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Bonnie Bennett is Dead

It wasn't Bonnie Bennett who Tyler saw maneuvering the packed dance floor. It wasn't Bonnie Bennett who approached the glowing bar for a drink, cash in hand and ended up pocketing it because a guy there offered to pay for her. It wasn't Bonnie Bennett who left that guy at the bar without a second glance, carrying her bubblegum pink drink away, bobbing along to the music as she sat down at a table in the corner where she sat alone.

It wasn't Bonnie Bennett because Bonnie Bennett was dead.

But it looked like Bonnie Bennett.

This Not Bonnie had Bonnie's tiny body and brown skin, her eyes (a faded leaf green that Tyler could see from across the club only because his hybrid eyes allowed him to) and her dark curls. She walked like Bonnie. If he got up and talked to her, she may even sound like Bonnie.

But she couldn't be Bonnie because Bonnie was dead.

Tyler scraped the sides of his brain for information, something else he remembered about Bonnie, something that would prove this girl was Bonnie. Or prove that this girl was notBonnie. And he came up blank. If Caroline were here, she'd know. She'd be able to tell just by looking at her, one glance in this Not Bonnie's direction, and she'd be able to tell if she really was Bonnie.

But Caroline wasn't here. She was back in Mystic Falls, and at this moment she was probably preparing for the move to her dorm at Whitmore College. She wasn't here with him, watching this Not Bonnie swallow down her pink drink.


Three months ago

Tyler had been waiting for this chance since last week. Once a week was all he allowed himself. He turned on his phone on Thursday night at exactly 11:00, to be turned off again no later than 11:05. He was only there to check his messages, to see what the world had left him on his phone while he went through the seven days since the last check.

He returned to his tiny apartment. He'd emptied his checking and saving accounts before leaving Mystic Falls, but he had to conserve his cash. This was what conserving bought him: a dimly lit shoebox in New Orleans where he slept on a squeaking mattress and had only two lamps to light the entire space. It wasn't so bad really. It reminded him of the cellar in a way, where it was dark and wet and no one could hear him screaming. It surprised him how that comforted him.

Tyler sat down on the bed and turned on his phone. It always seemed to take forever for his phone to start up. He called his voicemail, punched in the password, and put the phone to his ear.

Three unheard messages. First unheard message sent May 21 at 11:03 PM Eastern Time

"Tyler."

Caroline, always Caroline. She was the only one who ever called. No one else. It was only her voice he tried to hear.

She sounded...strange.

"Tyler," she said again. She inhaled and her voice shook. "Bonnie." Sobbing, outright sobbing. Then silence.

End of message.

Next unheard message sent May 21 at 11:31 PM Eastern Time

What was the twenty-first? What was that supposed to be?

Graduation.

He was supposed to graduate with his friends - with Caroline. They were all supposed to graduate and cross that stage in their very red caps and very red gowns, and they were supposed to pose for pictures and throw their caps in the air. Tyler was supposed to do that.

There were so many things he was supposed to do.

"Tyler."

Caroline again.

"Bonnie's dead." She wasn't crying anymore. She sounded numb.

"What happened?" Tyler asked, as if she could hear him, as if she'd respond.

"She brought Jeremy back," Caroline answered. "He's alive now, but she's not. He said the spell was too much for her or something, and she didn't..." She stopped. He heard her slow breathing on the other end, a trembling sigh. "She's dead. I don't know what to do. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I just...I wish you were here."

End of message.

Next unheard message sent today at 6:01 AM Eastern Time

"I haven't slept," Caroline says. "I can't. My mom's been trying to wrangle Bonnie's dad. He's...not doing well. Her mom's still here, and, I don't know. It's a mess. I wish you were here."

Tyler pictured Bonnie in his mind, remembered her as a kid, when they were all just kids. Then he pictured her as she was, older. She was a witch, a powerful one, one who put Klaus in Tyler's body to save them all, who took Klaus out when she thought Tyler might die. He remembered a Bonnie who drank herself under the table at one of his Halloween parties, before she was a witch.

To hear this message again press four.

He pressed four.

"I haven't slept."

