Bonnie 2.0

Bonnie got a block away before she stopped walking. Her shoes were killing her. She'd meant to call a taxi to come pick her up from the club but walking had seemed like a good plan. The night was warm, but there was a cool breeze coming off the river. She'd talked herself out of the taxi almost as soon as she'd talked herself into one, and then someone was calling her name, and it was Tyler Lockwood.

Of all the people to be calling her name.

And now she really should call a taxi, because walking seemed like an invitation for him to find her again.

Bonnie had wiped his memories of the past few hours, all focused on her in the dim, flashing surroundings of the club. Her dancing, her drinking. Her pink dress. Her green eyes. Her face. Her hair. Her. Her. Her.

You're alive.

Of all the people, in all the places.

Granted, New Orleans wasn't exactly the moon, but she hadn't expected anyone to come here. Why would they? Klaus was here. None of her former friends had any overwhelming urges to head into the city Klaus was now calling home. None but Tyler, who hadn't been around to learn of Klaus' change of address.

Or had he known?

No, he couldn't have. Tyler left Mystic Falls to get away from Klaus. He wouldn't change his mind and decide to hunt him down now, and he couldn't have deluded himself into believing he had a chance against Klaus.

Could he?

Bonnie was still standing on the sidewalk. She couldn't just leave Tyler there, even though she should. If she was going to keep up with this thing she had going, this thing she'd carried on for the past three months, she should leave him there. He'd find his way back to wherever it was he'd come from.

But it was some kind of miracle that Klaus hadn't already discovered Tyler, depending on how long Tyler had been here. If Klaus found out he was in the city, if he came across him alone and unconscious in an alleyway...

Bonnie turned back around. She probably stuck out in her bright dress. It wasn't something she'd usually wear. She never would have worn it back in Mystic Falls, back when she was still alive, but since she was dead, in the figurative sense at least, she might as well wear some things she'd never considered wearing before. It clung to her in all the right places, was so short it made her legs look miles longer, especially in the metallic silver pumps she wore. They were cute in the box. And out of them. But after walking this long she thought they were the worst things ever.

There were so many things she did now that she'd never done before. It had taken some getting used to, being this new Bonnie. The Bonnie that went out alone to nightclubs and danced with strangers without the buffers that were her friends, who allowed a cute guy at the bar to buy her a drink and said a polite thank you before flitting away because he wasn't that cute. But she was getting used to it, and sometimes she really liked it. She'd been liking it tonight before Tyler made his appearance.

Bonnie was steps away from the alleyway when she saw the car. It idled alongside the curb, so dark it looked black, especially in the dark, but she knew it was actually navy in color. Her gaze dropped to the license plate, the typical Louisiana one, not even personalized except for a small decal in the left corner. If someone didn't know what they were looking for, they probably wouldn't notice it.

And to anyone else, a random tourist, a human resident who leaned away from the true believer side of the spectrum, it wouldn't mean anything. But the tiny silver crown meant plenty to every supernatural in New Orleans.

The car was Marcel's, perfect for slipping by unnoticed at night, but with just enough touch of whimsy for the king.

Bonnie crossed the street, casually glancing in the direction of the alley. She zeroed in on the backs of three vampires. She'd had enough experience with them - too much really - to know who they were on sight. Marcel in his usual uniform, deceptive and charming in how casual it was, tall and slender but moving in a way that if he moved to embrace you, you'd question if he meant to express genuine affection or if he was going to snap your neck.

And that smile.

Bonnie imagined he was smiling right now, a shameless grin that was dangerous in its ability to disarm. Marcel always smiled. He was one of the happiest vampires she'd ever met. A far cry from Damon and Stefan's usual brooding and the restrained menace of the other vampires she'd crossed paths with. When Marcel was angry, he smiled. When he was happy, he smiled. And there was no way to tell those smiles apart. One just had to know.

The other two were Duke, typically weighed down by all his jewelry, and Ronan, intimidating in his near perpetual silence and his ability to fade into the background right before he detached an arm clean from your shoulder.

If Tyler had caught their interest, there was nothing Bonnie could do for him now. Not that she should be doing anything for any of them anymore. That was the deal she'd made with herself. She'd read the terms and conditions. She'd checked the box, clicked submit. It was done. No backing out now.

Three months ago

Bonnie looked down at her body. She didn't know how she'd come to be here, when she should have been walking through pearly gates or something with her Grams. But as soon as she'd stepped away with her, out of Jeremy's sight, she was here. Here was back in the boiler room with her dead body. She couldn't look away. She was very pretty in death, more so in life, but certainly pretty as a dead girl. Her dad would pick a really nice picture for the funeral program. And also the obituary. Caroline would be able to help him find a good one.

