A/N: Ah yes, releasing this on the day of the season 5 premiere. I won't be watching. This chapter is a long one. Possibly the longest chapter I've written for any of my stories. There was too much to include and I didn't want to leave anything out. I guess you can say this is part I of a two part saga. Yippie! Surprises here and there. Answers to and fro and a lot of supernatural wonderfulness happening. I hope you guys like and as always thank you so much for leaving me your thoughts! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: These characters (with the exception of OC's and Marie Laveau she is a character on American Horror Story) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.
Act II Scene 13
Two things were going to occur as soon as feeling returned to his limbs. One) he was going to kill Bonnie. Two) he was going to resurrect her just so he could kill her again. Did she think this was funny? Cool? Awesome to knock his ass out with a vampire specific tranquilizer? Did she think he would applaud her ingenuity and ask to pick her brain on what special herbs, spices, and colors of the rainbow she used to concoct this lovely sedative that literally sidelined him and made him nothing but a manly sized paperweight?
Is that drool trickling out the corner of my mouth? Probably. More than likely. Beautiful.
His mind was still working while the rest of him was not. Bonnie just reminded Damon why he ate people for a living. He should have known she was up to something when she made two different kinds of drinks and handed Matt and Jeremy the green colored one as opposed to the red she passed off to him, his brother, Elena, and Vampire Barbie. Couldn't believe he fell for her doomsday reenactment with little to no resistance. It was official. Damon had fallen completely off his game. Perhaps he allowed certain developments between he and Bonnie to cloud his judgment. At the heart of things, at the end of the day Bonnie was a witch.
Damon couldn't allow himself to ever forget that.
Move leg…fucking move! He ordered his dead body part. Arm? You got anything? Pinky toe, what about you?
Inner monologue aside, sound was beginning to return to his ears. Damon could hear music playing from his iPod home system along with the fact one of the bathroom sinks had a drippy faucet, and a cricket had gotten into the house. Then there was the sound of five other people breathing. No one had gained consciousness yet. He was close though as soon as something ah-!
Damon bent his leg. Now open your eyes, torpedo the hell off this couch, and find that witch! He shifted again, this time flinging his body from its slumped position to where he was partially reclining on the couch. If anyone else had seen it happen it would have reminded them of a marionette—the way he moved as if pulled by strings.
His eyelids fluttered but remained sealed shut. Taste returned to Damon's mouth and the flavor had him inwardly retching, but there was another taste on his lips that lingered. Sweeter than the horrid flavor that filled his mouth. Damon had grown familiar with that taste in the last few days. It was Bonnie.
She kissed him, how sweet, but she was still fucking dead once he got off this couch and found her.
Damon didn't think her attack was brought on by an episode. Nope, she had been too calculated for it to have been a spontaneous reaction of repressed, unresolved issues she had with everyone present. Her smile had been—too innocent in retrospect, which should have been another tip off that something wasn't right. But he didn't want to be the one to question what appeared to be a quiet time in the house from the previous excitement because irritation was a surefire way to get Bonnie started again.
She had planned this out. Start to finish. Beginning to end. To ditch them. Throw them off her scent. And sure he could admire her for it but didn't Bonnie know how dangerous it was for her to be alone in her condition?
Another reason why he wanted her dead was because she was making him care too much! Things used to be simple for Damon. The list of people he gave two shits about had had that many people on it. Two. Somewhere along the way Bonnie managed to not only stencil her name on the list but added a little golden star beside it. He didn't know what the star represented but Damon knew no one else possessed one. Kind of made him feel like a teacher.
Well the teacher got schooled tonight, that was for sure.
All right, now he could move his tongue around in his mouth and could kind of mumble words incoherently. A fly had landed on Damon's hand and he could feel its little legs zip across his skin. Surely by now it was rubbing its palms together about to initiate its diabolical plan to fly into his open mouth and get stuck in his throat.
Caroline muttered something. She was coming around, too. Damon tried his best to listen if the last two vampires were nearing the stages of wakefulness. Nope. Silence from Elena and Stefan.
Concentrating on his own efforts, Damon imagined he had a pick ax and was busy chiseling away the mythological ice he was encased in. Chip, chip, chip—his feet were free. Chip, chip, chip—now his shins. Chip, chip, chip—his thighs. Chip, chip, chip—his lower abdomen had been unearthed.
His eyes sprang open and he was staring at the ceiling. The world swam when he moved. The horrible aftertaste of the poisoned drink intensified to the point Damon thought he might be sick, but he swallowed the stirrings of bile back down and took unnecessary deep breaths. How many decades had he wasted trying to get wasted and it never happened? Consuming half a drink of whatever potion Bonnie cooked up had been strong enough to plant him on his ass, and have him feeling as if he attended the frat party of the century.
Balling his hands into fists and digging them into the cushion of the sofa, Damon hoisted himself clumsily to his feet, and nearly tipped over. But he straightened his spine before his face kissed the floor and he picked his feet up one by one and slowly trekked across the living room and made it to the staircase.
That felt like he completed a marathon. Grabbing a hold of the balustrade, Damon looked over at his drugged companions. They were still out like lights. He looked up towards the top of the stairs and thought he'd never make it before sunrise.
Not only was he sick on the stomach, a migraine was forming right behind his left eye socket, and he was drained of every single useful drop of energy. Finding Bonnie at this rate would take an eternity.
Damon listened to see if Bonnie might still be around. He wasn't sure how long he had been out. Minutes? An hour? Longer? He heard nothing though and, sighing heavily, grabbed a tight hold on the railing and dragged himself upstairs.
BDBDBDBD
Her sweaty hands griped the steering wheel for life. Periodically Bonnie checked the rearview mirror to make sure a pair of menacing headlights wasn't catching up to her. She was only driving ten miles over the speed limit as not to draw the attention of state troopers itching to write someone a ticket.
Blindly reaching for her cell phone, Bonnie checked to see if she had any messages. She purposely placed the phone on silent so one) her guilt wouldn't gnaw at her, and two) she wouldn't have to decide whether to answer a call or let it go to voice mail.
Peeking down, the determined witch saw that no one called which meant no one had regained consciousness.
Bonnie had been on the road for a little over an hour. Long distance driving wasn't really her thing. It never took more than fifteen, ten minutes if traffic was light to get anywhere in Mystic Falls. The farthest Bonnie typically drove was to the Gilbert lake house and that was located about forty miles away. She had googled directions to get from Rome, New York to Salem, Massachusetts and the route she settled on would take four and a half hours.
One hour in, three and a half to go, but Bonnie intended to stop because she wanted to call the numbers of the contacts she bookmarked so she could narrow her search for answers even more, and then ditch her phone so she couldn't be traced.
Excitability coursed through her and she began smiling. And it didn't take long before her smiling turned into giggles, giggles into chuckles, until she was cackling like there was no tomorrow. She had executed a plan with zero glitches. No one had been breathing down her neck demanding she do something or XYZ would be hurt. She hadn't been racing against time to make sure something was pulled off to perfection. She didn't have to deal with brooding eyes watching her, waiting for her to mess up. She had done something that would set about a chain of events that would hopefully lead to her saving her own life.
