This ended up being a lot shorter than I expected, but I feel like there's more than enough going on. Thanks for reading.
By the way, in terms of Coryn I can see her being played by Hayley Marie Norman, the hostess of the restaurant where Jess gets stood up in New Girl. (And it's not cheating because beautiful people are TVD's MO so I'm just carrying on the tradition.)
Chapter 18 Soundtrack:
Billie Holiday – "There Is No Greater Love" from Greatest Hits
Jefre Cantu-Ledesma – "Loving Love" from Love Is a Stream
Ariana Grande – "Moonlight" from Dangerous Woman
Reminder: search fic title on both Spotify and Apple Music (or find the links on AO3) for full playlist.
date unknown, closest approximation January 1, 2014
"We have a problem."
"What do you mean 'we'? Aren't you, like, the actual Devil?"
"You do want to take over after I'm gone, don't you?"
"Yes. Definitely still on board with that. I just thought it was all your master plan."
"It is. But since we have mutual interests, a problem for me is most certainly a problem for you."
"Fine. The Devil is pedantic. I guess that fits. What's the problem?"
"She's fallen in love."
"Who's she?... the witch? Good for her. We never really, you know, got along that well, but compared to the rest of those Mystic Falls schlubs she seemed to actually have a good head on her shoulders. And she's beautiful. Not as much as me of course, but she stands next to glumdrum Elena who is an absolute DISGRACE to this gorgeous face and—"
"Please, Ms. Petrova... listen to me. The objective was to strip away her resolve until she had nothing left to live for. Take her family away. Put her best friend in a magical coma and ensure they'll never see each other again. Expose Damon Salvatore as the irredeemable, murderous psychopath that he is. And yet none of it's had any effect. She keeps going, and now she's in love, the strongest earthly tie there is. This will not do. This will not do at all."
"Wait… are you saying you did all that stuff? How much influence on the real world do you have, exactly? And what's so important about Bonnie Bennett to warrant such gestures?"
"I can… suggest things, in a manner of speaking. Some might call it the 'butterfly effect.' I happen to be able to see where each beat of the wings will have the ripple effects I desire. It's not perfect, nor is it consistent, but regardless it's been tremendously useful—except in the case of Bonnie Bennett. The psychic anatomy of the universe seems to bend around her like light and dark matter."
"What does that mean? Not everyone has on-demand access to four millenia's worth of knowledge."
"It means I don't know why she's important, which is precisely why she is. I can see everything, except her. I believe she may be the key to it all."
"I knew it. God is a woman. Always assumed it was me, but what can you do."
January 1, 2014
Bonnie doesn't even remember how long ago it was that they actually watched the ball drop. It could have been hours, days... or even mere minutes. She has absolutely no concept of time right now. The full extents of her senses are occupied by Nora and their close embrace as they sway to murmuring music in a bath of ivory moonlight.
The living room of the cozy house is mostly dark save for the dull glow of a screensaver on the TV and careless cartwheels of colored lights projected by a cheap disco ball in the corner. The thick shadows throw the patch of lunar illumination even further into contrast, like the smeared dimness of an audience from a spotlight-saturated stage, deep black ink swirling around a brilliant chiaroscuro. It's still snowing and the swooping mounds piled outside the window act as a massive reflector for the weak white light.
A Nina Simone song, one of many on Bonnie's gigantic all-purpose afterparty playlist, tiptoes from the speaker system as she and Nora continue to lazily adhere to the beat. Bonnie, at least, isn't saying anything because she's more fucked up than she's been in a long time and isn't confident in her ability to form a coherent sentence. Even sober she always feels like she's stumbling over her words when she tries to express things to Nora, so now isn't exactly an optimal time to give Nora the grand appreciations she so deserves (large amounts of alcohol only make Bonnie more of a romantic than she already is).