Tyler listened to the message two more times before he looked at the screen of his phone. 11:08. He was past his limit. He turned his phone off and shoved it into his duffel bag. He spread out over his mattress and stared at the ceiling.

He didn't sleep.


Present Day

Tyler hadn't been able to call Caroline back, even though he wanted to. He'd risked enough just going back to Mystic Falls for the prom. He couldn't go back now. So he tried not to think about the message. The last one he'd gotten like that had been about Jeremy being dead. He'd tried to ignore that one, too, and he tried to forget the sudden pit that formed in his chest when it finally hit him that Jeremy Gilbert - this kid he knew, had always known - was dead.

But Jeremy was alive now.

Bonnie wasn't.

But she was. Right now she was dancing alone on the packed dance floor, surrounded by people who paid her little to no attention. The hot pink gleam of her dress caught the strobe lights, winking and blinking beneath their multicolored glare.

But she couldn't be.

Tyler didn't go out very often. The only times he did was when it occurred to him that this was his life now, and he should probably try to do something with it. Running from Klaus didn't have to mean he never left his tiny apartment again. It just meant he could never go home, never be anything or anyone of importance. It just meant he couldn't be seen or remembered or anything else. It didn't mean he couldn't go out on Saturday nights and slip into the New Orleans nightlife and pretend that he was normal.

That's what he did. That's how he saw Bonnie, winding through this club like she owned it, very much alive. He watched her the whole night. What he did on other nights, on nights when Not Bonnie Bennett wasn't at this very nightclub, interestingly (and also stupidly) named Turbulence, was sit on the club's upper level, nearest the railing that overlooked the bar and dance floor, nursing a beer. Sometimes he ordered a second one, but usually he didn't. By the time he finished his first, he was beginning to wallow in his own self-pity, wishing he were stronger, older, better - good enough to destroy Klaus and go home and be with Caroline again.

Tonight, he didn't even finish his first beer, and all he could think about was Not Bonnie, and how she seemed so very Bonnie. He watched her the whole night. Watched her get another drink from the bar - she paid for it with money stashed down the front of her dress - and return to her corner table to suck on the straw. She got up to dance a couple of times and drew partners in the forms of attractive young men in button-down shirts and large, expensive looking watches. She bought a third drink, this one just a bottle of water, and sat back at her table.

Tyler expected her to look up and stare right at him. He felt very exposed up there, looking down at her. He kept thinking she'd sense his eyes on her and look up. Why wasn't she looking at him? As far as Tyler was concerned, it was just the two of them in this club, and she should have known he was there the way he knew she was there. She shouldn't be able to ignore him, when he was giving her all the attention he had.

More than once he considered getting up and talking to her, but he stopped himself each time. He could be half out of his seat, but he'd still think differently and sink back down to stare at her some more.

He had to be sure it was her.

When Not Bonnie left, he followed her.

It wasn't Bonnie. He decided that as soon as they left the club as the throbbing bass faded behind them. It wasn't Bonnie. Bonnie was dead. This girl was something else, someone else. Maybe a doppelganger. Was that even possible? Of course it was possible. He was a hybrid. When Bonnie Bennett was alive, she was a witch. Why couldn't there be a Bonnie Bennett doppelganger?

Still, he wanted to be sure.

They rounded the corner before he finally said anything.

"Bonnie?"

That was the best he could come up with. But the way he saw it, if she kept walking then maybe he was wrong after all.

She did keep walking, but he heard the stutter of her heartbeat, saw her stride falter just slightly. But she did keep walking, and a less advanced specimen would have missed the signs.

"Bonnie," Tyler repeated, walking faster. She walked faster, too. "Bonnie, wait." She turned down an alleyway lined with trashcans. He followed without hesitation and regretted it when he was thrown against the brick wall of the bordering building, his body crushed to it painfully.

Bonnie stepped from the shadows, peering at him with narrowed eyes. It was her. The hair, the eyes, the slightly skewed jawline. It was all Bonnie. It was Bonnie. He'd known that already, but looking at her so closely, even with his spine being ground against a brick wall, made the confirmation better somehow.

"You're alive," he said, not knowing if he should smile or do something else. She didn't look happy. They'd never been close, but he thought maybe she'd be a little more enthusiastic about seeing him after so long. He was certainly happy to see her.

