When Whitmore requires Caroline and Bonnie to attend at least one counseling session after Elena's "death," they neglect to mention their preferred coping mechanism - alcohol.
"I can't believe this is really happening."
Bonnie smiled into the magazine she was flipping through. "It won't be that bad, Caroline," she answered.
They sent us to a freaking shrink, Bonnie," the blonde vampire exclaimed, bouncing nervously in her seat. She was too keyed up to also take advantage of the magazines piled on the waiting room coffee table.
"Only because you told the Housing office that our roommate passed away," Bonnie pointed out, trying to extinguish the last trace of guilt she felt over her role in Elena's predicament from her voice. "Maybe it will even be a good thing for us. I've literally been to hell and back, so counseling with a licensed professional doesn't sound all that bad."
Caroline, who had been shooting a glare in the witch's general direction, quickly ceded her anger in favor of reluctant acceptance of Bonnie's point. "To be fair," Caroline said, "they were trying to give us a new roommate. Rather than fall back into bad vamp habits and compel the powers that be, I chose the honest route...sort of. And the Whitmore Housing Handbook clearly explained that 'replacing' a deceased roommate with the year was an emotional trauma to avoid."
Bonnie nodded, not looking upset at all. "Emotional trauma, indeed," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Hence the counseling, which I still think will be good for us. I don't see how it can hurt us if we leave out the supernatural bits."
Clenching her hands together, Caroline sighed, "Alright, I'll stop complaining. But I think we'll need a girl's night after this, just booze and each other. Deal?"
"Sounds great," Bonnie agreed with a bright smile. Ever since the wedding and losing Elena, Bonnie had noticed Caroline's natural clinginess increase substantially when it came to spending time together. Not that Bonnie minded; she had deeply missed her friend. Surprising even herself after her forced isolation, Bonnie found that she felt just as clingy with Caroline.
"Bennett and Forbes?"
Caroline shot out of her seat, while Bonnie just looked up to meet the eyes of the receptionist who had called their names. "We're here," Caroline said in an impatient huff.
"Head on back," the receptionist replied, nodding his head toward the main office.
"Let's do this," Caroline said determinedly, reaching out a hand to help Bonnie stand. The blonde's stony expression melted into a smile when Bonnie didn't let go, and they walked hand in hand out of the waiting area.
Damon was busy sucking down another bottle of bourbon when his phone started buzzing. Though guilt and grief often threatened to swallow him whole, he couldn't help but grin slightly at the name flashing across the screen. "I thought it was 'no boys allowed' tonight," he slurred after answering the call.
"It is," Bonnie said softly, not the giggly girl Damon had been expecting to hear from. "But I don't think we considered just how hard talking about losing her was going to be." She sniffed, trying to hold back the tears in the hope that Damon wouldn't come charging in to save her from feelings. "Caroline ran out to get more gin, something about only drinking Elena's favorites. I probably shouldn't have let her leave, she drank way too much," Bonnie admitted worriedly.
They had held it together after the counseling session as best they could, but by the time they made it to the dorm, they were both sobbing. Adding alcohol had just made everything worse.
Damon frowned, meeting Stefan's eyes as his little brother walked into the study. Clearly having overheard the entire conversation, Stefan nodded and flashed out of the house, presumably to find Caroline. "Stefan will make sure she's okay," Damon said, trying to reassure Bonnie. "I'd offer to come get you, but I probably shouldn't be driving anytime soon."
"You're hitting the bottle, too," Bonnie asked, a slight smile taking over her face. They had a lot of memories sharing some booze together. "Maybe you should have joined the pity party."
"You know I love a party," Damon muttered, hating the memories flashing from the last party he attended. "No psychopaths and their sleeping curses allowed, obviously."
"The counseling was good, Damon," Bonnie whispered hopefully. "We may be a crying, drunk mess now, but the conversation was actually really helpful. The grief will always be a part of us, but Caroline and I talked through some of our guilt and the heartache that comes from Elena being gone."
"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Bon," Damon sighed. He took another swig of bourbon, letting the alcohol burn away his need to admit his own guilt. Feeling the intense need to change the subject, he asked, "You coming home this weekend?"
"If I'm not still sleeping off this hangover," Bonnie snorted. The dark chuckle took her by surprise, the brief humor enough to careen her back to sorrow. "I think I should stick close to Caroline these days, though. Plus, you have another friend who probably needs you now more than ever."
Damon cringed at the indirect mention of Alaric. "Yeah, he's not in a good place," Damon admitted. "But I'm not sure I'm the best guy for the job. I don't know if you know this, but I'm kind of a selfish dick with a distinct lack of empathy."
"Maybe," Bonnie agreed, "but you're also the closest thing to family he has left. That ought to count for something."
"You know," Damon said with a wry smile, "you called me. Why are you trying to get me off the phone?"
Bonnie was quiet for a long moment. "I just needed to hear your voice before I went to sleep," she said hoarsely. "It's easier when Caroline's here, it helps to remind me that I'm not alone anymore. The counselor said it might be due to a tendency of putting others before myself, the security of knowing where they are helps me to relax. Bizarre, right?"
"Then Barbie should know better than to leave you by yourself at night," Damon growled weakly, knowing the witch wouldn't take kindly to any negative light cast on her childhood friend.
"You've been around that girl drunk," Bonnie answered, a smile coming to her face. "She hasn't hit the morose stage yet, so she was practically bouncing off the walls with energy. The walls weren't enough to contain her."
"And you encouraged her to get more booze," Damon asked incredulously.
Bonnie shrugged as she gave into a big yawn. "It's her coping mechanism, something you are definitely familiar with. She needs to grieve, too."
