Hey all, sorry for the delay on this one. Some may already have discovered that I've been occupying myself with a little side project: Bonnage à Trois, a Bonnie/Enzo/Damon throuple teasing fic. More focused than this sprawling-ass mess but still with plenty of angst. I know the one downfall of Bonora is that you can't get your Bamon fix here, so maybe this other one can do the trick.
As always, endless thanks to those reading, sharing, and reviewing.
Soundtrack:
Gorillaz – "Don't Get Lost in Heaven" from Demon Days
Part Chimp - "War Machine" from I Am Come
Unknown Mortal Orchestra – "Swim and Sleep (Like a Shark)" from II
"Wait, so, explain this to me again. Why exactly do we have to do like, actual work? When we got 'summoned' I thought it would be more of an Old Testament scorched-earth kinda thing. You know, fun, remember?"
Cade sighs, his astral form flickering a bit as he does. "Every minute we spend together makes me further regret my choice to involve you."
"Yeah well, that makes two of us." Katherine goes to kick one of the many rocks strewn across the path and becomes even more irritated when her stiletto-clad toes pass right through it. "I didn't think anything could be worse than Hell. But being a ghost? Not the fun spooky Other Side kind but the boring powerless invisible kind? It comes pretty damn close."
"By all means, say the word and I will expedite your return ticket." Cade smiles the way he does in any context other than torturing someone's soul; despite the dazzling white teeth and sculpted cheekbones, none of the mirth reaches his eyes, which remain as cold and dark as the void.
"You know that's not what I meant," Katherine replies quickly, trying not to let any sign of fear into her voice. She's so used to eventually being able to find someone's "key," the one thing she could twist to make them do anything she wanted, usually without them even realizing it. But as far as she can tell, Cade doesn't have one. It's like all the years have eroded away not just what made him human, but what made him alive.
"As I have told you countless times before, our connection to the physical, living plane is tenuous at best. Harnessing the unique structure of the shamans' spell is useful because the tether we have grasped onto cannot be broken, unless someone were to find every single vampire husk Rayna Cruz stripped of a soul and stake it in the heart—unlikely. It is limited, however, because Hell is still beyond the veil in this plane so to speak, so we can only exist astrally. That is, until the bell is rung. Which is what brings us here."
"Right. To this modern wonder of the world." Katherine gestures sarcastically to the charred, twisted remnants of what might have once been a handsome country house. "Can't see sights like this in Hell, that's for sure."
Cade rolls his eyes, something he had observed in practice but never done himself until he first interacted with Katerina Petrova. "This is the ruins of the last vestiges of the Gemini coven. It is here that the so-called heretics were born, where Malachai Parker slaughtered nearly all of his siblings in cold blood and was imprisoned in an entire world of his own."
"Wait, I know this. That's what the ass indent thing is for, right?"
"The ascendant, yes." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "This coven was... unique, to say the least. I have told you many times that even I am not privy to whatever collective force of will the witches of the beyond use to control the fate of the world, but what I do know is that they are far from perfect. Mistakes, loopholes, coincidences abound... I am somewhat, but not fully surprised that so few living souls ever put two and two together. The Gemini seem to me to be one of these mistakes, an erroneous literalization of the concept of "balance" the witches so fervently tout, manifesting as simply dichotomy rather than true equality. Twins, two immortals, two kinds of magic-users, two worlds. All spooling out an open loop that I need to close."
Katherine blinks a few times. "I'm just gonna pretend I understood all of that and very intelligently ask you what the fuck that last thing means."
Cade smiles again, but this time it's actually genuine, which somehow makes it even more terrifying. "Thanks to the Gemini, one more cure for immortality remains accessible. And once I finally emerge from hell, I plan to take it, so I can finally find peace."
"Where the hell are Damon and the others? What did you do to them?" Stefan doesn't seem sufficiently intimidated by Sybil and her stylish designer outfit. Sure, pretty much everyone they've faced off against was/is hot, but few had as good of taste, and even fewer were anywhere close to this level of dangerous.
"She can get inside our heads, Stefan." Bonnie glares at Sybil as she speaks, deciding to hell with sufficient intimidation. "Do everything you can to block her out, and if you feel thoughts coming that don't feel right—"
"Let them in, oh, let them in." The Siren focuses her eyes on Stefan, and he immediately starts to grunt in pain and brings his hands to his temples. "Oh my, now this is a lot of guilt. And I thought Nora was bad."
Bonnie splays her hands and Sybil shrieks as her arms bend backward and snap, the jagged-edged bones ripping through the skin before she can force them back in. "Stefan, run!"
He looks at her, but there's almost no recognition in his eyes, the pupils unfocusing and going slack as he collapses to his knees and then to the floor.