When was the last time he'd seen any of his friends? Just Caroline at prom. He didn't get to see Matt, Jeremy was still dead, the guys on the football team had become specters in his memory and probably wouldn't care to see him anyway. His mom was dead.

But Bonnie was here, and he couldn't describe how happy he was to see her.

"You're alive," he repeated.

Tyler expected Bonnie's anger to dissipate, melt away. It didn't. Her gaze got harder, and she stepped closer to him. He towered over her on foot, but now with his feet off the ground and his body fused to the wall, he was even taller. She looked up at him fiercely.

"No," she hissed. "I'm not."

She reached up to place a hand on his forehead. She said words, hushed, rushed and foreign.

The alley swam in front of him, Bonnie's face turned into a darkening, blurry whirlpool, and he felt himself falling.

When he opened his eyes he was on the ground, and he didn't remember getting there. He looked to his right and saw nothing, then to his left where three people were standing, looking down at him with darkly curious expressions.

Vampires. Tyler felt it rolling off them in waves, their deadness, the bloodlust.

Were they the reason why he was so confused? Why he didn't know what had led him to this alley? Why he didn't remember anything except for getting his beer at the club and taking his usual seat?

He moved, making for the other end of the alleyway, but one of them gripped his arm and pushed him back down.

"Sit still," he said. He was shorter than Tyler, tawny skinned and tall with dark hair that hung long past his shoulders. There were many chains around his neck, of various metals, one of them holding an ostentatious crucifix that dangled in the center of his chest.

The other two hung back, observing. When it became clear Tyler wasn't going to do anything, another stepped forward. He was taller than his friend with dark skin, a shaved head, and a decent amount of scruff on his face, a mustache and a slight beard. In his gray v-neck and jeans, he looked so casual next to the other without any jewelry or adornment at all. He squatted down so he was at Tyler's level, and smiled a gleaming smile.

"You're Tyler, right?" he said.

"Yeah," he confessed, a cross between annoyed and worried. Annoyed because he didn't know how or when he'd gotten here, and worried because he didn't know what was going to happen to him now, but the presence of three vampires who knew who he was wasn't making him feel very confident about his future.

"Thought so," the vampire said. "Get up." He rose to his full height, and Tyler followed suit. if there was going to be a fight, he probably didn't stand much of a chance. He may be able to bite all three of them, and maybe he could get away. If he laid low for a few days, they'd eventually succumb to the werewolf venom, and Tyler could attempt to slink out of the city unnoticed.

He could try.

The vampire extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Tyler stared warily at his hand and neatly trimmed nails and wondered if he should dare accepting this guy's hand.

"Tyler," the vampire said sharply, fixing him with his dark eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he repeated.

Tyler took the offered hand, prepared for a hand through the chest or something and being overcome with a sense of uneasy relief when all the vampire did was shake his hand.

"I'm Marcel," the vampire said. "King of the Quarter."

King of the Quarter.

Tyler had thought New Orleans may be a bad idea, but he also thought being surrounded by vampires, particularly in such a busy place, would make his life a bit easier. Easier to find blood, easier to feed, easier to fade into obscurity, even with Marcel reigning from a throne somewhere in the French Quarter. An elusive figure (though Tyler wasn't sure if Marcel was elusive because he was truly elusive or if it was just because Tyler never attempted to find him) one Tyler had only heard about but had never seen.

Now he was staring right at him.

Tyler didn't know what to say. More specifically, he didn't know what Marcel wanted to hear and therefore didn't know what he could say to keep himself alive. He could wing it and see what became of it. If Marcel decided to kill him now then he supposed that was okay. He wasn't living much of a life in New Orleans anyway, and whatever life he'd had in Mystic Falls had already passed him by. But Caroline was still there somewhere, so no Tyler didn't want to die, he'd left Mystic Falls to save his own life. He couldn't just-

"Hey," Marcel said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of Tyler's face until his eyes flitted back to his face. Marcel's smile only widened. "Pay attention." With a light chuckle, he examined him with a pensive stare and then looked back to the other two vampires behind him who looked almost amused. Marcel must have communicated something in whatever glance he'd shot them.

