Still truckin' over here. Hope everyone else is doing okay too. Much love.

Soundtrack:
The Skygreen Leopards – "I Fell Asleep in the Sunbleached Grass" from The Jingling World of the Skygreen Leopards
Las Cobras - "Lo Hacemos Mal" from Selva
The Strokes – "Is This It" from Is This It
This Heat – "Makeshift Swahili" from Deceit


March 13, 2015

"Do you ever wonder..." Bonnie pauses, purses her lips, opens them again: "...what's, you know, beyond?"

Nora looks down at her, still stroking Bonnie's hair as she cradles the shorter girl's head in her lap. "What do you mean?"

"Like... you know." Bonnie lazily gestures to, well, everything. "I know we've both said we aren't religious. But I'm not sure I've ever fully adjusted my understanding of the universe after I discovered the supernatural. And even then, the one bit of 'beyond' I got to see firsthand doesn't even exist anymore. I mean, I'm not worried about eternal damnation, or anything. I think. But... well, do you ever think about it?"

"Of course." Nora raises her head again to continue gazing at whatever faraway sight she was watching before, the warm spring light glinting off the emerald slivers of her eyes that Bonnie sees from her low angle. After a few weeks of soggy, frigid winter remnants, the frost has broken into a stretch of impossibly flawless weather, and they're spending the Friday of the last week before NYU's spring break at Central Park, which is unsurprisingly crowded for a weekday but probably nothing compared to what it'll be like tomorrow. They're lounging in a perfect patch of tree-dappled sunshine in their favorite spot, the boulders next to the baseball fields in South, smoke from a celebratory joint curling above their heads and cotton-ball clouds slouching through azure above. It's no wonder Bonnie's thinking about such big questions when she has a direct view of the divine two feet above her: Nora's loose halo of chestnut tresses, Nora's soft-glowing skin, Nora's lips that she can never seem to kiss enough. They've fallen into a cozily consistent rhythm now that they're well into their second semester and almost a year into living in the city together, and sometimes Bonnie takes for granted how much she loves her girlfriend as they make their way through their beautifully entwined life, until moments like these when all the adoration she's ever felt for her and more comes rushing back.

"I suppose I did believe in God once," the brunette continues. "But never in a way like, 'he's always watching' or 'he decides whether I go to heaven or hell'... more just an all-encompassing, ever-present force. And I still feel that, I just don't call it God anymore. I want to believe that death is just sinking back into the oneness we came from. That's what everyone who's had a near-death experience says when they come back, right? 'We are one.' And I think that would be the most comforting thing, even more so than neverending happiness in a heaven of your choice."

"That doesn't seem like the worst option, in the grand schemes of things," Bonnie says softly, closing her eyes and exhaling and savoring the feeling of Nora's deft fingers massaging her head. "I'd be with you forever."

Nora smiles. "And I with you." But then her brow furrows a bit as she continues, "Even then, in a new world where all you ever wished could come true, doesn't the possibility of existing forever scare the daylights out of you?"

"Asks the vampire." Bonnie giggles. "And no, it definitely does. Probably more than anything." She shudders a bit as the quiet, unsettling feeling she calls "the chill" passes through her. "But what if in this world, forever doesn't mean the same thing it does as when we think about it now? What if it's just the default state of being, just like how finite existence is here? I mean, vampires live 'forever,' yeah, but their lives can still end. What if death is just a door?"

Nora's silent for a moment, visibly mulling the question over in her mind, then huffs exasperatedly and looks down at Bonnie again. "I am much too stoned for this conversation." She takes Bonnie's hair and playfully flips it out over her face. "I thought we made a vow to keep the topics light today. It's spring, Christ's sake."

"You're right, you're right," Bonnie replies, brushing her hair back out of her eyes and batting at Nora's hands as they try to put it back. "Gotta get out of metaphysics mode after my midterm yesterday. Which he said he'd have the grades up for by now, but..." She checks her phone again and rolls her eyes at the lack of Canvas notifications.

