A/N: well, this is probably the silliest premise I've ever attempted, but watch me play myself and insert this romance-parody with ALL the feelings. watch. me. anyway, i hope i can get away with this title? (oh yeah, i do not have the time for yet another story, like really not, but i knew that i couldn't give up on this idea once it came to me. I owe a small debt to the classic "like the sacrificial little lamb you are" by irishcookie because it got me thinking of absurd scenarios. admittedly, this premise came to me while watching The OA, so my mental state might come into question) anyway, make sure to drop me some thoughts!
p.s. this is probably gonna be a 4-parts thing. we'll see.
i.
She doesn't scream. She doesn't barf. She doesn't try to pull her hair out of its roots. When the revelation comes, Bonnie Bennett is eerily quiet. There's a huge lump in her throat, so swallowing is kind of tricky. But she's not about to throw a fit. No, she just sits there on the sanded floor and stares. She doesn't stare at anything in particular. She's transfixed by a few dust motes which float above her head in the harsh lamplight. They cast a halo effect on the whole scene, which clashes powerfully with what she's just read in these musty tomes.
There's a knock on the door that almost sets her teeth on edge.
"Excuse me, Miss Bennett? I'm afraid I have to lock up the wing. It's past seven."
The custodian smiles kindly behind a salt-and-pepper mustache. He doesn't have a damn clue about the demons she's currently battling.
Bonnie nods her head. "Yeah, sorry, I lost track of time."
"It's no problem. Anything for Sheila's folks. She was one heck of a lady, you know. We all miss her."
The custodian launches into a story about his nephew and an ER visit that somehow connects to Sheila, but Bonnie isn't listening.
The reminder that she's currently in Gran's old office makes the whole thing even more of a farce. She drove all the way to Whitmore to find answers. She thought Sheila's academic haven would provide her with elegant solutions for defeating the Original Hybrid who was ruining their lives.
Instead, this.
Bonnie's always been straight-laced about drinking. Ever since that Thanksgiving incident two years ago, she's sworn off wine coolers. But right now, she's sure she could drink everyone at the Grill under the floor.
She could leech off some booze from the college students on campus, but…is she that desperate?
Bonnie stares down at the innocuous paragraph circled in red which will populate her nightmares for the coming weeks. Oh yeah.
She ends up drinking some very concentrated lemon spritz on the cement terrace of a gas station. It's the kind of venue that would give her father a small heart attack. The truckers grin at her behind faux-aviator glasses. She ignores them. She feels older than seventeen and a half.
Okay, okay, breathe.
Who else can do this but you?
She thinks about her mom. She has no idea if Abby Bennett is even in the States. She hasn't tried looking for her in the past fifteen years, because well, Abby's made it clear she doesn't want to be found. It would be a bit of a shocker to track her down for this kind of proposal.
Bonnie cackles in her fist. The lemon spritz flies out of her mouth. God, her first conversation with her mom would involve R-rated magic. No, thank you.
Then there's her cousin Lucy. The only other living Bennett she knows.
Bonnie was elated to find out she's not quite as alone as she previously thought. Lucy even left her contact details, urging her to keep in touch. "If you ever need anything…" she'd said. But would this fall under that generous offer?
Bonnie shakes her head in sorrow. Lucy's been under enough strain working for the infamous Katherine Pierce. Pushing her on another psychotic blood-sucker would be the height of sadism.
She doesn't know why she's even trying. She knew, the moment she read the encrypted Latin that it would have to be her, that she couldn't force this upon anyone else.
She's a Bennett witch and Klaus Mikaelson is her responsibility.
She just…God, she'd never thought it would be this kind of responsibility.
When Stefan and Damon had told her they'd exhausted all avenues, she'd said in a foolish bout of optimism, "Magic always finds a balance."
Ha. Well.
There's her balance now.
Because here's the hilarious punch line; the Original Hybrid can't be killed with white-oak stakes or infernal spells. Even if they could rope Elijah and the rest of the siblings into helping her weaken him, it still wouldn't do the trick. The Hybrid can only be killed a witch, a Bennett witch to be precise. While fucking.
Sorry, she doesn't mean to sound crude, but there's no other way around it. The twenty-five Grimoires and occult volumes she consulted all broadly define it as the same thing: copulation.
Klaus Mikaelson has to be inside her when she rips his heart out. It's the only way she can rip his heart out and definitely kill him.
Yes, she has to fuck him to death.