"What the fuck did you do to him?" Bonnie seethes, trying to keep Sybil in enough pain that her psychic weapons will be out of commission.
"Not much, honestly," she grunts, gaze scorching into Bonnie's as she tries to realign her broken limbs. "Genuinely. I nudged like, one thing in there, and his fucked-up subconscious did the rest."
Bonnie raises her other hand palm-up, fingers clawed, willing flames to erupt all over Sybil's body, and they do, first engulfing her thighs and torso, then her shoulders and arms and finally her head. She shrieks with a volume that shouldn't be possible, and suddenly Bonnie is millions of miles away, millions of years away.
Actually just about 21 years, back to the night before her second birthday, the earliest memory she has. It's nothing remarkable; all she's doing is petting Grams' cat, a few minutes past when she'd usually be put to bed. She can see the light, its warm amber gently bathing the guest room of Sheila's house, and the dark winter night outside, fat flakes of snow drifting across the view from the window. That's it. She's never known why she remembers this so vividly, because the next thing she can recall with the same amount of detail is when she's four or five, building towering skyscrapers out of blocks with Elena and then knocking them down Godzilla style.
But this time is different, because now she can hear it all, the cold winds blowing the shutters to and fro, Emerald purring and pressing her head against Bonnie's chubby toddler hand, Grams' and her mom's voices downstairs. They're words that she couldn't have understood then, but she does now.
"Child, listen to yourself. You're not making any sense. You just need to slow down and we can—"
"I'm not gonna slow down, Mom! I need to go. Somewhere else, anywhere but here. And you know damn well why."
"Bonnie needs you. She needs her mother, Abby. It's her birthday tomorrow."
"You think I don't know that? But I can't do it anymore, okay? I never wanted her. She's just a burden."
"Exactly. So why are you leaving her with me? Now I have to put up with her?"
At this, the illusion is broken, and present-day Bonnie tears her way back to the surface, past Sibyl's clumsy layers of influence into the reality of the moment, coming to as the Siren's hands—now more like claws, long and mottled gray and sharp-nailed—are reaching for her face, just in time to grab the slimy, almost fishlike arms and shove them as hard as she can down to her left, and with the help of a well timed back-kick to Sybil's heeled feet and a quick magical strength-boost she sends the attacking she-creature crashing to the floor. Her downed adversary's limbs flop unceremoniously for the second or two it takes her to spring back to her feet, and in that brief moment Bonnie feels like a total badass, until she sees one of the arms, somehow even longer now, lash out like a switch below waist level, and then it's her who's on the ground, crying out as pain like she's never felt (not like the sensation of someone else's death, but concrete, concentrated) courses from her left ankle through her entire body. When she finally works up the courage to look down, her vision blurred by her surging nerves, she can see her foot lying limp and useless on the rug to the side of her leg, blood pouring from the place where an intact Achilles tendon used to stretch. She barely has time to process the sight before she hears Sibyl strut over to her, steps tauntingly heavy on the blood-soaked floor, leading right up to Bonnie's side before she feels a sharp point threatening to stab into her solar plexus.
"Oh, Bonnie. You didn't ever give me the chance to ask you if you wanted this to go the easy way, or the hard way. But you went ahead and made your own choice. And you know what, good for you. I just love an empowered woman."
"Fuck... you..." Bonnie manages to hiss, doing everything she can not to scream from the pain, because it seems like if she starts screaming she might not stop.
"Yes, well, we can discuss that another time, if you don't mind." Sibyl pushes her heel a little further into Bonnie's abdomen. "I'm kind of in a hurry, and this is already taking longer than I wanted it to. So just make things easier on both of us and answer a simple question for me."
"I'm not... answering... anything..." Bonnie grunts, shifts, and the agony subsides, or at least seems to, long enough for her to utter the rest: "...until you wake Stefan up." Not just because she's worried about him, and not exactly confident in his ability to defeat his legion of inner demons head-on; if she doesn't get his blood soon, she'll bleed out. She can already feel herself starting to slip.
Sybil clicks her tongue. "I don't think you're really in a position to make demands, sweetie." She presses even harder. "How about this: you answer, and I don't lock you both so deep inside your own minds that you can never escape."
Bonnie doesn't respond, just sort of gasps and sighs at the same time as she goes into shock.
"That's better," Sibyl purrs, finally releasing the pressure. "Now, I can see most of your mind, so I know that you don't know where he is, but I think you know who does. So tell me: whose arm do I twist to get an audience with Elijah Mikaelson?"
The bizarreness of the unexpected request is enough to pull Bonnie out of her daze for a fews seconds. "Elijah? Why?"
"That's none of your concern." Sibyl's eyes light up. "And would you look at that. Your poor blood-deprived brain gave me a name like a dutiful little Girl Scout delivering cookies. The Big Easy, here I come."
