chapter rating: pg-13
word count: 8,343
summary: Bonnie is struggling with being home, scared that eventually she's going to have to lay down her life again and greet Death like a constant companion. While Damon assures her it won't be like before, when he's finally put to the test, what choice does he make?

the fire that was starting to spark (is starting to go out)
-part three-

The snow was cold beneath her, melting through the thin barrier of her top to chill her skin. She stared up at the blue sky, her vision swimming. A crow squawked as it spooked, swooping down from a gnarled tree branch, black feathers cutting a shadow across her eyes. When she blinked, it was gone, if it was ever there to begin with.

Bonnie choked, a gush of blood coating her tongue and spilling out over her chin. She blinked, tears collecting at the corner of her eyes before they tumbled down her face.

Enzo stood above her, peering down, an eyebrow raised and a smirk tipping his mouth. "You'd think by now, that hero complex of yours might warn you, hm?" He shook his head. "Damon Salvatore only looks out for himself, love. Trust me, I have first-hand knowledge there."

Bonnie wondered where Lily was; she couldn't hear or see her. Only Enzo, kneeling down beside her now, hands on his knees, a curious look in his eyes. She coughed, blood spraying over her lips.

He reached out, finger gliding over her chin, lapping up some of her blood to bring to his own mouth. He dabbed it on his tongue and hummed appreciatively. "The power in you… Mm. Never tasted anything quite like it… Damon ever tell you what you taste like?" His gaze bounced around her face. "Like fire. Passion and simmering rage, cloaked in such a beautiful package too. It's no wonder you caught his attention. He didn't prepare for you, did he? No… He's had doppelgänger on his mind for so long, he missed what was right in front of him…"

Flicking her hair off her face, he traced a finger down her cheek. "Don't worry though. He'll get his. He's had this coming for some time. Oh, I can see in your eyes, that conflict, that uncertainty about whether you should want him to pay… I felt that way myself. We're honorable people, Bonnie. Loyal. Unfortunately, we put that loyalty in someone who couldn't return it, not the way we deserved." He sighed, turning his gaze away a moment. "I found mine, you see. I have my family now, just as I was promised when all of this began… But you. You have no one."

He looked down at her once more, a frown playing over his lips. "Which leaves me with a conundrum… Do I put you out of your misery, or do I offer you what I was offered?" He stared at her searchingly. "Well, I shouldn't make the choice, really. It's up to you. So? What will it be, Bonnie Bennett?" He bit into his wrist and held the offensive limb near her mouth. "Do you want to live or are you ready to greet Death herself?"

Bonnie stared up at him, her brow furrowed so tightly it hurt. Breathing, what little air she could get, burned her throat, her lungs. She could feel her heart slowing, but she wondered if maybe the magic of this world would do to her what it had done to Kai. Preserve her. Or maybe it would only slow the process, giving Enzo the time he needed to make his long-winded speech about friendship and betrayal. Not that he was wrong, exactly.

Regardless, she was facing a choice. She could lay there, on the cold ground, and watch the clouds pass above as her life ebbed away. She could stop being tired, stop waiting for someone to pick her, and put an end to this whole ridiculous attempt at life. Or she could pick herself. She could choose to live. She could be her own savior and no one else's, ever again. Grams' voice piped up in her head, promising her peace, exchanging her own so Bonnie could have some semblance of a life. She'd given everything she could for Bonnie, and it was wasted on people who never appreciated what she'd had to lose in order to offer it. No more. No more sacrificing herself. No more hoping others would see her. No more hope period.

If she was going to do this, she would do it alone. She would make a life for herself elsewhere. She would leave behind everything and everyone that hurt her. A new beginning, fresh from the ashes of her old life. She could do this. She would.

Bonnie lurched forward, despite the agony that tore through her, and she latched her mouth to Enzo's wrist, licking at the split skin to keep it open, sucking at the self-made wound to get every last drop of vampire blood she could. And she could feel it, feel her skin knitting back together, feel her heart beginning to pick up in tempo. When she finally fell back, she was panting, her head spinning, and her neck sore but mostly healed. She would need time. Rest. But she would get better. She would live. And that was all that mattered.

She startled suddenly, when arms lifted her up from the ground, tucked under her back and her knees. Enzo carried her away from where her blood had soiled the snow. He raced across the ground so quickly that the trees blurred around them. She wanted to ask where they were going, where he was taking her, and why, but her throat burned just from breathing and exhaustion was creeping around the corners of her eyes.

