After seeing 308 "Ordinary People", I felt compelled to bring my contribution to the Balaric fandom. I hope you all enjoy this One-Shot, but please show me kindness - this is the first time I've written for Alaric and/or Bonnie. Your feedback will be deeply appreciated.

This is set after 308, but I am slightly drifting away from the actual chronology of the show. My Homecoming scene, for instance, will have nothing to do with 309.

Disclamer : I sadly do not own Vampire Diaries. Sigh.

Disclamer II : This OS was strongly inspired by Joanna Briscoe's You - anything you recognize is not mine.

Smash Into You

There was knock on the door. Alaric Saltzman snapped out of his research when the door opened, reminding him that he should always remember to lock it. Luckily, it was only Bonnie.

Bonnie Bennett, one of his 'special' students – probably the most special one, one of the unfortunate teenagers he had grown unusually close to over the past twelve months.

"Hey there," she greeted, walking in with a small smile.

"Bonnie!" he exclaimed, visibly taken aback; he had completely forgotten that he had asked her to come by. "Come on in."

"Got your message," she said as if she had been capable to read the surprise across his face.

She closed the door and followed him further to the table where a dozen of pictures were laid out. She quickly glimpsed what looked like hieroglyphs, only not in Egyptian.

"Great. Erm, I'm sorry the place is such a mess," he apologized, suddenly embarrassed that she should witness this and possibly think of him as the ultimate scruffy bachelor. "I'm, erm, obsessed."

"Brought you the necklace that wouldn't die," she said, handing the ancient piece of jewellery to him with a small smile.

He took it in his hand, almost disappointed when the item didn't react to his human, ordinary hand. This necklace had so much history, so much power. As an historian, he could only marvel at it.

"That's great," he said, for lack of a more appropriate word.

He looked up, and their eyes met. Immediately, Alaric's forehead became wrinkled with concern. Bonnie had been through a rough patch lately; seeing her dead grandmother/mentor, dealing with Jeremy's mistake. The teenager remained silent, sensing that he was going to ask questions that she did not want to answer.

"You okay?" he asked awkwardly, unsure of whether he had a right or not to ask. He was, after all, the closest thing Jeremy had to a father; he would understand if she was hostile to him.

She shrugged, putting up a good face.

"Been better," she answered in a faux detached tone.

"Listen," he started with a small frown. "Jeremy is an idiot."

She did her best to hide a smile, and failed. Alaric felt empowered to carry on.

"And I know this with certainty because I was once a Jeremy. Trust me, we…learn, eventually."

This time, she smiled openly. He grinned back, glad that he could soothe her a little. He wished there was more he could do, but it wasn't his place, so he decided to get back to their more urgent concern.

He grabbed one of the pictures on the table and held it in front of her.

"So," he started. "I've been staring at this image all day, wondering why it looked so familiar."

He raised his left hand in front of her, and she understood. The necklace was drawn in the cave.

"I was right," he whispered with unhidden satisfaction.

"It's the same design," she marvelled, intrigued.

"So your grandmother said this necklace belonged to the witch that put the hybrid curse on Klaus, right?"

She nodded, her eyebrows furrowed. She felt that he had a theory about this and she couldn't help but wonder at his deduction skills. He was methodical, meticulous even. Looking at his, it felt almost as though every problem in the world has a rational solution; the idea seemed obscenely appealing.

"Well, this symbol is repeated all across the wall and I've been trying to figure out what it meant."

He scribbled on a post-it and Bonnie caught herself staring at his large, manly hands. If anything, they conjured up an image of safety to her.

"Now, I know."

He put the blue post-it on the picture and showed it to her, exhaling deeply.

I'm left with no shoulder

Everybody wants to lean on me

I guess I'm their soldier

But who's gonna be mine?

Beyoncé, Save the Hero

After driving home from Alaric's later that day, his voice was resounding in Bonnie's head. "I was once a Jeremy. Trust me, we learn eventually."

Jeremy. Every time his name came across the conversation, Bonnie imperceptibly winced.

How could she be so foolish?

There was a reason why, while her friends and classmates devoted their best efforts to seducing boys, she remained alone. Recently, she had talked herself into believing that it was because she was a Bennett witch, the poster girl for the archetypical independent woman. So much power was running through her veins – she didn't need a man.

But the actual reason was that she didn't believe she had anything to offer. The absence of a mother at the beginning of her teenage years had notably alienated her from the typically girly concerns. She had no oversized stilettos to borrow, no makeup to steal, no one to ask the many questions that taunted your average teenager. Her father did his best, but he sure as Hell would have had a heart attack if she had casually asked about safe sex. As for Grams, she was far more concerned with awakening Bonnie to the occult.

It was mainly Caroline who helped Bonnie through puberty. As the ultimate it-girl, Caroline knew all about the right colours to enhance Bonnie's dark complexion; and thus, she traded her trousers for skirts and blouses. She learnt how to conceal the few imperfections of her skin, highlight her green eyes. But despite her efforts, Caroline was the sassy one, Elena, the smart one. She was the nice one, the trustworthy one. In a word, best friend material. She grew accustomed to it, and at some point, she even began to like it. It meant that she was more than just a body.

And then, there had been Luka. When she met him, Bonnie thought it was a sign. What were the odds of a warlock moving to Mystic Falls, and liking her? She naïvely pictured what their life could be – the things he could teach her about witchcraft and the things he would teach her about love. Unfortunately, like every other male she had ever wanted, Luka had disappeared, in the most tragic of ways. She mourned a friend, a warlock and a possibility gone to waste.