The darkness swirling at the edges of Bonnie's vision starts to close in on the view of Sybil's feet slinking away back toward the door. When she hears the Siren's final words it's like they're coming from somewhere miles away. "Oh, I almost forgot. It would be splendid if you didn't remember this conversation. Cade doesn't need to know about this little independent study, does he?"
Bonnie can feel the wipe creeping up her brain stem, but it's a sloppy enough attempt that she's able to slow it by throwing whatever remaining consciousness she still possesses at its advancing shroud. It doesn't take long before she runs out completely.
Caroline gives endless thanks to the heavens as both the storm and the twins' wails in the backseat both lull at the same time, and when she peeks in the rearview mirror Lizzie and Josie have completely tired themselves out in unison, conked-out heads leaning toward each other, chubby little legs slack in their booster seats. She smiles to herself despite the hundreds of thousands of worst-case scenarios coursing through her head as call after call from the SUV's bluetooth console either rings out or goes straight to voicemail: Stefan, Bonnie, Stefan, Damon, Valerie, Elena, Ric, Stefan, Bonnie, Stefan. The wind probably just knocked out a tower or two, she tells herself, turning the radio to something soft and fuzzy and trying not to think about what happened the last time she was driving alone through the woods outside of town on a stormy night.
The shudder-inciting memory has a silver lining, though; Caroline suddenly realizes she can call Matt at his office at the station, assuming the weather hasn't claimed the landlines as well. He picks up after the second ring. "Hey Care, what's up?"
"Oh thank god. Matt, is there like, something terrible happening in Mystic Falls right now? Why do I have such a strong feeling that something terrible is happening right now?"
He makes a sound that could either be a scoff or a chuckle; she assumes the latter. "Well, uh, not that I know of. But now you've got me nervous. What's going on?"
Caroline takes a deep breath before launching into a light-speed rundown of everything that had happened that day, up until the time she left with the girls. "I'm sure everything's fine. But could you maybe look into it? Ric and Elena were just at the Grill, I don't know why they wouldn't be picking it up."
"I can take a look around, sure. I'll keep you updated."
"Thank you, thank you."
"No problem. Be safe."
After he hangs up she looks nervously into the rearview mirror again, realizing she hadn't exactly been whispering during that conversation, but both of her passengers are still fast asleep, not a care in the world to crease their tiny peaceful faces. Caroline sighs. Oh, the glory days.
She succeeds in letting her mind wander for the remainder of the drive, more than thirty minutes feeling like less than ten when she finally pulls into the long dirt driveway of Abby's cabin. Even the endless bumps and loose rocks the car trundles over during its approach aren't enough to shake the kids awake, and Caroline is able to pick them both up, one in each arm, and carry them to the porch without incident (although she of course remembers when she used to pretend she was asleep so her mom or dad would do the same for her). It's only 7:23 when she checks her phone yet again before ringing the doorbell, yet the thick, dark, apocalyptic clouds make it seem much later.
"Hey, I have a bed made for them in the bedroom. Follow me." Caroline appreciates that Abby knows exactly what she needs as soon as she opens the door, waiting until the girls are tucked in to properly say hello and pull the exhausted blonde vampire into a tight hug. Enzo conveys similar greetings with a terse head-nod. It looks like they're in the middle of a Buffy episode, which is so hilariously on the nose that Caroline can't help but burst out laughing.
"Not enough supernatural tomfoolery in real life?" she asks, gesturing to the TV.
Abby and Enzo glance at each other conspiratorially and both laugh. "We've been watching it together whenever we both have down time."
Realization dawns on Caroline's stretched-thin brain all at once, and she shoots a scandalous grin and a wink at Abby. "Ohhhh. Gotcha."
Abby blushes and Enzo rolls his eyes. "Oh please, gorgeous. You know you're the only one for me."
Caroline snorts, helps herself to the oversized bottle of expensive-looking red wine on the kitchen counter, then crosses her arms defiantly. "Right. Nothing gets me head over heels for a guy like him stabbing me in the back and kidnapping me."
"Still hung up on that, are we?" he drawls.
"Not exactly. But I can't say it doesn't cross my mind every now and again. I mean, we were like, frenemies, emphasis on the 'fren.' Which is rare, I might add."
Enzo sighs. "Well then believe me when I say that I'm sorry. I know I've said it before, but I really am. I didn't realize the hold Lily had over me, and I did some awful things that I can never make up for."
Caroline wasn't expecting this. "Uh... it's okay. Thank you for apologizing."
Abby pointedly claps her hands together. "So, um, could we get an update on what the hell's been happening today? I mean, I know we missed the family luncheon or whatever, but jeez."