It felt good. This independence that freely ran through her veins now. She was doing this for herself. Not for Elena. Not for Caroline. Not for Jeremy. Not for the Salvatore's. Not for humanity as a whole. But. Her. Self.
Bonnie turned on the radio needing the noise to act as her traveling buddy and to drown out the thoughts in her head. The negative thoughts.
What if this all turned out to be a waste of time? What if there were no answers and this was it? What if she couldn't be saved?
Bonnie shook her head. She couldn't think like that. What was happening to her couldn't be a precedent. She couldn't be the first witch in the history of sorcery to deal with something like this. There had to be others who not only dealt with what she was going through, but had found a way to beat it and survive. There just had to be!
So that's what Bonnie decided to cling on to. That shred of hope. By using the advice written in Emily's grimoire that if a witch needed answers they could be found in the earth of the ancestral bloodline. Someone was going to tell her something.
Besides, was there anything worse than death?
Bonnie paused in her thinking as she began to listen to the lyrics blasting from the speaker.
"You gotta get up and try, try, try…."
And so she would.
BDBDBD
Nothing was out of place from what his glacial eyes could see. Damon had checked Bonnie's bedroom and saw a couple of things were missing mostly clothes, shoes, and her toiletry items. He ventured down to his bedroom knowing she needed money to travel and probably burned through the funds he had given her when they first set up camp here.
Opening his safe he noticed that two stacks of fifties and twenties was missing which meant Bonnie was traveling with a little over three grand in her pocket. Hmm. Guess she was looking to stay in five star hotels during her travels. That would come in handy in narrowing the search to find her.
Right before he slammed the safe shut, he noticed that a Post-It note was on the inside of the safe door.
"'Ancestral home,'" Damon read Bonnie's handwriting. "Ancestral home?" he later questioned. He didn't know what that meant but it didn't stop him from moving around the room while he packed his own bag about to go hunt her ass down.
While he stuffed socks, jeans, shirts, and a few weapons because hey one could never be too careful when it comes to personal safety into his bag, those two words constantly repeated themselves in Damon's head. He had heard that somewhere before. Had Bree mentioned something when he used to pester her about finding another way around Emily's tomb spell? What about Katrina? Or maybe Jenifer? No, it could have been O-Ren who mentioned something about ancestral home because during their time together she used to lament how much she missed her life in Japan.
Damon had dipped his magic wand in a few witches throughout the centuries, but he usually tuned them out the second they began to talk a hole in his head about spells and whatnot. He only paid particular attention when he wanted something specific done, but other than that he really didn't care. He could really kick himself now for not taking more of an interest. It was best to know the ways and devices of your enemy when they had been designed to take you out.
A floorboard squeaked and Damon looked over to the door. Caroline was up and chugging down a glass of water. Seeing her drink made him ravenously thirsty and he nearly snatched the glass out of her hands, but he tempered back his own thirst and resumed packing.
"Do you have any idea what Bonnie did to us? Or why for that matter?" she asked.
Damon shook his head. "She drugged us so she could go have her own adventure, I don't know. Stupid, little witch knows she shouldn't be out there by herself when she's liable to lose her shit at any given moment," he fumed through gritted teeth.
Caroline saw the anger that was plainly written over Damon's face. She only remembered him getting this angry when Elena used to pull her little stunts.
"You don't think…you don't think she's gone off to die…"
Damon snapped up so fast he was a blur. Fire scorched through his orbs. "We're not going there. Bonnie took off probably to get answers or find a cure on her own, therefore leaving me no choice but to go after her."
"Well, I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not."
"I'm not asking you, Damon."
"And I don't want you to come with me, Caroline," his nostrils flared.
"Bonnie is not your friend! She's not your responsibility!" the enraged Miss Forbes returned just as heatedly.
"Let's not pretend that we've been Bonnie's best friend and know her best," Damon's smile was literally biting. "I don't give a fuck about any of you claiming to be Bonnie's friend. Did you watch her have a seizure? Were you able to calm her down when she lost touch with reality? Did you get your ass kicked up and down and over the countryside of a Pennsylvania highway? No! So don't tell me I'm not her friend and that she's not my responsibility!"
Caroline swallowed thickly. "Look, we can bitch and compare notes on whose friendship is more solid with Bonnie but that's not going to help us find her any faster."
"That's the smartest thing you've said since I've known you," Damon marched back to his bed to resume his packing. "But your ditzy ass still isn't coming with me."
Caroline sighed and wanted to rip her hair out in frustration. "Why do you always have to be such a world-class asshole! We're fighting on the same side! We always have been but you've been nothing but disrespectful, and I am sick of it. You think because you've been nice to Bonnie consistently for a couple of months that excuses all the foul shit you've done! Wrong! Stop making everything into something about you!"
Damon pinched the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping the blonde's neck. He took a breath before he faced Caroline and her stony expression. Deep down he knew she was right which only served to piss him off more, but her fire reminded him that she wasn't a superficial airhead who couldn't keep one thought in her brain. Though Caroline's overall involvement in their plans wasn't that great or had that much impact, in his humble opinion, they served their purpose when needed. So there was no refuting that.
This telling off had been a long time coming and it felt good to Caroline to get it off her chest. Damon walked around with his superior attitude like he was the best thing God had ever made when clearly he wasn't. She put up with his scathing remarks and insults mainly to keep the peace, but no more. Bonnie was her friend and if she wanted to go out there and find her some stupid little bastard wasn't going to tell her otherwise.
Calmly, Damon zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He paused when he reached Caroline, didn't have much of a choice since she was blocking the exit. His eyes were focused on the hallway beyond her, but shifted to stare at her.
"You're right, Caroline," Damon said quietly. "Me being nice to a few people here and there doesn't change what I've done in the past. So for what it's worth…I'm sorry for what I did to you in the past." Caroline blinked. She hadn't expected that. "That being said, I'm still going to find Bonnie on my own, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop you from looking."
The two maintained eye contact until Caroline stepped to the side to let him pass, yet her arm shot out to block the door the second Damon took a step.
"For what it's worth…you don't deserve Bonnie, but I know…she needs you."
Damon didn't comment but infinitesimally nodded his head. By the time he made it downstairs the others had arisen. Jeremy had pulled out his laptop and plugged in Bonnie's cell number to track her GPS. Elena and Stefan hovered over his shoulders—watching like hawks. Damon didn't know where Matt was and he didn't care.
Eyes glanced up and looked at him when he made his presence known. "What have you found?"
"I'm still searching," Jeremy said, attention drawn to the screen, fingers flying over the keys.
"Are you sure you'd still be able to track her location with her cell off? I've called her ten times already and she's not answering," Elena piped in.
"Technology is so sophisticated these days that even when a phone is off, so to speak, it can still emit a signal. The strength of the signal is dependent on how close Bonnie is to a cell phone tower. I'll keep looking until I get a hit."