Nora drank quite a bit too, but who knows how the ambiguously functioning vamp-tolerance has worked tonight. The impromptu and less-than-auspicious gathering had ended up being a lot of fun. Beau invited Coryn, the bartender from Bells, who he's apparently been seeing ever since they hooked up the night of the Christmas shindig, and to Bonnie's impressed surprise she seems to have already come completely to terms with the whole supernatural thing. Throughout the night she asked one or two questions if something she didn't know came up, but she wasn't overly concerned or curious, let alone frightened. She didn't even flinch when Nora downed a blood bag right in front of her. After Bonnie's initial anxiety of having to worry about a human wore off, it got her thinking about the possibility that more people might be able to handle the truth than she thought. It gave her hope for the future.
The cheerful and loquacious Coryn ended up being the catalyst for the dissolving of still somewhat intact tensions between the heretics and Caroline, which in turn made Bonnie feel more at ease. It ended up being rather intimate in a wholesome way all around; in between games of Secret Hitler (no magic allowed), rounds of colorful shots courtesy of Coryn (extra-strength for the heretics and zero-strength for Caroline), and sporadic dancing frenzies (whose durations steadily shrunk over the course of the night), everyone took a turn feeling the babies kick, Beau taught them all some basic sign language, and there were plenty of moments of respite in which everyone broke off into their own little groups (for Bonnie, most of the latter involved taking every opportunity to sneak off and make out with Nora in the hushed shadows of the hallway, lips on alcohol-flushed faces locked in urgent unity, sweaty hands caressing thighs and hips and waists and teasing at hems with the exhilarating but infuriating limitation that they can't venture further just yet). It also turned out that suppressed Phoenix Stone PTSD or not, Valerie is a lot more fun when Stefan's not there, or maybe just when she doesn't have to watch him and Caroline be the perfect couple. Coryn and Caroline bonded over knitting tips, Bonnie and Nora sat at the marbled kitchen counter and got high as Beau whipped up small samples of the appetizer dishes from his cooking class for them to try, and everyone cheered and hugged at the stroke of midnight rather than just the two couples kissing.
Despite the warm haze over her thoughts and senses from the various sources of inebriation throughout the night, Bonnie's heart is full. She had realized too late that she took having such great friends in her life for granted; ever since her staggering reality check when Grams died after the tomb spell, she never truly got any of that wholesome innocence back. It was just threat after increasingly dire threat. Now she cringes at how easily she was manipulated by Shane and then Silas, but she also understands why; she felt so utterly alone. There have been very few moments that have allowed her to recapture the blissfully real, down-to-earth friend love she once had. First when she was half-resurrected as the anchor and finally got to be a college student like she'd longed for on the Other Side, fooling herself into thinking it was worth the pain of feeling so many supernatural deaths; then in the prison world, when she discovered how powerful and precious platonic love can be; and finally the few-and-far-between times she got to spend with Jo, who immediately understood her in a way not a lot of people did. But now that fluffy, fuzzy feeling of acceptance and belonging, one that she's grown accustomed to only achieving in brief flashes, seems to have finally taken root.
Not to mention how much closer she feels to Nora after their many hours together. It was one thing to spend time with just each other and discover all the intimate little quirks that are revealed when you're building a relationship with someone, but it was quite another to witness her just being a person, existing outside their rosy bubble, making people laugh with her jokes and gracefully resting her head on a crooked arm as she listens to a story and lazily, instinctively moving a splayed hand down to the small of Bonnie's back whenever they found themselves sitting side by side—a gesture both soothing and tantalizing. Perhaps it is the strength of her connection with Nora that has gifted her the capacity for newfound friendship. Perhaps who she is as a person has completely changed. Perhaps both.