"Oh please, there's no way you didn't kill it. Pun intended. How many other students in your class have died and come back to life?"

Bonnie laughs. "Fair. Although it's not like I could use my personal experience in the essays. Might raise some questions we don't want to have to answer."

"Eh, just call it a creative exercise." Nora makes a dismissive gesture. "Besides, that professor of yours would probably just jump at the opportunity to interview you."

"Also fair." Dr. Ferreira is brilliant and charismatic, but he's also an enormous, occasionally annoying nerd. Which, to be fair, makes him a pretty great teacher. "Okay, so what should we talk about instead?"

"How about where we're going to get our afternoon coffee?"
Bonnie closes her eyes and grins contentedly. "Mm. Yes, let's talk about that. Where you're going to get it, that is. I'm never getting up from this rock again."

"Don't you think it'll be—


August 22, 2015

"Bonnie!"

The sound of Caroline's slightly raised voice brings her crashing out of her cloud-palace of memory and back down to earth. She shakes her head and takes a few seconds to remember where she is, when she is. Saturday. The Grill. With Caroline and Elena. Mystic Falls, not New York, because Nora is— gone. She's gone.

"Sorry. I'm a little out of it today." Bonnie smiles sheepishly at her two best friends, across from her at the refurbished version of their old table, the sight like a broadcast from the distant past, making it even more difficult to find herself in the moment. Ever since... it happened, things have been weird. Reality stumbling on shifting sands.

"You're good! Just, the expression on your face was a bit, um, worrisome. And, you know..." Caroline nods toward Bonnie's left hand, which she somehow only now registers is gripping the side of the table so tightly that some of the tips of her nails have lodged in the wood. She feels her face redden as she unclenches her fingers and wipes the splinters off on her shorts. "I don't know what's happening to me," she says quietly, and despite every effort to keep it from falling she feels a single tear run down her cheek.

Caroline and Elena both stand up in unison, pull their chairs over to Bonnie's side of the table and sink back down into an epic group hug.

"You never have to be anyone but yourself with us, okay? No apologies, no justifications. We love you, always." Elena gently kisses the top of her head.

"Thanks, guys," Bonnie says even more quietly when they finally break apart, now having to use both hands to wipe the tears away. "I love you too."

The vibration of Caroline's gigantic phone vibrates the whole table, and she suddenly gets up again. "Oh my God, I totally forgot, Ric and I have to go take the girls to their checkup soon."

"On a Saturday?" Elena asks with raised eyebrows.

"That's what I said, but it turns out it's really goddamn hard to lock down an appointment with a pediatrician, so we took what we could get." Caroline looks at Bonnie and apologizes with her eyes. "I'm sorry Bonnie, I know it seems like I'm just bailing on a deep moment."

Lashes still wet, Bonnie smiles and shakes her head. "Not at all."

As the blonde vampire grabs her bag (the contents of which must weigh at least 20 pounds by this point) she says, in her immediately recognizable faux-nonchalant tone, "So Bonnie, before I go, I saw that the NYU semester starts in a few weeks. Are you... you know?"

"I uh, haven't decided yet, Care."

"Okay! Just thought I'd mention it, just in case. Okay, well, bye now!"

Once she's gone, Bonnie and Elena share a look that reminds them both of long ago.

"How has she changed so much and yet is also exactly the same?" Bonnie asks rhetorically, grinning fondly. Even though she doesn't exactly need the extra stress of other people reminding her that she needs to decide how to continue her life at some point, she's grown to love that side of her fair-haired friend.

"Something tells me if I had actually slept for another 70-odd years she would still be the same old Caroline." Elena finishes her last fry and then stacks the basket on top of their other dishes. "Sorry if that stressed you out, though."

"It's fine," Bonnie says as she looks around at nothing in particular. "She's right. I can't stay in limbo forever."

"It doesn't have to be forever. You're 23, Bonnie. You can take a semester off and give yourself some time to bounce back. There's no rulebook. And even if there is, who cares."

"Maybe. It's not even the going back to school part. Every time I think about going back to our apartment and—" She stops. She can't. She covers her mouth. "Oh god."

