Angel
Being here was weird. It felt like such a disconnect; like she didn't really belong, like it wasn't real. Nonetheless, the front door felt as heavy as it usually did when she pushed it open. Almost immediately, she was hit with a mountain of emotions, besides the ones that were already taking over her. Her senses were heightened now; she could feel and hear everything with a seemingly supernatural ability and she didn't really let herself question the motive of such sudden ability.
Instead, she let herself be washed in that wave, silent but definitely steady.
The first thing she noticed was the smell. Sheila's house had that particular smell, one that assured the young witch that everything was going to be okay. It was a warm and loving smell; it embraced her in the most caring way.
Home – it smelled like home.
And not just in the literal sense of the word, but in a deeper aspect of it because it was the only place where Bonnie felt a sense of belonging, safety and love. It was where she could exhale all of her worries and just be.
It was also where she didn't feel like an alien. She didn't have to avoid the pity looks she got whenever her friends noticed that her dad was never home, or whenever Mother's Day came around which meant she had to avoid the questions as to why she was giving her Grams and not her mom. Eventually, they stopped asking those questions but the looks never went away. She knew it was their way of showing that they cared; especially Elena.
Out of her already small circle of friends, Bonnie and Elena had the deepest and the most genuine bond. Elena was her absolute best friend and, besides Sheila, she was the only other person that made her feel somewhat normal. She invited her to go camping with her family and never once made Bonnie feel guilty or ashamed for having a family dynamic as messed up as she did. The doppelgänger would simply be there for her, make sure she understood that young Bennett could come to her to talk about anything she wanted because she would be there to listen – always.
Interesting how things changed so quickly. Bonnie shifted her thoughts quickly; she didn't want to think about Elena, especially not now.
She took a deep breath in and felt her stomach flip on itself. Her fear was growing stronger by the minute but she was already inside; she just had to push forward a little more. It would be a disservice to Grams to give up when she had already come so far, right? This had to be it, she couldn't walk away now, not after everything she'd been through.
This would be the fourth time the young woman had made her way to her grandmother's house, but unlike today, she would end up not being able to walk up to the front door. The panic and anxiety settled in quicker than she expected and she'd become their prisoner.
Those feelings were still very much alive right now but she was trying to swallow them away. That voice – her voice – kept ringing in her head. Grams talked to her and told her to come here, so she was going to try and do that. Even if deep down she still feared that this could be another game Silas was playing with her mind, the prospect of finally being able to talk to Grams was too alluring to pass away. If it came to the sad fact that it was indeed Silas messing with her, then she would take that loss. She wasn't sure exactly how she'd handle it but she denied herself of thinking about that. There was a time and place for such morbid thoughts, this was not the one.
So, she readied herself for whatever was to come and directed her trembling fingers to the light switch on her right side. As soon as she did so, the hall came alive with the yellowed light bathing every corner. Her breath hitched; it had been so long since she's been here...
She licked her lips in an effort to alleviate the growing tension in her chest. Her green eyes scanned the place slowly; the hallway was just like she remembered. There was a small table by her left filled with small wooden decorative statues neatly put in the farthest corner, three white candles in the middle and a small bowl where Sheila used to leave her keys in. On the other corner, there were two picture frames; the first captured Bonnie on her first day of school ever. She had knee-long jean shorts, a purple camisole with animated figures and a cute cardigan. Her heart swelled because she remembered being so excited on that day, she even woke up earlier and begged Grams to do her hair in a special way.
She quickly looked away. There was something very shattering about looking at her younger self. She looked so happy with her bright smile and two braided pigtails. She looked ready to conquer the world and be brave. She looked ready to discover the wonders of elementary school and play with her best friends. She wasn't scared at all; she was excited and beaming with life. She was sure of herself and she was happy.
What would that girl think of this Bonnie? Would she be ashamed or disappointed? This was certainly not the future she had envisioned for herself when she was five. Well, back then she wanted to be a princess and an astronaut and a ballerina. She chuckled sadly as one tear rolled down her caramel cheek. She used to have so many dreams and hopes.
Damn, she was really broken.
By the time she was sixteen, despite having outgrown her desires to pursue those career choices, she had found what she wanted to do. She realized, with time, that writing was the best way she could use to express herself and give a voice to those who didn't have one. Maybe, if she wrote enough, Abby would notice her and realize how much her daughter loved her and how deeply she missed her. That was the part she kept to herself whenever someone asked her why she wanted to be a writer, they didn't have to know as long as she was honest with herself.
The only other outlet she had was painting, she loved getting loose with a blank canvas and let her imagination go wild. That was how Rudy tried to keep her busy and avoid answering any Abby-related questions. Over the years, her drawings became more detailed and expressive, making her work very interesting. It was funny because, at the time, both her Arts and English teachers were trying to convince her to pursue a career in those respective fields.
But that was before everything started going downhill. After Grams, she stopped drawing or writing altogether for a very long time. Not that anyone noticed, of course; they were dealing with more pressing matters. And still, she felt so hollow inside, it took nearly a whole year for her to have the courage to pick up a notebook again, and even longer to get her hands on a canvas. Then, she watched Grams be punished by The Wicthes and she decided she was through. She burned all of her empty notepads and other materials; again, no one knew about her meltdown, no one even asked so she didn't tell.
