Warnings: Language, PTSD, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

Note: The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

Funeral: Definition: (Noun) A ceremony or service held shortly after a person's death, usually including the person's burial or cremation.

'The funeral was over, at last I could cry. Except that I couldn't. My tears, kept in too long, had fossilized. They would have to stay in forever now.'

-Diane Setterfield-

'~The winds of change are blowing the sands of time, All that remains are footprints in our minds, They come and go and take away the past, The winds of change will never let things last~'

-Winds of Change; Linda Lewis and Biddu Orchestra-

Chapter III:

11th March, 1996; Asturias Estates, Barcelona; Autonomous Community of Catalonia, Spain.

It still hadn't completely registered, if she was being honest.

How could it, though?

It was completely unexpected.

Officially, Pauline Bennett died on the 7th of March, 1996 at the age of twenty seven, reason being a Cardiac Arrest bought on by unforeseen circumstances (she was a healthy woman, after all, the doctors were bothered as they had no understanding to her sudden heart failure). In reality; she passed away because of the immense drainage of her magic and life force leading to over-exhaustion and failure of her heart to function properly.

Now, Zatanna was no saint. Far from it, but she had only ever wished agonizing retribution -in both her lives- to one other individual apart from Abby Bennett; and in the end, that person died by her hands.

She had never really had a mother (not as far as she could remember) in her past life. And in her current life, she was granted this beautiful and amazing person that was Pauline Bennett.

A woman who was everything a good mother should be; kind, compassionate, stern when needed, sarcastic to a fault and possessing a rather morbid sense of humor. But it was everything that made her fall in love with her Pauline. It was everything Zatanna had ever wanted -needed- and so much more.

The fact that she would never see her mother's smiling face again; that hurt. In ways that was unexplainable. One could never truly describe the pain of loss brought on by the death of a loved one, especially if said loved one was a parent.

That pain soon gave way to rage and Zatanna didn't care that she was physically three years old, she simply wanted her mother's cousin to suffer.

Although, if she recalled the grim satisfaction on her Father's face after he had returned from his pursuit of Abby; following her disgusting betrayal, Zatanna was assured that wherever the woman was, she was regretting ever invoking the wrath of the Asturias; begging for the sweet relief, only death could provide her now.

Hence, the conundrum.

For Death favored the Asturias, and Abby Bennett had defied them, therefore, defying Death too.

And Death was not kind to those who crossed it.

Or at least that's what her Father had told her. Personally, Zatanna was viciously pleased; to know that Death was by their side (and would always remain so) gave a sense of power unlike anything.

Ignacio, in the matters of funeral arrangements, had been adamant in having Pauline buried back in Barcelona; back home.

"The day I met Pauline," He had said to a weary Sheila (Zatanna reminded herself, that it was Sheila's own daughter who had committed such atrocious deeds and that the old woman couldn't say anything in her defense for the fear of angering her powerful nephew-in-law and because there was nothing to say in defense), his expression set to stone. "Was the day she ceased to simply be a Bennett. No, from that day onward, she belonged to me and to my family. So, I shall remain resolute in my claim that she will be buried as an Asturias, Seňora Bennett."

Her Grand-Aunt said nothing in response and simply bowed her head in an absolute display of submission and respect (Zatanna was beginning to suspect that their family -The Asturias- seemed to hold great authority and a position of utmost importance in the magical world).

And so she was brought to the current situation; back in Barcelona and attending what her father had called 'An Asturias funeral, a breath-taking event-rare as they are' (a statement she would think upon in further detail at a later date) with her older brother and father by her side.

Speaking of, Atticus had been subdued ever since they first found out about their mother's newly acquired deceased status, not that she blamed him (she was much the same way), and looked worse for wear; his eyes bloodshot and puffy with his face being horrifically and utterly blank. Zatanna stood by his side and was clutching his hand tightly, her own eyes shone with unfallen tears.

The remaining family of three were deep in the forests of the Asturias Estates, it was an odd setting; a few minutes before the moon reached it's peak, stormy clouds littering the night sky. The grass wet with dew, cold against their bare feet. They were standing in a clearing of trees, with stone pillars forming a round boundary, there was a raised altar within the boundary of pillars and their mother's lifeless body lay upon it.

