A/N: And so it is the final chapter…

Act VIII Scene 8

Damon's crass question made Elena's blood boil.

He twirled Bonnie around and buried his face in her hair. Kissing her hair though wasn't his objective. No. It was the dip above her clavicle. One of her sensitive hot spots. Damon attacked, feasted, claimed.

Bonnie's response was immediate. A breathy gasp that was nearly inaudible but he heard because of how close together they were. For long seconds Damon didn't move. He ground his tongue in that spot which made Bonnie clutch his shirt at the waist.

Nothing could rival her taste. Blood was food and kept him alive and strong. But Bonnie was a food group of her own. Damon gathered a bare flap of skin between his teeth. She tensed and moaned; nails dug into him a bit and he smirked, kissing a trail along her small shoulder.

He was at her neck now, kissing a little harder. Bonnie subtly tilted her neck, offering him more. He flatted his tongue along her racing pulse, the salt of her skin too sublime for words. Bonnie squirmed in her shoes as heat pooled in her center and moistened her panties. The hairs on her arms rose as cool fingers barely skimmed her skin.

Damon kissed Bonnie full on the mouth eliciting twin groans from them both—his more guttural.

Like a voyeur Elena couldn't look away. Beyond feeling discomfort she was actually…shamefully her pussy was starting to throb. She was disgusted with herself.

The milk-faced Petrova watched Damon's tongue plunge over and over again slowly and languidly into Bonnie's welcoming mouth.

For Damon it had stopped being about causing a scene or making a point. He was a freak, carnal, loved the pleasures of the flesh to obscene levels he was constantly surprised he could function. Bonnie didn't help matters in that regard by tasting so gotdamn good it hurt. Anything she wanted of him he'd do it. If he died, no grave could hold his body down; he'd find some way to crawl home to her.

Damon broke the kiss and Bonnie sighed petulantly. Her face scrunched into such a cute frown he chuckled and placed teasing kisses along her jaw. Gently sweeping her hair aside, his teeth nipped, lips sucked, and meandered their way to the rounded curve of her shoulder.

"Going to stand there and watch?" Damon taunted, flicked his gaze to Elena. "See what I do to your friend every night?"

The doppelgänger inhaled sharply while her…soon to be ex-crush once again kissed his way back to Bonnie's upturned mouth.

Elena's jaw fell open as she saw Damon take Bonnie's right hand and slip it between their bodies making it no secret he was directing her to touch him. Cup him her palm, rub his stiffness. Her scowl intensified as she heard him groan.

It's been a while since he manifested himself like this…

A thin cloud of fog began encompassing the hall sneaking up like thistles and weeds pushing through hardened earth. Since it carried no smell, made not a sound, no one felt it coming. It hadn't been his intention to tap into his gift of creating fog. It was there now. Nothing he could do about it.

The first curl of fog snuck along her ankles. It roamed upwards, whispering across her calves. It wasn't until Bonnie looked down that she saw bands of fog coiling around her arms and hands like an embrace.

Bonnie remained still because she didn't feel threatened at all. In fact, she felt a rush like stepping your toes into a cool brook, the iciness licking up your nerves. The fog slithered between her fingers, between her legs, engulfed her completely. Her head fell back. She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut under the torrent.

Bonnie was turned, her back once more to Damon's front. He was hot and thick pressed right there at the cleft of her ass. If she bent just right he'd slide into her wet passage.

Damon felt the horny witch wavering, weakening, crumbling.

"What are you doing to me?" she moaned lowly.

"Making you mine," Damon wrapped a hand around his cock, aimed it right for her hot, tight sheath. He looked up one final time. "Oh shit."

Damon's game to incite jealousy in a particular doppelganger shifted to embarrassment as Mr. Hopkins, Bonnie's father, rounded the corner and came to stand a little beside Elena.

The fog dispersed.

Quickly yanking his hands from unseen places and zipping his pants, Damon chuckled wanly at the sound of Bonnie's grunt of disappointment.