Digital locator spell, Damon thought ruefully, and remembered the day after the botched 20's dance. Elena had gone missing, Caroline had been kidnapped by Alaric, but Bonnie used an app on her phone to pinpoint their exact location in the school. He had been impressed and instead of saying so, Damon had made a remark about what the hell did they need her for since they had the app. Yeah, he truly was an asshole.
Welp, he couldn't change that about himself right now. He needed to get on the road.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Stefan asked.
"No, if Jeremy gets a hit on Bonnie's cell go with him and whoever else wants to tag along. I'm going to check up on the lead I told you about and go from there."
Without saying another word Damon walked through the front door and caught a lingering hint of Bonnie's perfume. He closed his eyes and drew as much of that scent into his lungs to lock it into memory but at this point he was sure he'd never forget it. Living under the same roof he was an expert on her smell, might be slightly obsessed with it if he wanted to be honest.
He stilled for a moment and reached out with the essence that made him a vampire. Damon didn't know what the hell to call it—really. He didn't think he had a soul left after everything he's done, but whatever piece of it that remained, he stretched it out, released it to see if perhaps it might be able to find Bonnie. His blood had saturated deep within the tissues of her body, perhaps it may have gotten into the marrow of her bones. Maybe, maybe not.
He had done this once before. Made his will incorporeal and use it on Caroline so she could free him from the basement. It was time to blow the dust off that particular skill and see if it might lead him to the wicked witch of the…
East? Damon's eyes popped open and he titled his head in contemplation. A flare, more like a jolt told him east. Throwing his bag in the car, Damon fired up the engine, ripped up the asphalt, and headed due east out of New York.
Act II Scene 14
Bonnie stood in front of the two-story single family home in a quaint, but historical neighborhood in north Salem. This wasn't what she had been expecting to see. A house painted gunmetal gray with white trim, manicured lawn, and a rosy cheeked garden gnome with a jovial smile on its face. This place look so abnormally normal Bonnie was certain she had the wrong address.
However when she looked at the white sign posted next to the stairs that read Laveau Consulting, there was no denying she was at the right place.
Bonnie made exactly one pit stop like she intended and called the numbers she bookmarked using a throwaway phone she had purchased at a Sheetz gas station. She easily ruled out two and was barely clinging to her last shred of hope that the final Bennett who called this place home might be able to help her.
Fortunately, the brusque man who answered after rudely being awakened, yet patiently listened to what Bonnie had to say, pointed her in the direction of his ex-wife Marie Leveau before slamming down the phone.
So Bonnie goggled Marie and found out she operated a "consulting" business out of her home. The locals called her a palm reader, fortune teller, and those on the more extreme end had labeled her a devil worshipper, while others called her a pagan priestess. Bonnie figured she'd reserve her judgment until she could find out for herself.
Clearing her throat nervously, Bonnie clutched her purse tightly to her side as she headed up the stairs. It was close to eight in the morning so she was taking a chance of showing up here without an appointment. Marie might still be in bed, or just waking up, yet that didn't stop Bonnie from ringing the doorbell.
A few minutes passed before Bonnie heard someone shuffling towards the door. The curtains covering the window fluttered and then Bonnie found herself staring into dark sable eyes peering from a flawless ebony face.
"Yes, how may I help you?" Marie asked and Bonnie noted the hint of a Creole accent that was kind of skewered behind a New England lit.
"Ah…" Bonnie stammered and licked her lips while she tried not to stare unabashedly at Marie yet it couldn't be helped. She had never seen a more beautiful woman in her life but there was nothing inherently stunning about Marie that jumped out at Bonnie. It was just her. "Sorry," she smiled meekly. "I'm Bonnie Bennett and I was wondering if you might be able to…consult me."
"Bennett?" Marie asked and Bonnie noted the interest in her voice.
"Yes, ma'am. Originally I'm from Mystic Falls, Virginia," Bonnie had no idea why she told Marie that but she was willing to give the woman her social security number if it'd help get answers.
Marie drew a measured eye over Bonnie. She was more than familiar with the name Bennett and even more familiar with the town known as Mystic Falls. All week she had been having dreams and visions about a lost soul returning home. This young girl standing before her was proof to always listen and heed to the spirits of one's ancestors. They were the best snitches on the planet.
Stepping aside, Marie waved a slender hand to welcome Bonnie into her home.
Bonnie hesitated as she stepped over the threshold and that's when it hit her. Magic. And lots of it.
She gasped.
Marie smiled a little, locked the door, and then led Bonnie though the atrium, modernly furnished living room, to the back part of the house where she conducted her business.
"I must ask that you remove your shoes," Marie said as she slipped her feet out of her pumps.
Bonnie blinked for a second. She kicked off her sneakers and wondered if she should take off her socks, but didn't when she noticed that Marie's feet were in nude fishnet stockings.
Now standing under the woman's roof Bonnie noticed that Marie was four inches taller than her, had curves in all the right places, but it was her face that drew her attention the most. It was a face Bonnie could have sworn she'd seen before yet knew it was impossible. Marie's features were not dissimilar from her own: proud forehead, widow's peak, high cheekbones, small chin, but her eyes were more feline than Bonnie's with naturally curled black lashes. Full lips, a narrow, slightly aristocratic nose with wide nostrils, and rippling shoulder length black hair completed the woman's polished look.
Marie was used to people staring at her so it didn't bother her. She smirked a little before sliding apart the heavy oak doors that led into her workplace.
Bonnie's eyes widened when the room came into view. It was in the shape of an octagon with Indian furnishings. Mosaic frescos and tapestries decorated the walls. The room was beautiful; even the neon green boa constrictor Bonnie spotted in a glass aquarium currently eating its breakfast. A furry foot disappeared down the snake's throat and she tried not to shiver in repulsion.
"That's Sulu Pendragon. He's harmless once he's been fed."
Bonnie said nothing; merely watched as Marie headed over to a water fountain that had been built into the wall near the door and washed her hands.
"Please, purify your hands."
Bonnie took a step and froze. The ground beneath her feet didn't feel like a floor but something different altogether; as if it were made of a different matter that defied gravity. The deeper she walked into the room Bonnie was hit with wave after wave of magic. Magic so thick and strong it was a physical presence and had its own smell like a thousand books sitting in an airtight room, and its own taste like copper pennies. It was scary and overwhelming—nearly crippling that Bonnie wanted to back out.
However she didn't and walked over to the fountain that was in the shape of a lion's head. Water poured out of its mouth into a basin below that had been constructed out of lapis lazuli, silver, and aqua mosaic tiles. The water was bitter cold, but Bonnie scrubbed her hands. She could see her reflection but then her reflection turned and accepted a towel from Marie before Bonnie had actually done it.
"The hell," she jumped back and dripped water on the floor.
Marie patiently smiled and calmly handed Bonnie a hand towel. "Just an illusion, chere, of things that might happen in the future. Come, have a seat and tell me why you showed up at my door at eight in the morning."