To be frank, Bonnie was sure she wouldn't be upfront if Elena and Caroline asked her why aren't you drawing anymore or where are your poetry books. Their lives had become too messy now; Stefan was out there killing people; Klaus developed a fixation on Caroline and she'd lost her dad not too long ago. How could they even notice that Bonnie spent that entire year alone in her house? At least Caroline made an effort, she was there to help her when Grams... she was there when Damon turned Abby, where was Elena?
She knew the doppelgänger had her own drama to deal with; her life wasn't exactly a walk in the park these days and she had to deal with a lot, but so did Bonnie. In fact, so did Caroline and she was here helping out. In the end, it was easier to forgive her brunette friend than to keep the distance between the two of them.
That was then.
Now, Bonnie couldn't care less about taking the higher road. She was hurt and she resented Elena a lot. She could feel the rage fill up her gut so she closed her eyes and tried to tame it. It was ridiculous how she couldn't control her emotions long enough. She hadn't even made it past the hall and here she was reminiscing about her past instead of focusing on what really mattered.
Gulping down, she caressed her younger self with her index and then took the other frame in her hands. This one picture had her heart palpitate as if she was running out of time. Ironically, in this reality it seemed that time didn't matter much.
She ran her soft finger across Sheila's face with a trembling lip. This picture had been taken a few days before the start of freshman year. They were both smiling, the older woman had her arms laced around her granddaughter. They looked happy. There was something else in Grams' eyes – pride. She remembered Sheila baking her favorite cake that day. Bonnie didn't understand why she was making such a big deal out of it; after all, every teen endured high school, not to mention that Sheila had too, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to become a scholar in the first place.
Still, the elder Bennett made sure that Bonnie understood how special and important it was that she was pursuing her education and being damn good while at it. Years later, the young woman finally understood why her Grams had insisted on having a celebration. She had seen the horrors of prejudice in this town, she had been through it herself, and still she managed to come out victorious.
Young, gifted and black.
Sheila knew that Bonnie wasn't oblivious to their history, so she made it her mission to make sure her granddaughter never took anything for granted and celebrated every win because for a long time, folks couldn't only imagine what it would be like to be in her position.
She was also a product of a broken home; a deadbeat mother and a father that was never really there. She had to grow up with Sheila taking in the role of mother, father, grandmother and friend. Looking back, Bonnie understood that she could have ended up straying away from her path (which she did anyway), she could've been Vicky Donovan. She too came from a broken home.
"I am so proud of you baby girl" Sheila said "You are the most important person in my life and I love you so much"
At this point, the young Bennett couldn't stop her tears from falling down. This was more difficult than she anticipated. She held the frame close to her heart and amid sobs, she confessed "I miss you so much Grams"
She hugged the frame as she let her emotions take over. A few moments went by where her sniffles were the only sound echoing through the house. She used the back of her hand to wipe away her tear-stained cheeks and eyes. She managed to do it whilst successfully avoiding the mirror on the wall, just above the table.
She couldn't help but to direct her gaze towards her left, right where the living room was. She stood by the frame and took in the scene. She was sure she'd end up bawling her eyes out again but she didn't care, she drank in every detail.
It was just like she remembered. The sofa, where she'd fallen asleep so many times, was right in front of the big windows that gave access to the outside world, the small decorative pillows and red blanket were evenly distributed across the sofa. Bonnie stifled a chuckle because she remembered how particular Grams was about the placement of the pillows, they had to be exactly as she envisioned. To its left, there was a wooden side table with an old-fashion lamp, which was code for ugly.
"Why are you showing me lamps child? I already have mines" Sheila retorted as she sat beside her granddaughter in the couch.
"Because," sixteen-year-old Bonnie started as she looked through the website on her laptop "They're... well... old and creepy and you said you wanted my help to revamp the house"
"First of all, I just want to change a few things – small things," she countered "Secondly, that lamp's been in our family for generations"
"It shows" she murmured "I'm just saying it's... secular" she added when Sheila sent her a pointed look.
"It's an heirloom"
"And it's ugly!" Bonnie replied with a smile dancing on her lips.
Sheila looked absolutely shocked "Bonnie Marie Bennett!"
"What? You're the one that wanted my help!"
"Aren't you a little too eager to give it?" Sheila replied in the same tone "I like that lamp, so it stays. Let's move on to something else"
"Fine" she sulked "Just putting it out there; you're a very demanding customer"
"And you're very sassy" she said poking the young girl's nose "Teenagers..."
Bonnie sighed deeply. How was she supposed to do this? Every corner of this house was filled with so many memories and she didn't know what to do about it. With a heavy heart, she moved into the parlor and breathed in.
Yeah, this was not going to be an easy ride at all.
Her pretty eyes landed on the shelf filled with books. Those contained everything from the origins of the occult to religion and politics and finally, small books about magic. There was a time when she could name every book on that shelf, especially when Grams started teaching her how to practice magic in a proper way.
