Hey everyone,
Let's get a few things straight here. I do not own any of the characters or storylines mentioned in TVD, the book series or TV series. This fic is purely for fun. I have taken a few liberties with character backgrounds and no, Matt and Caroline have not hooked up here. The story takes place following "History Repeating." Also note, I started writing this fic a while ago. The lovely ladies and gents over at Fan Forum know me as "Ash," so feel free to call me that. They've been getting PMs of this story over the past month or so - about 10 chapters so far, actually. Anyway, I finally got the courage to upload my story here after lots of nervousness about it.
I really hope you enjoy it. Comments are always welcome - good or bad. Also, The first few chapter titles were named after Coldplay songs. They sort of set the mood as I began to write. Read on and rock on. Can't wait 'til Bonnie and Damon finally get together on the show and in the books!
-Ash
Something Supernatural
Chapter 1: Things That I Don't Understand
Sweet, sociable and beautiful. That was Bonnie Bennett in a nutshell. She fit in with the right crowd and had a life that, for the most part, seemed to mirror the whole "typical teen" ideal so many strive for.
Wavy, voluminous dark hair framed the 17-year-old's stunning features. From the deep green of her alluring eyes to the full pout that was surely bound to make some man weak in the knees sooner or later.
On the surface, she was a "good girl." She loved her father, her grandmother and her friends - especially her best friend, Elena Gilbert.
Life was normal. Or at least it had been before they came to town.
After "History Repeating"
It had been two weeks since that night in the woods near old Fells Church. Even though the two puncture wounds had disappeared, she could still remember how his teeth felt as they pierced the delicate flesh of her neck.
His eyes transformed from the crystal blues she had recalled looking into before. They were dark, shadowy with red veins protruding from the soft skin beneath. The classically handsome features of his face were contorted into a sight that could only be described as 'nightmarish.'
Bonnie showered as quickly she could to avoid being late for school, yet again. The warm spray of water was soothing against her cinnamon skin. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, allowing herself to become lost in momentary fantasy.
There she was, dressed immaculately in a Victorian costume, tight corset cutting off her circulation, hair in an intricate up-do and Brad Pitt as Louis from "Interview With A Vampire" with his arm encircling her waist.
They stood at the top of a fabulous, freshly polished oak staircase. He gently tipped her back and gazed deeply into her eyes. His lips crashed onto hers, sending a wave of erotic thoughts flowing through her brain.
"Bonnie!" Just what she needed - her father's shouting interrupting yet another sensual fantasy sequence that just happened to include one William Bradley Pitt.
"Why?" she sighed, balling up her fists and pressing them against the blue and white tiles on the wall.
After styling her locks into a mass of loose romantic curls, she selected a white cotton strapless summer dress that hit her right at the knees and accessorized it with a sand brown leather belt. She then reached for a sand blasted cropped denim jacket and a pair of bronze flat strappy shoes.
"Perfect," she declared triumphantly, staring at herself in the mirror before reaching for her bag.
'Heavy' didn't cut it. Bonnie and her fellow classmates no longer hauled backpacks around. No, these were bonafide pieces of luggage that often weighed about the same as the individuals carrying them.
Bonnie hopped happily into her Prius. Destination: Robert E. Lee High School.
By the time she arrived, her favorite parking spot had already been scooped up. That's okay, she thought. It's still early in the day, so plenty of room for positive things to happen.
That's exactly what she needed. Something to keep her mind from drifting off to that dark place where he still lingered.
After finding herself a spot, Bonnie grabbed her brown bag and slung it over her shoulders. She could already see Elena and Caroline waving to her from afar, Stefan in toe as well.
"Bonnie, over here!" Elena yelled. As if she couldn't already see them.
Offering up her brightest smile, she wrapped her arms around her closest friends and they all made their way to class number one - U.S. History. On the agenda: Civil War reenactments and yet more "up-to-date" educational videos likely made in 1962.
She sat directly in between Caroline and Elena. Stefan was behind them and watched with great amusement as his peers attempted to reproduce moments he could recall firsthand.
The students had drawn straws to pick their individual dates to present. Luckily he and the girls weren't scheduled for their dramatic debut until next week.
He was quite certain Mr. Saltzman would be impressed by the authentic Civil War-era costumes he would be bringing in.
"So hey," Elena whispered to her. "I know we didn't get to talk much over the weekend, but how were things with your Grams? You told her about what happened, right?"
"Yup," Bonnie replied in her softest tone. "She said I should do my best to stay away from Damon. Yeah, like that's gonna be a problem for me."
The two girls giggled softly. "I know, right?"