Maybe she wasn't made to be loved. Maybe she wasn't.

And then, Jeremy Gilbert happened.

Bonnie sighed and put the thought of him aside. She broke out of her trance-like state to find herself standing in front of Alaric's door again. How did she get here? Why?

The image of his hands on the table brought her there, she thought, upset that it didn't make any sense. His hands, the safety it made her think of; that was why.

She tentatively knocked on the door, feverishly trying to come up with a decent excuse for her presence here at nine thirty in the evening. Her eyes widened when she glimpsed a shirtless Alaric. She immediately lowered her gaze.

"Oh my God, Bonnie, I'm so sorry," he said. "Thought it was Damon."

He disappeared for a second to put on a t-shirt. Bonnie's eyes fell on the doorbell and the small tag next to it. M. Saltzman. She inhaled deeply. This was Alaric Saltzman, her History teacher. She had no business talking to him outside of office hours or supernatural 911s.

"I'm sorry, I – I shouldn't," she stuttered. "Shouldn't be here."

Alaric put his hand on her arm. Her eyelash vibrated with an under-slept tic.

"Bonnie – wait. What's going on?"

Yes, Bonnie, what's going on, she asked herself. Go on, tell him.

"Nothing," she finally confessed. "I just – I needed to talk."

Alaric frowned.

"Is it about the cave?" he asked; when she shook her head, his eyebrows rose. "Okay. Erm – come in. But I have to warn ya, the place's still a mess."

She laughed softly and made her way into the loft. He had left the dishes from dinner on the counter, alongside an empty bottle of Bourbon and some snacks. Bonnie paused and eyed him incredulously.

"I told you it was messy," he shrugged, striding towards her and snatching the plates away.

"Let me," she commanded.

She seemed to have a natural authority that made him let go. He watched as she methodically took in her hands to clean his kitchen. While he should have been mortified that one of his students was basically substituting herself to the cleaning-lady he didn't have, he felt nothing but amused curiosity.

Bonnie seemed at ease in his apartment – like she had always lived here. She opened the cupboards one after the other, with almost supernatural instinct when it came to finding the glasses, the plates, the forks. At some point though, he decided that it was enough.

"Now that you have tidied my place and reminded me how much of a scruff I am, maybe you can tell me what it is that brings you here so late?"

She had had time to figure it out, but she didn't know if it was safe to talk about. The last thing she wanted was for him to throw her out. There was something about this place that she could not quite define, that made her never want to leave. She took a deep breath and sat next to him on the couch. Their eyes met; she looked down immediately.

"It's my fault that you couldn't say goodbye to Jenna," Bonnie said after a while.

He said nothing. She listened to him breathe with unnatural regularity.

"I am sorry," she added.

"I would be dead. If you'd let me out."

She nodded in acknowledgement.

"Thank you."

After a moment's hesitation, Alaric sat on a stool; she imitated him.

"She didn't come back," he mumbled almost for himself. "Everyone had a ghost come back for them, even Damon, and she didn't come."

She put a sympathetic hand on his arm, oblivious of the awkwardness of her gesture.

"You haven't had time to mourn her, have you?"

He simply sighed.

"When Grams died, there were so many things to deal with. It was like I wasn't allowed to hurt."

"Yeah, I can relate," he laughed. "All I wanted was the opportunity to say goodbye."

"I am so, so sorry, Ric."

Alaric paused, sensing that she was not here because of the unnecessary apology she just delivered. He frowned. She seemed to need looking after. In the short twelve months during which he had known Bonnie Bennett, he now realized that it never came to his mind that she could need looking after.

The fact that she came to him, of all people, in a moment like this, only reinforced Alaric's belief that his role was to protect the human beings around him. He was a decent teacher, true. He could have simply settled for this sort of personal fulfilment, since it was everything he had always longed for. But stepping into this supernatural whirlwind, he needed to find his place.

Alaric studied her face, unmarked by the years. Bonnie was the witch, seemingly the answer to their every problem. It was hard to tell that this girl had been empowered by a hundred dead witches. Hard to tell that she lived with no mother, that she had lost her grandmother to the supernatural. Just in the past week, she had to deal with her ghostly grandmother and the ghostly lover of her very human boyfriend, not to mention she brought one of her friends back to life and sealed a door to the "other side".

He sighed.

"Bonnie – how are you?"

She felt a flush of self-consciousness when she met his intense gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how are you? Everything that's happened with the ghosts, how do you deal with it?"

She blinked.

"Grams said I was strong. She said she was proud of me."

"How. Are. You?" he said, taking her hand.

When she gave no answer, he rose to his feet and moved towards the kitchen counter. He rummaged through the cupboards, looking for something to help her relax. From the second she sat, her shoulders were tense. He warmed some milk that luckily happened to be in the fridge and soon returned to her side with a mug of hot cocoa.

"Thanks," she said, her voice slightly hoarse. "I'm fine."

Alaric laughed softly.

"I'm strong," she insisted.

A sympathetic smile curled his lips and he nodded; it seemed to calm her.

"You don't have to be. Not here. No one's here. I won't tell."

She sipped her cocoa, struggling with the words she meant to say. How come he understood that she desperately needed to hear those words? You don't have to be strong. Yes, she had to. If she allowed herself to break down, if only for one second, everything would tumble down. She took care of her friends, because there was nothing else she knew how to do. She didn't have parents to argue with, and she didn't have a boyfriend to sneak out with.