Back then, she and Sheila had spent a lot of time making sure that Bonnie could understand just how intricate and delicate magic actually was, especially Bennett magic. Alas, time wasn't on their side and Sheila didn't have the chance to teach her everything, and still, her voice echoed in the young girl's brain every time she practiced a spell.
Naturally, Bonnie didn't enjoy any of it. Being forced to conjure up spell after spell does that to someone, but it was also the thing that got Grams killed. What was supposed to serve as a shield and protect her from evil, ended up being her doom. It was beyond sad how Bonnie herself had lost many battles like that; trusting that the power passed on through blood would keep her safe. However, unlike Grams, she'd been given a second and a third chance. Why? What made her so different or special? Was it because she was the last Bennett descendant or maybe fate had decided that her sentence would be harsher every time she cheated death?
Whatever it was, it left her confused. She didn't see herself as deserving of coming back to life so many times it was almost idiotic. She sure as hell didn't deserve it more than Grams did. She was the one that kept her safe and protected. Duty and destiny aside, Bonnie couldn't find a single reasonable explanation as to why Grams had to go like that.
She felt the tears lining up her eyes and quickly blinked them away. If she kept crying like this, she was sure there would be no tears left to cry at all by the time she was done exploring the house. Her fingers held the frame tighter and she gulped hard.
She moved away from the shelf and ventured further into the space. There were a lot of items that reminded of her grandmother; pictures, candles and little trinkets that Bonnie had seen back in her Mystic Falls.
She could see the kitchen from the corner of her eye but she avoided it completely; there was only so much she could take in one day. Right then, she started feeling the exhaustion creeping in. Her legs were heavier and she was getting so tired. Bonnie tried to ignore it and went down the hall. Out of all the places in this world, this room was the one she was dreading the most, and yet, for some reason she couldn't quite explain, she was standing by the door ready to rotate the handle and let herself in.
This was insane. She hadn't even done this back home; she shouldn't be doing this now.
And still, her hand covered the handle but made no effort whatsoever to move it. All of her senses kept telling her to turn around and run away and she was fighting that urge really, really hard. Her chin quivered and her breathing was as shallow as shallow could be.
She was breathing quickly; although, she wasn't inhaling deep enough to make sure her lungs got the right amount of oxygen, instead, it barely went past her diaphragm, making her light headed. Her mouth went dry and she could feel her throat swell up with emotion.
I can't do this, she thought.
The last time she'd been in Grams' room was when she found her lifeless but peaceful body on the bed. That vision scarred her for life. Sometimes, she could still hear her own screams as if it'd happened today. The screams she didn't recognize as her own but she knew they belonged to her.
That was when she died the first time.
It'd been years; three to be exact, and she still felt as lost as she did back then. It had also been three years since she stepped foot inside Sheila's house, regardless of which dimension she was in. She couldn't do it; she didn't have the strength to do it because she was sure she'd crumble into a million pieces and she was barely holding it together as it was.
Grief has an uncanny way of affecting people and Bonnie was sure it broke her beyond repair. She couldn't fix it because there wasn't anything anyone could do or say to erase the gutting pain she felt. Nothing at all, so what was the point?
The only time she got some sort of relief was when she saw Grams' ghost and even then, that ended horribly for both of them. It was like no matter what she did, she wasn't supposed to be happy.
There's no hope anymore and I'm done pretending that there is. There's no such thing for people like us Damon. This is what we get – a ghost town... a never-ending nothingness, she told Damon earlier.
As difficult as it was to realize that, it also meant that she wouldn't be unnecessarily hurt in the end because she got her hopes up. She knew what was in the future for her, it was better to accept it than to fall into another delusional dream.
She licked her lips and found them hot. She was still holding that frame close to her and her hand hadn't made a move at all. It was frozen in time and Bonnie didn't have the heart to order it to unlock the room.
Logically, the young woman knew there was nothing to fear, this was Sheila's house after all – even if in theory – so, nothing bad could be behind that door. She knew that, of course, the problem was that she wasn't sure her brain wouldn't assault her with images from that fatidic night. As much as she trusted Grams, and as much as she wanted to get through this for her, Bonnie didn't quite trust herself just yet.
Her demons were too haunting now, too daring, and it scared her. Especially when it came to Grams. Right now, she couldn't be strong or numb the pain away, she just couldn't. And that was what she had been trying to avoid all this time, being weak and a disappointment.
In all honesty though, Bonnie could admit that she was disappointed with herself to some extent, because at the end of the day, she'd somehow garnered the courage to come inside this house. That was a win – period.
"I'm sorry" she whispered "I can't do it"
She admitted as new tears came down. Her hand let go of the handle only to palm the door "I'm sorry"
She stayed there for a few moments, taking everything in. There were so many things she wished she could tell her Grams, so many questions and doubts... she sighed tiredly. Today had been a very long day and she could feel her body getting heavier by the second.
The younger Bennett dragged herself to the parlor and laid down on the sofa. She took the red wool blanket and covered her small body with it. She wiggled a few times trying to find the most comfortable position and when she finally did, she grasped the frame and closed her eyes.