"Oh Elena, sometimes it's so hard to get his face out of my head. I can still see him coming at me, you know?" Bonnie exclaimed, feeling a chill run down her spine. "I dreamt about him over the weekend - a lot."
"What kind of dreams?" Elena inquired with a raised brow.
"The kinds that make you think you're going crazy," she slowly answered. "They were so...vivid. I kept running into him everywhere - even in my bedroom."
"Your bedroom?" Her best friend now looked officially weirded out. "What the hell was he doing there?"
"Well he definitely wasn't there for a tea party," Bonnie said. "More like he was there for supper. Can you guess which part I played?"
"Oh yes, the main course." Elena watched her friend sympathetically and patted her gently on the back. "I'm so sorry, Bon. I really am."
"It's not your fault."
"Yes, it is. If it weren't for me, none of this would be happening to you. You wouldn't have to know that..." Her voice broke off then, as she leaned closer and softened her tone further. "...vampires even exist, let alone the fact that they're less than six degrees of Kevin Bacon away from you."
"Elena, I'm a witch. If anything, getting up close and personal with vampires was just an inevitability for me. I mean, Damon was practically my family's guardian for 150 years. How weird is that?"
Both girls grimaced at the thought. Damon a guardian? A caretaker of sorts? It was practically the equivalent of saying 'jumbo shrimp.' It just didn't make sense.
"That is pretty damn strange," Elena admitted. "Look, if he comes near you again, you know you can always come to me and Stefan."
"I know," Bonnie acknowledged. "I just don't want to have to be...dependent, you know? I mean, if I come from such a powerful witching family, maybe it's best that I...I dunno, learn a few tricks. At least something to keep 'his royal jackass' from ripping my throat out."
"Does this mean it's magic boot camp for my bestie?" Elena giggled.
"Not quite," Bonnie chuckled. "More like me and Grams having tea, reading old books, learning new spells. Don't worry, I won't be donning a camouflage cape with a big pointy hat and combat boots."
"Glad to hear it," the brunette replied. "'Cause that's not a good look...for anyone...not even Stefan."
***
Lunch time was usually an uneventful melding of several things:
1) Cliques sitting in their respective sections of the cafeteria or out in the quad
2) Trying to solve the great 'what makes the coleslaw so creamy?' mystery
3) Spotting the next hot, young thing Caroline Forbes would no doubt be trying to sink her freshly Crest white stripped teeth into.
Bonnie decided to spend it in a particularly "un-hip" way today.
"Grams, really. Two sandwiches are enough."
"You sure?" Tituba Bennett asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "I made plenty."
"Yes," Bonnie agreed. "I can see that."
Apart from having a reputation where her students either saw her as a practicing Wiccan or a part-time connoisseur of various types of alcohol, the elder Bennett was also known for being incredibly loyal and protective of those she loved.
She also happened to be a raging fan of the culinary arts. Today she decided to offer up an ode to great French bistro fare in the form of several delectable piles of croque monsieur. It was pretty much the rock 'n' roll, "blinged out" equivalent of a ham and cheese sandwich.
"Really, it's delicious, Grams." Bonnie dabbed at the corners of her mouth, as her grandmother came to sit beside her on the sofa.
"So you gonna tell me about those dreams you've been havin' already?"
Bonnie was completely taken aback. She had yet to even mention her dreams about Damon to her grandmother.
She had planned on doing it at some point, but the words just never seemed to come together. That and she was too busy enjoying the sandwiches...and avoiding any talk of the fanged one.
"Dreams?" she feigned innocence. "What dreams?"
"Come on, girl. You don't expect someone who's been around as long as I have to buy that mumbo jumbo, do you?"
The expression on Grams's face was priceless. It lingered somewhere between seasoned prime-time TV detective and Uncle Phil on Fresh Prince whenever Will was in trouble. She certainly had a flare for drama.
"Grams, it's nothing. Really," she replied weakly.
"I see. So nothin' is what's been keeping you up late at night holding on to your neck like someone's out to eat you alive," she surmised sarcastically. "Bonnie, I know he's been inside your head. I see things. You're talking to a seasoned practitioner of the craft, sweetie."
"They're just dreams, Grams," she finally conceded. "I just wish I wasn't having them so often."
"How often?"
Bonnie reached for her mug of piping hot coffee and took a small sip before replying. "Every night."
She gulped hard as Grams' eyes seemed to bulge even further out of their sockets.
"And what exactly has he been doing in your dreams?" she inquired, leaning in closely.
"Oh, the usual. You know, quick bite here, quite bite there. Drain, drain, drain. Dead." Judging by the stern expression on Grams' face, she wasn't all that amused by her attempt at comedy.