"This is morbid."

Bonnie spun around and gasped when she saw who was behind her. It was her albeit a different looking her but still her. Bonnie 2.0 was in jeans and a tank top, casual against Bonnie's prim, graduation elegance. Her hair was curly and shiny, styled with the perfect care of someone who didn't have to work draining magic all the time and therefore had the time to work on her hair while still doing homework and studying for finals and such.

"Who are you?" Bonnie asked. Maybe the better question would have been "What are you?"

"I'm you," 2.0 snapped. "Obviously." She leaned against the far wall, brushing her curls from her eyes.

"Well what are you doing here?" Bonnie questioned. Was this going to be a ghosts of Christmas past kind of thing? Or was Bonnie 2.0 here to teach her the ways of the afterlife?

"I'm here to talk to you," 2.0 answered. She stepped forward and on her feet were a pair of shiny gold sandals. Her toenails were painted a pretty purple. She must have had so much time on her hands. "And ask you what you died for."

Bonnie didn't understand the question. "I-"

2.0 pointed her eyes at the ceiling and tapped a foot impatiently on the floor. "There was a reason, Bonnie." She said her name like it wasn't also her name, like they weren't the same person. "What was it?"

"To bring Jeremy back."

"Why?"

"Because he's Jeremy. He's-" The feel of Jeremy's mouth on hers is still there, hot and wet in a ghostly kind of way then skin and hands she couldn't feel once he rejoined the living world, and Bonnie remained on the other side. "And Elena-"

"Stop," 2.0 said tiredly, holding up a hand. "Who are you?"

"I'm me."

"You're you," 2.0 said slowly. "Apparently that only means something to one of us. Maybe this should be a cause for celebration. You finally did it. You died for your friends. That's what you've been trying to do ever since you came into your powers. Self-sacrifice is the name of your game, and you are a winner. Well, more of a loser, if you ask me."

"Excuse me?"

"Little Bonnie Bennett, witch prodigy," 2.0 said, pushing herself off the wall and coming to stand near Bonnie's body. She cocked her head to the side to stare down at her. She blocked Bonnie's view. "Incredibly powerful but incredibly stupid. Little Bonnie Bennett with little to no sense of self-preservation. Or maybe you're just suicidal," she added casually.

"What are you talking about?" Bonnie asked, annoyed. This girl with her face was grating. Maybe this was what Elena always felt when she and Katherine met.

2.0 turned around, looking impressed that Bonnie spoke at all. "Getting angry? Well, it's too little too late for that. You're already dead. That rage may have helped you out a while ago, but it's not gonna get you anywhere now. You're dead and your body's rotting on the floor of a boiler room - great choice for your final resting place, by the way - in the name of friendship.

"So let's talk about friendship, shall we, Bonnie? Where are your friends?" She did a circuit around the room, as if examining the nooks and crannies of the space and expecting Elena or Caroline to come into view at any moment. "Not here," she said at last. "I don't know where they are, and neither do you. But what we both know is that they're not here, but you are. And you're dead. You're dead, and you're alone, and you died alone."

Bonnie pictured Caroline with her mom, snapping pictures before they head off to dinner together. She could see Elena with Damon, or with Stefan. Laughing, smiling, doing things, being alive. Or as alive as vampires could be.

"Oh, don't hurt Caroline's and Elena's feelings," 2.0 continued. "Don't ruin their summer because Bonnie's dead." Her mocking voice was obviously supposed to be Bonnie's. Forget that Bonnie 2.0's voice was already Bonnie's voice. "That'll be so hard for them to deal with, won't it? I'll let you in on a secret, Bon. You're dead. Your summer's pretty fucking ruined already, way more than it is for any of your friends because at least they're still alive. But you? Dead as a doornail, and no one knows. No one cares. Not even you."

"It's pathetic," 2.0 hissed. She stepped closer to Bonnie and stared directly at her, her eyes narrowed into slits. There was a cruelty lingering behind her face, a pride in her eyes and hatred in her bones. She looked like Bonnie, but she wasn't Bonnie. She was a different sort, a different person, one rolled up in and seasoned with anger. "I could kick the crap out of you right now. You have no idea how badly I want to. You could do anything, have anything, and this is what you chose."

"Are you finished?" Bonnie snapped.

"No," 2.0 said, with a smirk, "but you are, being dead and all." Her smirk widened into a full blown grin. It wasn't a kind one. It overflowed with animosity, disappointment, and Bonnie could see it in her eyes, how badly 2.0 wanted to put the original - the real Bonnie - out of her misery. "Unless she brings you back."