The two witches pulled out chairs at a round table where five candles sat atop. The wicks instantly ignited.
"Place your hands on the table palms facing down," Marie instructed.
Bonnie did as told and watched as Marie did the same only her fingertips were touching hers. That made Bonnie slightly uncomfortable as she was not used to making physical contact with strangers, but she refused to move an inch. She cleared her throat in a nervous tick before speaking.
"First let me thank you for even taking the time to see me," Bonnie began. Marie nodded and kept quiet. "I'm a witch," Bonnie said bluntly.
"I picked up on that," a teasing smile played around the corners of Marie's mouth.
"And I'm also dying."
The smile was gone and in its place was an impenetrable stare.
Bonnie kept going. "I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor eight months ago so I'm wondering if there is anything that can be done for me?"
Nothing was said for a few moments until Marie shifted in her chair. "I guess you couldn't start my day off with wondering if you'd marry, have a long life with lots of children, but this isn't exactly the fifties, either."
"Can anything be done for me?" Bonnie's patience slipped and the flames of the candles blew higher and brighter.
"Settle. Down," Marie ordered in an authoritative voice that carried its own weight and bite that Bonnie felt it lash against her aura.
The young witch recoiled and dipped her head a little. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be disrespectful. I'm just tired of being weak all the time. I'm tired of always being the one who loses no matter how much I help others. And I haven't always done the right thing, made the right call, sided with the right people," Bonnie lifted her head and stared at Marie unwaveringly, "but I don't deserve to lose my life because of it. I just need to know if this tumor is related to me abusing magic or a consequence because of a spell I did?"
"That I cannot answer…without knowing the full story, of course. I understand your anger, Bonnie. I see it coursing through you, seeping from every pore your body possesses. You want answers and have a right to them, but you want answers about the wrong thing."
"What? I don't understand."
"And that's your first problem. You don't understand anything about magic other than how to recite a spell and hope for the best."
"I've never had anyone teach me anything," a divot formed between Bonnie's eyebrows a sign of her frustration. "My Grams tried but then…she died and after that I was on my own."
"You've strained and weakened your body as a result of doing spells without knowing what kind of magic you were tapping into, nor how to fully control it without it controlling you. I've seen hundred of witches and warlocks just like you, and it saddens me because they fell prey to those who promised them pretty things in exchange for spells and talismans. I know about the Bennett's. Your familial history is as old and strong as the first tree to ever sprout from the earth." Pause. "Have you ever heard of the goddess Qetsiyah?"
"No," Bonnie shook her head.
"I imagine you wouldn't have. Little is known about her other than she was the one who created the Other Side, the place were supernaturals go when they die; a place she resides over. She is also said to have created the spell of immortality…. according to legend," Marie informed.
Upon hearing that Bonnie's jaw dropped.
"And the other thing I know…the Bennett's are her descendents."
Again, Bonnie could only blink while she sat immobile in her seat. She was learning more about herself and her family in just these few minutes with Marie than she ever learned out of the pages of Emily's grimoire. She's the descendent of the witch who created immorality? Impossible! Esther Mikaelson created the vampire race. Unless Marie Laveau was alluding to something else. Another kind of immortality, but what other kind of immortality could there be?
Fluidly, Marie draped one hand over the other, "I see a great deal of power and strength inside of you, Bonnie. But you've allowed fear, your own insecurities, ignorance, and slights from others to hold you back, to keep you prisoner under some archaic belief that underneath all you've done, you do deserve to be punished."
Bonnie was genuinely taken aback. "I-I don't think that…" she trailed off.
"Yes, you do," Marie refuted. "Your aura practically screamed at me long before I opened my door to you this morning. You are in pain, so is your magic. The reason for this is…you're cursed."
"Cursed?" Bonnie squeaked.
"By the spirits," Marie went on, "to ensure you wouldn't continue to use magic that would upset the balance. I know about Klaus, the Originals, and the fact he now walks the earth as a hybrid. He shouldn't exist, but he does. I don't know all the parameters surrounding your involvement, but from what I can see just by looking at you…you tried many times and failed to stop him from becoming a hybrid and then…from ending the lives of those closest to you."
By this point Bonnie was so astonished her mouth had gone dry.
"You stretched, pulled, nearly decimated the rubbery bands of the balance and basically spat in the faces of your ancestors. They are not pleased with you."
"And so they've resorted to killing me slowly instead of just killing me quickly?" anger was beginning to simmer and burn under the young girl's skin. "I didn't have much of a choice! If I hadn't done what I did I would have lost so many people, too many people. I couldn't just stand back and let it happen. People still died—yes! But so many have lived because of me!"
A howling wind shrieked in Bonnie's ears. Was that supposed to be a reprimand from those bitches who abandoned her at her most important moment of need? No, it hadn't escaped her attention those heifers didn't do shit to keep Damon from killing Abby after Abby reconciled with them. They stood silent as a grave and watched one of their own be turned into the very thing they all hated. And instead of apologizing for their inaction they decided to hit her with a curse?
This was not fair on so many levels that no matter what, they still thought they had the right to judge her.
"Peace, Bonnie," Marie cautioned. She could see the teenaged witch was close to lashing out and it wouldn't be wise. Not in this place.
Taking a deep breath, Bonnie tempered down her anger. "How do I get rid of it? The tumor."
"The only way is to go to the source and ask for clemency."
"I'd have to go to the Other Side?" Bonnie asked. Marie nodded. "I'd have to die!"
"Yes," Marie replied succinctly. "You would have to stop your heart, die, and petition your ancestor. It will be in Qetisyah's hands to pardon you. However, there's a chance you might not come back from that."
Of course not, Bonnie thought and laughed dryly. Nothing with witches would ever be cut and dry, simple or easy. Nevertheless, she couldn't walk away empty-handed.
"All right. I want to try. I want to petition Qetsiyah."
Marie wasn't terribly surprised by the swiftness of her answer. "Then we'll do so tonight. I'll contact my sisters and we'll perform the ritual. You should rest."
"Will this cost me anything?" Bonnie wanted to know. She had cash and was willing to pay whatever.
Marie stared at her mildly insulted. "We're sisters of the craft. I can't charge you anything. If anything should happen your life would be penance for that."
Bonnie inwardly shivered from the coldness of that fact. "One more question," she said when Marie made a motion to get up from her seat.
"Yes?"
"If my family is descendent of a goddess and that's a pretty big if…why did my grandmother die after lifting a tomb spell? We have all this power and yet…? It works when it chooses to work."
The older woman tapped her nails on the table before answering, "Some witches and warlocks are more powerful than others even if they come from the same bloodline. If a witch doesn't routinely practice spells and tries to lift one that requires channeling another witch—a witch that is just starting out, the strain can be extraordinary. Practicing magic is like building muscle. If the muscle isn't properly developed then damage can occur. Whatever may have happened, your grandmother decided to shoulder the burden, and it was too much for her."