"I miss you"
Three Weeks Ago...
The brown liquor cascaded down to his fancy glass covering the ice cubes almost tenderly. He locked the lid back in its place and took his pale hand to the glass. Once he grasped it, he gyrated the item, mixing its contents. He didn't take long with such action; a few seconds later, he was sipping his fresh drink. When he swallowed it, his Adam's apple moved signaling the liquid's movement down the vampire's throat.
These actions were innate; they didn't require any complexity of thought, neither did they require previous planning. There were a few reasons as to why that was the case. One could argue that the task itself was so simple that one could do it with their eyes closed, after all he preferred his bourbon straight. Another argument that came to mind was the fact that Damon Salvatore was a known alcoholic. He loved to drink, he loved the feeling of relaxation and borrowed happiness it gave him after three or four bottles. He absolutely loved it. There was also the fact that he was a notorious chaser; whatever it was that caught his utmost desire, he would have it over and over and over again until he was bored.
The good thing about bourbon was that, besides blood and sex, it was the only thing that seemed to soothe his unsettled spirit. So, instead of going on a binge and kill innocent people, he would drink. In his book, that was as good behavior as Stefan drinking disgusting deer blood. Not only that but alcohol was, obviously, more socially accepted than draining someone dry. It also came with fun perks, like loosen up his victims – or enemies, depending on the occasion – and he genuinely enjoyed having a drink.
Nevertheless, the most relevant reason (and probably the only one that mattered), was the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about the witch. Ever since he heard her voicemails, he couldn't stop his brain from going back to her. He wanted to get her back to sanity, or the closest thing to it, so that they could both get out of this hellhole and go back to their lives.
He saw first-hand how terrified she was and he couldn't believe it'd taken him so long to figure out why. Maybe he had been too focused on his own inner battles, especially his bloodthirst. Or maybe he just wanted to see Elena again.
Contrary to what he thought back in that graveyard, when the wind was too strong, when the flickering lights aimed to almost blind him, the ground shacking and breaking apart, and Bonnie Bennett's small hand on his own, he realized now that he wasn't ready to go. He wasn't ready to let go, not now, not ever. He had just found happiness – true happiness - with Elena, despite the chaos that seemed to follow them everywhere they went. He had Stefan back and he was happy.
Happy.
After over a century of misery and heartache, he deserved to have his happy ending goddamn it! He deserved to bask in that feeling for as long as he wanted. Being as stubborn as he was, it had taken him a long time to understand that he was deserving of those feelings, that he was allowed to have them.
He was a changed man now. He wasn't the same vampire he was years ago. If that had been the case, he would have threatened Bonnie to find a way back asap. Instead, he was taking the less homicidal approach. He wasn't expecting her to become so vulnerable, so broken and so lost. Not on his watch at least, and most definitely not when they were stranded in a parallel universe. He needed her ruthless and strong and annoying. Even if she was now powerless. He needed that fire back, that anger and that drive. Instead, what he got was this frail version of the Bennett witch. This one looked so scared and scarred and he didn't know how to deal with that. He didn't know how to deal with her.
I'm scared – I'm not safe – Damon – Damon – I'm – I'm next – He's going to kill me.
"He's going to kill me – Now – He's going to kill me – Silas is going to kill me..."
That's when it all became clearer to him. Everything made a tad bit more sense now. Why she had been so skittish all of a sudden – her hallucinations hadn't really left at all since the day they got here. She was still very much haunted by Silas. But Damon had been there the first time she had them in this world, so he just had to show her that it was all in her head, she wasn't really being haunted by Silas.
But how does one do that? She flat out refused when he offered her a ride after she spent the night at The Old Witches' house. Hell, she barely even wanted his company and the vampire just knew that she wouldn't go along with his plan to make her hallucinations stop. Granted, he didn't have a fully developed plan, just a barely-there idea but it was better than nothing.
Still, the look on her face when she saw him was one of disgust. He would be lying if he said that hurt him; he was used being on the receiving end of said looks, especially when they came from Bonnie Bennett. What surprised him was the emptiness in her, she looked ready to give up completely and he couldn't understand exactly when she'd become like that.
A little over a week ago, they'd reach a breaking point and hopefully a solution to their problem, and now it seemed as if all of that progress had flown from her mind. She no longer cared about the plan, or a way out.
All that happened was the fight they had at Bree's and, yes, he could admit things went a bit further than he first anticipated but, shit, they'd had plenty of fights. After all, it was how they communicated most of the time, so why was this one different? What was about this one that sent her over the edge?
Sure, he knew he'd hit a few sore spots but so had she, and in all honesty, he thought she'd bounce back from that like she always did, and they would be able to carry on with their mission. And then he heard her in the parking lot. First, it was just a few sniffles, then tears and then those words, I can't take it anymore. I just want it to stop. Please, please, please. Those exact words.
He was on the move before he could fully stop his brain, and seconds later, he was by her side while she poured out her feelings. That was something he never thought he'd witness, or even considered at all because he and Bonnie weren't close. They were barely allies and that's how they both like it. But now, it was different. Now, she was different. She was trembling all the way back to her house, which she didn't even sleep in, and then all the way to her ancestor's home.
