Disclaimer: I do not own TVD, the quotes, or the music.

~3~

No, it's not fair, but what makes earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it should feel like Heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. You'll find out for yourself soon enough. It won't help the situation for you to get all upset.

~Chuck Palahniuk, Damned~

Pray for the Dead

The next time I die, I hope it's my last.

I don't want to be the Anchor.

It's just a bleak, anguishing reminder of all the ways a being can die—human or supernatural. Having your throat slit, your heart ripped out, your limbs torn off. Poisoning, drowning, stabbing, decapitating… I've been through it all.

And every time it happens, I think it will be the end. I can't fathom how my body can withstand all of the trauma. And then the agony stops, and I'm left to collect myself while everyone looks on. Their faces tell me that my episodic tortures scare them, that they don't think I will stand up again.

When I do, blood spilling from my mouth and nose, my friends don't know what to do. Which I get—it's not like there is an etiquette book for being an Anchor.

So, I'm always relieved when someone acts as if nothing happened in the first place.

That's not going to happen this time, though.

When I grab Elena's shoulders, it's not the pain of scorching fire I feel, but the anguish and anger that rips through my best friend when she realizes that I'm not going to let her stay here until the other half of her heart appears. She'll have to do so on the side of the living.

Her screams of protest ring in my ears and at some point, they blend with those coming from Stefan, which leaves me wondering who is more terrified of Damon not making it back in time.

My hands grab at the metal fence for support. The wind picks up, getting louder, whipping everything that isn't bolted or rooted down at me with break-neck speed. The warm, metallic taste I've gotten so used to spills out of my mouth. I gag until my stomach is empty, cramping from forcing what feels like an ocean of blood up my esophagus.

When I'm sure nothing else will come up, I turn, still clutching the pointed arrow on the top of the post. It's digging into my skin and compared to everything else I've been through the last few hours (days, months, years) it's a lot like resting my palm on a blanket.

I'm hoping to see Damon when I shift my body to the side, but I don't. Lexi's peering at me, though, blonde hair flowing in the wind. "Lexi—come on! It's your turn!"

But I should have known better than to underestimate that keen glint in her eyes. She is aware of what is going to happen… she sees what everyone else refused to acknowledge.

"Bonnie, this is killing you, isn't it?" I feebly reach out to her, fingers straining to make contact with the sleeve of her coat, but my arm just isn't long enough.

"I can hold on!" I insist. "We have to finish this!"

"Not just yet," Markos announces, and the air of triumph in his voice is disgusting.

Lexi dives toward him, kicking him swiftly. It knocks him onto the ground, and I can hardly keep track of who's hitting who. It shouldn't matter, though. If Lexi would just let go if she would just back away from Markos for one moment…

But then Markos gets the upper hand. It's going to be all over for her in a second. I'm screaming on the inside, silently begging for something—anything—that might make the situation better.

And then, I feel the tides changing… Markos pauses, body going rigid as the supernatural gust smacks into him, making him the least of my worries once again.

I hold my breath as Lexi stands up and regards me curiously.

"Every person that passes through you is bringing you one step closer to death… what kind of best friend would I be if you died before Stefan got his brother back…" she turns away, an expression of steely resolve on her face.

I feel the hope draining out of me, I falter, lowering my arm slightly.

She throws her arms up, chin pointing toward the darkened sky. "You're not going to get me!"

And then… she's gone… and it's almost as if she were never there, to begin with.

Worry begins to pool in my belly. I search for Damon frantically, eyes darting from left to right, willing him to appear. It's times like this when I feel the most useless. Instinctively, without fail, I try to summon the magic I can no longer access. And… I come up with nothing. If I still had my powers, I would know the exact location of that asshole.

It figures the one time I need to rely on Damon's ability to follow through, he's nowhere to be…

"Bonnie!"

I turn my head in the direction of his voice. And when my eyes land on him, I can't put into words what I feel. It vaguely reminds me of a thunderstorm on a hot summer day—the reprieve you don't realize you need until the sky opens up and rain violently pours down on you.

"Bonnie!"

"Thank God," I murmur, as Damon closes the gap between us, Alaric following close behind.

I grab Alaric first. I don't know why, but as soon as I touch him I know I've made some kind of mistake. A cold dread creeps up the back of my neck as the pain of Alaric's resurrection smacks into me.

My vision goes fuzzy for a moment, but when everything rights itself, I'm staring directly into the face of the most annoying vampire I've ever met. Except he doesn't look smug, haughty, or angry… he's concerned.

A different kind of concern than I witnessed earlier in the day when I was scrambling for a Hail Mary. It's not the enraged desperation, the demanding violence that I've grown accustomed to seeing.

Of course, I know what he's thinking about.

"Where's Elena?"

I smile at him as reassuringly as I can manage. "She made it through." I place my hands on his shoulders. "Come on."

"Okay."

A jolt runs through my body, but it's not the kind of sensation I had been prepared for… there isn't an onslaught of pain… there's nothing…

I let go of him and try again. My fingers digging into the leather. That eerie feeling begins to spread from the back of my neck up the back of my skull, leaving me with a bad case of brain-freeze.

I watch as his face falls, the gravity of his current circumstances hitting him, before grinning back at me ruefully. "Well, would you look at that…"

No, this cannot be happening. Elena… her devastated face flashes in front of me. For a second, all I know is her sorrow, the sound of her voice begging me to let her wait for her boyfriend.

My consciousness is flickering between the Other Side and what is now my former world. Right now, I am in the crypt, where Liv is supposed to be doing the spell. But I don't hear chanting, can't see any signs that magic is being wielded.

The brain-freeze is starting to feel more like a migraine now.