When the wind stopped whipping against her face, she blinked to clear her vision, and found herself in a familiar cave.

"You'll be safe here for now, until we're gone."

"Gone?" she croaked.

"If I take you back, Lily will put an end to you on sight. No hard feelings, just cleaning up loose ends, you understand." He shrugged, placing her down on the ground, her back against the cave wall. "From what I gathered, the ascendant will still be here after we leave." He stared at her searchingly. "I'm probably not the first person you'd ask advice from, but, if you want mine, it's this… Get out. While you still can. Mystic Falls, Damon, your little gang of friends… Leave them behind. Start over somewhere new and don't look back. Trust me, as someone who should've let go and moved on a long time ago, sticking around and waiting on a half-arsed apology does you no favors." He stood then, dusting himself off. "Well, better go see how the new family's doing… Wouldn't want Lily to get too trigger happy and leave without me."

Bonnie stared up at him, her shaking hand pressed to her sore neck. She watched Enzo as he walked to the mouth of the cave, and she choked out a noise somewhat resembling his name.

He looked back, a brow raised.

She wanted to ask him why. Why he would hurt her only to save her; why he would choose Lily over Damon; and more than anything, though she doubted he would know the answer, why she chose to live. Maybe her conflict was obvious on her face, because he seemed to know exactly what she was wondering.

His mouth quirked up at the corner, but it was a hollow gesture. "I know what it is to love and get burned in the end. I may not have the kindest methods, but if I hadn't, Lily would've killed you, and she wouldn't have saved you after… I wasn't kidding about the power in your blood, Bonnie. You're stronger than anyone gives you credit for, and you have more magic in you than I've ever tasted. It'd be a waste to let that die, don't you think? A waste of a Bennett."

Her brow smoothed then.

Bennett.

She was Grams' granddaughter, descendant of Qetsiyah herself, she was no regular person, nor was she the average witch. She had power in her. Greater than anyone knew. Greater than any heretic vamp-gang could ever possess. She pursed her lips as that violent rage Enzo had spoken of began to simmer and bubble inside her.

Maybe she would start a new life. Maybe she would walk away with her head held high and her priorities straight. But not until they paid. Not until she made sure Lily and her witchpires were dead or locked away. Kai too, for that matter. And then she would light a match to her old life, let it burn in the rear-view mirror, and she would never look back.

Enzo grinned then, this time full of mirth. He let out a deep chuckle, one of knowing, and he tipped his head at her in farewell before he turned and walked out of the cave, making his way back to his newfound family.

She wondered if he knew it was them she would destroy, or if he believed she would go home to set her friends alight. He would know soon enough. She needed to gather her strength, pool her resources, and then she would strike. When they wouldn't expect her, when even Enzo thought she'd simply skipped town and left the others to clean up the witchpire mess. Only then, when she was at her strongest, when she had the element of surprise on her side, would she make herself known.

And destroy everything in her path.

…

There was a noise, sharp and abrupt, a crying crow, that woke her.

Bonnie startled, her eyes shot wide while she shivered, cold and deeply confused.

She was still in the cave, but the light of before had long faded into night. Her bones ached and her limbs were numb, but she forced herself onto her knees and slowly grappled against the cave wall until she managed to get herself upright. Her shirt was stiff, both from the cold and the dried blood that caked it. She hadn't exactly dressed for winter, her arms bare and her skin chilled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she ventured out of the cave, turning her head back to look at the Aurora Borealis painting the sky above. Taking a deep breath, she trudged forward. Lily and the others must be long gone by now, at least she hoped they were. She stumbled her way back to the clearing, her eyes darting around her and her ears perked for any sign of life. There was nothing, of course. No people or animals to speak of. Except the eerie ghost of a bird that shouldn't be here. Wasn't here. And still her gaze wandered to branches, to the open sky, searching for black wings and beady eyes.

The blood patch she'd left before was covered in a new sheet of snow, but she fell to her knees in its general vicinity, giving a deep shudder as she patted the snow in searched of—aha! The ascendant. She wasn't sure when, exactly, she would go back, but she would need it. For now, however, she wanted to get warm. Going home would only cause her more stress. At least here she was alone. Everyone assumed she was dead, so no one could hurt her. Gripping the ascendant between her numb hands, she pushed back up to her feet and started toward the house. It took her a little longer than usual, her body still weak from blood loss, but eventually she was there, climbing the stair and walking into the stately house.

