Title: Salem.
Rating: PG
Warnings / Spoilers: Up to the recent episode of TVD.
Summary: Sent on her way by a message from the dead, Bonnie embarks on a journey to find herself. However, Damon promptly invites himself along. Things quickly go downhill from there. Bamon.
Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries and characters therein are the property of L.J. Smith and HarperCollins. The TV series is the property of the CW network, Alloy Entertainment, Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, and various other persons. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: After real life forced me into a hiatus, I'm back with this little story. Echoes of the Past is currently being edited to fit in with the new canon and should be updated soon. I hope you enjoy reading! :)
* * *
The sun had no business shining as brightly as it did. It just wasn't fair. Not when Grams wasn't there anymore to occupy her usual place on the couch, dropping bits of ash on the bright cloth as she smoked. Not when the low coffee table was covered with letters of condolence.
Bonnie Bennett sniffled and snuggled deeper into the couch. She sat on the exact spot where Grams used to sit – in that little dent her grandmother had created by years of sitting there, one leg up, the ashtray right next to her and a couple of books nearby. Bonnie held back a sob and pressed herself deeper into the soft cushions. The couch still smelled of Grams. It still held her form and Bonnie felt as if she just didn't fit. As if she simply couldn't fill the void left by her grandmother. By the witch.
Bonnie's vision blurred, the coffee table and all those ridiculous, formal condolence letter mashed together into a splotchy picture of dark brown and tan. Bonnie blinked them away but succeeded in nothing more than making them roll down her face. Slowly. Leaving a wet trail down her eyelids, then rolling to the edge of her nose to her upper lip. Reflexively she licked her lips, tasting salt for a second before resolutely wiping the tears away. She didn't have time for this. No time for sadness. No time for missing the woman who been more like a mother to her than her real – her biological – mother had ever been.
Bonnie pressed her lips together in determination and reached for the first letter. From the college. Bonnie unfolded the letter and skimmed its contents, frowning a little while doing so. It was very formal (so unlike the letters some of Grams' colleagues from the college had sent. Some smelling of spicy essences Bonnie couldn't identify or containing pressed flowers. Grams would have loved that).
In a sudden temper Bonnie crumpled up the letter in her hand and threw it away, as hard as she could. She didn't wait to watch the letter hitting a vase which started toppling dangerously for a moment.
Bonnie hid her face in her hands, shoulders trembling, her hair cascading around her face like a thick, dark curtain. She sobbed so hard that she almost didn't hear it. That voice. Bonnie blinked and looked up. "What?" she breathed.
"I said, I never liked that vase anyway." Her grandmother said and stepped into the room.
Bonnie froze, hardly daring to believe it. She opened her mouth to reply but found that no sound came out while her grandmother gave the vase an indifferent looking, striding into the middle of the room with her usual energetic movements.
"I think it's the pattern, something about the vines that unnerves me and who on Earth would put squirrels on a vase? I have no idea why I bought it." Grams thought for a moment. "Must have been a bargain."
Bonnie barely felt able to breathe. "Grams?"
The older woman halted and turned to Bonnie, wearing a soft expression. "Hello, honey."
Tears spilled over again as Bonnie decided she didn't care whether or not she'd gone insane (certainly justifiable considering what she had been through, she reasoned) and flung herself forward into her grandmother's arms. Or at least, that was the intention. One moment Bonnie approached her grandmother, barely registering the woman's slightly alarmed look, and the next she passed right through her! It was only due to the speed of her reflexes (who knew that cheerleading practice could ever have a practical use, Bonnie thought absentmindedly) that she didn't crash right into the coffee table but managed to catch herself. Though only barely.
Bonnie turned around just in time to see Grams shrug.
"I'm sorry, honey. We can't touch."
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "I noticed." And indeed, now that she got a better look, Bonnie realized how Grams looked a little...translucent. How the sunlight streaming in from the living-room window passed through her unhindered. She didn't even cast a shadow.
Bonnie pinched the bridge of her nose against an impending headache but to no avail. "I knew I shouldn't have drunk dad's tea."