On the drive home, she wonders if her grandmother knew. Well, maybe she couldn't foresee Klaus in all his horrible glory, but what's that old saying about better to prevent than cure? Her Grams could've told her that her vagina would one day be the ruin of monsters. It would have at least given Bonnie a boost of confidence.
She almost chokes thinking about Sheila instructing her in the arts of seduction. Like some messed-up Geisha scenario.
The ancestors have always been rather prickly, but this is a new level of cruelty.
She doesn't really have to do it. She could just…bury her head in the sand and pretend Klaus isn't wreaking havoc on her friends and family.
Yes, she could totally do that, haha. Her conscience wouldn't gnaw at her or anything.
It's just sex… she thinks with a shudder. Sure, she's never done it before, and given the fact that Jeremy seems to be more interest in a ghost, it's not like she's going to experience it with a loved one any time soon. But how hard can it be?
Millions of women have done it with men they probably disliked. It's true, she had hoped her first time wouldn't be, well, death sex. But then again, maybe her first time would have sucked anyway.
This is just a different flavor.
What makes matters worse is that she knows she's not Katherine. If she were, she'd find a way to render Klaus unconscious or subjugate him into…well, you know. But she can't rape him, for God's sake. She'd be viler than him if she ever stooped to that.
No. Ugh. She has to – somehow "make it happen".
Given that Klaus hates her with the passion of a thousand suns, this should be easy. Ha. Ha.
Bonnie sizes herself up in the floor-length vanity. She's not looking for imperfections or trying out an outfit. She's not having a normal teenage reaction to pores or knobby knees. No, she's staring at her body like it's the first time she's seen it.
This young, pliable body will have to – Jesus.
She stares at her thighs in absolute horror. She wants to purchase one of those chastity belts and reinforce it with barbed wire.
She's got such a yearning to call Caroline and dish out everything. Elena would immediately tell her no, absolutely not, you can't do this, are you crazy? But Caroline, while voicing the same concerns, would at least get where she's coming from. Because honestly, there's no other definitive way to do this, she's checked.
It's really depressing she has no one to share this with. But on the other hand it's better this way, because Klaus has no idea he can be killed by her hymen. If he did, she wouldn't be breathing right now. In fact, her body would be spliced into pieces on the side of the road. She has to keep it under wraps or the whole thing falls apart.
She went to school today and got Klaus' number from Tyler. She could've swapped it from Stefan, but she wants Klaus to know she asked for his number. She figured Tyler would tell him, since he seems extremely grateful to Klaus for the whole hybrid thing. Caroline told her Klaus' got him under some kind of bond, so she has to take advantage of this while she can.
I mean, if I get this right, Tyler can be free. They all can.
So, she sits down on the bed, pulls her knees to her chest, and takes out her phone.
She's going to text him. Start a conversation. Get the ball rolling. She's doing this for the future of mankind.
The first line is crucial, though, because it sets the mood. Ugh, she's talking like a goddamn scam-artist. But this is a scam, isn't it?
Okay, she has to come off as casual, but not too intimate. He might get suspicious.
She could go with a classic Hello, but it somehow reminds her of that Lionel Richie song and just, no. What about a simple Hi? Too friendly? Hello there. Hmm. Too homey. Hi there. Too dopey.
This is Bonnie, she types, feeling like a moron. And then for good measure, she adds a Hi.
Her heart is thudding so loud, the neighbors could practically hear her. Will he answer? Probably not. This is Klaus. He doesn't text. He's probably busy decapitating his enemies and pillaging their widows. And why would he -
A small ping.
K: What is this?
Bonnie grips the phone until her knuckles turn white. OK, kind of hostile, but it's a landline.
This is Bonnie Bennett, she types again, feeling extra-foolish.
An immediate ping. How did you get this number?
Bonnie chews on her lip. Didn't Tyler tell you?
K: Tell me what exactly?
Look at them conversing. This is conversing, isn't it? She hates herself.
I asked him for your number, she types, wondering if Sheila is watching this from The Other Side and having a spirit-stroke.
K: Why
No question mark. As if he's spitting the word out. She can read between the lines. She's fluent in passive-aggression.
B: I wanted to talk.
K: What do you want, witch?
Oh, nothing much, Bonnie thinks, just to have your dick inside me.
It sounds like a horrible porno, the kind that scars you for life. She remembers walking in on a late-night viewing of Eyes Wide Shut when she was twelve. She still hasn't recovered.