It was rather heartbreaking to see her so still. Pauline Bennett was not a woman who remained still, she was lively and seeing her lying there; cold and unmoving, her body preserved with the help of magic, the brutal reality of their loss seemed to sink in.

Zatanna's grip on Atticus' hand tightened to the point where her knuckles turned white. Atticus did not react to the pain she was sure her grip had caused. Instead, he too stared at their mother's body with glassy, blank eyes.

Zatanna felt her father coming up behind them, placing a strong, warm hand on each of their shoulders.

"Your madre named you both," He started suddenly and rather spontaneously, Zatanna and Atticus both listening attentively to their father's smooth tenor; the Spanish words sounding musical to his tongue. "Atticus and Zatanna," He pronounced each name carefully. "She chose both names because of what they meant to her."

He looked down at Atticus, staring deep into his eyes. "She named you after her favorite character, Atticus Finch, from her favorite book; To Kill A Mockingbird." He then glanced at Zatanna with an expressionless face but warm, sorrowful eyes. "And named you after the magician she adored from a comic series; Zatanna Zatara."

He paused to gather his thoughts, and Zatanna mused that this was an entirely random one-sided discussion (She would, however, be honest when she said that she had wondered what her parents were thinking while naming her after a comic book character -Zatanna, really?) but perhaps it was a memory their father cherished, this conversation was -perhaps- a moment where he was projecting the loss of his wife; the other half of his soul.

"She hoped that you both would be better than your fictional namesakes, that you would rise above them and...the aesthetic behind your names, hijos míos, is more than a simple hope. What I'm attempting to say is; live up to the expectations left behind by the woman who named you. Surpass those expectations, be the powerful individuals your mother and I knew- know you can be. You are both a Bennett and an Asturias. You are the legacy she left behind."

If the man wanted to make her cry, he succeeded effortlessly.

"Live beyond your names, hijos míos, become more than your mother ever imagined." He smiled tenderly. "Your mother is dead. But not gone. Never gone, in a few moments Death will welcome her with open arms. Your names are a constant reminder to the legacy she left behind; You, her precious children."

And while she had liked that her name was unique, that was perhaps the moment Zatanna genuinely fell in love with her name. It was hers; something her mother had given her, something she would always carry with her.

Her mother's first and last gift to her.

Glancing at her older brother, she knew he felt the same way; his eyes suddenly seemed brighter, a small smile playing on his lips, as he rubbed the tear tracks from his cheeks.

"Ah, it is time." Their father murmured, his eyes bright as he stared up at the moon. "Watch carefully, hijos míos, for Death is within reach."

Zatanna shivered, not out of fear, no, more out of a need. An indescribable need to fully understand the implications of Death. To fully grasp the concept of being favored by Death (because wasn't that awe-inducing all on its own?).

And then-

-she felt it.

Power quaked within the circle made by the uneven stone pillars, the markings carved upon them -runic symbols, she recognized quickly- gleamed as silver flooded within the engravings, an immediate after affect of the moon's silver lustre shining upon the clearing.

And while it was hauntingly beautiful, what demanded her immediate attention was the presence she felt encompass the entire expanse of the age-old forests they stood within.

A presence -a mass of pure power that, she could tell, was as old as time. No, that was not quite right. It was an existence which had been present, perhaps, before even the beginning of time.

Zatanna had felt Mother Nature's presence before, her mother (Damn it, her heart hurt, knowing that she would never again have those mother-daughter talks) had sat both her and her brother down, holding their hands as she showed them her own connection to Nature.

Mother Nature was, Zatanna had decided, much like sunshine. Bright, warm and filled with life (and everything perfect, it was a sickening concept) and did not have an entity on its own. She was simply present in the gifts of nature surrounding them; was old in a way that roots of a tree were; found deep within the earth with a distinct olden feel.

Mother Nature, however, did not hold a miniscule fraction of the sheer power and ancient ambience to what Death's simple presence brought.

Idly, Zatanna wondered if Death did unleash all of its (his?) intensity (she was sure what she was currently feeling was not even a fraction of its might) then what would remain of the mortal plane? And that itself was a revering thought.