"Babe, we have incoming."

"Hun?" she was still too drowsy to take in the fact they were in public. Her back arched more as her voluptuous booty sought out Damon's engorged cock.

Damon gripped her hips to keep her still, "Your dad's here."

"What?" Bonnie squeaked and fumbled with her skirt, heart hammering for a totally different reason. Her cheeks were hot, and eyes were brightened with shame. It never even crossed her mind she might run into her dad, because if he was in town when an event was happening he stayed at home like a recluse.

The nonplussed witch inclined on her toes as she searched for her father, and spotted him talking briefly to Elena. Bonnie blinked once it clicked in her head that Elena may have possibly seen them, and with her enhanced senses probably smelled they had been an inch or two away from having sex. Bonnie flushed to her polished toes.

"Let's go say hi," Damon outstretched his arm.

"How 'bout you distract them while I find a bathroom."

Damon impeded Bonnie's escape by catching her wrist and tugging her after him. She tried to dig her heels in but it was no use.

"Damon…"

"Isn't it time that I've officially met the guy who donated his sperm to create you?"

"When you put it like that," Bonnie drawled sarcastically.

Again that was something else that hadn't crossed her mind. Introducing Damon to her dad. It was another rite of passage daughters usually went through when they found someone they genuinely loved and who treated them well and with respect. It wasn't that she never wanted the two most important men in her life to meet. Bonnie felt it was too soon. Things were so new with Damon she simply wanted to enjoy it a bit more before adding in the pressure and complexities of getting your parent involved in your love life.

Moreover, Rudy was aware she had been living with a man. Maybe on some rubric it entitled him to know who his child was bunking with. For security reasons at the very least.

Seeing the end as inevitable, Bonnie huffed and allowed Damon to plow through the crowd and come to a stop in front of her dad.

Rudy did a double take. His eyes stretched a bit but he recovered. His expression softened as he looked at Bonnie but hardened with distrust toward Damon. Father and daughter exchanged a hug.

"Dad, I….I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Damon Salvatore. Damon this is my dad, Rudy Hopkins."

Damon easily picked up on the fact Rudy thought he was a pedophile as they shook hands. Biologically he was frozen at twenty-five; Bonnie was eighteen which made that a six year age difference between them. Technically. If Rudy knew his true age, sure he could threaten to call the sheriff to have him thrown in jail. Damon smoothly wrapped an arm around Bonnie, intentionally placing his hand as low on her hip as he could get away with. That didn't get past Rudy whose frown deepened.

"Nice to meet you, sir," Damon said officiously, tickled by the unbridled hostility rolling off Rudy. "Can I tell you what a jewel you've raised in Bonnie?"

That sounded like a backhanded compliment to Rudy whose neck stiffened. It was no secret that he had been more of an absentee parent, a decision he was regretting each and every single day since Bonnie graduated high school and uprooted her life from Mystic Falls to New York. He had gotten a taste of what it felt like coming home to an empty house. It wasn't as peaceful as one might think. He missed his child.

Rudy swallowed what he originally wanted to say. "My daughter is a beautiful, young woman. She means more to me than she knows," he glowered at Damon. "Why don't you come by the house one day so I can really get to know the grown man that's with my teenaged daughter?"

Bonnie averted her gaze. Elena was riveted. Damon was inwardly chuckling.

"Sure. Looking forward to it," the vampire beamed showing all his teeth.

That left Rudy feeling as if he had extended an invitation to a sociopath. He addressed Bonnie, "Can I speak with you for a second?"

Bonnie scuttled after her father leaving Elena and Damon standing around. The doppelganger fidgeted awkwardly. She had no idea what to say, which was a first.

Damon eyed her for a moment. She wore a nice dress, curled her hair, and her long lashes concealed eyes that were dark, darker than he recalled them being.

"So," he circled her. "Did you enjoy the show before it was interrupted?"

Elena sulked. "You took a big risk doing what you were doing."