Her erratic heart kept drumming in his ears and her pulse was going off at a crazy speed, and somehow, that didn't tip off his hunger. He was sure that it would have, in another circumstances. She looked so frightened and yet, when he offered her a ride back to her house, she was full of fire – or hate – he couldn't really tell because she was such an enigma. So complicated and he just wished he wasn't the one left to deal with it. He wasn't good with feelings and emotions; Stefan was the perfect man for the job. The only person Damon felt like he was equipped to help was Elena, and even then, it had taken him such a long time to understand that.
Not to mention that Elena and Bonnie were two completely different people. Where Elena was sweet and understanding, Bonnie was difficult and hard. Elena was a simple girl, she wanted the love that consumed her, she wanted the passion and fairytale; Bonnie, on the other hand, seemed to rule on fire, fist, stone and logic. She was the type of girl that liked to have control, she was serious but, he could admit, she was a handy one to have in battle.
Elena would gladly let him take control whenever she saw fit, and with Bonnie, he had to fight for it every step of the way. It was like he had to negotiate every detail. Even the plan they had come up with was product of said negotiations.
He knew he had to play a different game if he wanted the young witch to get her head in the game. He couldn't just straight up demand it from her, or sweet-talk her. It didn't really help that most of the time they couldn't really get along.
Stefan was the one with the brooding forehead and speeches about love and loss and whatever the hell he could remember. He was the one that would be able to defrost Bennett's heart. That was his magic; Stefan was able to melt just about anyone's heart with a few words. Saint Stefan in all of his glory.
Damon parted his lips and stopped his glass from reaching its landing place "I could use your help Stef" he said it with a strained voice because as much as he wanted to, his brother wouldn't get his message.
The glass arrived its destination and the vampire let the alcohol fill his mouth.
Without any sort of warning, his mind flew back to the first time Stefan tried alcohol. Even though they were living in the 1800s, Giuseppe Salvatore didn't allow his favorite son to drink until he was of proper age. After all, Stefan was still studying to become a lawyer and he couldn't have any distractions. Of course, Damon ignored all of that and persuaded his younger brother to try it out, and Stefan loved and adored his brother more than anything, so he followed him to the stables and tried bourbon for the first time.
Unsurprisingly, the young Salvatore spat the liquid out and coughed which made Damon laugh like there was no tomorrow.
"It is not funny brother!" Stefan protested but laughed nevertheless "You did not tell me it tasted like this. You said it was good"
Damon took the bottle from his brother's hand and had a jug "It is brother, you need only to learn how to enjoy it"
Young Stefan seemed to be in an inner argument but decided to try again "Give me that"
"Good boy" Damon said proudly.
He got up from the recliner and poured another one "This one's for you brother" he said lowly. He wasn't even sure why he said out loud but he wasn't going to question that action.
He drank from his glass in one go and licked his lips. Thinking about the past didn't help his current problem; he had to be focused if he was to be back with Stefan and Elena. He couldn't let himself wallow in self-pity, not now.
He glanced at his phone; he'd called the young witch a few times and she hadn't even bothered to answer or reply his calls. It had been exactly a week and some change since he last saw her and, he couldn't lie, the fact that time was ticking by and he was here motionless was making him itch. He kept thinking about going back to the bar but his damn guilt wouldn't allow him to. He was still at loss at why he was feeling guilty in the first place, and the way Bonnie had been acting didn't help at all.
She couldn't expect him not to check in on her when she was so broken, and if she did then she was very wrong about him. Actually, he wasn't expecting to care about her well-being like this. It was clear they had a pact – a common ground, if you will – but something beyond that made him want to stay. It was the same thing that made him stay in the manor with her after she had shown up all crazy and with a bleeding leg.
Maybe he was going insane, or more logically, she was the one thing that reminded him of home and, at the same time, she was his ticket out of here. Yes, that made sense.
He left the glass in the small wooden table and decided he was going to drop in on her. If she wasn't going to answer his calls, she was going to have to tell him that to his face. If she thought she could just block him out, then she had no idea of how persistent he could be. He flashed out of the house and to his car. This was going to be the third time he was going to drive all the way to hers; she better talk to him.
At this point, it was beyond ridiculous how he was the one chasing after Bonnie Bennett. Him. Damon Salvatore. And all because she wouldn't listen to him, stubborn witch. Every time he'd gone up to her house, he would just stand there by her front door listening. He made sure she knew he was there and he wasn't leaving so soon, and still that door wouldn't open. So, in the second visit, instead of standing there like an idiot, he would wait in his Camaro.
While he waited, he listened. He listened to her soft breathing, her slow footsteps, her cries. She was crying a lot, he noted. The cries, the whimpers, they seemed to increase at night which made him realize that she wasn't sleeping much, or at all if this was how she was spending her nights.
Silas really worked a number on the girl.
He rotated the key in the ignition and his car came to a purring stop. The silence of the engine only enhanced what he knew to be the young witch's long sighs. If he were an inexperienced vampire, he would incorrectly assume that she was asleep but he knew better.