Elena was the doppelganger, and the shiny prize for the feud between the Salvatore brothers; the key for Klaus to sire his own race of hybrids. Caroline was the anti-vampire in essence: the bubbly, lovely girl, the cement that kept them all together, bound to their humanity and their stupid little lives. Tyler was the hybrid, a newly self-absorbed idiot who needed to be tamed before he caused trouble. Matt was the reluctant human, who everyone tried their best to keep out of these life-and-death situations. Damon was, well, he was Damon, with his qualities and his flaws, who she had learned to trust and respect – maybe even like a tad, although she'd never admit it to his face. He protected them the best he could with his everlasting mask of carelessness. Stefan was evil, as far as she was concerned. He was nothing more than the final point to a very long list of troubles that needed to be solved.

They all had a role to play.

Well, in the middle of this, she was the witchy friend. She spelled and dispelled; she listened and advised. She shielded and defended. That's who she was. If she allowed herself to break down, her magic would be rendered useless, leaving her to be nothing, no one.

"My powers are tied to my emotions," she said, as an explanation. "I need to be strong."

"I don't see any evil witch, vampire, werewolf or hybrid in the room."

She remained silent. Alaric unwillingly resorted to provocation.

"So, are you and Jeremy broken up, or simply figuring things out?"

She threw a murderous glance at him, but he thought he saw a flash of pain, too.

"You need to talk about this, Bonnie. And I, contrary to your friends, don't need anything from you. So, talk to me."

She heaved a deep sigh. All desire to discuss this had deserted her.

"I understand why Anna came back. She and Jeremy's relationship is the typical unfinished business," Bonnie said sadly, sipping her cocoa. "I don't blame her."

It was true. She understood. Honestly, she did. Their relationship had been abruptly brought to an end when John Gilbert had driven a stake through the young vampire's heart. She and Jeremy never had the opportunity to say goodbye.

Alaric nodded, noticing the frown line on her chocolate skin. He wanted to ease it with his finger.

"Are you angry with him, then?"

"I don't know. Yes," she said. "No. No. It must be my fault."

"You've done nothing to make him kiss another girl. You don't deserve that," Alaric almost said. For some reason, the words remained in his mind only. He felt like it would be crossing a line. He smiled at her.

"You know, Bonnie, you are possibly the most mature of us all."

After a moment's hesitation, she sighed, visibly upset.

"I want to be a teenage girl whose biggest problem is the dress she'll wear at Homecoming."

"You'll be wonderful in anything," he said.

His sincerity was overwhelming. Bonnie's lips twitched into a grateful smile, although a second later, she seemed rather confused. She cleared her throat and rose from the couch. She walked to the sink and washed the mug in which he had poured her cocoa.

"I am not going to Homecoming," she informed shortly. "I should go, now."

Bonnie strode to the door. Alaric followed silently, surprisingly upset that she should go. Blame it on his newfound calling to protect everyone, but the idea of her driving home alone to an empty house deeply unnerved him. She looked up to him with a desperate glint in her eyes. He contemplated asking her whether she would like to stay.

"Can you – it's ridiculous, forget it."

"Tell me," he urged. "I want to help."

He couldn't bear this pain shining through her eyes. He wanted – needed – to make it stop right this second.

"Bonnie."

"I - I need someone to hold me," she confessed sheepishly. "Please, hold me."

Alaric didn't hesitate. He took a step towards her and wrapped her tiny figure in a heartfelt embrace. She felt so small, so fragile. He had seen her perform incredibly demanding magic spells – he knew she didn't need protection. At least, the witchy side of her. But inside the witch was a girl – a young woman - a human being who was lost and lonely, whose heart was broken and whose friends had other drama to deal with.

Bonnie rested her head against his chest and marvelled at how broad-shouldered he was. It was the first time in her life that she was held by someone so big. His muscular arms enclosing her felt like a shield from all negativity. She allowed herself to enjoy the pleasurable sensations of having to worry about nothing during these few stolen seconds of serenity. She listened to the drums of his heartbeat and the sound came almost as a lullaby and she had to fight the urge to fall asleep.

"You will be alright," he soothed her, his deep voice causing her body to vibrate. "Everything will be okay."

Alaric unwillingly took a step back.

"I will see you in class, Miss Bennett."

"Of course, M. Saltzman."

The more I think about it

The less that I was able to share with you

I try to reach you, I can almost feel you

You're nearly here

And then, you disappear

Beyoncé - Disappear

Days went by. Bonnie replayed the delicious seconds she spent against Alaric's chest in her mind when she couldn't sleep, when she felt that she was going to lose her mind, when she glimpsed Jeremy at school. It always soothed her and it seemed like she could still feel his arms around her, his hands running up and down her back. She cherished this memory; it became her most prized possession.

It drowned her in burning shame.

Could it be that she was actually developing some sort of embarrassing crush on her History teacher? She became painfully conscious that she met with Alaric in her mind on countless occasions, every day, conversing with him about the small ordeals of life as well as the supernatural dilemmas she was constantly faced with. She even asked for his approval in the early morning when she hesitated between her favourite leather jacket and a blazer.

She found herself observing him with the greatest attention. He noticed, of course. When he taught to her class, either his eyes remained lowered onto the table, careful to never meet hers, or he stared intently at a point on the wall behind her. A feeling of rejection always crushed her when he averted her gaze.