"Clever," she responded. "Now why don't you tell me what else he's been doing in your dreams?"
"What do you mean?"
"I can always tell when people are withholding the truth - even if it's just little shards of it. I'm especially good at sniffing it out when it comes to the people I love."
Bonnie watched her in awe. No one else would have ever questioned her. She was a pretty decent actress; their drama teacher told her so.
Nonetheless, she should have known. Grams had a sixth sense about these things. Hell, she probably had a seventh or an eighth for that matter. The woman was a mystical masterpiece and fiest on two legs.
"It's not really the sort of thing I feel comfortable saying out loud...in front of you."
"Bonnie, who's the one who had to tell you about the birds and the bees because your daddy couldn't muster the courage and your sex ed teacher kept confusing you?"
"You did," she recalled, unable to contain her laughter.
Grayson Bennett and his mother belonged on opposite ends of the teaching spectrum. It was a case of conservative versus liberal, a strange development considering the household he grew up in. Then again, perhaps his mother's "witchy juju" could be blamed for frightening him off to the other side.
"So speak. I won't judge you." That was what she loved most about Grams. She could always speak the truth without fear of persecution - well, for the most part.
Bonnie had another sip of coffee. "Before the eventual death by drainage part, we get a little...intimate."
"I see..." Tituba Bennett's voice trailed off then.
"So what do I do?" she asked. Her eyes were wide with desperation.
She needed to know how to get rid of the images that were plaguing her mind and frightening her right out of her wits and slumber all at once.
"You do nothing," Tituba answered, grasping one of Bonnie's hands in her own. "At least for now. What you experienced was traumatic, sweetie."
"Do nothing?" She couldn't contain her disbelief and disappointment. "So what, I'm just supposed to dream about him doing all of those terrible things all over again, night after night? It's just wrong. There has to be a way. Grams, we come from a powerful witching family. Can't we just work a spell? Bottle a potion? Something?"
"Honey, you have to be very careful with the craft. You're still new to all of this. You can't just bottle a potion or work a spell to solve things that sometimes just require the passage of time."
"It's been two weeks," she interrupted.
"Two weeks?" Grams repeated. Bonnie nodded quickly, hoping she would take at least some pity on her and grab one of her spell books. "That's hardly a scratch on seventeen years of life."
Instantly, the younger witch's shoulders slumped in defeat. "So you won't help me?"
"Of course I'll help you - but not by conjuring up an easy fix. You just need to give yourself time to heal, sweetie."
By the time lunch had ended, Bonnie was back in class without a definitive solution to her problem and a raging headache. She clutched her head in her hands as she sat near the window in English Lit.
"Bonnie? You okay?" Caroline asked sweetly.
"Not really," she admitted, looking up only slightly. "My head's throbbing."
"Here," the bubbly blond replied, passing her a bottle of Tylenol.
She accepted it gratefully and smiled. Raising her hand, Bonnie asked the teacher for permission to be excused.
Once in the washroom, she popped the pills and washed it down with a bottle of water she'd purchased on the way. She lingered for a moment by the mirror, observing herself very carefully.
Her skin was a touch too pale this afternoon. Bonnie was about to walk away when she was caught off guard by the sensation of dizziness. Pressing a hand firmly against the wall, she tried to steady herself.
"Okay room, stop spinning," she commanded.
Struggling to maintain her balance, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. She felt as though someone had placed her inside a swirling vortex. First came the nausea, then came the light headedness.
The last thing she recalled before her descent into unconsciousness was the sudden sound of cawing off in the distance. She was out.
"Bonnie!"
Her eyelids refused to open immediately. They were still so heavy. "El-Elena," she weakly replied. "How-how long have I-"
"I dunno. I just came in here and found you like this. Here, let me help you."
Placing her arm around her best friend, the tall brunette began the difficult task of plucking her off the floor. She had one arm wound around Bonnie's waist, while the other kept the witch's arm around her neck.
As soon as they emerged from the ladies room, a deeply concerned Matt Donovan dropped his backpack into his locker and ran over to them. "Bonnie! Are you okay?"
"I found her passed out in the girls bathroom," Elena told him. "Think you can grab the juice from my bag? Might be a good idea to get some sugar into her right about now."
"I'll do one better," he began, grabbing hold of Bonnie.
Thankful for the use of her hands back, Elena offered him her warmest smile. She saw the faintest blush appear on his cheeks. There it was - the instant reminder that no matter what, there would always be a soft spot reserved for her in his adolescent heart.
"Thanks," she replied sweetly.