She was dripping on the floor, and she didn't bother kicking any clinging snow off from her shoes. Instead, she let the door close with a loud bang, and made her way to the living room to start a fire. Everything hurt and her body was screaming from exhaustion, but she wouldn't let it stop her. She stacked wood in the grate and, though it took a few tries, eventually she managed to light it. She considered collapsing right there in front of the fire and not moving for a few days, but she would need more than that. So she pushed herself to find a blanket and a bottle of bourbon. She would search the cupboards for food in the morning. For now, all she wanted was to curl up and get warm. And maybe to cry herself to sleep in a bottle of expensive liquor. She deserved that, didn't she? Guzzling back a long drag, she decided she more than deserved it.

…

Bonnie didn't leave the couch or the fire for two days. On the third day, she uncoiled her stiff body and got to work. First, she examined her neck. Enzo's blood had done its job and removed any sign of what had happened to her. It was with purpose that she pressed a hand to her neck and produced a scar to mark where the knife had sliced through her. A reminder to herself more than anything. It was a pale pink color, standing out against her brown skin, and it served its purpose well.

She was still tired, exhausted, really. Returning to the regular world wasn't an option yet. So instead, she decided to wander. Given that the 1903 prison world housed so many witches, she wasn't surprised to find that they had taken to journaling, or that some of them had written out a number of their own spells. Beau seemed to write the most; his journals filled with avid descriptions. He was smart too, going over various herbs that could be used for all kinds of things; healing, incapacitation, death. There was a grim bitterness to much of his writing, but she liked his journals the most. He was insightful about himself, the position they found themselves in, and his fellow heretics. If Bonnie had the ability to feel any kind of compassion for them, she would show it for him. But, as it was, she knew what they were, what kind of hell they would bring to the world, and given what he'd written about Lily, she knew he would get in her way when she inevitably destroyed his entire family.

After browsing the collective journals of the heretics, for weaknesses and information, Bonnie began working on her powers. She needed to be at full strength and for that, she needed to focus. She went through the meditation routines her Grams used to teach her, back in the early days, when she was still skeptical about her abilities and the supernatural world in general. Reaching inside, she searched for the power that lived inside her. Qetsiyah's magic from her visit to Nova Scotia could still be felt, weaving its way into her own magic, bolstering it. And that untethered connection, like reaching fingers, searching for a source to link to, a never-ending well of magic, to the balance and nature itself.

Every day she mediated, and every day she felt her strength grow. She felt her power feed through her veins and deep into the marrow of her bones. Discarding of the bottle of bourbon, she replaced it with a pot of herbal tea, swirling hand-written tags on each tin can in the cellar. Raiding the cabinets, she found stocks of canned and dried foods; it wasn't what she would usually eat, but it would work. To bathe, she magically warmed the water that spilled from the rattling lead pipes and sunk herself deep into the tub, letting it soothe her body.

The house creaked at night, every inch of it seeming to whine under age and the bellow of the wind outside. It was strangely soothing. She was alone. Completely and totally. And though that very thing had terrified her not so long ago, it was oddly comforting now. At least when she was alone, there was no one to hurt her, to disappoint her, to leave her. There was only herself.

…

Bonnie woke up early. She spent the morning in the kitchen, sunlight beaming in from outside. Eventually, the Aurora Borealis would blot out the sky, but for now, at least, she had the sun to comfort her. So she sat at the wooden table, hand carved and sturdy as ever, while she sipped at a cup of coffee she'd ground the beans for herself, and nibbled at the pair of eggs she'd fried up.

There was a fluttering noise that sent a skittering sensation down her spine, but she refused to lift her head. Every day, the crow came to sit at the ledge of the window, to knock its sharp, narrow beak against the window, as if to ask for entrance. And every day, Bonnie ignored it, pretended it wasn't there, shut its existence out. She wouldn't let it in, because it wasn't there. No animals lived in these worlds, only the people sent here to live out their days in a makeshift purgatory.

Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe she'd lost more blood than she thought. Maybe it was a waking dream of some kind. Or maybe it was another way for her PTSD to manifest. She wouldn't be surprised. It was one terrible thing after the other, it seemed. Her mental health had been in pieces long before she'd been sent back here, but she'd been working on it. Maybe that was the point, though. For so long, she'd been fighting what the world threw at her, slowly getting crushed under the weight of it all. Every day the world told her that her life didn't matter, and every day she had to prove it did.