Mother Nature had a soothing presence, Death was a possessing one. And Zatanna found she preferred that.

She didn't need to be soothed or calmed or anything useless of the sort. She needed what Death had already given her; what she was freely provided at her birth; Death's respect and love.

Mother Nature required her Wiccan's to serve her, to keep her balance (and yes, she was being mocking). She gave nothing in return.

Death, on other hand, gave them everything. To have Death's love and respect meant they were virtually untouchable.

After all, Death took care of what was his. And the Asturias were completely his.

Zatanna was overwhelmed when this overpowering, primordial but oddly comforting existence consumed her entire being.

My mortal. An indistinguishable, lilting croon invaded her mental senses. My precious mortal.

Zatanna shivered, humbled. She realized that any normal person would be scared, but all she could feel was safe. She belonged to Death, she had nothing to fear.

After all, she had never feared Death before, not even in her past life, and she sure as hell wasn't starting now.

My mortal. The two words were repeated but sounded fonder and distinctly pleased. Never fear. My little mortal from another existence.

.

.

.

Of course.

Of-fucking-course, Death would know that she was a reborn soul. She wouldn't be surprised if Death, itself, had anything to do with her rebirth.

Her thoughts paused here.

While that had initially been a sarcastic thought, it held more merit than anything she could ever theorize to explain her rebirth.

A pleased chuckle floated through her mind making her gasp. Smart mortal. Worry not, all will be revealed.

And the unembodied continuance that was Death receded from her mind completely, but its embrace remained around her form; warm and safe and consuming.

So deep in her thoughts and utterly enamoured by Death's presence she was, that she never noticed her surroundings, the silver runes on the stone pillars while still glowing seemed dimmer than before. The shadows of said pillars had extended towards the altar, crawling dark tendrils that steadily climbed the raised pedestal stopping just short of the female body laying upon it.

Sudden numbness in her hand had her snapping her head to Atticus' direction (he was still holding her hand). Zatanna had forgotten that she wasn't here alone.

Her older brother had pure, unrestrained wonder painted across his face, she wondered if Death spoke to him as well. She suspected that it was true, his eyes glowed luminously much like their father's (her own were probably the same way) and his cheeks were flushed in exhilaration.

She noticed -with vague surprise- that all three of them had their magic pushed outwards and it hummed in the air, converging with the Death's thrumming power.

Her father glanced down at her and smirked.

Zatanna would admit; never in both her lives had she seen a smirk that smug.

Ignacio Asturias was fucking awesome.

Her attention snapped back to the altar when the shadow tendrils rose up, moving ever so slowly towards her mother's body.

Sudden panic seized her, an inkling that became apparent; this would be the last time she saw her mother and she had to commit her to memory. Zatanna would forever hate herself if she forgot the woman who gave birth to her, who was there every step of the way, whose warm glomping hugs always made her day, who-

Peace, my mortals. A sweet whisper, invaded her frantic thoughts. She is yours, hence, she is mine. I take care of what is mine.

And just like that, the panic flickered away. Glancing at her brother and father, she knew they had heard the voice as well.

Both looked on with relieved ease, a sentiment she easily reciprocated. They watched the shadows gently blanket their mother's corpse; and watched on as the shadows slowly receded, the body within its clutches seeming to have melted into them, leaving the altar bare.

And just before the dark tendrils returned to their respective stone pillars, Zatanna swore she saw the dark mass shape into a corporeal humanoid form, but it was there one moment and gone in the next.

My mortals. Death's final words, a soft proud lilt. Mine.

Zatanna let loose a shuddering gasp when the presence vanished. As if it was never there.

And she leaned heavily against her father's leg, the adrenaline coursing through her veins finally subsiding leaving her exhausted yet invigorated.

"Mama will thrive, won't she?" Atticus spoke, his voice loud compared to the silent breeze dancing with the lush tree leaves. His uttered words more of a statement than a question.

Their father's lips curved upwards in a manner that was achingly sad yet peaceful. "Indeed, querido."

Zatanna's eyes were stuck at the altar, noticing there was no immediate sign that their mother ever lay upon it.