Reaching into her bag, she grabbed a small plastic bottle filled with fruit punch, slipped a straw into it and instructed Bonnie to drink.
When she was done downing a quarter of the bottled red liquid, she offered up a tiny smile of gratitude. Nudging Matt gently to free her, he loosened his grip and allowed her to stand straight.
Staring at the large black rimmed clock on the wall, it dawned on her. She had been passed out for half an hour. English was already done and her belongings were likely still sitting near the window in class.
"There you are!" Caroline Forbes marched right up to he trio clutching Bonnie's bag. "Where have you been?"
"Passed out in the girls bathroom. Thanks for bringing my bag," she answered casually.
"What?" Caroline was the queen of over exaggeration - not that her shock wasn't justified in this instance - but her response was, needless to say, loud.
"Keep it down," Elena scolded her, motioning her hands so that Caroline would tone it down.
"Sorry," she replied.
"I just got really dizzy and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor...the dirty, disgusting, girls bathroom floor," she grimaced at the realization. "Excuse me, I have to go wash my face."
Bonnie disappeared again into the bathroom and made quick work of cleaning up a bit. By the time she came back, Matt had already left.
"He had football practice," Elena explained.
"So that's gotta be all kinds of awkward for you," Caroline chucked in.
"What?" the leggy brunette questioned.
"Oh I dunno, being around your ex all the time. You know, the guy you dated for like, ever."
"It used to be," she acknowledged. "But we've all moved on since then. I'm with Stefan now and Matt's doing fine."
"Sure," exclaimed Caroline sarcastically. "And the next thing you know, you'll be telling me that you and Stefan are virgins."
Turning to Bonnie suddenly, Caroline's eyebrows shot up. "No way!"
"Excuse me?" Bonnie replied.
"You passed out in the girls bathroom, you were dizzy and earlier on this morning, you did complain about being super hungry-"
"That's because it was five minutes before lunch time, Caroline." Bonnie rolled her eyes, knowing full well where the pretty blond was going with this.
"Oh my God, Bonnie!" Softening her voice, just a touch, she put her arms around both girls and leaned in close. "Are you...pregnant?"
Yanking Caroline's arm off of her Bonnie frowned. "Now how do you suppose that happened? Immaculate conception?"
"So you're still carrying your v-card?" she asked.
With one hand over her heart, Bonnie spoke. "Yes Caroline, I am still a card carrying member of the club for people who have yet to 'get any.'"
"Phew," she replied, pretending to wipe sweat from her forehead. "And here I was scared you did it with some random guy and forgot to tell me, your best friend, all about it."
***
Bonnie sat quietly in her Prius taking in the sounds of the latest Alicia Keys record. She was grateful the day had finally come to an end.
Between the dreams she had been having about Damon and today's little fainting incident, she was more than ready to get home, lounge on the sofa, watch soaps and then tuck into a hearty supper.
Pressing her index finger against the 'Engine Start' button, she felt the automobile come to life and began to observe her surroundings before backing out. Bonnie decided to take the scenic route today.
She drove past miles of lush green, the gentle swell of hills and clusters of trees, their branches stretching toward the clear blue sky. This was a definite step up from the congestion of traffic.
Not to mention, it was far better than inhaling the puffs of grey smoke emitted by gas guzzling hellraisers on four wheels.
Bonnie went past Lockwood Drive and stopped at Crescent Road to allow a lone pedestrian to cross. Traveling down that path would have led her straight to the Salvatore boarding house and a chance encounter with the one person she was determined to avoid.
Sighing to herself, she looked ahead again. "Not today, Damon. Not today."
[i]Keep your eyes on the road, Bennett. There's nothing down that road for you.[/i] She took a deep breath, turned up the radio and continued the journey home.
Bonnie kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead. She was concentrating so hard that she missed the light blue Prius parked off to the side of the road.
Grams had made sure to conceal herself behind a thick brush of trees, just along a dirt path. "That's it, sweetie. You go on home. It's about time I had myself a chat with Damon Salvatore."
Tituba Bennett started her modestly sized vehicle and proceeded onwards to 61 Crescent Road. Pulling into the driveway, she could feel his eyes already on her. He knew why she had come; he just didn't care.
Oh, I'll make you care. She silently sent him her message and waited for an answer.
It came swiftly. Your witchcraft isn't welcome here, Tituba. You know the Bennetts are no longer my concern.
I beg to differ.
Go home. His words came out as a harsh order. He wanted nothing to do with these women. They obviously weren't honourable enough to keep their promises.