It was a roller coaster of fight or lay down and die, and every day she asked herself which one she wanted to do. Every day she wondered if it was time to just stop, to lay down arms, to let the world consume her whole and find peace in the absence of herself. But maybe it was time to fight a different way. Not to survive, not for the people who couldn't care less if she lived or not, but for something better. For a life away from this. A life at all.

So she let her hair fall to cover her eyes, to shroud herself from the outline of the bird sitting at the window ledge, cawing and scratching, pecking at the glass, seeking out her attention, her welcome embrace, her very life. She turned her gaze instead to the journals in front of her and she murmured the words to the incantations Beau had written himself in his artful cursive.

…

After a few days, she started to piece together the memory of her own family grimoire. Searching through a dusty office, she found faded out parchment, a pen and inkwell. Sitting in the creaking chair, she wrote out what she could remember. Her mind full of the collected writing of her ancestors, some small and neatly printed while others were sprawling, coiling letters, each spell speaking of the witch who created it, of the life they lived, of the chaos and misfortune they saw in their lifetime.

Bonnie started small, with the easy spells she'd first learned, to light fires and float feathers. With each spell came another, another moment and memory of a time she'd been happy to research her family history, to ask her Grams who wrote it, who they were, what they wanted, what they found in their short time on earth. And then the others came, the memories of exhausting herself to the bone, of nosebleeds and headaches, of blacking out from the barriers of what she wanted and what she could do.

Sometimes the spells weren't words at all, but thoughts and feelings and a picture in her mind of just what she wanted to happen. Sheer stubborn will and the raising of a hand, her fingers gnarled as bones crushed and brains exploded and blood spurted from burst arteries. With those came the reminder of each time her body had been on a sacrificial pyre, when her life had been linked to the downfall of the next enemy, when her existence was outweighed by the survival of Elena. And the tears fell, they littered and burned her eyes and scored her cheeks. She chewed her lip until it bled, writing spell after spell, each memory assaulting her with images of her walking, barefoot, to the very edge of life itself, and teetering over.

More often than not, she fell. The ground gave out beneath her, crumbling under what little weight her body offered, and she'd tumble toward the bleak nothingness below. Her hands would scramble for purchase on the craggy wall at her back. Sometimes she'd catch it, crawl back up to life with bloody fingertips, drag her poor body back over the edge. And there, close enough to reach for her, but never having the time, were her friends, relieved to have Elena alive and well, saved yet again, unaware of the cost, uncaring of the battered witch that lay tattered and torn, spent and sad.

When the sun would die away and the Aurora Borealis would cover it, she would light a candle to write by, until eventually, there was nothing left to scrawl across the paper. Every spell she could remember was written before her, good and bad. And so her attention would have to turn to the magic that would invoke them. Taking her tea, she went to the living room, to coil herself atop the couch, seeking the warmth of the fire. She slipped away listening to steady ticking of the clock.

In the morning, she unwound herself, shook out the blanket, and made her way to the kitchen. Fixing a quick breakfast, she raided the house for warm clothes, discarding the fancy dresses for more easily maneuvered-in pants. She stalked outside to the snowy yard to begin practicing.

Above, on the branch of a skeletal tree, sat the crow. Watching, curious, its head turning left and right. It cawed as she took a seat in the snow. She wondered if it was a warning or surprise, and then berated herself for thinking this strange, non-existent, bird cared at all.

Snow seeped through the thin fabric of her clothes, sending a chilly sensation across her skin. Bonnie sunk her fingers down through the snow until they found the cold dirt beneath. There, she channeled all of her energy and focus. She reached down into the earth and connected with its core. The very stems of her abilities spread themselves out, high and far, crossing countries and oceans and time itself. She held a hand out to nature, to the very magic that created the world she lived in…

And it reached back.

…

It began slowly.

The first day, it was curious about her, about the witch that offered respect, that spent hours at sitting outside, patiently extending herself toward it. Bonnie sat in the snow until she couldn't stand the cold anymore, and then she pulled herself up and dragged her cold, stiff body inside to warm by the fire. The crow followed her, sitting at the window, peering into the living room, cawing at her and fluttering its wings, like it was complaining. In her head, she imagined Damon's voice, calling her 'witchy' and 'judgy' and telling her not to be so her. She threw a pillow at the window to spook the crow and rid herself of the ghost of a man she'd built up in her head. Of the voice threaded with equal parts derision and concern. Or maybe it was all derision and she'd convinced herself of the concern.