Bonnie kept wondering what had happened, that night, at his place. What could have possibly plunged her into this disconcerting spiral of odd feelings? More importantly, what could possibly account for the side glances he threw at her, the secret smiles, and the falsely detached kind words? At first, she thought she was imagining things. She would not be the first.

But she was Bonnie, and she did not imagine things. She was far too mature, far too down-to-earth for that. She was not the average teenage girl who had a crush on her teacher and he was not the average creepy older man who lusted after students. She eventually embraced the possibility that he, too, felt that inexplicable connection between them. It made sense. He had lost his wife and his girlfriend, in more than dark circumstances. In both cases, he had no time to digest – he hadn't grieved. They were both lonely, and scared of lonely. They both needed somebody to hold them, to tell them everything would be alright. He had done this for her and she wished more than anything that he would let her reciprocate.

But Alaric fought.

On the rare occasions when he allowed her to approach him, she could see him trying to resist her. They collided only in very public places, with all eyes and ears casting an unpleasant impression of being watched upon them. They spoke of nothing that truly mattered - her irrevocable split from Jeremy, his feeling of being lost; their need of each other. During these interludes, he became nothing more than her teacher, an adult, again.

She always felt like it would take a single word, a glance, a gesture to regain control of the situation – to feel this warmth that only he could make her feel. But she felt paralyzed. When he assumed that posture of authority and detachment, she could do nothing. Not address him in that secretive tone, not brush his arm, not snap playfully at him. Her failure to act allowed him to slip away.

Just give me a sign, she begged silently. She felt both chosen and rejected. She didn't know which feeling was the strongest – they sometimes reached a confusing balance.

When he couldn't resist anymore, he would answer to one of her text messages, saying that he was bored with grading papers and that she could come over. Nowhere was safe, except for his apartment. Anybody hardly ever visited him.

There seemed to be a compulsion bounding them. And so, this thing carried on even through the days of apparent indifference. She came over, did his dishes, sat down. He poured her cocoa, made her talk about the things she kept buried deep, brought a smile to her lips. She saw right through him, barely asked questions, guessed the answers. He brushed her hand. She stroke his knee.

They trusted, respected, helped each other.

They refused to acknowledge the growing tension – Heaven forbid, lust – as he held her goodbye.

"We're friends again, right?" Damon said one night.

The two men were sitting at the Grill, sipping their usual Bourbon. Alaric had summoned the vampire to meet him in a desperate attempt at ignoring Bonnie's text messages. He didn't have enough willpower. This girl – this little girl had power over him. It scared him. It made him feel exhilarated. It worried him. He needed a distraction from his distraction.

"I guess so," he mumbled, waiting for Damon to carry on. "Why?"

The vampire held Alaric's phone under his nose, causing his eyes to widen in horror.

Can I come over tonight? Call me – B.

He knew what was coming next. He dreaded this moment – the moment when he would need to put words on this thing he had going on with her. He looked up to meet Damon's playful eyes. The vampire feigned a wounded expression and put his hand on his chest.

"Is my love not enough?"

Alaric couldn't suppress the laughter. He snatched his phone away and stuck it in his pocket.

"You're an idiot, Damon."

"And you, my friend, are playing with fire, here."

"It's not like that – it's not."

"I know, Ric. I know you."

The vampire smiled, drank the rest of his Bourbon and gave Alaric with a pad on the shoulder.

"Just be careful," Damon simply said.

Alaric silently thanked Damon as the vampire walked away. The ability to not pass any judgement – that's what he loved most about his insufferable, unpredictable, pain-in-the-ass vampire of a best friend.

Over and over again

I tried to tell myself that we

Could never be more than friends

But all the while, inside, I knew it was real

The way you make me feel

Beyoncé, The Closer I Get To You

It had started three weeks ago – Bonnie kept referring to it as "it" for lack of a better word. Homecoming was around the corner. She was still determined to stay home.

Elena had tried; Matt, Tyler, Caroline and even Damon had tried – but failed. It was Alaric who talked Bonnie into attending, without even trying. You'll look wonderful in anything. One night, as she was conjuring up the memory of the day it all started, the sentence came back to her in a blissful whisper. The following day, she heard that he had, as usual, signed up to be a chaperone.

Bonnie suddenly wondered whether some of her classmates fancied him. It was more than likely; such a handsome man in his early thirties – the contrary would be disconcerting. So, yes, other girls fancied him. Other girls who were very capable of coming to terms with having an affair with a grown man, an adult, a teacher. Other girls, who'd certainly look drop dead gorgeous in their obscenely expensive dresses while she would be curled up on her couch, longing for him. She could not tolerate that – the thought made her cringe.

Caroline thanked the Gods when she read Bonnie's text saying that she was going after all. Bonnie had to put down her phone to prevent her fingers from typing: "Thank Alaric instead".

The blonde forcefully took her shopping for dresses. When the time came to pick one, Bonnie let her friend make the decision for her; it mattered little which dress she wore. You'll look wonderful in anything.

When the day came, the girls spent all afternoon at Caroline's – she possessed the biggest beauty arsenal of them all. She could provide suitable makeup for any type of woman; Bonnie often wondered why she bought so many items when she used so few. It was for moments like this, Caroline said.