The corner of Grams' lips twitched into a smile. "It's not the tea, dear – though that was a silly thing to do. You know that man likes to experiment with new flavors." She shook her head and very gently, hesitantly, reached out to cup Bonnie's cheek in her hand. It felt like being touched by the wings of a butterfly. "I'm so proud of you, Bonnie."
Bonnie shook her head, tears blurring her vision again. "You're dead." She sobbed and reached for a kleenex.
"Unfortunately, yes." Grams gave her a compassionate look.
"Are you a ghost?"
Grams shook her head. "No."
"Illusion? Figment of my overheated imagination? Something I dreamed up to make myself feel better? Because in that case – note to self – this is not helping."
Grams sighed and pointed to the couch. Bonnie gasped and dropped the package of kleenex. She was still sitting on the couch, the condolence letter in her hand. Bonnie-on-the-couch was fast asleep, a look of distress upon her face. "What?" she gasped and turned to her grandmother.
"We're in a dream."
"So...you're not real?"
"Oh, I'm real all right." Grams smiled. "You didn't just think me up, if that's what you're worried about." A thoughtful look passed over her face. "However, you did pull me out of...well, of where I was going to and we don't have much time."
"You mean, I'm going to wake up soon? Grams, I'll go and sleep more often and longer if that's how I can have you back!"
Grams shook her head. "That's not it, Bonnie. You're powerful – more powerful than you guess – but this is the last time we meet. I came to say goodbye and...and..." Her image flickered for a second, like a picture on a tv screen during bad weather. Bonnie's eyes widened as her grandmother moved forward, looking urgent. "You need to go home." She said.
"I am home." Bonnie said, giving her an incredulous look.
"No, child. I mean home."
Bonnie shrugged. "Me, too. This is home. I've been more around this place than at dad's and you know that."
Grams' expression became slightly frustrated. "Look, there are restrictions. I can't tell you outright, so let's put it like that. Keep in mind that you need to go home in order to become what you are." She hesitated for a moment. "And you are not alone."
"Right. Can you get any more cryptic?" Bonnie snapped, then caught herself. "Grams, I miss you. I don't want to spend our last moments together like this. I want to...to..." A tear trickled down her cheek but she ignored it. "Don't leave me again." Bonnie whispered in a hoarse voice and Grams' eyes filled with tears as well, even as the older woman started flickering again.
"Listen to me, Bonnie. This is important." Grams vanished for a second, then flickered back into existence, her voice sounding as if it came from far away. "You need to go home - there will be a sign. Only by going home you can become what you are and..." She froze and looked around. "You are not alone."
Tears ran down her cheeks unchecked now and Bonnie stumbled forward, intent on holding on to her grandmother just a moment. Just a precious second longer. "Don't go!" she cried as Grams' image became gradually more transparent and the edges blurred as if a glass of water had been poured of an aquarell.
"Remember..." Grams' voice came from far away. "Go home. Not...alone."
Bonnie shook her head. "No," she cried.
"No!"
~ * ~
Bonnie sat up with a sudden start, breathing rapidly. Wisps of her hair clung to her face and a quick check proved that she was indeed still on the couch. Gasping back a sob, Bonnie looked at her hand and found herself holding the crumpled up remains of the condolence letter. It had been a dream. She released a breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding and rubbed her face tiredly. All this nonsense about dream messages from the dead and home and signs and not being alone...
"Noisy sleeper."
The voice had the same effect as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been drained down her back. Bonnie's head snapped up and she glared at the intruder. "Damon."
He gave her a smile that didn't even come near his eyes. "Bonnie. You talk in your sleep." He tilted his head to one side and studied her face. "And you're leaking."
She blinked. "I'm what?"
Damon rolled his eyes, impatient as ever. "Leaking, girl. Metaphor for crying. Wailing. Being all teary-eyed. Weeping. Sobbing your heart out. Bawling. Boo-hoo. Take your pick."