"That's how I roll," he smirked.

"If you were trying to hurt me, well you accomplished your goal."

"Poor Elena, forever the victim," Damon plopped in front of her. "Just know whenever my dick gets hard when I'm around Bonnie it has nothing to do with you."

Bonnie spent ten minutes being berated by Rudy. He thought when she said she had been living with Stefan's older brother that said older brother was a couple years older than his child. Exactly that, two years older, not some guy who looked practically thirty.

"He's probably ready for marriage, babies, and shit," Rudy railed quietly. "You're only eighteen."

If only she could tell Rudy that Damon could never have children, and as far as marriage went that was way down the road. This wasn't the fifties. Bonnie had no desire to be a teen bride. She kept quiet and let her dad work out his frustration that he wasn't in the best positon to forbid her from seeing Damon.

"Maybe you're not aware that guys like him specifically target young girls so they can control them."

"He's older—yes," Bonnie conceded that point. "But he loves me. No one has loved me like Damon does…not even you."

And she didn't say that to be mean but to tell a hard truth. One that punched Rudy in the gut and made him suck in a sharp breath.

Luckily their conversation was interrupted by an announcement asking everyone to convene in the north hall for a special presentation.

Rudy detained Bonnie as the crowd around them began to file out. "I just want you to be careful and smart."

"I'm being both of those things."

"I don't know…something's telling me he's not good for you."

"Damon is what's best for me. You can accept that or don't. Either way we're going to be together."

Rudy watched helplessly as Bonnie sauntered away and intertwined her hand with Damon's.

Act XI Scene 1

A precision of goddess came out en pointe in Black Swan-esque costumes that shed white feathers every time they pirouetted or did an arabesque.

The company of ten melanin blessed women pranced daintily, enticing one another and the crowd with their form and power. Their choreography changed with the urgency of the music. Everything in the beginning began slowly like waking from a long nap, becoming conscious of the world. From there it was a ripple of turns and jumps that went in time with the crescendo of the song the unseen orchestra was playing.

The lights were dimmed enough that some sections of the audience was in darkness. Damon wove his arms around Bonnie's waist. He was swollen, tumescent behind the zipper of his pants once more. Insatiable. Bonnie's heart was a loud drum in her chest as her nipples tightened and chaffed against her bra.

"We can pick up where we let off," fingers crept beneath the hem of her skirt.

Bonnie deflected, "You're not hungry?"

"Always. I'm at a seven right now, but when it comes to you, I'm at fucking one hundred."

The vehemence of that statement warmed the little witch's thighs and made her dripping walls clench. "We can go. We've seen everything there is to see."

The dance came to a close once the music faded. The dancers made their bows, and Carol Lockwood, smiling like a pageant queen, headed to the raised platform. She stood behind the podium, adjusted the microphone.

"Thank you to the ladies of the Copeland-Fontaine Dance Company for that lovely performance." More cheers ensued as the ladies trotted through a side door waving at the crowd. "I'm so glad all of you come to the grand opening of the Mystic Falls Historical Center. I want to give thanks to the center's sponsors who, without their generous donations this building wouldn't be possible…"

Damon and Bonnie began to edge to the nearest exit. Carol pressed on with her speech.

"Next week we'll be kicking off our Founder's celebrations. However, I thought it might be good to implement a new tradition. Often enough we award those for being exemplary in sports, academics, or other talents. Not enough credit is given to those who toil and sacrifice and do things we might not have the courage to do."

Bonnie paused and looked at the stage. Damon followed suit annoyed she stopped moving.

"No pageant was necessary as a panel of judges chose from a pool of Mystic Falls citizens based on recommendations. Those recommendations were then cross referenced with a list of criteria narrowing the pool. Finally after weeks of deliberation a winner was selected."

"Bonnie?" Damon whispered.

"Wait."