During the three hours they spent getting all dolled up, Bonnie had a smile to her lips. Caroline was doing everything she could to look positively radiant – she wanted to impress Tyler. With Rebekah in town, at school – everywhere – Caroline needed to reassert her position as the Alpha female. She would succeed, without a doubt. Tyler, as well as any other male in his right mind (except for Alaric, Bonnie hoped), would spend the night drooling over Caroline.

Soon enough, it was time to go. Bonnie entered the gym and the loud music immediately overwhelmed her. The cheerful atmosphere provoked nothing but annoyance in her, but she put up a good face to please her friends. Their record at high-school dances was pretty tragic, but nothing looked suspicious this time. Which was, in itself, suspicious. Stefan was in a corner, visibly not in the mood for the usual teasing/provoking. Damon, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen – it eased some of the tension she was feeling: if he wasn't here, it was because he thought Elena was safe.

Browsing through the crowd, her eyes fell on him. Jeremy. Elena had visibly threatened him into wearing a suit – she briefly wondered if this one was his father's; it was hanging off of him. It struck her that he was nothing more than a boy impersonating a man. An inexperienced little boy, who thought he knew all about life when he wasn't even mature.

At the sight of him, Bonnie was left unmoved. She forced herself to give others the very best of herself; it was only fair that they did the same in return. Call her spiteful but she had no tolerance for those who disappointed her. Looking at him now, she saw a stranger. It was like she had put her feelings for him in a tiny, tiny box and put it away.

Her eyes feverishly scanned through the crowd, easily spotting Alaric across the room. It was immediately easier to breathe. She smiled at him; he winked back. Although he turned away at once, she felt like the discreet exchange would at least get her through the night.

After that, time seemed to stretch infinitely. Slowly, painfully. In case she doubted it, this was not her scene. The highly charged, cheerful atmosphere seemed to form a bubble encompassing everyone but her and Alaric. From the outside, she was embarrassingly envious.

The evening went by and (almost) before she knew it, people were leaving the gym. One-night stands in the making going back to deserted corridors, Juniors whose parents came to pick them up.

She rose from her chair and waved at Caroline, who was heading out on Tyler's arm. Bonnie smiled and whispered to Caroline, knowing that her vampire friend would hear. Told ya this dress would have him drooling. The blonde laughed and the newly turned hybrid shrugged at Bonnie. She kept forgetting that hybrid meant half-werewolf, half-vampire – as in, supersensitive hearing. Oops. Sorry, Care.

Caroline frowned at something that Bonnie could not see, yet she sensed his presence. Don't worry, I can handle it. Go, I'll be fine. The blonde nodded and walked out. Bonnie wondered where Elena was – probably arguing with Stefan, somewhere. She took a deep breath.

"Bonnie," said a voice she identified as Jeremy's.

She refused to respond, but she turned to face him. It was written all over his face that he was going to start apologizing again. She could not deal with this.

"Can we talk?"

"Not now, Jeremy."

Her ex-boyfriend frowned, the slightest glint of hope shining through his brown eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He nodded with a sigh. She strode purposefully to Alaric. She noticed that he had started to clean up. Perhaps she could help him; perhaps they could talk.

"Hey," she said. "Want some help?"

"No, thank you, Bonnie. You should go back to your friends."

She frowned at his nonchalance and looked down, distractedly gathering empty cups. He glanced at her. She didn't look up.

"You look absolutely wonderful," he finally whispered; she immediately felt her heart pounding in her chest.

He smiled shortly and snapped back to his cleaning, cursing himself for what he'd just said. He couldn't say things like this to her. But then again, what was the point of this thing if he couldn't even be sincere? Surely, she would understand he meant nothing more than a friendly compliment – would she? He inhaled deeply, trying to calm down his frantic heartbeat.

Bonnie smiled. He was whispering to her – whatever it was that bonded them was still there. Every time she left his apartment, every time he didn't return an email, she feared that it would be gone. But it was not. It was still here, their little secret. But there he was, struggling again, she could tell. It infuriated her. Why did he always have to ruin things? What was the point of coming here if she couldn't say things that she wanted to say? She had staged this scene in her mind all day long. She shouldn't have set her hopes this high, but she couldn't help it.

She looked around to make sure the majority of the attendees were gone; they were. Actually, nobody was paying attention to them.

"Dance with me," she whispered.

Alaric swallowed. Bonnie's attitude towards him had changed lately. He had thought he was imagining things – but there, he wasn't. There was nothing fundamentally wrong with late night platonic conversations. It was morally disputable, but it was not wrong. Dancing, on the other hand…

He briefly closed his eyes. Dancing with Bonnie; holding her close – closer than when he held her goodnight – and swaying gently with her to the sound of a ridiculously romantic song. It felt disturbingly right, although in all the wrong ways.

He had been thinking about her.

Wrong.

He didn't stop moving, focusing as hard as he could on breathing evenly despite Bonnie's immediate proximity. From the corner of his eye, he could see that the golden strapless dress she had picked effectively enhanced her, as well as the pair of stilettos she was wearing.

"Alaric," she said.

"You must stay away," said Alaric huskily. "You must."

"No."

His eyes widened slightly. Could it be that what he felt in her presence, she felt, too? Could it be the reason for her puzzling behaviour, for the ridiculously teasing dress she was wearing? He shrugged it off. He simply couldn't think about this. Not when there were still people in the gym, looking at them with perplexed expressions.

"Dance with me," said Bonnie, oblivious to the dirty looks she got from other girls. "Alaric."