Still rocking back and forth to the music with Nora, draped in each other's arms, Bonnie can feel her thoughts sharpening slightly, indicating that her substance-induced fog is starting to dissipate. She lifts her head from where it had been lightly buried in the perfectly shaped hollow between Nora's breasts and chin to look at the clock on the stove in the kitchen: 12:57 a.m. It's really only been an hour since Caroline left? she thinks with surprise, having assumed much more time than that had passed after the blonde vampire's responsibly early departure led to more tired goodbyes from Beau, Coryn, and Valerie, as the still-wired Bonnie and Nora ridiculed them all for bowing out so soon. The witch at least was disappointed the night was drawing to an end—that depressing and slightly shameful sensation of being the one everyone else has to say goodbye to—but mostly excited about finally getting to be alone with her girl. She thinks about Nora this way in her head: "building a relationship," "my girl," etc., but it's private, almost unconscious. They haven't had anything resembling "the talk" yet, and Bonnie isn't even sure if it would even occur to Nora to do so. Who knows how romance worked in the 19th century? Then again, whatever the answer to that was, the way necessarily clandestine gay relationships worked was almost certainly different. Am I going to have to straight-up ask "what are we"? Shouldn't what they already have be good enough? Bonnie hates the word "girlfriend" anyway. It's better than "boyfriend," mind you, but not by much. Why am I even thinking about this bullshit? Live in the moment, right?
As if somehow privy to Bonnie's inner monologue—an "as if" that seems to crop up a lot—Nora finally speaks, her voice soft and slightly slurred with the syrup of intoxication yet still full of energy: "Are you tired?"
Bonnie raises her head again and meets Nora's sparkling smaragdine eyes, reflections of the whirling colored lights and slices of moon rays dancing within them, and she smiles peacefully, as if she were just now reminded of the heretic's presence. "Not really," she answers quietly. "Are you?"
"I feel like I should be, but I'm not." They shift the positions of their arms but continue dancing, grinning dazedly at each other. "Exhaustion is so hard to predict for vampires. I'll speed-run twenty miles in a flash and not even think twice, then think too hard when compelling someone and feel like I need a four-hour nap and a whole freezer full of blood bags." Nora takes Bonnie's left hand with her right and spins Bonnie into a pirouette as if they were dancing a waltz. The playlist has serendipitously hit a romantic stretch of songs; right now the beautiful scratch-marred sound of Billie Holiday's vocals lilts into the room.
"We were dancing for like, almost forty minutes before either of us said anything," Bonnie says with a chuckle.
"And I could continue for forty hours more," Nora replies, spinning herself around Bonnie's hand this time.
They're quiet for a few minutes before Bonnie speaks again. "I had a really good time tonight."
"Me too. Who would have thought such a group would get on so well?"
"Coryn is great."
"Yes, she's wonderful. I'm so happy for Beau. This is the most I've seen him enjoy life in a long time. Certainly since Rayna took his voice." Without even saying anything, they somehow wordlessly agree to sit down on the couch together. Bonnie's playlist seems to notice; now a rhythmless ambient track is playing. "I'm sure Valerie would have no shortage of eager suitors if she actually made herself available instead of pining after Stefan. I doubt I have to tell you this, but from the few times I've seen him and Caroline together, I can pretty confidently say that he is head over heels for her. I keep telling Val that if she cares about him as much as she says she does, she needs to move on and let him be happy."
"You don't think she'd ever... try anything, do you?" Bonnie asks with raised eyebrows.
"Definitely not. For one, she's far too timid... and besides that, deep down she is a profoundly unselfish person. Personally I believe she's clinging to the feelings they once had for each other because it reminds her of being human."
Bonnie swallows, then nervously poses the question that's almost always lurking in the back of her head when she spends time with her immortal friends: "Do you ever miss it? Being human?"