"Hey, hey, here, let's go for a walk. It's beautiful outside." Elena tosses some cash on the table and takes Bonnie by the hand, leading her out the door and into the blazing sunlight, which almost instantly makes her feel a bit better. It really is a nice day, and the sight of people and families and kids out and about on ground that two years ago resembled a post-apocalyptic wasteland. The grass is green, the benches are polished, the stone and concrete is clean—Mystic Falls always bounces back, for better or worse. (She and Damon may or may not have gone around and smashed all the Confederate statues when it was still abandoned. So far, no one seems to have noticed.)

"Thanks. I feel like I'm constantly fighting against my own brain." Bonnie screws her eyes shut and loosely wraps her arms around her taller friend as they walk into the town square. "But I'm sure you're familiar."

"Yeah." Elena half-hugs her back. "At this point we all are, I think. But the worst part is seeing everyone else just move on with their lives while you feel like you're stuck in the mud. And I want to remind you it's all relative. Everyone feels like they're stuck in the mud. Take me for example. Damon was ready to take the Cure with me when it seemed like everything was going to be okay for once. Now he says he needs to wait at least until we find Alex and get Enzo out of the Stone, which I get, but, you know, have we ever solved one problem without another one popping up right after? Or before, even? And it's not resentment I'm feeling, or even disappointment, it's more like... resignation. That even though it isn't any of our faults, nothing's ever going to change." They sit down on one of the benches, Bonnie silent as she processes this confession, then Elena continues: "I'm sorry, that seemed like I was pivoting to my problems. I'm just trying to say, there's always something. And even if our somethings are different, we can all still be there for each other."

"That sounds good to me," Bonnie whispers, leaning her head on Elena's shoulder and listening to the chatter of the Saturday bustle buoyed on the breeze, the birds singing around and above them, the faint tonal hum of a distant lawnmower, and everything is almost peaceful for a moment, but—


February 5, 2016

"Yo. Hey. Earth to Bon-Bon. You still with me?"

Where?... Who? Her eyes focus. Damon. She's in his and Elena's living room, fire crackling in the hearth, everyone gone except for Stefan and Caroline, who are both sitting on the couch opposite her, locked in a Mario Kart faceoff that's sure to end in chaos. She smiles at her friends, but her lips drop when her vision pivots to the window, the window where she saw... thought she saw...

Elena, suddenly in from the kitchen, offers her a mug: "Hey, you want some tea? I just made some. Sleepytime, extra strong."

"Yes please. Thanks." Bonnie takes the cup with both hands and sips from it, barely even registering the bite of the scalding water on her tongue and throat as she tries to slow her racing thoughts. To Damon she says, "Yeah, sorry, I'm good. Just zoned out for a second. I don't know what's wrong with me." She's been saying that a lot over the past few months.

"Nothing's wrong with you. You've just had a rough day." Elena casually sits down on Damon's shoulders as if she's done it a million times before, not spilling even a drop of her tea as she puts both legs around his neck and then pats his head. "Maybe having everyone over wasn't the best idea. My bad."

"No, don't even." Bonnie frowns. "Is Valerie okay? I feel terrible."

"Beau said she'll be fine," Damon answers. "And that you shouldn't feel bad. She's just been having a rough time lately too."

"World's least exclusive club." Bonnie drinks more tea. "Do you think I might be like... going crazy?"

"You died and came back to life for a second time. I think it would be more concerning if there weren't side effects." Damon smirks. "At least you're not seeing the ghosts of your dead exes, right?"

Bonnie rolls her eyes and Elena gives her boyfriend an admonishing bop on the nose. "Not. Helpful. I will crush your skull with my thighs."

"Sign me up," he flirts, which earns him another bop.

"At this point the only thing that makes you crazy is being willing to stay with us this long," Elena says. "Everything else? Just another day."

"This isn't you kicking me out, is it?" Overstaying her welcome as a guest is always a fear of Bonnie's. Especially when she's been couchsurfing for this long. She does her best to pull her weight: do the dishes, pick up groceries, offer a share of rent every month even though neither of her current hosts will ever accept it. But the nagging guilt never goes away.

