Resurrection | Damon Salvatore [2] DISCONTINUED

Chapter One

   Bonnie Bennett was stronger than ever before, Damon had noted. Other than being a Bennett witch, hailing from the blood of Qetsiyah—Psycho Bitch, as Damon preferred to call her—she had many years of practice. Sometime in her mid-twenties, after defeating Kai's spell on Elena, she extended her life line. To Damon, she still looked like the girl he spent months with in the prison world; Bonnie still looked like his best friend. 

   "When Stefan called to tell me that you disappeared, he only had one explanation to why," she said as she pulled a book from her bag. Damon noticed it was one of the many grimoires she had collected over the years: big and leather-bound and with hundreds of yellowing pages. She glanced up at him as she let the book fall from her hands to the table. "Freya. It's the anniversary of her death, so she must have been the only reason why you disappeared out of nowhere."

   Damon crossed his arms and watched. "How do you know she's alive?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. He didn't want to speak about his sudden disappearance, especially since it involved his feelings, and he wasn't well-practised in showing those for quite some time.

   "Stefan said you've been having dreams about her for the past month," she said, opening the book. "The same dream every night, and that's very unusual."

   "Right," Stefan answered for his brother, quickly glancing at him. "Damon, you must admit that it is a bit strange that you've had the same dream every single night for thirty days straight."

   "I wasn't thinking about that," he mumbled, looking down at the floor. "It didn't cross my mind that it was strange. I just let it happen."

   Bonnie watched him for several seconds, sighed then glanced down at the book. "Anyway, I think you were dreaming of Freya because you had some kind of psychic link with her. Tell me, Damon, before she died, did you feel anything strange?"

   "No," he immediately answered, glancing down at his feet. "I didn't feel anything weird."

   "I know it's painful," Stefan began, walking over to him. "I know it's hard to think about the day she died, but maybe it holds an answer to why you have a psychic link."

   Damon decided to take a seat on the bed and bring his hands together, then closed hie eyes. He remembered the day she died as if it were yesterday. It was after Rohan's wedding to Thomas Howell, the man who had cold feet a few minutes before the ceremony and Damon convinced him that he was being stupid. Somehow, he had become the best man. He remembered how he danced with Freya at the reception, how he dipped her under and kissed her well. She wore a crown of flowers, he recalled, pink and white and purple flowers decorating her dark hair. 

   And then, he decided to go with the men and drink until his head felt light, his thoughts were rumbled, and his thirst wasn't for blood. He remembered Logan and Jacob, the lawyer and second year resident at a hospital. Logan had pointed out the flower Freya had recoloured was dried, how it slowly died and broke between his fingers. For him, it was strange, so he looked for her. And then—

   "I felt like crap," Damon said, looking up at his brother and the witch. "I felt sick, like throwing up. I could barely walk, but I continued because I needed to find her." He looked down at his hand and tightened his lips.

   Bonnie nodded. "That's a side-effect for one of those spells," she said as she stared at him. Slowly, a smile appeared on her lips. "Damon, I think she did that spell before dying."

   All while Damon sat and drank the cheap bottle of liquor he had brought at a gas station, Bonnie and Stefan continued to plan. To him it seemed ridiculous how they were more into finding out why than he was. He didn't care how or why, he just cared that she was alive again. Maybe, in the back of his mind were the questions burning, but in the now all there was were the many probabilities of kissing her again, of holding her in his arms one more time. That time, she would be alive and not a ghost.