"…one who exemplifies the spirit of Mystic Falls. This person has also done more for this community than any can think or imagine or even know. And what's been done wasn't carried out by the stroke of a pen on a check—those checks are welcome." Carol quipped and was rewarded with soft, polite laughter. "I can't really put into words the resilience this individual has shown, heart and spirit, but I can say I'm thankful this person is a part of this town, and this community wouldn't be the same without her.

"So now without further ado, it is my honor to announce and crown our first ever Miss Mystic Falls Legacy 2012. Ladies and gentlemen please put your hands together for Miss Bonnie Sheila Bennett!"

If a deer had been standing beside Bonnie, it would have physically closed her mouth. She was so stunned. There was applause and Damon left a wet kiss on her cheek. The bewildered witch was either pushed or toted to the stage and hoisted up. Carol smiled and told her congratulations as someone came up behind her and pinned a crown on her head, and placed a sash across her chest. Light flashed, cameras—people were taking pictures of her whistling, howling, and cheering.

Bonnie waited for the tears to flow, but her chest swelled as she thought of her Grams and other Bennett women who came before them. Being the last of her line, the weight of that legacy was the reason she released a shaky breath. Yet she couldn't deny it felt damned good to be acknowledged in front of her town.

Everything that followed happened in a blur. Damon met her at the end of the platform and helped her off. He picked her up.

"If only they knew what I had been doing twenty minutes ago," she said in his ear.

"I know, right?" Damon chuckled. "Hussy." A tiny fist struck his arm.

Bonnie was thus hustled to another area to stand for pictures. Her friends swarmed her with hugs, Caroline the most giddy out of everyone gushing over her crown that Bonnie realized she had no idea what it looked like. Rudy mutely beamed with pride at his little girl as he stepped up to the plate with congratulations.

Bonnie was treated to a small reception with edible finger foods and blush colored drinks. Miss Mystic Falls' of the past offered their congratulations, gushing on how beautiful she was in addition to promising to take her to lunch on their dime.

She found herself dazed and stuttering as a TV news reporter shoved a microphone in her face. The light from the camera blinded her. Bonnie answered questions, but couldn't tell you what she was saying.

After an hour had gone by, the flux of spectators slowly began to dissipate. Bonnie and Caroline snuck off to a quiet corner affording her the chance to examine her crown.

"Was this how it was for you? Feeling like a bug under a microscope?"

"Pretty much," Caroline chortled. "How I got through it was imagining there was a glass barrier between myself and the crowd. They could see me but they wouldn't be able to touch me."

Bonnie mulled that over. "I bet more than half of these people are wondering who the hell I am."

Caroline looked at her with exasperated patience. "These people know who you are, Bonnie. That's why they voted for you. They know how to spot a hero when they see one."

"You positive there wasn't any creative tampering with the results?" the witch tapped her foot on the floor.

"If you're implying I did something I'll have you know, I didn't. You won fair and square and you will deal."

Bonnie cracked a tiny, indulgent smile. "If you say so."

"I do. So," Caroline clapped her hands together, "as the newly crowned Miss Mystic Falls Legacy, what will be your first order of business?"

"Get some ribs. I'm starving."

Act IX Scene 2

Bonnie was dizzy and possibly high on adrenaline. Stumbling her way into the bathroom, which was crazy hard to find in this maze of a place, it was blissfully empty. Tucking a hand between her legs because the tide was coming, Bonnie scampered into a stall and released the waterworks. It was damn near orgasmic that she shimmied a little as she finished up and made sure everything was stuffed where it was supposed to be stuffed.

At the sink Bonnie hummed a little tune and gave herself a once-over while she washed her hands. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, the beginnings of a hickey right below her right earlobe, and a too bright stare reflected back at her. Tonight had been unexpected, and even with the diadem on her head, Bonnie found it hard to believe she was experiencing this moment. When she left Mystic Falls she had been a broken shell living on borrowed time. Having shed that skin, for the first time in her life Bonnie felt she was walking down the path intended for her.