"Well as of about an hour ago, I've pretty much been cut off too." Caroline finishes her glass of wine by the third gulp. "But sorry about the radio silence before then. Shit has been... confusing." She gives the pair the same expedited recap she whipped up for Matt, and at almost the same instant she finishes, her phone buzzes loudly on the counter, the screen lighting up with Stefan's name and photo. She isn't sure if it's fear or relief in her voice when she breathlessly says, "Hello?" Probably both.
Stefan clears his throat on the other end of the line. "Hey, babe. So, we're kinda fucked."
"You're gonna take the Cure? Okay. I hate to break it to you, but first off, I took the Cure, against my will I might add, and let's just say it isn't the barrel of laughs you're thinking it'll be. Second off, I happen to have crossed paths with another creepy immortal psychic who was on a glorified suicide mission. Things didn't turn out so well for him either."
"Silas. Yes. I'm well aware of his failures, as well as your own." Cade smiles again as Katherine scowls at him.
"I did the best I could with the shit deck I got dealt. My doppelgänger bitch Elena was the one who force-fed me the cure, and is also the one who got, and is still getting, everything I ever wanted. I mean look, she wriggled out of a century-long sleep sentence in what, two years? Fuck that." She crosses her arms, again kicks at the ground futilely in frustration.
Cade clasps his hands together, at first seemingly in response to a sight seen in the distance, but then Katherine realizes this is something she knows all too well: smugness. "Ms. Petrova, why, I couldn't have commissioned better evidence for why you are the perfect candidate to succeed me as the ruler of Hell. You see, I see myself in you; that is, myself as I was four thousand years ago, bitter and vengeful and eager to blame anyone but myself for my fate. But the truth is"—it's at this point that Katherine sees he actually did see something far away, because now it's closer: a pickup truck, headlights on but barely luminous, lumbering across the gravel swathe toward them—"we are all destined, doomed to become the worst possible version of ourselves. However long it takes."
Bonnie wakes up to Stefan's worry-stricken face yet again, this time not from a nap but from the edge of death, the comprehensive healing effects of his blood now spreading through her body, repairing the ravaged skin of her ankle and reducing the pain to a distant echo.
"Oh thank god," Stefan says breathlessly, collapsing backward to sit on the floor and letting out a sigh of relief. "For a second I thought you were gone. I had no idea how long I'd been out."
Bonnie rubs her eyes and shakes the fog out of her skull. "Where is she?"
He squints at her. "Who? What the hell happened?"
"Ugh, that bitch," Bonnie huffs exasperatedly. Fucking psychics. "Sybil paid us a visit. She must have wiped your memory. She tried to do the same to me, but I dodged it somehow. She's looking for Elijah. I have no idea why, but I know it's not good. I gotta call Vincent."
"What the fuck. None of this makes any goddamn sense." Stefan hangs up his phone and looks at her with defeated eyes. "Still no one picking up from the crew that was headed to Whitmore. Am I off-base for thinking something terrible happened?"
"With the way tonight is going, we can't rule anything out. Give me a second, I'll see if I can do the damn locator spell without another " Vincent's phone rings out so Bonnie hangs up and shoots him a text: Call me. Urgent.
She's just unfolded the Virginia state map and spread it out on the floor when her phone buzzes, the caller ID giving no information other than PRIVATE NUMBER. She and Stefan make portentous eye contact as she answers the call and puts it on speaker. "Hello? Who is this? I'm really not in the mood for prank calls at the moment."
There's nothing but dead air on the other end of the line for a good ten seconds, and Bonnie's about to hang up when she finally hears something, near-inaudible, but something nonetheless. Stefan's brow furrows as he leans his ear closer, but the next repetition of what they soon realize is a loop is loud enough for both of them to hear: Nora's voice, as slow and stretched as if it were run through an effects rig, saying, "Lost the heads. Cross two downstream" over and over. The surreal nonsense conveyed with what Bonnie recognizes to be utter terror chills her to the bone.
She takes the call off speaker and holds her phone close to her face, trying to hear any slight variations or anything else that might make more sense, while Stefan calls Caroline, his expression showing the same unsettlement Bonnie feels. "Hey, babe. So, we're kinda fucked."
The brow furrows even further at whatever is said on the other end. "What do you mean 'the news'? Like just channel 5?"
Bonnie goes for the remote on one of the end tables, stepping carefully around the concerningly large bloom of blood her wound had poured onto the rug. When they find Damon—she refuses to think "if"—he will not be pleased.
But once she turns the TV on and flips the channel, her exhausted eyes burned by the bright screen in the dark room as she scans over the footage of the flaming, pulverized remains of the Camaro in the middle of the road, the scrolling headline that reads CATASTROPHIC COLLISION ON ROUTE 501, LOCATION OF PASSENGERS AND/OR OTHER INVOLVED VEHICLE(S) UNKNOWN, "if" starts to look like the more accurate choice.