Tituba defiantly got out of her car and slammed the door extra hard so he could hear her approach from wherever he was. She wasn't afraid of vampires. They were at the bottom of her list of 'things to run from,' right next to werewolves and fairies.
The door slid open before she even hit the front porch. "You have a death wish," the cold voice declared.
She peered in. There was no one physically in sight, but she knew better. He was playing a game with her; she liked games.
"So do you, it would seem." Her retort was short and sweet, as she made her way into the living room. Nobody home.
"Awww, still upset about me taking a bite out of your precious granddaughter?" His voice was still distant, an indication that she needed to head higher to find him.
Moving up the staircase, she noticed the various Salvatore family portraits lining the wall. There were the infamous brothers, arms around one another as though nothing and no one could come between them.
"Not a very smart move, Damon."
The next portrait was of a handsome gentleman in his late forties. Giuseppe Salvatore would no doubt have been either an actor or a model if he were alive today. Those handsome, chiseled features were enough to elicit even the tiniest nod of approval from her.
"And now you've come looking for an apology?" he asked. "Not. Happening."
"Is this game of hide and seek really necessary?" she asked, looking from side to side as she arrived on the second floor. "You're what, almost 170 years old? Shouldn't you be beyond this by now?"
"What's the matter, Tituba? Arthritis kickin' in? Can't manage another flight of steps?"
Staring ahead, she caught sight of the staircase to the attic. "Always the smart ass."
By the time she had climbed the last step, she was met with an ice cold glare and buckets of sarcasm. "Why Tituba, how nice of you to drop in for tea again."
Damon stood at the foot of Stefan's bed clutching a copy of 'Wuthering Heights.' "How fitting," she exclaimed. "A tragic love story with a lead called 'Catherine.'"
He wore a black t-shirt with dark wash fitted jeans and accessorized it with a frown upon hearing her last remark. "You know Tituba, sometimes 'no' means no."
"Excuse me?" she responded, placing a hand defensively on her hip.
"I did say I didn't want any visitors, yet you insisted on barging onto my property. I could have you arrested for trespassing."
"And I could impale you with a tree branch," she fired back.
For a split second, Tituba swore she saw his lips curve into a handsome, reflective smile.
"I see your little grandwitch remembered a few other details from our night in the woods together," he exclaimed in amusement.
"You nearly killed her," she began. "You should be very grateful your brother saved her?"
"And why is that, pray tell?" he queried, coming to stand within an inch of her.
"Because if my granddaughter really had died, I'd have a pretty good reason to set your ass on fire right now," she replied, staring him pointblank in his crystal blues.
"Tsk, tsk. Not very ladylike conduct on your part, Tituba."
"I think you'll find that I'm a bit of a hell raiser when it comes to protecting the people I love."
"Oh no!" he shrieked in mock fear. "I'm shaking in my Pradas."
Rolling her eyes, she reached into her bag and pulled out a thin brown journal. "This is for you."
Throwing his hands up and smiling smugly, he gloated: "For me? A present?"
"Are you familiar with the 'Bellwain Prophecy', Damon?"
He was baffled, to say the least. This witch comes barging in on him when he's trying to spend his alone time sorting through Stefan's most prized possessions to talk about some stupid prophecy? Why the hell should he care?
Unless someone had prophesied that he was going to have dinner at the sizzler again with another buffet of inebriated teenagers on the menu, it wasn't worth hearing. Of course, if they wanted to upgrade his supper to a round of gorgeous women with succulent, protruding blue veins, he was all ears.
Tituba's arm remained extended for what seemed like an eternity. "It hasn't been hexed, if that's what you're thinking. Go on. It's safe to handle."
Damon reached for the flimsy book and observed the obvious wear and tear it had undergone. It was most certainly the literature equivalent of an antique. Flipping it open nonchalantly, he noted a name written in messy cursive at the top right corner of the first page: Tabi B
He knew this woman. Tabi B...as in Tabitha Bellwain? The woman who was burned right next to Emily the night the townspeople went berserk?
She nodded her reply and watched as his curiosity blossomed.
"What does that crackpot have to do with me?"
"I suggest you spend some alone time with that book and find out," she answered, turning to leave. "Unless of course rifling through your brother's belongings and moping over your undead girlfriend is just keeping you way too busy."
"Wait," he called out to her.
"I can't," she shouted back, already half way down the staircase. "I'm a trespasser and I've gotta leave before you have me arrested."
Damon smirked at her parting words and tossed the book onto his brother's bed. Sauntering over to the window, he allowed the thick stream of light to wash over him.
'Tabitha Bellwain' was a name he hadn't heard in years - roughly 146 of them.
'Til next time, Bamon fans. ;)