Either way, the bird flew off, for a time, and she dug out Nora's journal to distract herself and drown out Damon's voice.

She fell asleep reading, curled up in a knit blanket, hoping tomorrow would have better results.

…

The following morning, she went through the same routine, deciding to shower afterwards to loosen up and warm her cold limbs. She made herself a hearty breakfast before walking outside. Purposely avoiding the heavy gaze of the crow, perched atop the porch railing, she took a seat in the chilly snow. Her breath left her in a shaky cloud and Bonnie stretched her fingers out wide before she sunk her hands down beneath the snow.

To be honest, Bonnie wasn't quite sure what she was expecting or searching for as she extended her power out toward the core of the world she currently resided in. When her Grams had been alive, she'd told her of the balance, of nature and how it fed itself to the magical core of each witch. Of how having that connection to the earth, respecting it and asking for its help, would help bolster her abilities. Too often, she'd had to settle for what little power or knowledge she already had, having no time to prepare for whatever enemy had crossed the line and needed to be removed. But now, she wasn't cutting corners. Now, she was going to the very source of her ancestry.

And in doing so, she found a well of power. She felt it move around her, like the tiny trembling sensation of an earthquake. The ground shook beneath her; the house at her back trembled and swayed; the trees shuddered, arms rustling like a great wind had moved them. Nature and the power that lived inside it recognized her.

Despite the many times that life and friends and family had rejected her, this did not. Instead, it reached a hand out and touched her soul. And it liked what it found.

…

On the fourth day, Bonnie felt power seep into her ice cold fingers and swim through her blood. It felt like fresh air filling her lungs, deeper and cleaner than ever before. Like every breath she had taken before had been little more than a shadow of what true breathing was. There was something liberating about it, about how alive she felt all of a sudden. It moved from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she felt her nerve-endings spark with awareness. Every inch of her body lit up, tingling with sensation, flooded with a warm, pooling energy that was simultaneously heavy and light.

The power was testing her, she knew. Her resolve, her limitations, her ability to grow with it, and she felt a shift inside her. She felt something crack open; a barrier that was once there was now gone. Like a shell that had covered her had peeled open and fell apart, she emerged from inside, a butterfly escaping its cocoon. Free.

Behind her, as the earth bound itself to her— giving her what she wanted; what she needed; what it wanted her to have— ivy climbed the walls of the house. It wove itself around pipes and wooden beams, collected around window frames, shrouded the porch and circled the length of the chimney. Below, the snow began to melt, leaving glistening puddles that fed themselves into the dirt, and with it, the yellowed grass turned a bright, vivid green. Flowers sprouted up from the earth and the trees grew heavy with leaves and needles and one, in particular, with bright red apples. Life had returned to the world around her; to her, from her.

And for the first time, Bonnie turned a proud smile toward the crow that watched from above, letting it join this moment, acknowledging that it was there, bearing witness to her escape from the chrysalis that was her self-sacrificing prison.

…

By the last day, the house could no longer be seen except for the windows and door and a clear path leading down the porch and stairs. The snow didn't return, leaving the ground a mossy green. Grass prickled the backs of her legs while the sun warmed her bare skin.

Bonnie sat in the yard, her legs folded beneath the short, layered skirt of a dress she'd shorn to fit her and her needs. She placed her hands on the ground and let the tips of her fingers dig into the dirt. The ground beneath her hummed; power climbed up through the soil; dripped from the sap of the trees; bloomed from the seeds of the earth; and gave itself to her.

For a moment, filled with the potent taste of earthy power, she was blessed. Free of the pain of her past, the abandonment of friends and family, the unrequited love of a man who'd sooner sacrifice her than save her, she felt whole. Here, she reconnected with the oft-forgotten part of herself. Her roots. Her love of nature and life.

A part of her didn't want to leave it, didn't want to disconnect from the life force she felt threading through her veins. But it was time. She'd found her healing. The strength that had carried her family through the ages, that had kept her alive when everything around her demanded her death, welled deep inside her once more. There was still anger simmering low in her belly, a cold bitterness that would take time to overcome, but for now, she would use it to get what she wanted. Retribution.