Bonnie swallowed hard and looked down. Her nose tickled and she knew she was two seconds from crying. Marie's warm hand covered hers, startling Bonnie for a moment.
"Don't think of her death as your fault. I imagine your grandmother didn't head into anything without knowing what the consequences would be. A smart witch always knows what she's getting herself into before she acts on anything. Do you understand?"
Bonnie nodded compliantly.
"Are you staying somewhere in town, Bonnie?"
Wiping her cheek, she nodded again.
"Return there, get some rest, and be back here by nightfall."
Act II Scene 15
Much to Damon's chagrin Caroline's words never left his thoughts. He didn't deserve Bonnie, but she needed him. Those things were and were not mutually exclusive. So much that his desire to kill her turned into just wanting to find her alive, period. Constantly as the tires of his car flew over the pavement Damon checked the sides of the road looking for signs of a wreck. Bonnie should have come to him about her plan to leave and look for answers. Didn't she know he didn't trust her to check the mailbox without supervision?
He hated worrying, caring, being in the damn dark. Honestly, Damon didn't think he was built for this. If pining for Elena and Katherine taught him anything it was this: he wasted his time. And he was done doing that.
Luckily his cell phone chirped and broke him out of his thoughts. He answered without looking to see who it was.
"What?"
"Jeremy was able to get a lock on Bonnie's location," Stefan updated his brother. "She's headed south. Just entered into Pennsylvania. Do you think she might be making her way back to Mystic Falls?"
Damon snorted. No, Bonnie was not making her way to Mystic Falls. The farther east he drove the more he felt their connection. He knew he was headed in the right direction. But to tell the others and have them show up and ruin everything? Damon just couldn't take that risk.
"She might be, though I doubt that's where she's going."
"Where are you?"
"A few miles outside of NYC," it wasn't an outright lie but it wasn't the full truth either.
"So do you think we should pursue this or not? The last thing we want to do is waste time chasing a dead end. Bonnie could have easily ditched or lost her phone and we're hunting down the wrong person."
Yeah, that was a possibility, Damon reasoned and definitely something he'd do to throw someone off his tail.
"Here's what you can do. Head up to Maine and talk to that witch I was telling you about. I'll text you the address," Damon figured he'd throw Stefan and the others a bone by giving them something to do. "I'll find Bonnie and bring her to you all if things in Maine checks out."
"I thought that's what you were doing?"
"I changed my mind."
Stefan didn't say anything for a second. "All right, we'll head up to Maine. Good luck, Damon."
"Yeah," he muttered, hung up, and forwarded Stefan the address before tossing his phone on the passenger seat.
After Damon entered Albany he saw a road sign that read: Northampton, MA 94 miles, Salem, MA 188 miles. And that's when the proverbial light bulb lit over his head.
Salem! Bonnie's ancestral home was Salem, Massachusetts. How could he have forgotten that? Wait, had he even known that to begin with? Oh, it didn't even matter. He knew where to go now. He knew where Bonnie was.
Damon's foot became lead on the gas pedal.
BDBDBBDDB
Five of Marie Laveau's ladies surrounded Bonnie while two looked on, Marie being one of them.
Bonnie didn't know what to expect. Hadn't been told much which really came as no surprise. Her eyes took in everything, locked in every single detail right down to the white gossamer gowns the women wore, to the way their hair blew across their serious faces, the way the light of the moon bounced off their silver rings and necklaces, the heavy smell of lavender and sage in the air.
She had been led through a forest they called Et Lumen Iustitiam. Fairness and light if Bonnie's translation was correct. She hadn't been told to wear anything specific, but she decided to dress for the occasion and wore a simple black dress, embroidered hosiery with her favorite ankle boots. If she was going to petition her ancestor it wouldn't hurt to look her best or as close to her best as she could get. Maybe she might win her case, tip the scales in her favor by looking presentable.
Marie had taken one look at her and with the tilt of her mouth gave her approval.
Bonnie was introduced to Marie's friends. Their names were more so representative of the kind of mythical goddesses they liked along with their specific birthright power. Aliases to protect their real identities. Bonnie never thought of calling herself by any other name than the one she had been given. Could she see herself as an Artemis? Isis? Persephone?
As they walked, Bonnie was partially distracted by them. Figures in white walking through a dark forest, and she was equally distracted by the sounds of the nocturnal animals that seemed to take notice of them and were congregating to watch the pending show.
The second they reached a clearing, Bonnie was directed to stand in the direct pathway of the moon and then, two women circled her while three walked in front of and behind her. They began chanting and then fire ignited from the trains of their gowns and spread where they walked, and it didn't take long for Bonnie to realize she was standing in the center of a burning pentagram.
Marie stepped forward, as did the woman who stood beside her that had introduced herself as Kali.
"Place this around your neck," Marie held out a necklace to Bonnie. "It belonged to Qetsiyah."
"Oh," Bonnie said and took the funky looking necklace and tied what she figured were hemp strings together. With it on, it was much heavier than it looked.
"You know the spell?" Marie asked with a lift of her arched eyebrow.
"Yes."
"Commence, but before you do, you will need to find your anchor and latch on to it."
"Anchor?" Bonnie asked worriedly. She wasn't told anything about an anchor. What was she supposed to hold on to? Who? Her dad? Jeremy? Caroline? The anchor had to be someone living, right?
"The anchor," Kali began after seeing the uncertainty in Bonnie's eyes, "is whatever force that makes you feel the most alive and connected to the earth. It can be a person, place, or thing."
Instantly Damon popped into the forefront of Bonnie's mind. He was the most real thing to her in her recent state of confusion. She kneeled down before lying flat on her back. It was amazing how much bigger and vast the sky could look the second you were viewing it from a prone position instead of a standing one.
The heat from the flames didn't frighten her, but calmed her, and Bonnie drew from her memories of Damon. Their fights, their spats, the scathing looks that were passed between them, the secret smiles as of late, their kisses, touches, the feel of his body pressed against hers, the taste of his mouth and skin, those marble sized cobalt eyes that he hardly used to see truths that were dangling right in front of him, the sound of his voice when he chided her, ridiculed her, teased her. Bonnie recalled it all and held on to it as she began to recite the spell.
Elsewhere, Damon had just parked his car outside of Colonial Park when something like an invisible hand weaved its way inside his body and grabbed a hold of his heart. He groaned and placed his hand on his sternum and wondered what the hell was happening to him. He was brought down to his knees, but pushed himself back up because whatever was going on with him he knew it was connected to Bonnie. He was getting close to her.
The pain flared instantly. In her head, in her chest, in her bones. Every cell in her body rebelled; every shred of common sense told her to stop. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't take it. Yet Bonnie kept going. Beyond the ringing in her ears, the metallic taste of blood that flowed down her throat and trickled out from her nose, the maddening beat of her heart that was being overworked and over stressed, she kept going. Her vision blurred, her words began to slow down; she lost feeling in her fingers and toes. She was still speaking but her voice sounded so small as if she were whispering. Bonnie's throat was raw and hoarse. Her lips felt chapped and by now she was completely blind. What stars had been in the night sky faded and there was nothing but a sea of black.