"Who?" Bonnie asked.

"Qetsiyah," 2.0 answered.

Qetsiyah. Dead and gone Qetsiyah. Ancient ancestor Qetsiyah who couldn't be bothered to turn up when Bonnie needed her to be here? That Qetsiyah?

"What's the catch?" Bonnie asked warily.

"No catch," 2.0 said with a light shrug of her shoulders. "But..."

Always a but. Glad to see she'd been right about that part, Bonnie folded her arms across her chest and waited for 2.0 to continue.

"But," 2.0 went on, "she won't do this again. The next time you die, no matter how young you are or how many loved ones you're leaving behind or how much potential you have, you're not coming back. It doesn't matter what the cause is or how many of your friends you'll be sacrificing yourself to save. You want to die for them so badly, you go ahead and do it and stay that way."

She lifted her chin, looked at Bonnie with an expression of disgust. "I give it three months. You won't last any longer than that. We'll be right back here, and then I'll guide you off to wherever the hell you're gonna go, and that'll be that. I want to have some faith in you, but I really don't. Like I said, Bonnie, self-sacrifice is your game, and you're good at it. But on the off chance you're feeling an urge to stay alive, here's a suggestion. Leave town. Go somewhere you won't be tempted to kill yourself - or let anyone kill you - and stay alive. Maybe actually live a life? But if that's too hard for you, at the very least pick a prettier place for your body."

There was a sudden pressure on Bonnie's lungs, and everything went dark. Then she was sucking down air, and her chest felt full to expansion. Her body felt hot, like it had been touched by a live wire and the electricity was coursing through her body, animating limbs and organs, shoving Bonnie back into the land of the living. When she opened her eyes, Bonnie 2.0 was gone, leaving not a single indication that she'd ever been there.

The room spun slightly, and Bonnie stayed on the floor until it stopped. When she sat up, it started all over again, and she leaned against the wall until it again subsided. When it did, Bonnie pulled herself to her feet and left the boiler room, thinking of Jeremy and how he was probably on his way to tell the others about her death despite her requests for him to do the opposite. She could stop him - should stop him. It would be cruel to let them believe she was dead when she was very, very not.

Bonnie 2.0 would say it was fine. Be cruel.

Where are your friends?

Bonnie's jeans were dotted with suspicious stains and streaks of dirt, and the boiler room seemed darker and dirtier than it had when she'd decided to store her body here. It also seemed very small, claustrophobic in its insignificance. It was the last place anyone would look, a place avoided by most people on a regular day but certainly on Graduation Day. And also the last place anyone would want their dead body to be left.

Leave town. Go somewhere you won't be tempted to kill yourself - or let anyone kill you - and stay alive.

Bonnie left the school, and Mystic Falls, that night.

Present Day

Bonnie couldn't see Tyler, and her fiddling with her phone wasn't going to play off well for much longer. Marcel's driver, another vampire with Marcel's name practically plastered across his forehead, may look over at her at any moment. He'd surely recognize her, and then what? Bonnie saw a flash of Tyler's white t-shirt and his dark hair but nothing more.

She couldn't help him, not if Marcel was involved, not if Marcel wanted him for some reason. And what reason could that be? To turn him over to Klaus? As a gesture of their friendship? Their relationship had been strained lately, that was obvious to everyone in the city. Marcel was still the King, but he had competition. Did he think handing Tyler over might appease Klaus?

If Marcel knew Tyler was here, Klaus wasn't far behind. Which meant so many bad things for Tyler. And for her, if she tried to intervene now.

She'd checked the box, clicked submit. It was done. Her life was still worth living. Even more now that she was here.

Bonnie kept walking, dialing the cab company as she went.

Bonnie's apartment was the best spot in New Orleans, if she did say so herself. As she closed the door and flicked on the light, she discovered another benefit of not getting involved in the Tyler situation: she got to keep her apartment in its perfect condition.

The walls were all painted the same deep violet color and the floor was shining hardwood except for the carpet in the living room where it was a dark grey. The color scheme was different than anything she'd ever tried before: purples and oranges and reds. The sofa, the chairs, the throw pillows, even the cabinets in the kitchen. Bright orange lilies sat in the vase on the dining room table, a space she rarely used but was certainly nice to look at. When she ordered in, she put the food on real plates and pretended she'd cooked it, and she sat at that table to eat.

The whole place radiated a kind of maturity that Bonnie had always desired, a mark of her moving on, a brand new place for a brand new Bonnie who wore hot pink dresses and painful pumps and left Tyler Lockwood to the King of the Quarter and smiled because she got to keep her apartment intact.