And so, she gathered her things into a leather satchel. The many papers with the Bennett spells scrawled across it, and a few more with the collected work of the heretics, a tin of her favorite tea, and the ascendant. She dressed in the clothes she'd arrived in and made her way out of the rickety house that was now held steady with overlapping vines of thick ivy.

She crossed the grassy yard toward the woods, each step filled with resolve. Behind her, with a whine, the house was consumed whole by the ivy. Wood splintering and glass shattering, it fell apart under the pressure. The closer she got to the field she arrived in, the more the world around her seemed to shudder and split. Trees pulled themselves up by the roots, teetering to and fro before falling over, stacked atop each other.

Bonnie stood in the center of the field she'd arrived in, digging the ascendant out from her bag to rest in her palm. As the Aurora Borealis consumed the sky, everything around it turned black, like an all-consuming ink, it covered everything near and far, until there was nothing but her and the streaking colors waving before her.

Taking a deep breath, she began the incantation, and felt her power, greater and deeper than ever before, reach out and latch itself onto reality. And just as light burst from the sky and she felt the prison world around her dissipate into nothing, the ascendant turning to dust in her hand, she felt a fluttering at her ear. Turning her head, she was met with the intent stare of the crow, its feet curled into her shoulder.

Rather than shoo it away, she nodded. "Let's go home."

…

Truth be told, Bonnie wasn't expecting to find the heretics at the Boarding house. She'd only returned for Miss Cuddles and her grimoire, sneaking in from the woods to climb the back stairs and search out both in Damon's bedroom. However, as she returned to the main floor, intent on slipping away unseen, instead she found her small collection of (former) friends battling it out with Lily's witchpires while Damon and —was that Lucy?— attempted to use an ascendant.

"Is this about your little witch?" Lily scoffed, her laugh musical and dismissive. "I gave you a choice, did I not? I deserve credit for that, at least."

Bonnie would like to say she'd gained some perspective in 1903. That she'd regained the patience she swore she'd once had in great reserve. But if she were being honest, it was quickly blotted out by her all-consuming hatred for Lily Salvatore. Which was exactly what she would blame for blowing up her own plans of moving under the radar until the right time presented itself.

"You don't get credit for what you don't finish," Bonnie interrupted, a hand on her hip.

The room stilled suddenly, and everyone turned in tandem to look at her.

Damon's brow furrowed as he set eyes on her, his mouth agape. Voice hoarse, he choked out, "Bonnie?"

She cast him a dismissive glance before returning her attention to Lily. "You and I have unfinished business."

Lily pivoted gracefully to face her, eyes turning a bloody black and teeth lengthening with glee. "Indeed we do."

Before she could attack, Bonnie thrust her arm forward and made a sweeping gesture. With a surprised cry, the heretics were suddenly yanked off their feet and tossed sideways, thrown through the front window of the house to crash across the ground in a glass-covered heap.

A snarling Lily looked back to Bonnie, eager for a fight.

Bonnie felt a tremble run through her body; not of fear, not even of warning. It was complete and utter anticipation.

Before she could attack, however, Damon was moving. With one arm around Lucy, he raced past his mother, hooked his other arm around Bonnie's waist, and pulled her along too. In a matter of seconds, they were standing deep inside the dark woods, far out of sight.

Bonnie's lungs seized at the rushing air around them, leaving her out of breath when they came to a stop. Nails digging into his arm, she wrenched it off her person and stumbled out of his reach. Twisting around, she pointed at her cousin, rage coiling up like a spitting fire in her belly. "What the hell is Lucy doing here, Damon? Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is? And you brought my one remaining family member right into the line of fire!?"

Damon blinked at her. "You think I brought her here because I enjoy her witchy commentary? No. I brought her here for you! To save you! To— To bring you back." He walked toward her, his wide, blue eyes searching her face, hands outstretched.

She stumbled back, glaring at him warningly.

He gnashed his teeth, but stopped, holding his ground, and let his hands fall to his sides. "I saw Enzo kill you…"

It wasn't a question, but a statement, and there was something in his eyes as he stared at her, a furrow to his brows. Like he wasn't quite sure she was really there, wasn't sure she was real. He snuck a glance at Lucy and then back to her, as if to make sure they were looking at the same thing.