He finally got out of his car, boots stamping the ground as he made his way up to the front door. He knew the outcome of this one-sided encounter but he left his knuckles meet the wood in a methodic knock knock knock. He would have rung the bell if only she had been upstairs. He could hear her on the ground level rustling around the kitchen, and then, all movement came to a stop.
Her groan was a loud one and he wondered if she did that on purpose. The seconds were ticking by and he knocked again. For a very impulsive person, Damon was being very patient "You know I can hear you just fine, right?" he was met with the sound of her footsteps going up the stairs. That made him roll his eyes in annoyance. How many times would he have to wait for her to decide to open the door?
Again, he couldn't imagine how Bonnie Bennett had spun the whole game around and she had full control now. He was merely waiting for her. Waiting for her to answer his calls, waiting for her to open the door, waiting for her to come to her senses, waiting for her to do something other than staying cooped up in her house.
As much as he wanted to help her, he could feel the frustration boiling deep down and he was trying to keep it tame (enough).
"You know, this is getting tiring Bonnie!" he said with a strained voice "Why don't you come down and open the door?" his tone was far from being gentle but it wasn't as murderous as it could've been. That was a win in his book. Damon licked his lips upset; she had unceremoniously closed the window of what he assumed to be her room. She banged it down, sending him a very clear message.
Oh, she wanted to play that game? "Suit yourself!" he spat irritated.
Present time
When she woke up, she took a deep breath and let her arms reach out to the sky out of their own volition. She'd had another successful night and that breathed some relief into her spirit. Her viridescent eyes peeled open and it took her a full minute to realize where she was.
Grams.
A hidden part of her brain echoed the name and she almost found herself calling for her out loud. Right then, all of her drowsiness dissipated from her mind and she quickly moved into a seated position. When she did so, the picture frame she had been holding all night fell to the carpeted floor and her heart sank.
The hollow thump it made forced her to face the hard reality staring back at her – she was alone in an empty house. Her first instinct was to recoil and make herself as small as she could but, when she looked down at the frame, something warmed her insides only to then twist them in a cruel way.
The single tear that rolled down her left cheek came without any warning; it forged its own path completely oblivious to its owner's sorrow. When it reached her chin, it converged in a single drop and fell onto the back of her resting hand on her lap. Bonnie stared at it, only briefly, and soon her gloom started filling her up.
This was a mistake.
Whatever shred of bravery she had yesterday was utterly gone and she was now feeling like an imposter. She'd come all the way here because she wanted to believe that her Grams was alive somewhere, she wanted to believe it so badly that she ended up pouring salt in her already open wounds. This belief – irrational and erratic – led her to have her hopes up again, it led her to indulge in that mystical high when she knew it would all come crashing down afterwards. She knew it and still, she did it anyway.
Bonnie closed her eyes disappointed. She should have never come here. She was fine back at The Old Witches house; she was fine spending her nights and days there. She was protected there, safe. Her sanity was surely dripping down faster than she thought it would, but other than that, she'd accepted her fate.
She needed to go back, she wanted to; staying here was too difficult, she longed for her dark corner where she would be able to shut everything out and just be. That's all she wanted – to just be. With a very heavy sigh, the young Bennett opened her eyes and inevitably, she directed her gaze to the floor.
Her emotions were at war now, the nuclear kind. She had just made her mind up about leaving, but when she stared at the picture, her heart was overtaken with love, sadness and homesickness all rolled into one. She wanted to leave but the look on Sheila's face had Bonnie glued to the sofa. How was she supposed to leave like this?
Leaving felt like treason now; it felt as if she was giving up on her grandmother. It meant that all of Sheila's effort and sacrifice meant nothing and Bonnie wasn't sure it did. Truth be told, she had accepted the fact that Grams' sacrifices had been wasted on her, not by her own doing but because the universe had its own way of twisting tales and screwing people's destinies or fates or whatever it came in the end. That was her life in a nutshell.
At the same time, she couldn't really escape the feeling of wanting to make Grams proud, or to at least somehow amend her mistakes. Even if she was stuck in this soulless place, even if she was probably hallucinating Gram's voice and being haunted by Silas. She wanted to at least pretend that this was Grams and it was her voice that she was hearing.
Her brain ordered her dark fingers to wrap themselves around the frame's side and she was left with no choice but to obey to those commands. Immediately, she brought it closer to her heart. Her chest rose and fell quickly; such are the patterns of rapid breathing.
She held it for a long time, not knowing what to think or say. Her head was a mess and she was alone so there wasn't any point in figuring out what to say at all. Her emotions radiated off her body and she realized she wasn't ready to go, at least not now. She just wanted another moment, one more moment where she could feel connected to her Grams before she shut everything else again.
That was sure going to be her downfall. How chained she was to her feelings. No matter how much she fought them and tried to push them away, she'd always end up losing this battle. Another one, that is.
The only difference now is that she's got nothing else to lose, so she will take another moment with Grams, or the memory of her. She will take that moment because, at the end of the day, that's all she has.
You have me.
Bonnie opened her eyes fast and sat up straight so fast it made her dizzy. The voice, her voice, it was back. Could it really be or was she that desperate for a sign – any sign?
