t a k e i t a l l b a c k
Summary: Bonnie Bennett is on a rampage to make things right; she wants to make everything that has happened right. How does she suppose she do this? By sending Stefan and Damon Salvatore back to 1864…as humans.
A/N: I wrote this before, called it 'Rewind.' I reread it after a long time, absolutely hated it, modified the plot, and here we are. Read, review, whatever – your input would be epic. I don't exactly know what to make of the first chapter, and I ended it purposely where I did. Hopefully it will pick up and this isn't so boring D:
c h a p t e r o n e
I thought I had a plan, one that would alter this mess and free Mystic Falls from Klaus' unbreakable clutch. I even had Klaus in the palm of my head, ready to jump when I say jump. But what good is that going to do? Even with such a hold on Klaus, how would I kill him? Whoever is in that sealed coffin knows, I'm sure of it, but it's not opening. Not even the dead witches are willing to help. There is no hope; there is no saving us. You might as well announce us all as dead.
Stefan Salvatore rereads the words he scribbled aimlessly on the scrap sheet of paper, torn at the bottom edges. Doing so only makes him realize even more that it's the coldhearted truth. No one is going to make it out of this alive. The thought of dying doesn't bother Stefan; he's had an extension of one hundred and forty-five years too long. It's the others he's worried about, the ones he's trying to protect with all of his barely thought through actions. They're so young yet they have all been exposed to this. In a way, Stefan feels it's his duty to steer them away, to help them live as normal of a life as possible, so it doesn't wind up like his and Katherine's story did.
His emotionless eyes dart around the dimly illuminated cellar located in the abandoned, witch house. There's no one around to lay eyes on to bring him comfort, unless you count four unopened coffins with Klaus' name on them. Leaning back in the rickety chair, Stefan drops the pen in his hand on top of the paper, staring icily toward the perfectly polished caskets. This is what his life has come down to – dangling dead people in front of Klaus' nose, toying him along like a cat and mouse game. Stefan almost doesn't mind it. There is no place for him in Mystic Falls; the only thing that is in his sites is revenge. Being driven by anger is one thing the younger Salvatore always swore off, but this is only fitting. The moment Stefan left town with Klaus to save his dying brother is the moment he lost everything. It's almost as if this dusty, stuffy room with the moonlight beaming through the tiny window is now his home, his only home.
Lost completely in his bewildered thoughts, Stefan just hears the noise of life besides himself and the rats scurrying around through the walls. The click of soft shoes coming down the staircase makes him perk, listening for only another moment before standing to take his guard in the darkest shadows of the basement. When the door opens, Stefan almost instantly realizes there will be no harm from this particular person. The heart-shaped face surrounded in cascading, midnight black hair is determined, but not unfriendly. With a stern expression, he emerges from the darkness, making the not-so stranger jump slightly at his sudden appearance. "Bonnie," grumbles Stefan lowly, adjusting his gaze back to the coffins he was glowering at before.
Bonnie Bennett knows she needs to stand her ground around Stefan; he's now a ravenous vampire driven by bloodlust who will say and do anything to get what he wants at this point in time. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, the small girl takes a baby step forward, eyes boring into the back of Stefan's head. Pursing her lips together, she's mentally slapping herself. She had a perfectly worded speech practiced in the car. Now, here in the room with the very person she needed to declare the speech to, she is at lost for words. Even if Bonnie did manage to say anything, it would most likely be muted to the point even a vampire would have a hard time hearing.
"What are you doing here? It's late." Stefan's question lets Bonnie's muscle relax a little, making it much easier for her to locate her vocal cords.
Another step forward, Bonnie feels like her normal, confident self again, raising her chin higher to express she means business. "I still haven't found a way to open the coffins."
Stefan snorts, his shoulders rising as if prepared to burst into laughter. "You didn't have to travel here in the middle of the night just to tell me that; I was already aware."
Bonnie shakes her head, finally standing side-by-side with Stefan. Cocking her head to the side, she looks up at his icy, lost eyes. She can only imagine what is going through that head of his…Hurt, despair, betrayal. It's impossible for there to be any decent emotions left in the one Salvatore she actually liked. That's why she came to the conclusion several weeks ago that she would help do this shenanigan with Klaus. There's no one left on Stefan's side, defending in his honor that Bonnie trusted more than she ever figured she did. He lost everyone. He deserves one friendly companion to tolerate his bitterness and cold shoulder.
Realizing Stefan is now glaring at her in a way she's never seen, she straightens her posture, clearing her throat silently. "Let me finish," she states, keeping her voice steady. "I haven't found a way to open the coffins, but I think I've found a way to protect us all."
Protection always lingers on Stefan's mind when pondering the persons around Mystic Falls, but isn't ideal. Klaus is his number one priority; if Bonnie wants to do a spell to bewitch the town from Klaus' wrath, so be it. Why does she need his consent for this? Something about the way her brown eyes twinkle in the obscure space almost forces Stefan to want to hear her out.
With one, solid nod in agreement, Stefan states assuredly, "I'm listening."