Bonnie pursed her lips. She turned her gaze away from him, back toward where they came from. "We don't have time for this. Your mother and her gang of heretics are destroying the town…"

"Don't have time?" His eyes narrowed suddenly and he marched in her direction. A muscle ticked in his cheek when she continued to move away from him.

It wasn't fear that motivated her, not of him, not exactly. It was more for that feeling in her belly, that anger that had built up in her stomach, eager to lash out. The power she'd been gifted from the prison world was inside her; she could feel it swimming in her veins. It wasn't like Expression; it wasn't cold and dark and consuming like that. It was freeing. It was like spring rain; like cool earth on her bare toes; the smell of the trees as she walked through the woods; dew drops on grass. It was a direct link to nature, and it was strong.

So no, she didn't trust him. She wanted to hate him a thousand times more than she ever loved him. And truthfully, he would deserve it. He would deserve every last bit of her power destroying every fiber of his being. But not now, not today. Today wasn't about him. She'd outed herself to Lily, to the heretics at her disposal, and she needed to deal with them first and foremost. It was her last hurrah, her final farewell, to Mystic Falls, her friends, and the circumstances that had been eating her alive since she was seventeen. Damon could wait.

"I just spent the last two weeks hunting your cousin down because I thought you were dead," he snarled, mouth trembling with—what? Anger? Confusion? Betrayal?

Planting her feet, she shouted, "And whose fault was that?"

He flinched, turning his gaze away, toward the treeline. "All right, I deserved that…"

She scoffed. "You deserve a lot more than that."

He grimaced, returning his gaze to her. "Look, I have a lot that I need to make up for, I know that… If you'll just give me a chance—"

Bonnie felt a lead weight settle in her stomach. Her expression went flat, icy and removed. "You had your chance. And you made your choice." Turning on her heel, she walked to Lucy. "That's over now. There's nothing left to say."

"There's a lot to say," he argued, pivoting to follow her. "I know what I did, and I know that you probably can't forgive me for that—"

"Probably?" She laughed, high and incredulous. "You let me die. You basically told me to."

His shoulders slumped as he shook his head. "I didn't mean it. I didn't…" He blinked quickly as a sheen of tears clouded his eyes.

Her mouth twisted up and she looked away. She wouldn't be tricked by him, into caring, into believing there was anything inside him that missed her, cared about her, even loved her… She'd deluded herself into thinking that once before, and it only ended in betrayal, in her slit throat.

"Bonnie, please. I was confused. It was all happening so quickly and I just—"

She whirled around to face him. "So what? I'm supposed to just accept that when you're put on the spot, you'll sacrifice me?" She stared at him searchingly. "You were supposed to be my best friend."

"I am!" he cried, throwing his arms out wide. "And you're mine!"

"No. You aren't. You never were. Just like always, I was a means to an end with you. And when it was time for you to prove that you cared, that even a small part of you could put me first, you didn't." She swallowed tightly and closed her expression off, hiding the hurt behind a shroud of indifference. "We aren't friends. We aren't anything." Taking Lucy's wrist, she turned then, walking toward the trees.

"Bonnie… Bonnie, please!"

She bit the inside of her cheek when her heart quivered in reply, but she refused to answer, refused to look back. She just gripped Miss Cuddles' paw a little tighter, and she left him behind.

…

"Where are we going?" Lucy wondered. They'd been walking through the woods for a good hour, and she was beginning to think they were lost. It was so dark, she could barely make anything out, stumbling over bushes and branches alike. Bonnie didn't seem to have any problem, though. Strangely, it seemed like the woods were moving and adapting to every step Bonnie took. Even more strange was that every time she looked up, there was a crow, perched on the branch of a tree, watching. Call her paranoid, but she thought it might be the same crow every time, even though it never seemed to move…

"We're going to find you a car and get you out of here." Bonnie didn't look concerned, as if she'd walked the woods so many times that she knew them like the back of her hand. "It's not safe here, you shouldn't have come."

"Yeah, well, when your only surviving family member kicks the bucket and gets thrown into a prison world, you do what you can to help…" Lucy shrugged. "I wasn't here to fight the heretics. I might've offered, but I don't think Damon's plan went much beyond getting you back."

"Yeah." She scoffed. "Cleaning up his messes is something I'm more than used to. Sorry you had to get dragged into it."