He could feel every single pair of eyes burning a hole into his chest, the heavy weight of public disapproval restricting his ability to breathe some more. He unwillingly lowered his gaze to meet Bonnie's green eyes and his jaw clenched. Why did she have to make things so complicated?

He deliberately ignored the real question: why did he feel so embarrassed to be seen with her in public? Why did he feel like a creep?

Alaric sighed and cursed himself for what he was about to do. All of this started because he wanted to protect her, to be the shoulder she'd rely on. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but it had not been long since he learned right from wrong again and he couldn't go off the rails.

"No, Bonnie," he said. "No."

"Why not?"

"No," he just said. "I can't."

He swiftly turned away, and she misinterpreted this as an invitation to meet in a more private area.

"What's wrong?" she inquired once they were alone in his classroom, tilting her head to the right.

"I want to be alone, Bonnie."

"No, you don't. You never do. So, why are you fighting me?"

Alaric let out a dark chuckle. She was so innocent that she couldn't even imagine what she did to him, the thoughts he had. He was meant to protect her, not lust after her. God, lust after her – what did that say about him? He was supposed to mourn Jenna – and he was – but he couldn't deny that Bonnie sort of got under his skin, somehow. His self-loathing was almost unbearable at his point.

"You can't talk to me like this – in public."

Bonnie decided it would be wise to play it down a bit.

"Oh, come on, Ric," she laughed. "It's not like I asked you to pin me against a wall and kiss me."

They both winced at the unexpected boldness of her words. Alaric thought he might disintegrate right then and there.

"Why would you – how – forget it," he said. "Did you enjoy the dance?"

His voice had softened and she felt like he was back to the man she was used to. She shrugged, wilfully taking a step towards him.

"Nobody invited me," she pointed out.

"Their loss."

"Dance with me," she said again. "Please?"

She made that adorable face; he felt his willpower crumble as a grin emerged on his face, in spite of his best efforts. Bonnie's smile widened – she knew she had won. He never denied her anything when she looked at him like that.

"There's no music," he said calmly. "We can't dance without music."

"You think you're smart, don't you?" she teased.

He smirked at her. She smirked back, fumbling in her clutch bag for her phone. She waggled it under his nose and quickly picked a song. She made the choice knowingly. Sara Bareilles – Gravity.

Alaric rolled his eyes – she got him good. She took a step towards him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and waited. He returned the embrace, and they gently began to sway.

Something always bring me back to you, it never takes too long. No matter what I say or do, I still feel you here till the moment I'm gone. You hold me without touch, you keep me without chains. I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

Alaric closed his eyes, enjoying the soft brush of Bonnie's scalp to his chin. She fit in his arms perfectly. Her tiny arms were wrapped around him and he felt like she had secured him so he would never be able to let go. He did not want to let go. The soft notes of piano seemed to envelop them and enclose them into a world of their own. Of their own.

She let out a soft sigh as they swayed steadily, barely even moving. Basically, it was just the two of them, holding on to each other, Alaric's hand moving slowly up and down her back, sending delicious shivers down her spine, and Bonnie inhaling his masculine scent, letting it intoxicate her in the most delightful way.

You loved me 'cause I'm fragile when I thought I was strong. But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.

Bonnie looked up at him, her eyes shining with something he could not quite identify. Maybe he could, he simply didn't allow himself to. He was painfully aware that their faces were mere inches apart, as her warm breath ticked his skin.

It was more than Alaric could take. He gently grabbed her phone and turned the music off. She pouted.

"Bonnie," he said warningly.

In his voice, she heard that he was nervous; afraid, maybe. Of what, she wondered. Maybe it was of the thought that had been making its sinuous way into her mind. She tiptoed and her lips tentatively brushed against his cheek. Alaric stiffened. She met his gaze and gently stroked his cheek.

"Bonnie, don't."

Yes, Bonnie, do.

It was as though she could read his mind. This time, she did not hesitate. Her lips crushed to his, and moved with no delay. She lost herself in the kiss, knowing that it would probably never happen again. She felt it – he wouldn't let her go there again, so she had to enjoy every second of it, while he was not fully lucid.

And what a kiss – as soon as Alaric's hands grabbed her firmly at the waist and he deepened the kiss, her body ignited, like she had never been kissed before. She felt light-headed, exhilarated. Her fingers clung to his dark blonde locks as he stooped and she tiptoed some more. A moan escaped her. Alaric paused immediately and broke the kiss, his hands resting on her hips. She kept her eyes closed. She couldn't bear to see the incredulity in his eyes. The embarrassing silence was broken only by their panting breaths and she re-opened her eyes to find him frowning.

"You are a child," said Alaric in a husky voice; he seemed to be puzzled by his own words. "A child."

The burn of shame virtually coloured her cheeks and she took his hands in an attempt to maintain the faintest pull she seemed to have on him. She couldn't stand to let it go. She wouldn't survive it if he rejected her.

"Don't waste it on me," he breathed.

"You need to stop pushing me away. Stop. You stop."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop."

He took a deep breath through his nose and abruptly pushed her away, unwillingly pushing her against the closest table. She stared at him, wide-eyed, as he pulled at his own hair. He seemed to be losing his mind and she wanted to soothe him like he soothed her, but she knew she would only push him over the edge.

"No," he kept saying. "No, no, no!"

Bonnie could not bring herself to regret what had just happened.

"Alaric," she said once, twice. "Alaric."

