i know who i am now

   In Sheila Bennett’s house there were two things that never went out of stock: red wine and tea. Growing up, Bonnie was accustom to catching her Grams boiling water in the middle of the night. “Just a little something for my nerves, Baby.” It wasn’t until high school that she had begun to join her in her midnight routine. Sometimes they’d stay up talking, other times they’d put on a movie and fall asleep on the couch...Bonnie always wondered why Sheila’s chamomiles and oolongs never tasted quite like the store-bought version, but she never thought to question her about it at sixteen. Now, fully grown, and ( technically ) a practicing witch, Bonnie adds those same mystery ingredients into her nightly cup. To remember something she’s forgotten, she’ll add ginko leaves, and Black Cohosh is a life-saver for cramps, but Bonnie’s specialty, just like her Grams’, has always been belladonna leaves. 

   So, when Derek mentioned he hadn’t been getting any sleep, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to give him a little help. Bonnie set off to the werewolf’s loft that night, half expecting it’d be easy to get there, but the city life had hardly prepared her for the outskirts of New Orleans. She must have gotten lost three times, at least. And where some would blame traffic to hide their poor sense of orientation, Bonnie’s first words upon seeing him were,

   If Bonnie could go back in time and personally thank the inventor of double shot expressos, she would. The few cocoa brown ounces of caffeine were doing wonders at keeping her eyes open for as long as she’d discovered it’s powers. First through her freshman year finals at Tulane, then through her three hour night classes in junior year, and now...During all of this. She hadn’t been sleeping since the night of the Opera House fire, and though Bonnie had been through some rough nights before, nothing compared to the fear she had of waking up one morning with a dead girl at her feet. So, try as she might, the puffy-eyed Bennett witch coped the only way she knew how - with a bit of concealer and a lot of caffeine. 

   As the weeks came and went, Bonnie found her urge to stay out of what was prophesied as ‘The End of New Orleans’ dwindling. It was being overshadowed by a far stronger desire. A desire to protect her friends, to find answers, to maybe...find out the reason why her ancestors had come to her - of all witches. That afternoon, as the coffee shop near her home grew emptier and emptier, Bonnie took a booth in the corner.

   Two shots of espresso, and a weak pro/con list later, the Bennett witch had opened her grandmother’s grimoire from under the table. She flipped through pages and pages of Sheila Bennett’s magical history - all of which she had read before - and forgot, as she scoured the ink, what she was trying to accomplish. Why would her Grams know about any of this? Wouldn’t she have seen something about a ritual before? 

   Before Bonnie could reach her peak of self-doubt, and call it quits, she saw someone starting towards her. Quickly, the Bennett witch shut her grandmother’s grimoire and shoved it into her backpack, which sat comfortably beside her feet and out of sight. 

“Lydia--! Hey!” Bonnie smiled politely, taking in the red ringlets and bright eyes that were now looking at her from across the table. 

   Making a surprise visit to see Jeremy at his school was hardly the ideal option, but it was either that or arrive at Jenna’s place, where her best friend, and his aunt would hardly refrain from asking why she needed to talk to the youngest Gilbert alone. It felt weird coming back to high school, even if Saint Aloysuis wasn’t Mystic High. The energy around her as the end-of-the-day bell rang, and everyone made their way to their cars, or that of their parents, reminded her of a better time, and also made the Bennett witch feel very aware that she was fast approaching her 22nd birthday. Adjusting her messenger bag, Bonnie scanned every face in the crowd as students from all grades exited the main school entrance. 

   She was waiting for just the one, and every second that went by waiting for him to walk up to the parking lot made Bonnie want to turn right back around and leave. She still hadn’t figured out how to confront Jeremy about his texts without giving away her own involvement with the supernatural world, with the Salvatores. It hadn’t been her plan to tell him, definitely wasn’t Elena’s, but before she’d taken to walking the streets of the French Quarter barefoot, Jeremy Gilbert was her only other part of that night that Bonnie could soundly recall. So there she was, and when she spotted the youngest GIlbert on his way out, she realized her smile would be the only thing to come easy from here on out.

@jerxgilbs​

“Recovering from an event like this?” Building up trust between the factions, especially in the direction of the hunters. Making sure that not every supernatural would tar him with the same brush as his sister. “It’s going to be a hard few months, the ones that are still to come.” He didn’t remember seeing her, but after the first, more pleasurable part, it had been chaos. Both with fleeing guests as with him trying to get out as many as he could. He had missed people, he was sure about that.

“Good for you then.” He nodded towards the rubble. “It wasn’t much fun, I have to admit. Too much chaos, too much threats. I’ve seen better parties. Not that Marcel was to blame for it though…” That would be Kate and her minions. “I hope said friend came out ok?” He almost started to laugh about her assessment. “No need to remind me of that after being forced to move and spending weeks in the hospital looking over my daughter. I like to think we’ve hit rock bottom by now.”

He just hoped against all odds. If Kate had returned to town this way, she wasn’t going to stop here. Which meant that it would either become more violent, with a fall out to everyone, even those not involved, or that he would be forced to choose between his family and his values. “But if there’s anything this city is good at, it’s recovering. Let’s hope we can do that again.”