"We belong to Death." She spoke, utter conviction lining her words. For the love of all that was holy-Death just spoke to her. Screw everything else. To know that very entity was within reach, could have easily taken their lives but didn't because they already belonged to it; that was a venerating fact. "Death belongs to us too. Right, Papa?"

And this time Ignacio's smirk was mirrored by both his children.

"Sí pequeňa bruja."

7th August, 1996; Bennett Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America.

It was Atticus' sixth birthday.

He was in a melancholic mood, not that she blamed him of course. It was his first birthday without their mother ("Think happy thoughts," she had told him, being an utter hypocrite in doing so as she herself was internally crying, because Mama) and he missed her and seemed to be brooding.

The two siblings were currently sitting in Sheila Bennett's living room, Zatanna and Bonnie curled on either side of Atticus; engrossed in the photo album on Atticus' lap.

The picture that captured the siblings attention was one of their mother and her own parents. Pauline was smiling at the camera, her hair; dark ebony locks pulled into a ponytail. Her skin, the lightest shade of brown gleamed from where she stood in the sunlight and her eyes; hazel brown expressing her genuine happiness. She was young; perhaps four years old(?), her arms around the shoulders of her parents; Sophia Bennett and Anthony Adler.

Zatanna knew her maternal grandparents were dead -who wasn't, in this bloody universe?- her grandmother passing away from an illness, she wasn't entirely sure of what the ailment was but it was terminal, and her grandfather dying during the Vietnam War, in the early days of March, 1975.

This was perhaps the foremost reason on why she respected her deceased grandfather. He was a soldier just as she was (had been), both dying in the line of duty.

Zatanna decided that while her mother took after Sophia Bennett (mostly) in coloring; a beautiful woman with black hair and caramel skin and eyes just like her daughter's, Pauline Bennett's true resemblance was to her father; who was tall and had gold curls and intelligent grey eyes and pale skin that never seemed to catch a tan but his facial structure (which he shared with his daughter) was angular yet rounded softly; eye-captivating, in a way that made you stare once you caught sight of them.

Zatanna had noticed that both she and Atticus looked exactly like their father. She meant that quite literally; In fact, had it not been for the obvious age difference, Zatanna and Atticus would be mistaken for identical twins. She suspected that when they grew older and the difference in age wasn't as blatant anymore, they would be mistaken as such.

They both had olive skin (In truth, Zatanna had always wanted her mothers complexion; that rich and smooth light brown, but apparently beggars can't be choosers); their skin colouring was not quite the tanned olive Elena Gilbert possessed, it leaned more towards a light olive tone, just a shade or two darker than it. They had the Asturias eyes, of course and the same shade of hair their father did; a dark honey brown.

Their facial features, like Ignacio's, were all sharp planes and sculpted structures (easily distinguishable even under all the cherubic fat) but with a certain hint of softness that stopped them from appearing gaunt-looking or hollow-cheeked; instead their prominent and defined physiognomy was at once aristocratic and striking in a manner that was elegant and refined.

It was as if even their DNA, their very genetic code wanted to inform them that they might have Bennett blood but they were primarily and dominantly; first and foremost an Asturias.

Somehow, that made her sad. She wanted to resemble her mother, to look in the mirror and see even just a hint of her mother staring back. That was not to say, she didn't appreciate looking exactly like her father; to be honest, she was flattered and pleased she resembled her father (even better was that he was extremely good looking and passed that particular trait to his children).

It was just...

...Mentally, Zatanna Bennett-Asturias was a thirty-five year old woman (almost thirty-nine of you added her age in her second life) but she was still weak to the thought -to the loss- of her mother.

It fucking hurt.

Nothing else to it.

She, somehow, wanted to carry her mother's memory with her, even in the form of resembling facial profiles.

Soft fingers rubbing against her cheeks had her startling and staring up into Bonnie's hazel-green eyes.

"Don't cry." The young Bennett witch said, her voice sounding wobbly, eyes much too wide, and filled with crystalline tears.

Unforgivable.

Because while her own mother had died, at least there was comfort in the thought that she was with Death. Bonnie's mother, on the other hand, had willingly abandoned her.

That was worse.

Her anger at Abby renewed.

How dare Abby Bennett discard Bonnie -her own bloody daughter- as if she was nothing.