"I'm sorry – I'm, so, so," he said but she interrupted him, putting a hand on his arm. He lowered his eyes and the sight made him want to pull her in for another kiss. And another one. "For Fuck's sake, Ric, get it together," he mumbled, loud enough for her to hear. "Now!"

"No," she whispered softly. "It's –"

"Absolutely unacceptable," he finished, wildly shaking his head, his fingers tangled in his dark blonde hair.

"Alaric, please," she called. "Calm down. It was nothing."

"No. This will never happen again. You must stay away."

He hurriedly strode out of the room, leaving a wide-eyed Bonnie alone.

Come take my hand, I won't let you go

I'll be your friend, I will love you so deeply

I will be the one to kiss you at night

I will love you till the end of time.

Beyoncé – End of Time

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the "incident" at Homecoming. Even though he conjured the memory several times a day, Alaric still referred to it as a mere incident. One that wouldn't have any consequences, because neither he nor Bonnie would ever speak of it again.

He would have apologized to her over and over again, but it had been two weeks since she hadn't showed up at his class. At first, he had felt incredibly relieved – he didn't think he could face her. He was far too ashamed of what he had done – of what it meant to him. But then, he wondered where she was, if she was alright, if she was ditching school because of him.

His phone became his worst enemy. He constantly fought the urge to dial her number; what would he say? Hey it's me, sorry to be so painfully attracted to you. Yeah, right. He could not be attracted to her – he had no right to be. She was Bonnie, Jeremy's ex-girlfriend, Elena's friend, his student.

Her absence was a true relief. He could pretend like nothing had happened, like he didn't have those feelings. Like he couldn't still feel her lips on his. Like he didn't long for her.

It was the end of his day at work. Alaric grabbed the papers his students had left on his desk and mentally planned his evening. He would order pizza, drink a few beers and grade those papers. Then he would watch whatever crap would be on TV and fall asleep on the couch, with the TV still on. Pretty much what he had done every single night since Homecoming, in a pitiful attempt to numb his disturbing thoughts.

He walked through the corridors, unintentionally seeking her presence. By the time he reached the parking lot, he thought he saw her at least a dozen times. It was never her. It saddened him, and yet, a part of him was glad.

Alaric cursed under his breath when he made out her slender silhouette leaning against his car. For half a second, he thought he was seeing things again, but she turned around. She didn't look devastated. From a distance, he could tell that she was wearing lipstick – she usually didn't; he suppressed a groan.

He knew she'd come eventually.

"Bonnie," he simply said, wondering what would be the appropriate way to address her.

She stayed silent, and for what seemed like an eternity, she simply stared intently at him, as if committing his face to memory. He remained motionless, not trusting his body to keep at a suitable distance from her.

"Bonnie," he said again. "I – I meant to…call. How – I need to, erm, I hope you are okay."

She simply nodded. Alaric didn't like this tension – when did it get so complicated for them to talk?

"I'm sorry about…what happened," he said in a husky whisper.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," she said bluntly.

Alaric was silent. Where the f*** did that come from? He inhaled and exhaled deeply, several times, before he was able to speak.

"You are not," was all he said after a long moment.

"I am."

"You can't."

"I know," Bonnie said blankly. "I'm sorry."

The teacher stood there, rather stupidly, unable to think of anything to say or do. He watched as her brown hair was gently dishevelled from the gust of winds. He could think of nothing else – that strand of hair that needed to be tucked back behind her ear.

"I miss you," she confessed.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

She seemed to hesitate before she reached out to him and brushed his arm. Before he could do or say anything, she was walking away.

He felt like something inside of him was breaking. It scared the Hell out of him.

Alaric got in his car and grabbed his phone almost as a reflex.

Meet me at my apartment. Right now.

Before he even got home, Damon was waiting inside – how we got a key, Alaric had no idea. He actually didn't give a damn.

"Hey, when you said right now, I thought you meant right now," Damon groaned as Alaric dropped his keys and the papers to grade on the countertop. "I've been here forever."

"Yeah well, we are not all super-fast vampires. Some of us actually have to drive and get stuck in traffic, Damon."

"Ooh, someone's grumpy," the vampire quipped. "Are you and your witch fighting already?"

Alaric dropped the glass he was retrieving from a cupboard. It went to shatter on the ground, but Damon was faster and caught it in extremis. He put it in Alaric's hand, not bothering to hide his smirk.

"Wh-what, I mean, why would you ask me that?"

Damon laughed.

"Well, since I see no supernatural creature threatening to rip your head off, I'm guessing this is girl trouble and, no offense, but Bonnie Bennett is the only company you've been having these days."

"That's not true."

"I can smell her everywhere, including on you, Ric," Damon reminded in a sing-song voice, deliberately taunting his friend.

Alaric sighed. Sometimes, it was no use talking to Damon – this guy seemed positively incapable of taking anything seriously that wasn't directly linked to either Stefan or Elena. But Damon was his only friend – except for Bonnie, of course.

The two men sat down on the couch, and Alaric took his head into his hands as Damon poured two glasses of Bourbon.

"I'm screwed, Damon," Ric said. "So, so screwed."

"Didn't I tell you to be careful?" Damon said over-dramatically. "You never listen."

Alaric wasn't in the mood. What he needed was for Damon to be his Bonnie – for him to listen without judging, interrupting or teasing. He needed to voice his concerns, his hesitations and his feelings to someone who could hear them and not look at him like he was some sort of weirdo.