The door to the bathroom opened, but she forewent seeing who it was. The tap of heels, however, stopped directly behind Bonnie. Her eyes shifted to the left.

It was Aya Al-Rashid.

Built like a goddess her dark skin popped against her red suit. Short, tight curls adorned her head; her cheek bones were full as well as her lips. The history of many civilizations shone from her coal-black eyes. Nonetheless, Bonnie saw it for the mask it was.

The vampire took Bonnie's measure with a level of criticism that had the green-eyed beauty holding her breath. Aya gifted the Bennett witch with a Mona Lisa smile as she parked right in front of the third sink at the counter.

"I'm assuming you know what I am," Aya interpreted Bonnie's stare of alarm.

"I do."

"No need to worry. I mean you not an ounce of harm, Bonnie Sheila Bennett. I wanted to give my congratulations."

"Thank you," Bonnie replied breathlessly.

"I never met your grandmother, but I did know a great aunt of yours once. A lovely woman. She had gone mad, unfortunately, but was the best at hexes than any witch I've encountered since or prior to."

Bonnie had no idea what to say to that.

"Being Miss Mystic Falls Legacy has a nice ring to it. But wouldn't it be better if you were regent to the covens in this area?" Aya got to the meat of the matter.

That question threw Bonnie for a major loop. She knew she hadn't been home for a few months, but she didn't think the population had changed so drastically. "There aren't any covens in this area," she refuted.

Aya placed one foot in front of the other coming so close to Bonnie she instinctively took a step back. "One day there might be. Sooner than you think. And they'll have two options: submit to the vampires or submit to you. In the long run which do you think they'll prefer," she paused thoughtfully. "But who knows. Perhaps it might never come to that, yet you and I…we could help each other if it does. Enjoy your evening."

Bonnie said nothing as Aya turned on her heels and left.

While Damon waited for Bonnie to return from the ladies room, he whipped out a small flask he kept in his boot. It was a deadly blend of bourbon, blood, and vervain. The second it hit his tongue, he almost wretched but chugged and accepted the unpleasant burn. Human stabilizers wouldn't work on him so this was Damon's anti-psychotic medicine. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, capped the flask, and tucked it away.

He went still. Damon caught sight of Andie Starr's parents. He'd seen pictures of them the few times he ventured to Andie's house during the course of their fake relationship. They hadn't even crossed his mind after Stefan compelled the anchorwoman to jump from an awning at the news station.

Andie's father lifted his head and stared right at Damon who just stood there waiting to see if some flare of recognition might hit that he was partly responsible for his daughter's death, which had been ruled a suicide. The man tipped his head and resumed conversing with his wife. Damon had to dig his heels in to resist going up to them to either apologize or say something nice about Andie. No one needed to tell him that if he surveyed the room he'd either come across a victim of his or someone related to one of his victims.

Heat warmed the back of his neck, and for five seconds the room went dark. The urge to kill in defiance to his guilt swallowed his sanity.

"Hey, Damon, you all right?"

He snapped out of it and blinked at Stefan, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Stefan had seen the crazed look that came into his brother's eyes. It lingered, but he didn't think Damon was primed to attack. He'd snap his neck if he had to. Nevertheless, Stefan had come over to tell his brother that Tristian de Martel had cornered him to ask a bunch of cryptic questions about Klaus and Elijah. Just as he opened his mouth to do so, slender brown arms slid around Damon's torso from behind.

Bonnie was there, hugging him, burrowing her face in his back. Damon relaxed. The last vestiges of his murderous impulse ebbed at her well-timed intervention.

"I'm ready to leave," Bonnie glanced up at him.

Damon nodded and regarded Stefan who concealed a smile behind his cup of punch. "Did you need to tell me something, little brother?"

"It can wait."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Are you staying?"

Stefan was. He knew his way home and he…needed to talk to Rebekah about something. "Yeah," he cleared his throat. "I'm gonna hang around for a little bit. Bonnie, once again, congratulations.

"Thank you, Stefan."

