us can live, it needs to be Bonnie, but she just had to save me because that's what she does. That's who she is. The witch with the annoying habit of trying to save everyone."

Vaguely, Bonnie felt herself gradually rising to consciousness, and she could sense something brushing her cheek, like a hand caressing a face.

"So, please don't punish her for being friends with me. It took everything to get her to trust me, to even like me. Don't kill her for putting her faith in the humanity left in me. This isn't her time. We still need her here. Even I do. …ok, especially me."

"On behalf of Mystic Falls and everyone in it, I'm asking you to spare her life, Embra. I'm probably not the person Bonnie would want to represent her at a time like this- she'd probably want Caroline or Elena or even Matt- but I hope you hear me. You need to."

Feeling had returned to her now. She could feel herself laying in her own body, sprawled against the wall with Damon's hand tangled in her hair, trying to keep her head up, and she could feel his presence to her left, leaning over her. It was still all black, but she knew she was there, just waiting to be woken up.

I hope you know, Bonnie, that only his words would have worked, Embra said, still echoing in her head. Somehow, Bonnie could almost imagine her now, like her voice had gradually putting pieces of her image into Bonnie's brain. The picture was fuzzy, but Embra looked tall, slender, with a maroon shawl covering her shoulders. Her face was angular with sharp cheekbones and thin lips that seemed to be always pulled into an austere expression. Black hair tumbled down her back like a messy, murky waterfall. Her eyes were green and narrow, like a cat's, and Bonnie knew those eyes were searching every inch of her soul for a sign of fault, of deceit.

Had one of your other friends come with you, I would have sensed the association with vampires upon you- their auras leave imprints on others- and killed you. They may have tried to persuade me otherwise, but I would have assumed they had been Compelled or tricked. Their testimony in your favor would have been in vain, for I know the blind loyalty of friendship can lead to bias. I know that very well. But this one, this Damon, he has no obligation to plead your case. In fact, his plans or decisions would be met with much less opposition were you not there. All the vampires I know would have left you to die and share this grave with me, Bonnie. But this one stayed. There is no ulterior motive for this. In fact, when I entered him and not you, he felt panic and anxiety, certainly, but he also felt relief. Relief for your safety. Seemingly, you live in a time where vampires are more in touch with their humanity than I ever experienced.

Bonnie knew she was on paper-thin ice, but she could not help to think-

I wonder if they always were capable of that humanity, but we never gave them a chance.

There was some hesitation before Embra replied, and Bonnie was horrified, trying to think of a way to retract her wandering thought.

I wonder, too. But we shall never know. We can only proceed based on what we know now. And I have decided that you must proceed. Your world astounds me, Bonnie Bennett. Never in a thousand centuries would I dream that a witch and a vampire could work together, trust each other. Never would I dream that a witch and a vampire would…

The flow of thought halted abruptly.

I shall return you to him, Bonnie. Do not disappoint me. Make this new world of yours prosper.

She opened her eyes, the eyelids heavy with something that felt like slumber. Damon came into focus. He looked half reassured and half concerned, and Bonnie struggled to find the strength to tell him that she was fine. Her throat felt like she had swallowed a handful of thorns.

"I'm alright," she said, coughing, and Damon moved to sit her more upright. "She let me go."

"Good," Damon said, and Bonnie was aware of him breathing very haggardly, either from his residual pain from the spell or his held breath over her wellbeing, she was not sure. She stared at him directly now, ecstasy at salvation coursing through her body. She was alive.

No matter how many times you almost die- and in her line of work, that was fairly often- the appreciation for life never dwindles. She took a deep, thankful breath.

"No curses, huh?" Damon teased, smiling. Instinctively, Bonnie glared at him, but her expression softened.

"Sorry about that...it was set to activate when the person robbing the grave went to leave with the Grimoire," Bonnie explained, letting her head rest in Damon's grip. It was comforting. "Magic has its own timing."

"Bad timing, if you ask me," he remarked, then became serious. "What did she tell you? "

Bonnie cast her gaze downward, almost sheepish about eavesdropping on Damon talking to Embra. Then she looked back up at him, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"I think she liked you," she said, and Damon quirked a brow skeptically. "I think…whatever you said to her, she believed you. She liked what you had to say about me."

Damon seemed uncomfortable, shifting his weight.

"Yeah, well, I just said whatever it would take. Don't think I was actually worried about you, witchy," he said, smirking. She rolled her eyes, not believing it for a moment.

"Uh huh. Why are you holding me like this, then? If you weren't worried?"

She smiled, challenging him to think of a clever reply, and he narrowed his eyes at her. In response, he placed the Grimoire on her lap.

"I knew I would eventually have to do this."

With that, Damon slid his other arm under Bonnie's legs, lifted her off the ground, and leapt out of the grave, landing lithely on the solid ground. It was a rush of motion, and Bonnie had to keep the Grimoire secure on her stomach. Damon began walking back in the direction of where they had left the truck, and the uneven ground made her hold his neck for balance.

"You're carrying me back?"

"Obviously. You just went through a traumatic experience with a powerful dead witch."

"So did you."

"Well, you can't carry me, can you?"

They smiled at each other, and it felt consoling and intimate, like an embrace. Bonnie leaned her head against his chest, grateful for his foresight, for she did feel weary. Maintaining a psychic connection was more arduous than she anticipated.

"Thank you," she murmured, "for not worrying."

She felt the rumble of a soft chuckle.

"Sure. I never worry about you."

"And you don't need me, either, right?" she said, and he readjusted his hold on her, so she had to tighten her grip on his neck. She smirked.

"Nope."

"And I'm not 'one hell of a witch?'"

"I told you, I just said those things-…"

"'One of the greatest people I know?'"

"Ok, ok. Enough of that, or I'll drop you off at the nearest open grave." She closed her eyes and imagined him smiling as he talked.

"Your bark is worse than your bite, Damon." She paused. "Thank you. Seriously."

"You're welcome, Bonnie. Any time." She thought the conversation was over, but he spoke up again, his voice slick with mischief. "Though you won't be thanking me when I tell everyone how you kissed me."

"That was to extract the spell from you, Damon."

"Sure it was."

"If you tell one soul about that..."

"What? You'll kiss me and put the curse back in me again? That's something I can suffer through."

"You just love being annoying, don't you?"

"Of course."

"I already regret saving your life."

"Sure you do. Now, get some rest, witch. We've got a long trip back."

Bonnie settled her head into a more comfortable position on his chest, eager to doze off. She slowly began to sink into slumber, and a brief reflection on the previous events drifted through her mind.

Despite their bickering, the facts of the matter were these- Damon had voluntarily come with her today, and she had willingly put her life in jeopardy to save him. Actions speak louder than words, she supposed. Their relationship was the proof for that.

All the same, she was definitely going to give him an aneurysm if he told anyone about the kiss.

Some habits are hard to break, after all.

END

Author's Note: Hello! This fanfic is part two of a two-part fanfic I wrote for Beepo123 on LJ. She suggested that I write about adventures between Bonnie and Damon (such as digging up graves and finding Grimoires). I REALLY had fun with this one. I had no idea what for the plot to be besides the digging up graves part, and then this hit me, and I was like, "OH. Hell yes!" And here we are. I really hope you guys like it as much as I liked writing it! These prompts were lovely and soo much fun to write. By the way, I wrote a heartfelt thank-you to all my reviews and readers in the other fic, Trial, so you should go read it because you're awesome and I love you for reading this in the first place.