And so, he told Damon the whole story.

He was becoming more and more dependent on these out-of-everything moments he shared with Bonnie. He liked that she allowed him to see a part of her that none of her friends knew. Her presence soothed him out of his loneliness; she made him feel again. She made him less of a lost wanderer – she gave him purpose. He feared he might be falling for her. He hated himself for it, because he was still in love with Jenna; he would always be in love with Jenna.

He left out the parts involving any sort of physical attraction. He feared that might be too weird, even for Damon Salvatore.

"She came to talk to me today," he said. "She said she thinks she's falling in love with me."

"I know," Damon replied casually, causing Ric to put down his drink a little sharply.

"What do you mean, you know?"

"I'm the one who told her she should put herself out there and risk the L-word."

Damon chuckled at his friend's wide eyes. God, how he loved to surprise Ric like this.

"Why in the Hell would she come to you, of all people, to discuss this? She barely tolerates you, Damon!"

"She came to find me, after your little faux-pas at Homecoming."

"Give me a single reason why she would have done that," Alaric said, a little amused, now.

"Because I'm your brover, of course."

"My what?" he choked.

Damon sighed. He raised an eyebrow at a bewildered Alaric.

"Aren't you supposed to be around teenagers all day? A brover, contraction of 'brother' and 'lover' is a man who's involved in a friendship with another man, just like you and me. You're so out of the loop, Ric."

"First off, don't ever refer to yourself as anything like my lover again. And then, I thought that was called a BFF," Alaric said, unsure of why he was letting himself be dragged into this nonsensical conversation.

"So 2010," Damon quipped. "Also, BFF is a suitable term for women. It's high time we, males, got our own word."

"You're insane," Alaric observed quietly. "What did she say to you?"

"Not much. She said you kissed and she said you're avoiding her. She said you make her feel good."

"She's a child," Alaric objected, trying to remain objective.

"She's not," Damon said. "You know what I think of Bonnie Bennett – she's a nasty, judgey little thing. But she is not a child. Why'd you think she broke up with Jeremy? He is a child. She needs more man in her man. Give the girl what she needs, Ric," he said with obvious sexual innuendo.

Alaric sighed. He was both seduced and disgusted by the idea.

"I don't even know why I'm discussing this with you."

"Because, brover, I call it like I see it."

"So that's your advice?" Alaric sighed, mortified that he was reduced to asking Damon advice about relationships. "Give the girl what she needs?"

"Yup," Damon said, sipping his Bourbon. "Give the girl what she needs," he echoed as if enunciating a catch phrase in a commercial.

"Never mind that I could lose my job, go to jail maybe and even have her father beat the crap outta me, right?" Alaric said ironically. "Not to mention Jeremy and Elena will be glad to hear about this."

"I didn't say you should publicly advertise this. I'm told secrecy is a huge turn-on for teens."

Alaric rolled his eyes.

"I'm still – there's…Jenna."

Damon's smile faltered. They never spoke of Jenna – it was still a sore subject. Alaric knew that his friend felt terribly guilty for not having been able to take her place during the sacrifice, because of the werewolf bite. He also knew that, for a change, none of this was Damon's fault. But their friendship – their bromance, like Damon loved to call it – had its rules, and not talking of Jenna was one of them. Thus, the vampire made his choice of words very carefully when he spoke.

"Jenna loved you. She'd hate to see you alone for the rest of your life."

"It's only been three months."

"Three months is forever, Ric. Seriously. Life's too short. There's a girl, she thinks she loves you, you think you love her. Why are we even having this conversation? You should be calling her to apologize for being such an ass and tell her that you want to give this thing a shot. That's what Jenna would want."

Alaric remained silent.

"Although I'm sure she'd be pretty grossed out to find out her boyfriend is actually a creep who likes to make out with teenagers at Homecoming," Damon chuckled, needing to break the tension in the room.

"Damon, you don't want to start with me on old men being into Seniors," Alaric warned.

"Hey, instead of antagonizing me, why don't you give your little witch a call?" Damon suggested nonchalantly. "She's waiting."

"What? No! I haven't figured out what to say yet."

"You have thirty seconds," Damon said.

Before Alaric could understand the meaning of his words, Damon snatched his phone from his pocket and dialled Bonnie's number. The two men struggled for a while – Alaric doing his best to get his phone back and Damon pretending to let him - but then Damon got tired of it and secured the phone to Alaric's ear, resorting to his supernatural strength.

"You son of a - ," Alaric started, but he was interrupted by the sound of Bonnie's voice.

"Hello?" Bonnie's voice said.

Alaric didn't say a word. Damon glared at him, hitting his shoulder roughly. He couldn't believe how much of a baby his friend could be sometimes.

"Alaric?" Bonnie called. "Is this you?"

Damon silently urged Alaric to answer. The teacher cleared his throat loudly.

"Erm – yeah, it's, it's me."

Damon heaved a deep sigh and mouthed: "Finally!" before he let go of the phone. He gave Alaric a pad on the back, grabbed his leather jacket and strode out with a wink. Before he closed the door, Alaric put his hand on the phone and whispered.

"Hey! I owe ya, brover."

Damon smirked.

"I will collect," he said with a smirk, before shouting for Bonnie to hear. "Hey Witchy, you owe me!"

From her bedroom, Bonnie laughed and promised she'd pay up.

They had no idea where this would lead, but they decided to simply enjoy the ride.