He winked, "Try not to destroy the house you two."

Damon chuckled as he ushered Bonnie out the door.

Final Act

She bounced out of the bathroom, crown still on her head dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe. Bonnie hefted on the bed careful not to jostle the tray laden with delights courtesy of a fine dining restaurant located several miles west of Mystic Falls. Damon, also donned in a robe, pulled the buttery meat of shrimp with his teeth out of its shell.

He dipped a piece of artisan bread into pesto and offered it to Bonnie who bit into it and munched, humming as her taste buds fired.

"You're never taking that off are you?" Damon referred to her crown.

Bonnie touched it still bemused anyone had taken note of her because for so long she hung out in the shadows cast by her friends. "Probably not for a long time. It's made of Swarovski crystals and chalcedony tumbled stones, duh."

Damon chuckled. "I don't mind. It plays into my fantasy. Wanna hear it?"

"I guess."

Damon flicked Bonnie's nose at her less than enthusiastic reply. "You're the forbidden daughter of a duke and I'm the lowly stable boy toiling under a hot sun to work my way up to become your Master of Horse."—Bonnie covered her mouth as she laughed—"And after your father passes out from drink, you sneak into the servants' quarters for our nightly trysts until I convince you to run away with me with my meager savings. You hesitate not wanting to throw away your inheritance and because of your annoying sense of duty, but remember I have good dick so you risk it all."

Bonnie tipped over on her back, clutching her stomach as she cackled. "You are an idiot."

"A creative idiot."

"That too," she sobered and rolled on her side.

Damon's gaze began to roam over her body. "My fantasy would be much better if you were in garters and a corset."

Bonnie chuckled at the forlorn expression Damon wore. "Maybe some other time," she danced her fingers across the duvet. "How would you feel being the boyfriend of a regent?"

Damon arched a brow and wiped his fingers. "Regent? Oh what exactly?"

"Do you remember the vampire Carol pointed out…Aya Al-Rashid?" Damon nodded, Bonnie went on. "She cornered me in the bathroom and said that maybe one day I could be regent of covens that may call Mystic Falls home soon."

"Hmm," Damon grunted and drew quiet and reflective. "Is that what you want?"

"It sounds nice but also like a headache and a bunch of work. There's still so much I don't know about being a witch, and I can't be an effective leader if I don't have the education. But," Bonnie came to rest on her knees, "I guess it's a goal I could work on for the future. If it comes to that."

The future, Damon hadn't given much thought to it, yet he saw no point in rushing toward it either. No, not when he was having so much fun living in the now.

He hauled Bonnie on his lap. The warmth of her thighs surrounded his own. "If it does, I'll be right there telling you who to spare and who to smite."

Snorting, Bonnie draped her arms around his neck. "Naturally. You'd help me rule…if I allowed it?"

"You better allow it. And yes, I'd be there for you. You can't get rid of me, witchy. Remember I have a hard time letting things go."

How could she forget?

"Remember when you asked me to show you how to love me?"

"Vaguely," Damon hedged.

"Kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice. Damon kissed her to show the long road they traveled that didn't start when he found her in July in Pennsylvania. Their tumultuous, tangled courtship quite possibly began to unravel on Halloween the moment the crystal around her neck burned him. From there, on various occasions Damon found himself eating his words when it came to Bonnie. He saved her and she in turn saved him culminating in their own brand of tug-of-war, the classic example of enemies to lovers. Months ago, he may have joked about being a romantic option for Bonnie. Now that he was, Damon had no intentions of letting his love, his dream girl, his hope, go. Ever.

For Bonnie it was the same. Who knew that out of differences love could be found.

The End.

A/N: Four years and I'm done. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, listened to me bitch whether publicly or privately, made art, blogged, recommended, tweeted about this little nugget. And though things look bleak for us if you're suffering through the final season, (I'm not) there's always fanfiction. We'll never let you down. Love you, kittens. Please fill up my comments box with any feedback you wish to share. XOXO