"Grams?" she whispered. She wasn't really counting on doing it but it seemed like her brain was making all of the important decisions and she was left in the backseat. Her heart was beating with anticipation and dread. What if Grams didn't reply? What if she wasn't real? She bit her lower lip and as the seconds went by, she started feeling defeated. Doubt was clouding every corner of her brain and she was sure all of this had to be some sort of punishment.
This was a mistake, she thought. A big fat mistake and all because she couldn't control herself whatsoever.
I'm here baby girl.
This time, Bonnie remained silent. She didn't want to get her hopes up again, only for it to come tumbling down again.
I'm with you Bonnie.
She closed her eyes again and sighed deeply. There was nothing she wished more than that statement to be true. She wanted it to be true so bad it hurt. She wanted it to be true with every fiber in her body and every element of her broken soul. But it probably wasn't.
Sighing, she put on her shoes and stood up ready to leave. She still held the frame securely in her hands and that was about the only thing the little witch could save.
Come see me, child.
She was by the parlor's frame when she said sadly "I'm here, what more do you want me to do? I'm here and you're not and that's on me"
She sniffled and ran her hand across her face. Her head was so full and she just wished she could soak it in warm water or something to relieve her from this hell. Yet, she didn't move, she stayed in the same spot.
Just like it happened earlier, she found herself unable to walk away. Especially when she could so clearly hear Sheila's velveted and soothing voice telling her to stay. How could she resist that? How was she supposed to have the heart to turn around and leave?
That wasn't her nature, to just turn her back and never look back. She was a Bennett witch, bound to protect her town and her friends, she literally sacrificed herself for them over and over again. Bonnie Bennett was unable to walk away, let alone from a loved one. She just couldn't.
She sighed heavily again. Her heart was jumping in her chest and her hands were shaking so bad she started fidgeting in order to get them some sort of stability. She tucked the frame between her bicep and her chest and rubbed her palms together. The friction was electrifying and, unfortunately, it did nothing to calm her nerves. She found that her body was now too energized and she had to let that out, so she started pacing back and forth. Her hair was flying away from her face, her curls weren't bouncing as they should due to the calorie deficit but they definitely managed to frame her pretty face nicely.
My room.
"What?" she asked amid frantic stride.
It's in my room.
"What's in your room?" she asked confused because she wasn't expecting that, or any of his really. She was wary, but curious. "Grams, what's in your room?" she asked again "Grams?" she insisted and after a while she realized that she wasn't going to get any answer, at least not now.
From the corner of her eye, she glanced at the corridor. The light coming from the nearby windows shone on the warm walls, not completely though as it left some details in the dark, and Bonnie could only wish to be in that spot. Light was highly overrated and severely misconstrued. Where it should bring clarity, it only brought a distorted perspective of things, it overexposed what should be balanced by the shadows. She found that darkness brought focus and, in her case, security.
They say ignorance is bliss and Bonnie couldn't agree more. Looking back, she wished she never knew what was out there. She wished she was just like the other teens; blissfully unaware of the dangers of the supernatural, unaware of how ungrateful and unfair destiny was and unaware of what it felt like to have blood on their hands.
She wished she was someone else. She was tired of being Bonnie Bennett because that came with responsibilities and consequences attached.
She wanted to be Sarah, who had been too busy competing with Caroline for the throne of Mystic Falls High, and as shallow as Sarah was, she was also alive, she got to have a graduation party without having to worry about her friends being murdered. She also wouldn't mind being Michelle from her Literature class at Whitmore. Michelle, though quiet and soft spoken, seemed to have control of her life. Whenever she spoke in class the certainty and confidence oozed from her, it wasn't even in a cocky way, just someone that knew what she wanted.
But she was stuck with Bonnie Bennett. Scared and confused Bonnie Bennett. What had happened to her? There was no way she could escape her role, no matter how hard she tried and she had tried her hardest.
Her mouth grew dry as she slowly walked into the hallway. She knew that once she stepped into the light, she wouldn't have any choice but to go forward with her grandmother's wish. By letting herself become vulnerable, she would let her wounds be burned by the gentle sunrays coming in, she knew her fears would become public despite being alone in the house; she knew she'd have to face destiny.
Her jaw was tense and so was her entire posture as she walked closer to the ominous door, her hands were griping the frame tightly almost as if it were the only thing keeping her from drowning in dread. Bonnie gulped because the woodened door was staring back at her with heat, she could feel it caressing her skin and her heart seemed to jump out of her chest.
There was a lot that she had done in her young life, especially the last three years, however, entering this room was surely one of the scariest and most difficult things she had to endure and that terrified her. She was so, so scared. Her body stood immobile as she tried to gather the courage to face her fear, she drew in a fresh intake of air that didn't quite reach her lungs and, tentatively, forced her hand to gyrate the handle and open the door. The soft purr it made signaled how long it had been since someone inhabited the house.
She had a few deep breaths before she allowed herself to get in the room. The feeling that took her was one she couldn't describe with proper words, but she knew it both soothed her heart and had it clenching at the same time.
