Rebekah had cornered her between classes and given her orders. How she hated that . . hated being treated like a second class citizen . . like she was there only to be at their beck and call.
She had bitterly swallowed her resentment and shown a bland face to the Original, but she was seething inside. She drove off and without really thinking about it headed to the site of the old vampire tomb. She got out and walked through the forest to the mossy covered stones marking the site where she lost Grams. She didn't know why she did it. Maybe she thought she could pretend her beloved grandmother was still here. She sat on a rotten, old felled log, not caring that her pants would be filthy from the tar oozing out of the wood.
She stared at the ruins, willing . . willing . . she didn't even know what she was willing. Rescue? Help? She felt tears well in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them drop.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps. Someone was walking very deliberately, allowing their feet to drag and make the debris of pine needles and old leaves rustle. She relaxed, knowing whoever made that noise did it deliberately to warn her they were coming. The ones she had to fear made no noise.
Somehow, she wasn't surprised when Stefan walked casually over, hands in his pockets. He looked at her solemnly and nodded towards the fallen tree. "May I?" he politely asked.
Bonnie considered telling him to get lost, still angry with him and his brother over Abby, but something held her back, and made her just nod an okay.
He sat, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He looked over at here and said rather inconsequentially, "Your pants are gonna be a mess."
She just frowned. "I know."
They sat without speaking. The sun, peeking through the leaves, drew shifting patterns on them as the wind moved the branches. It was quiet here, peaceful in its own way.
"Did you follow me?" she finally asked.
"No."
Bonnie looked at him, surprised. "Then, how . . "
He shook his head perplexedly. "I heard what Rebekah told you, and I knew you were upset." He paused and picked up a leaf and started stripping it down to the veins. "I just knew you would be here." He looked at her. "Your Grams draws you here, doesn't she?"
"Yeah, my Grams that died to free your brother." She made no attempt to disguise her bitterness.
"I have a lot to answer to you for. I know it doesn't help, but I never wanted you to suffer for Elena. It was never all just about her." Stefan had only the skeleton of the leaf in his hands, carefully trimmed down to the veins. He looked at it appraisingly, picked a few fine hairs away, and then tossed it and began working on another one.
Bonnie watched him strip the leaf and wondered why she just didn't set him on fire. She examined her feelings and realized that Stefan wasn't demanding anything from her, which was a relief. It seemed like every contact lately wanted something from her.
She felt calm here, the stress and bad feeling caused by Rebekah draining out of her. This is where Emily had first contacted her, and it suddenly occurred to her that neither Emily nor Grams held any resentment against Stefan. She distinctly remembered Emily casually spitting Damon on a branch, and Grams proudly telling her about the aneurysms she had given him. Even the witches at the old burn site allowed Stefan entrance without objecting. It appeared her family harbored no ill will against him. She chewed on her lip as she thought it over.
She sighed, knowing she had forgiven him. Her anger was not really at him, but at the situation. She wondered again what was wrong with her that her mother had deserted her twice. The honest, solid core of Bonnie could not hold it against this man who had always been so empathic to her feelings.
She stared at him, and feeling it he looked away from his leaf to meet her gaze. He didn't say anything, leaving her the option of talking or not. As she gazed at him, she remembered when she had feared her powers and came here to face that fear. He had come after her, held her, asking her to trust him, and she had. When he held her in his arms, she felt safe in a way she hadn't in a long time. Somehow she knew that he would not hurt her; he would never hurt her.
She reached over to touch him. He looked down at her hand and then back up to her face. "What do I feel like to you?" he asked curiously.
"You feel safe," she said, laughing harshly. "I don't understand it, but you feel safe."
He looked away, sad. "I'm not," he said wistfully. "I wish I was, but you can't trust me Bonnie. You need to get a reboot from your ancestors. You're trusting the wrong person."
She stood up and wiped off her pants, looking back at a couple of stains. "Crap. I'll never get this out of my pants." Her tone was mild. "Actually, when it comes to me, I don't think I am. I've never been collateral damage to you."
He stood up also, not even bothering to brush off his jeans. "And you never will be, but it happens. It will kill a part of me, but it happens."