Then she was falling, free falling as if she snapped off a harness and was headed towards an endless pit of darkness. She flailed around, tried to grab on to something to stop her descent but it wasn't happening. She screamed; kicked and cried until something snatched her and then she was hurtled in another direction.
Light began to fracture through the darkness and stun her eyes. Bonnie tried to block the light but she had zero control over her body.
And as soon as she started flying across whatever cosmic place this was, she changed direction once more and was moving down again only shapes began to form, and Bonnie noticed she was drawing closer to a ground.
Please let me stop…please let me stop the words ran together over and over before her body smashed into a hard surface and the figurative wind was knocked out of her.
Dust flew up in the air, but the absence of pain is what made Bonnie's eyes pop open. Instead of a black shy greeting her this one was more indigo as if morning were approaching but it was still dark enough to be considered night. She flattened her hands against the ground and notice it was marble. Frowning, Bonnie slowly pushed herself to a sitting position and looked around.
Endless rows of flowers greeted her. Some were red, others were purple, but many more were black. And among the flowers were towering trees and marble archways.
Standing, Bonnie turned around and gulped. Several hundred women were staring at her, blinking, and not moving a muscle. Bonnie thought better of waving and wondered if she were seconds away from being attacked. Did her magic work here? Would she have to defend herself?
So these must be those elusive spirits, Bonnie thought and wondered at the last second if her thoughts were protected. From the downturned corners of some of the ladies mouths Bonnie would say yes, her thoughts could be read in this place.
"I see we have an interloper among thy ranks. Clear out!"
Act II Scene 16
One second a legion of women faced Bonnie and the next the place had emptied and there was no one left apart from her and a woman sitting on the edge of a reflecting pool who casually dipped her fingers inside.
Self-consciously Bonnie ran her hands over her dress. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Kneel? Curtsy? Bow? A combination of all three? Wait to be invited to come closer? Bonnie couldn't see much of the woman other than the fact she was dressed in white robes with gold trim and her hair fell in thick braids down her back.
"You've only learned of my existence today. I wouldn't expect you to know how to properly greet me."
Bonnie heard the woman speak but her mouth clearly didn't move, but that wasn't as alarming as the fact her thoughts could be read.
"You must be Qetsiyah. It's an honor to m-meet you," Bonnie greeted nervously.
A soft chuckle filled the space separating them. The woman stood up and turned to face Bonnie. She looked at her from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head.
"Oh yes, you are of my blood. You may approach."
Carefully Bonnie did but she literally flew across the fifty yards or so that separated her from her ancestor. Whoa! Was she a vampire here or something?
Qetsiyah laughed gaily. "Vampires aren't allowed in this realm."
"There are different realms to the Other Side?"
"Yes. Just like there are different countries in the world; there are different realms of the Other Side. Very well couldn't place everyone in one spot. There'd be nothing but endless fighting. This is terra pythonissam and that simply means land of the witch. And you've been a very bad one from what I've been told," a soft smile split Qetsiyah's face.
Bonnie's nostrils flared and she tried her best to subdue her anger. They didn't know anything about her. Yet she reminded herself to watch her tongue and thoughts. The magic she felt radiating from Marie Laveau seemed like a store bought firecracker compared to the H-Bomb that was Qetsiyah—the source of immortality. According to legend. No need to piss her off.
Qetsiyah a woman of height, deep russet skin, bright green eyes, aquiline nose, and thickly braided ink-black hair, folded her frame on a marble throne chair that literally sprang from the ground. Bonnie's eyebrows shot up. She wouldn't even attempt to do something like that. Her ass would probably hit the ground.
"Your mind controls things here. You think it and it will appear."
Bonnie thought chair, like the one Qetsiyah was currently lounging in, and right there before her eyes a marble throne chair appeared. Tentatively she sat down.
"Why do they call me a bad witch?"
"Because you don't listen," Qetsiyah leaned forward. "If you want my opinion, it's all semantics. Everyone is not all good and everyone is not all bad. You have spirit and fire and magic and yet have rarely used it for yourself."
Bonnie was not in the mood for another lecture but decided it would be in her best interest to listen to whatever her ancestor had to say.
"I've been cursed," Bonnie said plainly.
"Cursed with a curse," Qetsiyah corrected. "Why should I save your life?"
"Why should I die?" Bonnie challenged. "Because I didn't protect the balance? All I tried to do was clean up the mess created and left by Esther Mikaelson. She was the one who destroyed everything by creating vampires in order for her family to cheat death. I only did the best I could with zero guidance from anyone else. I'll own up to my mistakes, and I've made terrible ones. I've had power, had it taken away, restored, and taken away again. I've pushed myself way beyond its limits…"
"Toyed with magic you were told was not good for you, and you've done so, so a lone human could live."
Bonnie's jaws snapped shut. She couldn't deny that.
"Many have come…wearing my necklace," Qetsiyah fingered the piece of jewelry around Bonnie's throat. "Many have begged me on their hands and knees asking for forgiveness, to be cleansed and purified, and yet you do not. You feel you are owed having the curse removed because you did what you conceived as noble? You love your friends—they are your family, but there are rules in place, Bonnie that cannot be bent or broken to fancy the whim of a girl that never should have been born."
The stern tone of Qetsiyah's voice killed whatever argument Bonnie had left. It wasn't going to happen. The curse wasn't going to be removed because the reasons why she had been reckless with her magic weren't good enough.
Tears lined her eyes but the heat of her skin burned them away before they could fall. She was resigned she'd get no help from Qetsiyah but there was one thing she wanted to know before she left this place. "Is my grandmother still being punished?"
Qetsiyah didn't answer. She looked at something over Bonnie's head. "See for yourself."
Bonnie looked behind her and instantly shot up to her feet when she saw her grandmother dressed in a beautiful one shouldered white gown, curly hair pulled back from her face, gold cuff bracelets on her wrists. "Grams."
Sheila Bennett smiled at her only grandchild, but that was all she could do.
Qetsiyah stood to her feet as well and began speaking. "Nothing can be given unless it is earned." Bonnie refaced her ancestor, eyes squinting. "If you survive this test then I will lift the curse."
"Test?"
"When have you ever known things to be cut and dry when dealing with witches?"
Well Bonnie was certain she hated her thoughts being used against her. "All right. What do I have to do?"
"It's simple. Kill her," the ancient sorceress nodded her head in another direction.
Shuffling on her feet once more Bonnie's jaw dropped in incredulity when she saw what appeared to be herself dressed in a black unitard, hair cinched into a ponytail, no-nonsense expression on her face. Bonnie spun to look at her ancestor once more.
"I-Is this real? Are you for real, right now? You want me to kill myself? I don't understand."