Nodding silently, Damon heard Bonnie's breath slowing down. "Good night, witchy," he said. "Text me in the morning, so I know you didn't give yourself alcohol poisoning by trying to keep up with Blondie."
"Okay, Damon," Bonnie sighed. She slipped deeper into her covers, barely listening to Damon's chuckle at her breathy tone. "Night."
Stefan had made it to the girl's building as Caroline stumbled toward it, hugging two bottles of gin to her chest while drinking straight from a third.
"Want some help with those," he asked, reaching forward to the unopened bottles.
Caroline squinted, as though she were trying to decide if Stefan was really there or not. "What are you doing here?"
Smiling gently as she relinquished her load, Stefan took hold of the bottles in one arm and left a hand on her lower back. "Bonnie was worried she let you out of the room after all the alcohol you two drank," he explained. "Any reason you were in dire need for more?"
Sighing, Caroline leaned slightly into Stefan's side. She was drunk enough to ignore her own rules of interacting with him in a purely platonic state, but she took another swig to be on the safe side. "I'm sad," she admitted softly. "When I'm sad, I normally binge on junk food. My tastes have been annoyingly blood-lusty, though, so I turned to booze for sublimation." She looked up, pensively staring into Stefan's face. "You should know that, you're the one that taught me."
"You're craving blood," Stefan asked worriedly. He had been doing his best to give her the space she had asked for, but he figured Bonnie and Damon would have let him know if she wasn't faring well. "Are you not feeding regularly?"
"I don't need the concerned boyfriend act, Stefan," Caroline chided, mulishly taking another shot of gin.
He stiffened, the sudden stop in his tread enough to make Caroline spill her drink when she no longer had him to lean onto. "That's not fair, Caroline," he said, his voice hard. "I don't get to be concerned for your well-being? Really?"
Rolling her eyes, Caroline made to keep walking.
Stefan had just gotten started, though. "Damon and Alaric are constantly drowning themselves in alcohol and grief, and Enzo is doing God-knows-what with my mother and her 'family,'" he ranted, putting himself in Caroline's path. "Elena is playing a twisted Sleeping Beauty while Bonnie is wracked with survivor's guilt."
"I don't need the play by play, thanks," Caroline snapped.
"Apparently, you do," Stefan replied, taking a step closer, "because all I see from you is denial and drinking habits to rival Damon's. I'm trying to not be the guy that's in over his head, in love with you, but I thought part of that was still being friends. You know, friends that could tell each other anything. The friends who support each other, no matter what."
Caroline's eyes watered, but she didn't dare to say anything.
"So yeah, I think I get to be worried that you're out wandering for more alcohol to drink away your problems instead of talking about them," Stefan said, winding down.
"Why do you think I started drinking tonight," Caroline asked, tired of not being honest with him. "Bonnie and I had a counseling appointment, to talk about losing Elena. Bonnie is supposed to be dealing with her guilty conscience, and I hate that she feels anything close to responsible when it's all stupid Kai's fault."
"What about you," Stefan asked, happy she was opening up to him at all. "What are you supposed to be working on?"
"Bonnie tattled," Caroline snorted. "She told the counselor all about my mom and Elena, and how I've cleaned the house and the dorm so many times over. She swore everything had reflective surfaces, the traitor."
Stefan couldn't help a smile, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. "Is she right?"
"No," Caroline said stubbornly. "But I am supposed to focus all this energy I have into something more productive toward my grieving process."
"Like what," Stefan asked, intrigued by the blonde's indignant expression.
"He recommended that I keep a journal," she said, rolling her eyes. "It will help me sort through the thoughts constantly bouncing around my head, and to come to terms with what happened and how to move forward."
"Call me biased," Stefan said, turning shy, "but I think that sounds like a great idea."
"Says the man who burned all of his journals," Caroline said dryly, remembering an amnesiac Stefan wanting a blank slate.
"It can be very therapeutic just to write it all down," he said honestly. Leaning in closer, he smiled as he whispered, "And who said I didn't start a new journal?"
Caroline perked up at that. The nosy busy-body within her desperately yearned at the idea of getting inside Stefan's head, and the existence of a journal made that feat a thousand times easier. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to stop planning a break-in of Stefan's private thoughts. "Mean," she accused.
"Maybe," Stefan admitted, "but it's true. I've needed the extra dose of introspection lately." He started to lead her back toward the building, intent on getting her to the room safely. "Did it help?"
"Did what help," Caroline asked, tripping slightly on the threshold to the residence hall. Vampire or not, a drunk Caroline was a klutzy one.
"The counseling," Stefan clarified, again placing a hand against the blonde's back as she stumbled down the hall. "Was it worth the visit?"
When they reached the girls' room, Caroline leaned against the door and paused. "I think so," she said, uncertain. "Even if journaling turns into a waste of time for me, I at least know little ways to help Bonnie now. I get why she feels what she feels, and I took all the counseling center's literature on coping mechanisms and grief management."
"Which I'm sure you'll have memorized by the end of the week," Stefan said, grinning at the small blush rising on her cheeks. "Will you be okay tonight," he asked quietly, not sure what he would do if she said no.
Caroline nodded slowly, the alcohol taking its toll on her fuzzy mind and begging her to fall in bed for sleep. "Thank you for walking me home," she whispered groggily, reaching for the gin bottles Stefan still held. "Good night."
He watched her push the door open and walk into the room, where she promptly dropped the bottles on her bed and wriggled herself into Bonnie's. Letting out a helpless sigh, Stefan made sure to lock the door from the inside before leaving the girls to their drunken sleep. Even if he was forced to keep his distance from their grieving process, he was glad they had each other.