Bonnie read the concern on his face, but just gave him a tiny twist of her lips, not quite a smile. "I need to get home."
He stopped her with a quick touch to her elbow, careful not to restrain her in any way. She mentally gave him points for knowing not to push her. They were close now, and he looked down into her eyes, his face serious. "I've told you I'm sorry about losing Shei . , ah Grams, and about Abby, but I've never told you I was sorry about Miranda and Grayson and Jenna. Everybody, me included, has always felt bad for Elena and Jeremy, but . . "
He sighed and shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking away from her, squinting against the late afternoon sun. "I've only just come to understand what it must have—what they must have meant to you. Just learning about Abby and well the way things were for you—they were your family too."
He seemed to grope for words that he couldn't find and ended with a shrug and a grimace. "Not saying this the way I should, but I am sorry."
She watched him walk away, headed in the direction of the Boarding House. She clenched her hands into fists and said under breath, over and over again like a charm, "I won't think about this until I get home."
When Bonnie entered the house, she dumped her backpack and purse on the counter, pulled out a kitchen chair and dropped into it. The house was empty, of course, but she didn't resort to her usual strategies of turning on the radio or plugging in her ear buds to disguise that fact. She just put her elbows on the table and allowed her head to rest dispiritedly in her hands.
How had he guessed? No, how had he known? Because Bonnie was positive he knew. It was in his touch.
No one had ever thought to worry about Bonnie at the Grayson's funeral. Like Stefan said, it was all Elena and Jeremy. She didn't resent it; didn't actually want sympathy cards or consoling pats on the back, or meaningless words meant to comfort. But— but — it would have been nice if someone had recognized how grief stricken she was.
When her mom had deserted her, it had been Mrs. Grayson who watched her when her father was on the road, kept her over for sleepovers, made sure she had the right clothes for school. Her father had worked things out with his company so that when she was real little he was only gone a couple of nights a week, but there were still things where a mom was needed and Mrs. Grayson had always been there. And later on, when she was older, and her father traveled more, and a father was needed, Mr. Grayson stepped right up. He coached their girls' softball league and showed no partiality between his daughter and her. There were no ice cream treats or movies or trips to the lake where she was not invited.
The tears welled up in her eyes, but this time she didn't fight to hold them in, allowing them to slip down her cheeks. She missed them so much. Her father hadn't wanted her to be around Grams. He was an upper middle class, conservative business man, and had no use for any type of mumbo jumbo. An older, wiser Bonnie now understood he blamed witchcraft, not that he believed in it, for the disappearance of his wife, and he wanted to protect Bonnie from it.
She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. It was kind of funny that Dad was actually right on target. But Mrs. Grayson was the one who made sure Grams got to see her when she was little. She had sat down and talked to the young Bonnie about how important family was and that both her Grams and her father loved her, but that they didn't get along and it was best not to mention either one to the other.
Bonnie's thoughts turned to Jenna. Her babysitter; her young, cool, adopted Aunt who was there when Bonnie needed to talk to someone other than a mother figure. Jenna's death hurt her as much as Grams. She had been grateful beyond measure when Stefan had offered to take Jenna's place in the sacrifice. It was inconceivable to her that Jenna would die, but they had all been fooled.
Again, everyone had surrounded Elena while she was overwhelmed with guilt. Once again guilt—for Grams— for Jenna. She should have come sooner and then to have allowed Elijah to betray them and scoop his brother away! She had had the power and she had held back, trusting someone else to finish the job. She would not do that again.
Her thoughts returned to Stefan. No one had ever had the power to soothe her the way he did that night he came to her rescue at the tomb. Just for a moment she thought what a pity it was that he was tied in a struggle with his brother over Elena; over a girl who did not appreciate him. She immediately squashed that thought, hating that she had mentally betrayed her friend, the girl who was like a sister to her.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her hands, frowning at the black marks on her fingers. "If I'm gonna keep crying, I better get waterproof mascara."
She sighed and pushed herself away from the table, leaving her backpack untouched on the counter. She wasn't in the mood for homework and wasn't hungry. She headed to the bathroom for a long hot shower before hopefully lulling herself to sleep watching TV.