Qetsiyah sighed impatiently. "In order to move forward you need to destroy what's held you back. Sometimes the thing that holds us back is ourselves and negativity. She won't go easy on you and what happens here is very much real. Keep that in mind when she's wielding whatever weapon she chooses to use. You want to live, Bonnie? Then prove to yourself that you do."
And the young girl was shoved none too gently into the middle of the courtyard.
When she moved, so did her doppelganger. Bonnie stopped walking and looked at her double. There was no life in her eyes, no animation to her face. She was an impenetrable mask that had Bonnie completely clueless on how she was supposed to fight and survive. Perhaps this was all figurative and she really wouldn't have to kick her own ass, but…
She wasn't given a moment to finish her thought before her shadow self charged towards her, racing across the marble floor, hands clutching the hilt of a dangerous looking sword that was probably half her height.
Immediately Bonnie thought about throwing up an invisible shield, a barrier but then much to her horror that long blade was coming down on top of her head and she ducked.
"Wait! I'm not ready!" Bonnie screamed feeling humiliated and embarrassed as she was driven back to avoid being nicked or hacked to pieces by the sword.
Not given a reprieve let alone a moment to catch her breath, figurative Bonnie came at her yet again slashing left and right, thrusting the blade forward determined to flay her where she stood. Bonnie had been turned around and her figurative self sliced her back from hip to shoulder.
Breath rushed out of Bonnie as searing hot pain licked down her spine. This pain was real and the blood that gushed from the wound was warm and sticky against her skin. A foot planted itself in the center of her back and Bonnie was kicked forward before tripping and landing on the hardened floor beneath her.
Stars danced behind her eyes and she looked over her shoulder and saw herself approaching, rising above her.
"This is the position they believe you should be in. Beneath them. Prostrated at their feet and you're only too happy to oblige them. You've always been weak."
Oh, great. Here comes the taunts, Bonnie thought and tried to stand up. She was on her feet, hunched over trying not to aggravate her wound but every breath she took was a reminder she was vulnerable.
"You know no one cares about you, right? Or loves you or likes you? Not your dad, not your mom, not your friends, not even that boy you begged your ancestors to return to you," her figurative self swung the blade in an arc.
Bonnie dove out of the way.
"You didn't have enough care for yourself to demand respect," she delivered a blow to Bonnie's abdomen with her elbow. "But it's hard to respect a slave."
Now that comment made Bonnie narrow her eyes. She remembered Qetsiyah saying this place was controlled by the mind. So she willed her own sword into existence though she didn't know the first thing about actually using one. Now the playing field felt a little more even though Bonnie knew she was severely out-skilled.
Her figurative self smirked evilly. "The spirits turned their back on you like they rightfully should since you care more for blood suckers than your own kind. You're pathetic. Happily licking the boots of the ones who stabbed you in the back because it makes you feel useful."
"Shut the fuck up," Bonnie growled at herself.
"Make me, you judgmental bitch."
Bonnie didn't know what happened. Some fury, some force burst through her and she swung the sword like a baseball bat to and fro sometimes connecting with the blade of the other sword, sometimes missing by a mile, but she was pushing her figurative self back, and managed to slice her cheek. Unlike her, the wound healed and Bonnie was back to working the offensive blocking as best she could, but then the tip of the opposing sword lacerated her stomach and she dropped her weapon to grab a hold her new wound. She was sure her intestines were poking out.
Bonnie collapsed to the floor, groaning, and surely bleeding to death.
Her figurative self tilted her head as she stared down at her. "The savior of Mystic Falls who couldn't save herself. How does it feel, little magical Negress to know you'll die here and no one will shed a single tear because you mean nothing to them? Just a means to an end because everything has always been for the Petrova doppelganger. She's the only one everyone loves and will continue to love long after your useless body returns to the earth."
Bonnie had had enough of her mouth. "There are people who care about me. And no matter what you say I care about myself enough to do this…incendia!"
Her figurative self didn't scream the second her body went up in flames. It made the moment, for Bonnie at least, less dramatic than it should have been but she got her point across nonetheless. It was here Bonnie realized she couldn't depend on people to add worth to her life, that was up to her; it was her responsibility. This was her life and she had to take care of it and couldn't leave it in the hands of others, especially when those others had proven how neglectful they could be.
Unfortunately for her body, Bonnie was still bleeding. The pain had left her so she just lied there watching her doppelganger burn in a helix of smoke and fire.
Her eyelids felt heavy and drooped a bit. Dying here wouldn't be so bad. She'd be reunited with Grams and maybe she might get the chance to meet other members of the Bennett family who died tragically and way before their time. The thought was much more comforting to Bonnie now than it was even last week if she wanted to be honest.
It was over. She had proven herself. Beat her negativity and won. So that meant the test was over, right? She could go back to a restored and healed body? Or would she be punished for using magic instead of brute strength?
Qetsiyah strolled over to Bonnie waving one of the black flowers she saw earlier under her nose. There was mirth dancing in those bright green eyes of hers.
"It didn't take you nearly as long to defeat yourself as some of the others. Battles have sometimes gone on for days."
"You told me the mind controls this place. I just had to remember it once I forgot," Bonnie explained.
"Yes, you are definitely of my blood. You have a choice to make, Bonnie. Remain here or return to your world."
Licking her dry lips, Bonnie answered immediately. "I want to go back."
"Then breathe in the aroma of this flower and your curse will be lifted, but I promise you the journey back will not be pleasant for you. Hopefully you will survive."
"What?"
"You killed yourself to come here…whatever anchor you used…prayerfully it's strong enough to bring you back. Breathe, my child."
Bonnie hesitated the second the flower was held up to her nose. She thought of Damon. She thought of the powerhouse that he was. His strength. His anger, his passion when he went after something that deeply mattered to him.
The scent of the flower was like breathing in burning coals. It choked Bonnie, made her eyes water, but she kept doing so until she blacked out.
Act II Scene 17
Damon was turned around. He had an awesome sense of direction when it came to traveling through the woods. So it wasn't often he got lost but he was certain he had passed that bush and that rock before six times already. Colonial Park wasn't that big to begin with and he should have reached wherever Bonnie was by now. Her scent was heavy in the air and Damon picked up traces of seven other scents as well. She wasn't alone.
Witches traveled in covens. Witches liked to do rituals.
Hopefully he wasn't too late to stop it.
The second he crossed into Salem, Damon went to the historical landmark where the infamous Salem Witch Trials had taken place and ventured into the museum nearby. He spoke with one of the employees who led him to Augustus George, the local historian. Being as discreet as possible, Damon had made an inquiry on where wannabe witches would go to channel the corners of the earth. Of course his tone had been flippant and disinterested, but Damon was as serious as a heart attack. But good ole Augustus had taken one look at Damon's lapis lazuli ring and knew what he was.
"If you're looking for a witch there's one place they like to go at night to commune with the earth, so to speak. There's a clearing about half a mile into Colonial Park off the main path, but it takes a particular skill to find it. If you do, you'll need this."