Elena vehemently shakes her head, still somehow managing to keep the hot liquid in her mug from sloshing over the edges. "Absolutely not. You could literally stay forever if you wanted to. But I know I wouldn't."

"Yeah, what she said." Damon swigs some of his own drink. "You're like... the pet we always wanted but could never have. Our little miracle"—he scrutinizes her face, presumably searching for the most apt comparison to make—"beagle."

Bonnie gives him a withering look. "If anything, asshole, I'm a cat, considering I continue to live here even though I hate your guts."

"Fine. You can be that cat the Boston dude from that video sees on his porch. 'Blink, motherfucker!' "

They're suddenly interrupted by twin shrieks from the other side of the room, signaling that Stefan and Caroline have just finished the Special Cup, and from the sound of it, Caroline is victorious.

"Eat my sparkle dust, slug boy!" She continues to exaggeratedly turn the wheel as Rosalina zooms through the course on auto.

Stefan puts his controller down and scratches his head sheepishly. "You know, if I actually had any manliness at all at this point, dating you would be really emasculating."

"I think you mean 'empowering,' sweetie. Emasculation is just an externalization of insecurity. Seeing your girl thrive and also beat your ass in every game you ever play should be sexy, not intimidating."

"Actually, it's both. And it's just one of the reasons I love you so much."

Caroline accepts his dainty kiss to her cheek. "Thanks babe. But I wasn't just talking to you."

Damon turns around, Elena still mounted on his shoulders. To an outside observer it might look like they were about to chicken-fight right there in the living room. "What does that mean? I'm as secure as can be! I had to have Elena activate a hand soap dispenser the other day because I couldn't fuckin' figure it out!"

"You don't even let me grab stuff off the top shelf at the grocery store," Elena protests, looking down from her perch.

"That's because you are freshly human and I don't want to lose you 70 years too early to a shelving unit."

Her friends' good-natured bickering is always like music in Bonnie's ears, and in this sliver of a moment she's actually able to find some peace, closing her eyes and just listening to the fire and the voices she knows better than any others and—


April 19, 2016

—she's roused by the faint sound of a whisper.

"Bonnie. Hey. Wake up."

She blinks away the fog of dreams, sees the display of the red LED clock on the nightstand before the silhouette of whoever's in the room: 5:42 AM. Ugh. Morning people.

"C'mon and follow me. Sorry to disturb you, but it's important. It'll be quick, I promise."

Though she still has to strain to hear the actual words, she now knows for sure the whisperer is Vincent, but he's on his way out of the room as soon as her eyes finally focus on his shape in the near-darkness, silently pulling the door closed behind him but leaving it cracked the slightest bit, a thin band of dim, sickly light from the hallway elbowing its way through into the darkness.

Bonnie yawns and rubs her eyes with both hands. As she sits up she looks at the empty right half of the bed, like she does every morning. Nora feels closer than ever before and yet still so profoundly gone. Sometimes, on the rare occasions she lets herself be idealistic, Bonnie hopes that all the residual weight of the grief she's gone through the past eight months would dissipate instantly and completely if they really could somehow get Nora back, that even though that chunk of her life was wasted in some regard it won't matter, and everything will just pick up right where it left off, and—

Yeah... Ha. She doesn't even need her extra-cynical morning brain to put a screeching stop to that nonsense.

As she steps outside, the universe seems to validate her judgment call with its oppressive, silent darkness, grasping the forest clearing in which the Salvatore mansion sits in its ink-stained fingers. Vincent's barely discernible profile lies ahead of her on the front lawn, but as soon as she steps off the porch, tinctures of pastel dawn begin to temper the gloom, and now she can see the details of his face, which are set in a grim frown.

"Wh—" She opens her mouth to ask him what the hell's going on but he shushes her, then mutters something she only recognizes to be an obfuscation after he starts to speak.

"Sorry. Not anything sketchy, I promise, just... I wanna keep this between us, for now."