"Oh my God…" Elena says. "Liv…"

Now I'm afraid my head might explode. I watch as Elena looks around, gaze finally settling on me.

"We have to find them," if I thought she had been desperate before, I was wrong. This is desperation. Her body trembles as she begins to put the puzzle pieces together. Her entire being starts to unravel.

Here comes the hard part… "We can't. that was our one shot."

"Yeah, but Damon is on the Other Side… we have to—"

"Elena!" I'm starting to crumble. Everything I did to make sure my best friend could have the life she dreamed of vanishes in the space of a second.

I'm going to die, and I can't even make sure she'll be able to make it through all of this.

"No!"

"It's too late," I say sadly.

"No, no, no, no…"

I sense his presence behind me. I'm not sure how I'm able to register it as quickly as I do, but I don't linger on the thought, even though Grams' words from earlier dance on the edge of my consciousness.

"He's here," I inform her. "You can say goodbye."

As Damon approaches his inconsolable girlfriend, something stirs in me. I can't quite put my finger on what it is or why it's happening. I watch Elena carefully, study her as her warm brown eyes go wide as she collapses into Damon's arms.

Jeremy!

Maybe it's because I want to give him the closure he will need.

I exit the crypt, walking to the edge of the cemetery, punching in Jeremy's phone number as fast as I can.

When he picks up, I feel both happy and confused. That odd pit in my stomach hasn't gone away. So, I do the only thing I can. I bite the bullet, face the music.

Now is the time to come clean. "I lied. There was never a way for me to stop being the Anchor." At least, not one that would leave me alive. "When the Other Side goes, I go with it."

"You told me you'd come back," he protests weakly.

"If I told you the truth, it would have changed our last days together and I didn't want it to change. We were happy." He was happy that he got to spend a few days not having to stress over the potential of me not returning from what is a suicide mission (it is—but he'd argue the opposite until my last breath). And I was happy. Not the kind of happy I'd been expecting to feel, which was the kind Elena used to get when she was around Stefan, the type I still see a glimmer of when I catch her glancing at him from the corner of her eye. The kind of happiness she proclaims she found with Damon.

Passionate and deep. The comfort that comes with being with your other half.

And, while it wasn't exactly what I hoped, I'm still glad I was able to have the time I did. The precious gift of playing the part of someone who hasn't been dead for the majority of the year.

"Bonnie—don't move. Okay? I'm coming- t-to you!"

"I died Jer—the day before graduation." I choke out as hot tears begin flowing down my cheeks. This is too bittersweet to stand. "And that was a gift I choose to be thankful for. I'm glad I didn't waste a second of it. Take care of Elena. For me."

"Don't you dare hang up on me!" he shouts.

"I love you," I whisper because that's what he needs right now.

Click.

For a minute or so, it is quiet, but then there is rustling coming from the wooded area nearby. The sound of my name, muffled, but persistent as Jeremy's form appears amongst the trees.

And there it is—the moment I've been anticipating since Mystic Falls—the place I called my home—turned into a magical purgatory. A haven witches, vampires, werewolves, and hybrids could not enter. The world around me fades away… and then there's that feeling again. It gets stronger and stronger as Damon and I get closer to each other.

"This place is going down, isn't it?" Damon's tone is even.

"It is," I respond resolutely and then I notice the obvious.

I'm not by myself.

The thought is such a relief that I feel guilty for thinking it. For being so comforted by Damon being next to me.

I should be the only causality.

For half a second, I wish that I am, but that particular thought is gone within an instant. Whatever I face, I'll face it with Damon. Never before has that prospect been such a joyful notion, but it is. If my calculations are correct, if I'm right, it will only be for a minute. And then… it will be done. Finished. But… for a short while, I won't be the only one to feel this way… whatever this way is…

Strangely, a blanket of calmness envelops me, and my body relaxes. The tension in my shoulders goes away, my breathing slows, and my heart isn't straining to break through my ribcage.

I glance over at Damon, who isn't experiencing the same effects as I am. He can't sweat and his heart doesn't beat, but he can emote.

I can practically smell the fear emanating from his body, feel the nervous energy weighing the air down, so it pushes against our shoulders, and I wonder if this is what happens to scuba divers when they venture too deep under the sea. Do they suffer like this? Do their bodies want to fold in on themselves until there is nothing left? Does death swallow their surroundings, sucking away all of the oxygen left in their tanks?

Light forces its way past the clouds.

It's almost over…

We both look at one another… and I have a revelation… That horrible sensation that's plagued me since we knew Damon wasn't going to cross over isn't bad or wrong. It's right.

This is how it is supposed to be—I'm finally not alone when the house of cards I've constructed crumples into a huge mess.

Damon's by my side and I don't have to be frightened by all the unknowns. Maybe this is what Grams was talking about.

"I know there's probably a million people we'd rather be with right now, but…" My fingers intertwine with his and that jolt that comes with it isn't something that makes me recoil anymore. It makes me feel good.

At peace.

"A couple thousand, at least," he jokes, squeezing my hand.

"Do you think it'll hurt?" More light overtakes the space around us, the pressure increasing exponentially.

Maybe peace only lasts for a moment… maybe it makes you feel so warm, and calm, and weightless that it makes all the torment of life worth it. Maybe this feeling is why my Grams was so adamant that she stays on the Other Side. People spend their entire lives hoping to feel like this… all those years and heartbreaks for a single second of bliss… and if anguish comes after it, I'll hang on to this second in the afterlife

I find myself saying something, the words falling from my lips without hesitation.

"Do you think it'll hurt?" I don't know why I'm asking this, because I just resigned myself to whatever comes, but I need to know if he's feeling this, too. It's the one thing that will complete the cycle.

Damon looks startled as if the idea never occurred to him.

"I don't kn—"