The room looked just like she remembered; the old-fashioned bed was neatly made with the comforter and pillows that her grandmother loved so much, the strong brown tones contrasting with the soft whites from the bedding and the flowing curtains. The comfortable chair in the corner, where Sheila used to read her bedtime stories, seemed untouched by time and beautiful.
The young woman dared to venture further and let her hand run along the vanity's surface, it was smooth like it should be. There were a few perfume bottles and a jewelry box that Bonnie made from scratch with Matt four years ago for a project she couldn't remember anymore. She'd given that as a Christmas present. She remembered being nervous about it because she wasn't sure Sheila would like the small box but she did. Her grandmother wasn't lying when she told her "I love it baby" for she kept it in her room since then.
She then looked at the perfumes wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to let herself get lost in that sweet smell that was so characteristic of Grams. She debated because she was scared it would do more harm than good in the long run. However, her hand took control yet again and she found herself guiding the bottle to her nostrils. As soon as she allowed the smell to travel through her nose canal, she felt another tear breaking loose, and then another one. She gulped and carefully put the bottle back; this was the smell she missed the most but it only reminded her of what she couldn't have, of what she had done.
Sighing, she stood up and walked towards the window, she pushed the curtain to the side and stared at the empty street sadly. She was satisfied that so far; her mind hadn't played any tricks on her and she was able to be in that room for a few minutes. She thought she'd want to flee the scene as fast as she could and go back to the parlor but she didn't. Eerily enough, though she felt every emotion with heightened intensity, there was a calming aura surrounding her. Almost like the warm energy she felt at the store.
No, she wouldn't go there. She couldn't because if she did then what would all of this mean? She quickly shut that idea and leaned against the wall, facing the big bed overwhelmed.
Two Weeks Ago...
Damon pressed his lips into a tense line and wondered how the fuck things flew so out of control. Everything had gone to shit so fast and he had a hard time realizing that. Regardless of how strong he was, he was man enough to admit that, for the first time in his undead life he had no control whatsoever. Bonnie did and that unnerved him to put it mildly. He hated not having control, especially when his fate depended on how fast he could get her to agree to his plan.
A few days ago, when he drove to her house, he had a half-assed plan to get her sanity back but now he had something more solid, tangible. He was pretty confident that if she agreed to let him take over and help her, it would all work out in the end. She just needed to listen... but she was too stubborn, too proud and she hated him too much.
The thing that intrigued him was the fact that he knew how much she wanted to find her family; she told him so, she boldly told him she'd make sure he was left in this place if she didn't get to be with her family, so now that they had a starting point, why was she backing out completely?
She should be jumping up and down with glee. They were going to be free from this world and her nightmares would most likely stop. But no, she was the complete opposite, and after trying to convince her time and time again to come back and work together, he was about to ditch her as a partner and go after the answers himself.
He sighed when he heard her muffled screams in the middle of the night. She didn't want his help and he wasn't allowed in. Damon knew there was nothing else he could do, not like this. There wasn't any point in staying outside her house without any real resolution to their problems.
So, he left.
He drove away and soon was staring at The Old Witches House. This is where he brought her that night they fought. This is where he finally listened to those frantic voicemails. This is where he heard her cry almost all night long and, above all, this is where she found her footing and managed to use Emily's necklace for protection (which he has yet to fully trust that it worked at all).
So, he couldn't understand why she was staying in her depressing house and without any protection, when she could come here. If she did, then it would be part one of his plan complete.
Right then, something clicked in his mind. She might not agree to come with him, she might not even want to see him for the rest of eternity but she would come back. Even if it was just to look at Emily's necklace. She was going to come back because that was Bonnie Bennett. As much as they butted heads, he wasn't blind to the obvious connection she shared with the rest of her family – living or dead. So, it made sense that if she was to come back and at least stay for a while, it would be better if she had a proper bed, right? Damon told himself that he was only doing that because usually people were more receptive to his ideas when they were in bed. Sure, in those scenarios he was sharing a bed with his victims, but he wanted to think that the same mojo would work on Bonnie. Not to mention that it was for the best if he and Bonnie had some time apart; she clearly was going through some things and he just couldn't do much to help.
So, he made the rational decision and started his Camaro. He didn't know exactly where he was driving to, or at least that was the lie he was going with because admitting that he was going back to Bree's just so that he could get in that Elena-induced fantasy would be degrading so he won't do that. For now, he'll just drive and let himself get lost.
A.N: Hey angels! Once again, thank you so much for your continued support, your reviews, follows. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, truly.
I apologize for any typos and mistakes. I started writing this chapter about three weeks ago and between my workload and my personal life, I've managed to pull this one together so I hope you enjoyed it!
So, our girl is being very brave and I'm proud of her! She's very confused and still very much struggling when it comes to her mental health (and everything else truly). At the same time, we got to have a lil peek inside Damon's head and get some of the motivations behind his actions. They are very much in their zone in this chapter but please bear with me. This chapter feels different to me, not just because the flashbacks, but I think the energy is different.. I don't know, maybe it's just my exhaustion finally getting to me.
But anywho, thank you for reading and I hope that you are safe wherever you are in this world.