Bonnie kicked off her shoes and left them at the door. She was unzipping her dress as she padded into her bedroom, contorting herself to do so. In her room, she hit the light and jumped when she saw the figure sitting on her bed, one long leg crossed over the other.

"You were out late," Klaus said as he fingered the corner of one of her throw pillows. He looked very at home on her neatly made bed, his shoes dangling off the mattress' edge.

"Get off my bed," Bonnie ordered.

"Isn't it technically my bed?" Klaus questioned. "Seeing as how I purchased it for you? Seeing as how I bought and furnished this entire apartment?"

"Get off my bed."

With an exaggerated sigh, Klaus hopped off. "Need help with your zipper?"

"No," Bonnie snapped, very glad she'd only gotten it down about an inch. "What do you want?" She folded her arms across her chest and suddenly felt very exposed in her dress. In a dimly lit club it wasn't that big of a deal. No one was looking at her clearly there, with their beer goggles on and the strobe lights flashing all around. But here in her well-lit bedroom, with Klaus standing in front of her, she felt close to naked. And without her shoes on, very short.

For a moment she thought Klaus knew about Tyler and was there to again test her loyalty in some new way. She'd thought they'd exhausted all those methods three months ago, but Klaus always managed to find a new way to gauge how far she was willing to go for him - more specifically, for his seemingly limitless funds. Funds so limitless she tried to put aside the many horrors Klaus inflicted on her and others, so limitless that sometimes she succeeded in forgetting about them for a few seconds.

If he asked her to do something to Tyler, she didn't know if she'd do it. But a voice in the back of her head told her she would, a voice very like that of Bonnie 2.0, because if she didn't everything she had here would dissolve away, and she might as well head back to Mystic Falls to die again.

Klaus spoke. "Marcel is making a move against me."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, suddenly feeling much lighter. Her concerns were unnecessary. "You've been saying that for a month now. And still, this mysterious move has yet to be made."

If she was really loyal to Klaus, she'd tell him about Tyler without any prompting. She'd tell him about Marcel and Duke and Ronan as well. Maybe Tyler was part of this aforementioned move Marcel was making, but she kept her mouth shut.

"What do you want me to do, Klaus?" Bonnie asked tiredly.

Working for Klaus wasn't that bad. There wasn't a whole lot he had for her to do really. It was all about Marcel. What was Marcel doing? How was Marcel doing it? How did he keep the witches under his control? The other witches, of course, because Bonnie was with Klaus. And Marcel and Klaus were friends, and Marcel was all too happy to oblige Klaus a witch if Klaus could ensure Bonnie wouldn't make any attempts to overpower him. Bonnie had agreed.

"I need you to be ready," Klaus said. "For war, when it comes."

Klaus was always so dramatic.

"Okay," Bonnie said simply.

"Bonnie," he said. "I need your support."

From what Bonnie knew (very little because Klaus didn't trust her that much) he had quite the situation brewing. Very urgent, very stressful and very secret. There were witches involved. That would have made Bonnie question her placement in this whole scenario except, besides Bonnie's immunity from Marcel's witch trap, she was a Bennett witch. And not a single Bennett witch had been caught in Marcel's little magic surveillance vacuum, and they were the witches, the ones to be, the ones to beat, and Klaus had one on his payroll.

"You've got it," Bonnie said. "That was the deal right?"

"Right," Klaus agreed.

"Then goodnight," Bonnie said. She walked him to the door and slammed it behind him, twisting the locks into place as if it mattered (it didn't because he had a key, not that Klaus would need a key to get into a locked apartment anyway especially since one of the conditions of her moving in was that he was guaranteed an invitation). She went into the kitchen and found a bottle of wine on top of the refrigerator, a gift from Klaus when she'd moved in. A housewarming present, he'd called it.

Bonnie wasn't big on wine, but she uncorked it anyway and didn't bother taking down a glass. She drank it straight from the bottle, like some kind of uncultured, classless teenager, and she tried not to think of Tyler and the tiny silver crown decal. Intervention would mean going against Klaus, who was signing her checks and securing the life she was falling so easily into now. And it could potentially mean putting her own life at risk in the process.

She offered Klaus support, but support didn't mean her life. They'd been very clear on that front. If she wasn't dying for the people she'd left behind in Mystic Falls, she wasn't dying for him either.

And if she died now, she'd stay that way.

Bonnie 2.0 had bet on her only lasting three months without walking willingly into death's waiting arms again. Bonnie wasn't going to prove her right.

Terms and conditions. She'd checked that box, clicked submit. It was done. No backing out now.

Tyler was on his own.