But what if she just straight-up typed that? No, not the Eyes Wide Shut thing. What if she wrote - she winces - I want you inside me? Would Klaus show up on her porch with a wolfish grin and tell her let's do this?
Because she doesn't know how she'd react. She'd probably make a run for it. And never come back.
She realizes she's going to have to let him get close to her at one point. But could they possibly do it like the Orthodox Jews and find a sheet with a hole?
She doesn't know how to answer his question other than scream that she needs to fuck him. So, she deflects.
B: What are you doing right now?
K: Are you serious
Again, left without question mark. He's definitely grouchy.
B: Yes?
K: None of your business.
Delightful.
B: I know you're trying to make more hybrids.
K: This better have a point.
He's underlined a word again. Is he ever not mad?
B: Is it going well?
K: You don't want to try my patience.
Bonnie groans, burying her head in her pillow. How is she going to get into this asshole's pants? Why does she have to do this?
"I never wanted this!" she yells at the phone.
But she calmly texts, Sorry. I just wanted to know, because Tyler is my friend. And I want him and the others to be safe.
K: The witch, apologizing to me. Novel.
Bonnie gags. She wants to shove that apology up his ass. Okay, no, better not think of semi-sexual acts.
She's a bit surprised to find he's typing another reply.
K: What are you after? Don't take me for a fool.
Well, that didn't last long. How to backtrack?
B: I actually want to bury the hatchet.
She knows it sounds as fake and scripted as a line from Real Housewives of Atlanta, but she's never had a talent for subtleties.
K: Don't make me laugh.
B: I'm not a comedian.
Bonnie literally cringes. Her whole body does a spasm, like a fish on dry land. I'm not a comedian!? It's like she's never texted a guy before. Well, he's no guy. But still, how can she be this rusty?
K: I'm going to assume you're highly inebriated.
B: I'm not! I'm being honest. I swear.
She sounds like a desperate child. She wants to yell at him to accept her offer. She doesn't know what she's offering at this point, but he better take it.
She starts typing before he has the chance to answer.
B: I want to have a truce.
K: I don't.
Bonnie grits her teeth. He should be so lucky to receive an olive branch from her. The bastard.
But of course, what did she expect? She certainly doesn't want a truce either, she just wants his – okay, never mind.
B: Why not?
K: The same reason I don't take arsenic in my tea.
Bonnie rolls her eyes. It's not like arsenic would kill him, so his analogy is all wrong. But she can't afford to alienate him.
B: I like tea too.
Yes, it is perhaps the most embarrassing string of words she's ever had to type. And she once had to text her dad which kind of maxi-pads she preferred.
K: Is this your idea of a joke? Because I have killed for less.
Bonnie puffs up her cheeks in annoyance. His threats seem less sinister in text format. Still, she's getting nowhere. Why does he have to suck so much?
She tries to go for broke.
B: Some cause happiness wherever they go. Others whenever they go.
K: Are you daft?
B: No. That was a joke.
There is a full minute pause until his next reply.
K: Don't contact me again.
Bonnie drops her phone in frustration. Yes, he did just shut her off, but they managed to have some semblance of a dialogue. It was better than nothing.
She feels like a young man trying to woo an overbearing Southern Belle. Except this Southern Belle is an evil monster.
God. She's going to have to try again. She's going to have to see him in person too. And eventually, if the spirits are willing, she's going to have to get semi-naked and –
Nope.
Bonnie stares up at the ceiling where a water-stain has swelled into a prominent bulge. Like a water balloon about to pop. Her father is gone so often, he forgets to take care of these things. And she doesn't have the heart to fix it up because it would somehow solidify the fact that she's the one in charge of the Bennett household. As always.
She's always gotta go at it alone. That's the rub.
Rub. Yuck. All roads lead to Rome, or in this case, Klaus' dick.
Even during her boy-band years she had never contemplated the male body so obsessively. She's not thinking of it in terms of enjoyment – God, no – but rather in a practical, clinical way. Like, if the deed ever happens, will he be on top of her? Will she have to feel his weight? Will she have to keep her eyes open? Will he be – big? She wants the ground to swallow her.
One thing she knows for sure is that it will hurt, because it will be a miserable affair and she'll probably bleed all over the place. But needs must.
And this would definitely be the last sacrifice she'd make for the good of the world. After that, it's non-stop manicures and spring breaks.
Yes. I'll just fuck Klaus, kill him mid-coitus, and then I can think of me for a change.
Bonnie laughs with tears in her eyes. This is going to be hell.