Damon Salvatore's recent chipper mood has been cut short after Stefan's Wickery Bridge stunt. For a moment, when spitting venom in Klaus' direction, Damon honestly thought Klaus wasn't going to back down; that Klaus thought this was all just a bluff. It wasn't. Damon knows his little brother better than anyone and, in his current psychotic stage, if Stefan said he was going off that bridge with Elena in the car with him if the hybrids didn't leave town, he meant it. The fear that overwhelmed Damon in that moment was nothing he has felt before. The dreaded image of the red sports car crashing into the rail and plunging off into the water below played on repeat in his mind the rest of the evening.
There is a sense of triumph within Damon. Stefan's motto worked better than any of his own, despite the fact it was the riskiest they have ever gotten. His young brother played the better villain on one of the most cunning vampires alive. How can't you give props to that? The answer to that would be because of Elena. She could have died. She would have slipped through his fingers in seconds and there is nothing he could have done about it. He told her he would never leave her, yet he did. He promised that no one would hurt her, especially his brother, and he was about to. Damon failed Elena; the guilt is nothing a couple scotches can't fix at least.
The elder Salvatore pours the rich liquid into a crystal glass on the counter in the sitting room, staring at it longingly. If drinking away your sorrows were a game, Damon would have the most trophies and hold the longest reign to date. With an amused smirk lingering on his face, he curls his fingers around the glass, putting it to his lips for a deep swig, nearly finishing it off.
Turning around on his slick heels, Damon is surprised to see his brother leaning against the frame of the entry way. Being used to these occurrences, Damon doesn't even wince. He simply rolls his pretty, blue eyes and marches his way toward the fireplace, taking a seat on the comfy couch.
"Hello, brother," he calls out nonchalantly, gazing into the dancing flames that are waltzing above the charred wood, while twirling his drink around in a flick of his wrist. "Came to take me for a ride to Wickery Bridge, too?" Sarcasm infests Damon's question, causing a light snort to rumble through his throat.
The only reason Stefan came back to the boarding house today is precisely because of Bonnie's late night visit. At first, Stefan didn't believe what she proposed was possible until she physically read it to him aloud from one of the grimoires she obtained from the Martin warlocks. The spell is only one Bonnie happened to stumble upon by coincidence, she told him in the darkness of the cellar, and one she desperately wanted to attempt. This single spell could be the difference between life and death. Stefan now comprehends what Bonnie meant by protecting us all. Now it's time for the most difficult task of all – bringing Damon to the right enough sense to have him agree to such a life altering change.
Stefan sluggishly enters the sitting room, eyeing the back of his brother's head. Even in his ripper state of mind, Stefan knows talking to Damon when he's mad will be like walking cautiously over stepping stones through a volcano. Take one wrong move and you're sent off the edge into the scorching lava. Crossing his arms, Stefan remains behind the couch, keeping a sturdy stance. "I'm aware you're upset with me. You're not in the mood to listen to anything I say. That's why I brought back-up." Craning his head to the side, Stefan calls out after a short pause, "Bonnie, are you coming?"
The petite girl comes swaying in, far from gracefully. Her arms are stocked with one particular grimoire and more candles than she can count when glancing down at them. Though struggling with the load, the aroma of sweet vanilla helps settle her nerves. The one thing she's worried about is Damon's reaction to this. Stefan was surprisingly open, yet distant on expressing his feelings, to the idea. If the ripper can be respectful about it, would Damon be capable of reacting the same way too? Bonnie can only wait and see; it won't be long now.
"Why'd you bring Bonnie here, Stef?" interrogates Damon, not particularly curious for Stefan's reasoning behind it. If Stefan thinks having the witch be friendly to the elder brother will alter his present emotions for him, he's certainly wrong. Damon doesn't want to hear what Bonnie has to say. So he takes a sip of his beverage, half tuning out both his brother and the witch.
"I've stumbled across a spell," Bonnie states loudly, her voice echoing throughout the room. Dropping the grimoire and candles gently on the case behind the couch, Bonnie heaves out a small sigh, sending a secret smile toward Stefan. "This spell isn't like anything I've seen before."
Damon repositions himself on the couch, his arm lounged over the back of it while the other continues playing with his drink. "Why are you telling me this, and why do you have one of your witchy brew books? You're not doing a spell in my house."
Bonnie shakes her head lightly, running her hands down her stomach to flatten her shirt. She can already feel herself avoiding the truth. How do you just waltz into someone's house and inform them that they are going to try a spell as large as this? With desperate eyes, her gaze falls on Stefan once again. Bonnie may be the younger Salvatore's 'back-up,' but she isn't any help at all.
Stefan doesn't see the point of Bonnie informing Damon after that look she is shooting his way. Damon already loathes the thought of his brother anyway, so why not add to the long list of reasons why Stefan gets granted with an eternity of misery? There is no hesitation in Stefan's voice as he proclaims in certainty, "Bonnie discovered something that alters time, Damon."
Damon's attention is finally grasped to the fullest. His dark eyebrows furrow closely in a tight knit, skepticism written across his face. "By time, you mean the past? What are you going to do, change it so French fries weren't created and see if that puts a damper on the old hybrids plan?" Of course Damon isn't taking this seriously. He doesn't want to. He's almost terrified to find out exactly what of the past Bonnie wants to modify.
"Something like that," squeaks out the dark-haired girl, eyes darting around the vintage room while taking a deep breath. "You're off with the time period though; let's talk 1400s, Bulgaria."