   Bonnie nodded, intentional about keeping her expression plain at the mention of Marcel. She hadn’t even factored him in, or the Mikaelsons. Davina might be protected by them all, and Bonnie had had no problem overlooking that possibility as she snuck around vampire after vampire to get closer to the younger witch. Without meaning to, she replayed the moment she’d gotten up the staircase in her mind. The flames, the smoke, the screaming, had all thrown her into a kind of conflicted panic. As much as she thought to herself that she had to get away, Bonnie’s greatest fear in that moment, was that she had been too late. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, the Bennett witch focused back on Christopher, and offered a sympathetic look. 

  She didn’t want to ask him about his daughter, or speak very much at all anymore. Talking about how everything would get better, or couldn’t be worse sounded so simple at first. It was the kind of conversation topic everyone was having, but it left her feeling more exhausted than she already was. “Let’s hope.” She agreed, before excusing herself and heading back up the alley she came.

Twisting slightly to alter her position, Elena now faced her best friend instead of lounging against the tree and watched Bonnie curiously. Whether something was up, or she was just paranoid with the events that had happened at the Opera House when Jeremy had found her was hard to pinpoint immediately but…something didn’t seem exactly right. Letting it slide for now Elena knocked her shoulder into the witch’s teasingly before she shrugged, making a dramatic show of turning the phone off before giving Bonnie all of her attention.  “No one, everyone. I don’t really know.” Between Klaus, the unexplained events taking over the city, Jeremy, and everything else in-between, New Orleans was beginning to look like Mystic Falls on steroids.

“I think I’m being the one avoided,” the thought was blurted out before Elena could help herself and she gave Bonnie a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I haven’t heard from Stefan or Damon since this party that happened at the Opera House?”

This party she had had no clue about, but Jeremy had been there as well. Shaking her head, she abruptly changed the topic. “Sorry, no Salvatore talk. What’s going on with you?”

   Bonnie was extremely grateful for the girl talk. Listening to Elena left less room to think about what she had learned, what she had done, the night of Marcel’s party. But then Elena mentioned the Opera House, and in an instant, the Bennett witch found herself sucked right back into inner turmoil, now with a thousand more questions. Almost immediately, Bonnie remembered her run-in with Damon. He’d seemed desperate, afraid. Bonnie only thought of it now because it was a look she hadn’t ever seen on the older vampire. What’s worse - he had been looking for Stefan, and in her trance, she had walked away from it all without thinking. Hell, she hadn’t even known Elena knew about the Opera House. Only Jeremy had texted her the other night, and it was that afterthought that opened up a whole new can of worms. 

   Bonnie had forgotten Jeremy’s texts entirely. He’d convinced her not to go to the party just minutes before she’d found herself at it’s entrance. He’d said he hadn’t gone, and she hadn’t seen him when she’d gone inside, but still -- Bonnie couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d wanted her to stay away. Elena’s voice sounded much farther away as Bonnie struggled to wrap her head around every new possibility. She caught the question that left her best friend’s lips, and tried very hard not to look as guilty, or as worried, as she felt. She had a choice to make...Tell Elena what happened, and risk losing her best friend’s trust and good opinion, ( How could you rely on someone who could barely control their powers, let alone their mind? ) or lie, and risk knowing too little, risk the safety of her friends, because she was too afraid of herself?

✉  SMS to Superman ✉

Bonnie: you’re seriously not coming with just cause it’s in a cemetery?

Bonnie: it’s a halloween party, derek

Bonnie: maybe if you wear a pumpkin on your head the spirits will confuse you for the actual plant and leave you alone -grin emoji-

He glanced over at the now destroyed Opera House. “In there, people were hurt… not badly, but there was more damage than I would have wanted.” More innocent wounded than should be allowed with any hunter action. That was what angered him the most. The supernaturals that were wounded would heal, they weren’t the ones who would suffer the most. Of course, if he wouldn’t have done anything, there would have been more supernaturals dying, but like this? No… he couldn’t live with that. “Were you there?”, he wondered

He shrugged. He was afraid he had to agree with her on that. If that was all the rogue hunters had thought out, maybe… maybe it would be over after this and they could start rebuilding. Both the Opera House and the trust that had been destroyed that night. But somehow with Kate there, he doubted that. He was afraid his father had something to do with it as well, even when he preferred Kate to have worked alone in this. “Everyone will need time to recover from what happened. But what makes you think it’ll only get worse?” For the average human, it had been a tragedy, but nothing more.

“We’ll have some issues to work through, before it can… it’ll take time, I’m afraid.”

  Bonnie listened carefully, maybe for a definite answer as to whether the man had been there or not. She hadn’t seen him, hadn’t remembered many faces at all, actually. Bonnie could only very vaguely recall her altercation with Damon Salvatore, who only slightly didn’t seem his usual snarky and collected self. Witches, vampires, what others had been on Marcel’s guest list that night? Christopher’s question felt out of the blue, even a bit inappropriate. Despite his tone, which promised to every other ear to be innocent, humble - Bonnie couldn’t help but feel defensive.

  Why was he asking her now? Couldn’t they just mourn the rubble and stay on their individual lanes? Nevermind that she had only just gracelessly asked him about his business with Kate. Bonnie both stubbornly ignored her own hypocrisy, and tried to reign in her prickly attitude.

  “No.” She answered calmly. “A friend of mine saw what happened though.” The next question that left him made her wonder where he got his investigative skills. Bonnie had figured of all the things that Chris could be, a hunter seemed to fit the bill. Rugged, self-assured, violent, and from a family of believers, it was almost written on his back. If she weren’t so careful, she might have already been decided on who he was.

  “I don’t know if it will.” She corrected with a ghost of a smirk. “But these last few months...We haven’t been so lucky.”