Bonnie was hers. And she deserved the world at her feet. How could Abby even think of leaving behind such a sweet innocent girl?

Zatanna's magic seeped out of her, washing over her older brother and second cousin soothingly.

"We'll stop only if you smile, Seňorita Bonita." Atticus attempted to say teasingly.

Bonnie stared at him for a moment before scrambling down from her perch on the couch and racing down the hall.

Atticus and Zatanna exchanged a bemused glance (Dimly, Zatanna was actually impressed by the level of maturity her brother displayed; she, herself, had an excuse -rebirth, duh- but Atticus was just six).

"I'm sorry, querida hermana, I can't help being sad. You shouldn't cry, I apologize for bringing your spirits down." Atticus shifted back to their mother tongue, a pitiful, heart breaking smile on his face.

Zatanna stared at him, unable to feel anything but shock.

What in the bloody, fucking hell?

Feeling indignant -because, how could he say that? He was her brother, for the love of Death, Her brother, she'd be damned if she let him feel that way- Zatanna unceremoniously glomped her brother in a bear-hug.

Atticus flailed his arms in surprise and let out a surprised noise.

"Cállate, idiota estúpido. You're my brother and you miss Mama, you never need to apologize for that, I'm with you every step of the way. Where you go, I go." She responded fiercely.

She had been an only child in her last life and in this life she had an amazing older brother. She would cherish the family she had, their mother's death had showed her that sometimes the time you had was too little. If anything, Zatanna of all people knew that better than anyone.

"Si, Where you go, I go." Atticus echoed, his smile brighter than before.

"I'm back!" Bonnie announced as she skipped into the room clutching a bright orange hand-made card, which she handed to Atticus with the utmost care.

Atticus offered her a genuine grin and opened the card, only to have a heap of dark blue glitter spill out, staining the front of his white polo T-shirt.

The siblings stared at it for a moment, before Zatanna turned away to hide her sniggers behind her hand.

Atticus huffed and nudged her in the side (quite hardly, if she might add. Seriously, ouch).

Bonnie smiled happily. "I made it all by myself, so no more being sad~" She said in a sing-song voice, before adding more shyly, "Happy Birthday, Atty."

A pause.

"Atty?" Atticus repeated in a high-pitched voice, disbelief layering his tone.

And finding this gut-bustingly hilarious, Zatanna would admit, she had never laughed so hard in both her lives.

Additional Information: 'Bonita' is basically the Spanish, Portuguese variant of the Scottish name 'Bonnie'. Both names have the same meaning; 'Pretty, cute, attractive.'

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

A/N: First of, I'd like to apologize if the whole Asturias Motto thing is repetitive but its kind of essential because Zatanna is still coming to terms with it.

Also, Abby Bennett's fate will be fully disclosed in the oncoming chapter but let me tell you; it ain't pleasant :D.

Anyways,

I am still genuinely taken aback at the increasing response this story keeps getting.

I can never thank you enough.

Again, special thanks to all who viewed, favourited, followed and reviewed this story; thank you so so much, time-twilight, ArchangelKoriel, RebeliousOne, .Winchester.17 (Sorry about the mistype of your name but every time I try to correct it, the Aliana and Gabriella disappear and believe me I've tried so many times to correct it, I'm so sorry), Believer91, ZippyZappy, Kristina'sMyName, RoselynFey, PrincessMagic, keikei313 and RenTenTen for reviewing and leaving your thoughts. I cannot appreciate them enough, to be honest they motivated me.

I also want to thank salilurker and Maester Ta for adding this story in their communities; sarah's collection and My Self-Insert's Library respectively.

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

Translations:

Seňora Bennett: Madam Bennett.

Madre: Mother.

Hijos míos: My children.

Querido: Dearest/Dear one. (Used as 'Dear one.')

Sí: Yes.

Pequeňa bruja: Little witch.

Seňorita Bonita: Miss Bonita.

Querida hermana: Dear sister.

Cállate, idiota estúpido: Shut up, stupid moron.

Note: All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

Edit: Corrections to translations made with the kind and welcomed help of Alessandra12, I am extremely and genuinely grateful for her help.

"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."

-The Asturias Family Motto-

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.