Marcel spun back around to Tyler, still smiling. "Well, Tyler. I think we can help each other."

Tyler didn't speak. Speaking was bad when one didn't know what the other wanted. Better to let Marcel talk, let him shuffle and deal all of his cards. Then Tyler would know what his own hand looked like.

"We have something, or rather someone, in common," Marcel said, rubbing his hands together. "Klaus?"

Tyler felt a familiar heated chill settling over him. It was there whenever he thought of Klaus, whenever he thought of why he'd left home, why his mother was dead, whenever Klaus' name wrenched itself from his throat and burned his tongue. It simmered beneath and on the surface of his skin, gnawed at every internal organ and created a bitter taste in his mouth. He hoped Marcel didn't notice all of that. He still didn't speak.

Of course Klaus knew the King of the Quarter. Of course Klaus had friends in New Orleans. Of course because no matter how far Tyler ran it wouldn't be far enough, and Klaus would always find him. And even after thinking Klaus remaining in Mystic Falls may be a good thing for Tyler, Klaus still screwed him over all the way from Virginia.

Marcel cocked his head to the side, intrigued by Tyler's silence. He stepped closer. "Don't worry, Tyler," he said. "I'm not here to take you to Klaus. I need your help with Klaus. He's a problem for you, and he's a problem for me. You're going to help me solve that problem, and you'll be solving one of your own at the same time. Say yes, and we'll leave here together. I'll even hook you up with a real apartment instead of the hole you're living in. You'll be under my protection. Say no and I'll kill you right here. It's nothing personal, it's just for security purposes."

Tyler swallowed down a lump in his throat. Protection? What did he need protection for if not from Marcel himself?

That was what he asked Marcel.

He hitched an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? You've got Klaus on your ass, and I know better than most what Klaus does to people he's marked for death. If you thought you could take him on your own, you'd have done it already. To be blunt, Tyler, me killing you would be kind compared to what'll happen when you bump into Klaus on the street."

Klaus? On the street?

Tyler's confused expression did all the talking, more talking than Tyler wanted it to do. The last thing he needed was to look at all weak in front of Marcel. He looked a cross between disbelieving and sympathetic. "You didn't know he was here?" he asked, before letting out a low whistle. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, he doesn't know you're here either though that news is likely to spread. I found you, didn't I? It's only a matter of time before he does. Unless you throw your hat into my ring, and then I'll scrub this whole city clean of any indication you ever stepped foot inside of it. And you'll be very, very comfortable."

"Where you put me?"

"Until I need your services," Marcel said.

"What kind of services?"

"The kind of services that'll ensure your survival," Marcel said. "It'll get Klaus off your back."

There was nothing that would ever get Klaus out of Tyler's life. That much had been proven. Nothing short of death (and that was impossible unless Tyler wanted to die himself and kill Caroline along with him) would free Tyler of Klaus.

He could try to run. He could leave town tonight, but even as the thought occurs to him Tyler knows that's impossible, too. Marcel runs this town and if he wants to know where Tyler is, he'll have no trouble finding out. Tyler won't escape the city much less the state.

And he's interested. He's annoyed with himself for being interested because this is his life he's dealing with, and even though it's not much of one anymore, it's the only one he's got. If he makes the wrong choice Marcel could screw him over just as easily as Klaus.

But then again, he didn't have much of a choice.

"Okay," Tyler says. "I'm in."

He couldn't tell if Marcel's smile was one of genuine joy or one belonging to someone who'd just tricked a very stupid person into doing exactly what he wanted. "Then walk with me," he said, slinging an arm around Tyler's shoulders. He pulled him along to the entrance of the alley where a dark car was waiting at the street.

The King of the Quarter opened the back door for Tyler and motioned him inside. He slid inside followed by Marcel and the other two vampires.

"Don't worry, Tyler," Marcel said, as the car pulled away from the curb, "I have a feeling we're going to work very well together."

Whether that was true or not, Tyler had no idea, but as he was driven somewhere (fingers crossed it wasn't to his death) he didn't know why he couldn't shake the sudden image of a hot pink dress and familiar though hard-to-place green eyes or why he heard his own voice saying, You're alive.