Damon had taken the odd looking talisman that hung from a thin piece of coarse leather. He stared at Augustus wanting to fling the object back in his face because he wasn't superstitious.
"Yeah, I'll pass," Damon tried to hand the bronze pendant with special markings back to the historian.
"That isn't any ordinary forest," Augustus went on to explain. "Several people have come out not the way they went in because they were diverted off the main path."
"Are you trying to tell me the park is haunted, enchanted?" Damon scoffed despite knowing those things were possible. Still, it just reeked a bit too much of science fiction and fantasy for his liking. He lived in the modern era where old world beliefs were put to rest.
"I'm saying that a special kind of people enter that forest intending to feed on the locals and they are the ones who leave not like themselves."
Oh, the man was talking about possession. That was a suit Damon certainly didn't want to try on so he paid the man, reluctantly latched the talisman around his neck, and thanked Augustus for his help.
So here he was stumbling through the forest like an idiot, walking along the same gotdamn path he had originally sat out on and didn't know which other direction was left for him to take.
The moon was high in the sky and it was eerily quiet. Damon didn't even hear an ant crawl. Were they afraid of him or something else?
Just as he passed that same damn bush and rock, Damon halted and noticed a trodden path that was kind of concealed behind the bush. Pushing the foliage aside, the dark-haired vampire caught a whiff of smoke and fire and beneath that…Bonnie.
Charging ahead, Damon walked down the newly discovered path only to be immediately entangled by thorny bushes that snagged in the cotton of his jeans, punctured his leather jacket, and painfully twisted his hair all the way to the roots.
"Gotdamit," he cursed and whipped out his switch blade and began hacking the thorns and overgrown fauna.
It didn't like that and began to grow, curling around his arms and legs. Damon laughed spitefully and soon found himself wrestling with the plants of the forest. The thorns turned into little stakes and penetrated his legs, arms, hands, and the back of his neck. Damon hissed in frustration.
And that's when he smelled it. Vervain. Shit! He was being injected with vervain.
Wrenching himself free, Damon flew through the forest using his impeccable inhuman speed, hoping to burn out the vervain that was charging through his body. Obstacles of course tried to slow his momentum but he flipped over low hanging tree branches, leapt over rock formations that seemed to materialize out of thin air, did back flips and somersaults through the air forgetting how much agility he truly possessed but had been too lazy to actually utilize.
By the time his body stopped moving, he was at the clearing, staring at fire and women dressed in white. His cerulean orbs zapped from once face to the next disregarding it before the features crystallized, and the second he realized the body lying in the center of the burning pentagram was Bonnie and Damon took that precarious step forward, he was dropped to his knees.
Endless pain erupted over every single body part. "…stop…"
"Your kind is not welcomed here, fampir."
"…I know her…" Damon croaked through the pain. "She's my friend."
"Emille let him go."
"Something's happening."
Everyone's attention at that moment left Damon to focus on Bonnie who began to float several feet off the ground. Her body contorted and was bent backwards at an impossible angle yet she wasn't screaming or hollering. Her eyes and mouth opened and then a black sort of mist began to spew from every open orifice of her body.
The mist began to take a shape of its own like it was a sentient life form. It shrieked and clawed over the ground looking for another host to inhabit if Damon had to take a guess, but this was probably the freakiest shit he had ever seen and that was saying something.
"NOW!" Marie yelled to the others and began chanting along with her sisters. Fire erupted from the palms of their hands and as one they directed it towards the snarling mist creature that was edging its way to the edge of the circle.
Whatever force that had gripped Damon earlier returned and thankfully he was already on his knees. The pressure had increased to such a severe level the blood vessels in his eyes burst, his fangs elongated without his command, his gums were bleeding and there was a firestorm occurring in his cranium that was a thousand times worst than Bonnie's aneurysms. Already weakened from the vervain that flowed through him, Damon was sure of it. He was going to die.
Through his blurred vision he saw that the mist that came out of Bonnie was writhing, growling, and shrieking in horror before it was catapulted in the air and blew up into a dazzling display of sparks and light beams until there was nothing left.
The fire of the burning pentagram went out. There was silence all around as everyone waited to see if Bonnie would wake up.
"She's not breathing," Damon said more to himself but loud enough to where he could be heard. "What's wrong with her? Why isn't she breathing?"
Marie, ignoring him, took a step closer but didn't break the line of the outer circle; her eyes were riveted on Bonnie. "It should have worked. The curse had been lifted and expelled from her body."
The other women passed looks around and kept quiet.
"Maybe her anchor wasn't strong enough," one of the women in white suggested.
"Anchor?" Damon was puzzled. Again his question went unanswered. He didn't think he had the strength to get to his feet so he resorted to crawling closer to Bonnie.
"Don't," Kali snapped. "This area is sacred and can not be…"
"Oh put a sock in it," Damon panted impertinently before lifting his wrist to his mouth and bit into it.
A collective gasp went up in the air.
"Don't you dare," Marie threatened, hand outstretched towards him.
Now it was Damon's turn to do the ignoring. It all made sense now. He knew without having to be told that he was Bonnie's anchor. It was how he knew she had gone east. It was how he had been the one to reach her that day and didn't get put on his ass because of it. His blood, him, he was Bonnie's literal umbilical cord. He could do this. He could bring her back from the darkness.
The second his blood started flowing Damon merely let it drip to the ground. He flicked his eyes to Bonnie who remained immobile.
"I know you can hear me, Judgy. I need you to get your heart beating again. I know you can. You're the strongest chick I know, and we both know how much you love proving me right. So just open those eyes so we can get out of here and go home."
No response from Bonnie. Not a muscle twitch. Not a flutter of her heart. Not a spasm of her body.
Marie studied the vampire and the witch coming to her own conclusion. "Give her a real reason to come back."
Damon looked at Marie before looking back at Bonnie. He swallowed. What reason could he possibly give that would be good enough? Why would anyone want to come back to this hell hold of a place? Wherever Bonnie was more than likely she was in the company of her grandmother, Emily, and anyone else that was important to her. Why should she want to come back to this?
Even as he thought it, Damon knew that she couldn't leave. She couldn't stay dead. Her life couldn't end like this and over nothing.
"Come back not because we need you to save us," Damon said, "come back because…though we don't deserve you…we need you…I need you, Bonnie," and there was a note of desperation in his voice when he said that. He collapsed against the cool grass, severely weak, vision blurred, but Damon was cognizant enough to confess. "I don't want to do anything without you."
And then his eyes closed…the vervain completely taking over.
Chapter end.
A/N: So what did we think? Has Bonnie survived? Will Damon die? I guess you can argue Bonnie fighting herself was very symbolic to what we do to ourselves inside of our minds. Standing up to and overcoming your negativity is a test of courage and strength, and proving to yourself that you can do anything is highly important; and it was time for Bonnie to learn that particular lesson. A lot happened so hopefully something stuck out in your mind and I would love to know what did. Thank you guys for reading! Until next time, hugs and kisses.
Translation: fampir is vampire in Welsh.