"Get out, Damon." She said in an icy voice when something was flung at her. Bonnie caught it immediately and found, to her surprise, that he had thrown her a package of tissues. Sniffling, Bonnie took one out and blew her nose. She could hear Damon groan.
"Attractive." He said with biting sarcasm. Bonnie glared at him.
"If you feel offended by me, feel free to leave my place." She finished wiping her nose and unconsciously started making herself more presentable. Not that it was an easy task considering her eyes were red and swollen from crying and her face was puffed up, making her feel as if a mad plastic surgeon had been let loose on her face. "How did you even get in?" She asked, somewhat belatedly.
Damon held up a piece of newspaper. "It says 'everyone who wants to pay their respects is welcome'." He shrugged. "I'm paying my respects to your grandmother."
"Funny way you've got of doing that."
Damon shrugged again and sat down on the edge of the couch with the air of a man who felt completely at home. "Clearly I'm a non-conformist." He smirked at the look of surprise on Bonnie's face. "What? You thought Stefan is the only one with big words?"
She rolled her eyes and contemplated for a moment to attempt to push him off the couch. "You paid your respects. Now get the hell out of here." Bonnie said in an annoyed voice and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Move. No one wants you here."
It might have been her imagination but for a second it seemed as if something - some shred of unexplainable emotion - flickered across his face before it settled back into the mask of cruel superiority she was used to seeing. But it had been there and now Bonnie's conscience started nagging and she had to remind herself who – what – this was. He was a monster, he'd proven that over and over again. Heartless, cold and...and looking like an abandoned puppy. Bonnie shook herself, then looked at Damon again. The man was lonely, she realized with a sudden start. Even among his family and so-called friends he was all alone. Grams' words came back to her in a rush and Bonnie shook her head in denial. You are not alone. Oh no. This clearly couldn't have been what Grams meant.
"No way." Bonnie said, still shaking her head. "No way."
"Talking to yourself is the first step toward insanity." The insufferable vampire said, not even bothering to turn around and face. Instead he was studying a pile of books her grandmother had stacked up next to the door.
Bonnie felt her headache return and looked to the door, hoping against hope that it would open and someone - anyone but Damon – would come in and take his place. After a moment of silent staring she gave up and sighed. Perhaps it had just been a mistake. Her grandmother had been anything but clear about things. Perhaps she only meant that Bonnie had people who loved her (unlike Damon, a small voice in her head persisted). Of course, she told herself, Damon pretty much did anything in his power to push people away, so it really wasn't any wonder that no one wanted him around. Perhaps she should instead focus on the 'home' part of her grandmother's message. Perhaps she should find out where it was.
Filled with new determination, Bonnie stood up from the couch. She needed to be alone to think things through. Where was this place? Where was 'home'? How was she going to find it and...?
A dull, thudding sound interrupted her thoughts as the pile of books Damon had been looking at toppled to the ground. He looked somewhat startled himself, Bonnie thought, just as Damon spoke.
"I didn't touch those books." He said, eyeing the pile of books warily. "Did you do some witch-y thing?"
Bonnie shook her head in denial, her eyes fixed on the books, now lying innocently on the ground. She advanced when the topmost book suddenly opened and Bonnie came to an abrupt halt, her eyes wide in surprise. The pages turned quickly as if moved by a very fast reader or an unfelt wind and for a moment the room with filled with nothing but the rustling sounds of turning pages. Back and forth as if undecided where to stop. Damon, fascinated despite himself, approached the book. He studied it with a look of concentration on his face, then raised his gaze to meet Bonnie's eyes.
"You're still not using magic?"
"No." She breathed and crossed her arms across her chest protectively. "What could possibly..?"
All of a sudden all sound ceased and the pages stopped turning. The book lay open on the floor, looking for all the world as if nothing strange had ever happened. Bonnie made a move to pick it up but Damon was too quick for her. Frowning, he took the book and studied the page with a blank expression.
"Does this make sense to you?" He asked and turned the book around, so she could see the page. There was an old-fashioned sketch of a small town on one side and on the other stood its name: Salem.
Bonnie felt the blood drain from her face.
~*~
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