Nora sighs and smiles a little. "I was wondering when you'd ask me that." Seeing Bonnie start to close off she quickly clarifies, "I just mean it's a totally normal thing to think about. I'm not offended by the question. But I can answer it." She sighs again. "Up to just a few months ago, I would have unequivocally said 'yes.' I was what everyone believes vampires to be: cruel, vindictive, sadistic, selfish. You have this unimaginable hunger from which all of your emotions stem, and for a while it seems like the only way you can feel like yourself again is by giving in to it. But after that brief moment of ecstasy you're left even worse off than you were before. Whether it's remorse or detached disillusionment, I would be genuinely surprised if any vampire felt fully satisfied after feeding. And in those moments, I'd have done anything to be human again. To be me again. Yet there was always Julian and Mary Lou there to talk me out of such thoughts, to tell me that that was who we were and to revel in it. So I just pushed those feelings further and further down until I couldn't even recognize them anymore." Nora pauses. "Is this too much right now?"
"No, not at all," Bonnie responds, somewhat entranced by Nora's unexpected eloquence and candidness. "You can tell me anything. And besides, I asked."
"Okay." She takes a deep breath, then resumes. "After over a century with little to no blood, I thought our escape would be my opportunity to finally figure out how to do that reveling. But if anything it was worse. And I also started to realize that it was really only my vampire aspects that were in love with Mary Lou. I would get wrapped up in these horrible schemes of vengeance and retribution with her, and I called that a relationship. This new world changed all that. I learned more about humanity in my first few weeks back than I had in my entire life up to that point, most importantly that humans are people, not prey. I knew this and continued to feed and kill anyway, because that's what I knew, because that's what brought me and Mary Lou together. When Julian presented us with that horde of poor compelled people for our anniversary party, and then when I learned what he had done to Val all those years ago, everything finally clicked into place. Those hints of morality and empathy I had accumulated for so long coalesced into a single desire, a drive to be better. And since then... I don't know. I really don't think about what it would be like to be human again, nor do I miss being who I was all those years ago. I think what I actually longed for was to be a person, which any vampire or other supernatural being can be if they want." Nora takes another deep breath. "So, long story short, my answer to your question is 'no.' That might change. But for now I'm happy with who I am—or, rather, who I'm striving to be."
She looks at Bonnie, who hasn't said anything yet, instead just staring at her with an unreadable expression on her face. "I'm sorry, it's way too late in the day for a speech. We can—"
She's abruptly cut off as Bonnie jumps onto her lap and kisses her, hard. Their bodies become as intertwined as their lips as Nora deepens the kiss, wrapping her long arms around Bonnie's waist and pulling her close, the witch instinctively grinding against the other girl with erratic rhythm. She pulls away for a moment, breathing heavily, and gently places her hands on the sides of Nora's face, gazing deep into bottomless green as she thinks, I should say something. But what if it's the wrong thing?
"I—" I love you. The words ricochet loudly in her mind but refuse to spill from her lips. "I'm happy with who you are too. Right now. Fuck 'striving to be,' you're already there, Nora. You are a caring, strong, amazing person, beautiful in all possible senses of the word. And I feel so, so lucky to know you."
Now it's the heretic who's speechless. Her large eyes glisten with joyful tears and her arms squeeze Bonnie's torso even harder. A wall that neither of them knew was there crumbles to dust and it's like every single cell in each of their bodies are connected. They remove each other's clothes with impossible fluidity, as if they're simply wiping away spots on a glass window separating their bodies. Then they're kissing and moving together again, tongues interweaving as their hands move in reflected unison toward the other's pounding heat, and when Bonnie feels Nora's fingers underneath her, inside her, just as her own reach their destination, she starts to rock in a loosely cyclical motion, riding Nora's cupped hand and using the momentum to reciprocate the touches. Their eyes meet as they both gasp and sigh with pleasure, leaning into a series of slow, intimate kisses as the movements of their bodies start to synchronize, and just before Bonnie completely loses herself to the delicious crescendo of ecstasy she realizes something: this is what people mean when they talk about "making love."
Moonlight continues to flood the room as they arch their backs in climax and become one.
date unknown, closest approximation January 1, 2014
"So what is it exactly that you plan to do? Where are you going to place the next butterfly, or whatever the fuck?"
"All will become clear in time. For now, the plan is simple. Rayna Cruz will send those heretics back here to Hell, where they belong.