"Sure, I get it." Bonnie's tone might imply she is calm, cool, and collected. She is neither calm nor cool nor collected. This cannot be good.

"A contact of mine at the Royal Occult Institute in London finally replied to my message a few hours ago. She—"

"Wait, like the Royal Occult Institute?" At this, Bonnie's too awed to be unsettled. During her time in the NYU grad program the ROI had come up constantly as a source and/or supporter of the most cutting edge research and field work (even though it's barely a blip on the radar for other fields). And she'd always thought that there just had to be at least a few real witches there, so she doesn't know why she's so surprised.

"Yeah. When I stepped up to be Regent I got access to a whole list of resources and possible informants. Most of 'em are pretty unreliable, but Asandra almost always comes through, even if it takes a bit 'n a half. Although this time, I kinda wish she hadn't." He takes a breath, looks Bonnie right in the eyes. "This Hell stuff is real, Bonnie. And somethin' bad is comin'. The Institute has a whole secret unit of witches keepin' tabs on everything that goes bump in the night in London. Plus anywhere normal folks would turn if confronted with somethin' unthinkable: gurus, churches, street corners. And at every node of the network they are seein' people scared. Requests for exorcisms; sudden, totally uncharacteristic turns to religion; record numbers seeking psychics, healers, existential therapists; I mean, the works. And it's gotten even worse these past few days, after you know what. Which leads me to my theory." He locks his hands behind his head the way he did at dinner, and Bonnie's stuck between wishing he'd just say it and wishing to remain in blissful ignorance. But he chooses for her. "Those vampires trapped in the Phoenix Stone weren't really dead, in the traditional sense. That's what was always so fascinating to me about the spell: the Sword separates, not terminates. Choctaw magic is nigh-impossible to decipher by outsiders, but maybe the transfer of the shamans' lives to Rayna opened up some loophole. But Damon stabbing her closed that loop, and I'm thinkin' our pitchfork-wielding friend may have taken advantage, funneled all those souls right into his psychic vortex. But the thing is, all those vampires' bodies are still out there, not dead, just empty. Which means it's possible he could exploit that connection and build a bridge."

Bonnies' barely keeping up, especially because as Vincent's talking he's moving around constantly, pouring a steady stream of black salt from a velvet bag in his hands in a pattern on the ground. "A bridge?" she finally asks.

When he responds, it's less like a direct answer and more like him just thinking out loud, his mouth picking up where his brain left off. But it conveys the point all the same: "...because what are the chances y'all find the Sword and she comes after it a day later? And yeah, a bridge..."

Bonnie finally identifies the pattern the salt is forming and utters a small gasp.

"...Hell ain't a place, per se. It's a plane. Fundamentally different from ours in so many ways. And for that reason, we can't see it, can't hear it, can only feel it. But if there were to be some tether to the physical, some link between life and death..." He finishes the salting with a wide circle around the edges of the symbol and then takes Bonnie's hands in his own, leads her to the center, looks in her in the eyes again. "We don't have time for you to learn the incantation. Just trust me, alright? Let me channel you. The Bennett connection is important. I'll explain later."

She's scared, but she trusts him, because it's Vincent. They close their eyes and as he starts mutter the words, Bonnie senses the familiar but always exhilarating feeling of hers and another's magic flowing together, hearing his voice as if from miles away repeating "finis mens revelum, finis mens revelum, finis mens revelum."

And then Vincent stops.

Bonnie has never been more scared in her entire life. It's like someone just doused her with a bucket of ice cold water that turned out to be paint thinner and they're standing three feet away grinning maniacally and holding a match. She doesn't want to open her eyes, but they seem to do so on their own, her head tilting back like a random sci-fi movie extra's when the alien spaceship's shadow passes over them, except now the shadow is real, and it's gargantuan and infernal and labyrinthine, an impossible leviathan of pure, raw darkness that blots out the sun, gobbles the clouds, spreads farther and farther across the sky with cancerous zeal.

Vincent's voice shakes as he finally speaks. "God help us all."