Lucy hummed, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "Listen, can I just say something real quick? I might have it completely wrong, and I might be crossing some lines here, so feel free to tell me to shut up, okay?"

Bonnie hummed, and Lucy took it as a sign to continue.

"I just got finished riding shot gun with that hot mess and he's definitely missing more than a few screws. I'm pretty sure he was hallucinating for a while when he first picked me up – and shoved me in the damn trunk – but besides that… If there's one thing I am sure of, it's that the idiot I just spent the longest 36 hours of my life with is depressed as hell and completely in love with you." She raised her hands defensively. "I'm not saying that makes up for anything. I only have part of the story. And if I know anything, being hurt by someone you love only makes it that much worse. But I am saying that the only reason I signed up for this suicide mission was because he was so desperate to get you back, I half-believed he'd sacrifice his own ass so you could live. We're talking resurrection magic, Bonnie. That's not child's play."

Bonnie shook her head. "You don't know Damon, or our history."

"No, I don't. I just know what I've seen, and that's a devastated man trying to get his best friend back. At the cost of anything and everything around him. He was a mess. He started cussing out everyone back at that house, telling them they didn't appreciate you or deserve you. I just about started making popcorn. He was serving everybody a platter of their receipts."

Bonnie frowned. "Everyone?"

"That doppelgänger friend of yours tried to talk him down, but she only seemed to get him angrier. I'm telling you, his only mission was getting you back. He was ready to let the whole town burn around us, just as long as we got you out of there… Speaking of, how'd you get back?"

"I'm a Bennett. We're resourceful."

Lucy snorted. "Ain't that the truth…" She glanced back over her shoulder, and then over to Bonnie. "You know he's following us, right?"

"Yeah," she muttered, and quickened her steps, as if she could speed-walk away from a vampire and it would make any difference.

With a sigh, Lucy kept pace beside her, and tried not to look up, where the eerie stare of a crow followed them wherever they went.

…

"You're going the wrong way," Damon called out from behind them.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not, and nobody asked you."

"Fine. But Lucy drove to town with me, and my car is back at the boarding house. So is yours, as a matter of fact."

"He's not wrong. He kidnapped me a few states over," Lucy told her.

Bonnie turned a glare back at him.

"Temporarily. It's not a kidnapping after she agrees to come along. And as far as trunks go, I think mine's pretty cushy!" he defended.

"Whatever." To Lucy, she said, "If we keep going this way, it'll lead to the school. There's bound to be a car near there that we can hotwire and get you out of town in."

"Look at you, hotwiring cars, saving yourself from prison worlds…" Damon needled. "Care to explain how you learned to do either?"

"Not particularly." She ground her teeth. "You can leave anytime. You aren't needed here."

"You wound me, Bon-Bon."

Whirling around, she spat, "Don't— call me that."

He stared at her, searching her face, and for the first time since she'd gotten back, she took a real hard look at him. He looked… tired. His face was slimmer, hollow in a way she'd never seen before. While he'd clearly showered and shaved, he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. There was a part of her, buried deep, deep down, that still felt a little worried for him. A much larger part, however, did not. "You look like shit."

"That happens when your best friend is killed in front of you and you spend the next two weeks looking for a way to bring her back only to find out she wasn't dead in the first place." His face curled with anger, but it fled as quickly as it flared, replaced with defeat. "How? Just tell me how. I— I saw Enzo, I saw the knife…" His gaze fell to her throat, and he reached forward, fingers outstretched, to touch the scar she left visible.

She slapped his hand away from her. "Lily left me to die in the snow, Enzo decided to play hero. He fed me his blood and I healed. He told me I had a choice. Live, die, fight, surrender, whatever the hell I want. So I made one."

"You chose to live, and come back here."

"I chose revenge. I don't care if she's your mother, Damon. My last gift to this godforsaken town is to make sure Lily doesn't destroy it and everyone still living here. I'm taking her out, her and her heretics. And then I'm getting the hell out of here, and never looking back."

He nodded, his mouth upturned faintly at the corners. "Not a bad plan. A little vague, but I'm sure I can help fill in some details."

She shook her head. "No. I'm doing this myself." With that, she turned on her heel to walk away.

Sighing, he followed after her. "Bonnie, come on… This isn't just any old bad guy. These heretics are bad news. You're going to need help."

"You don't know what I can do. You have no idea…"

"As someone who's had a front-row seat to your best and worst magical moments, I know a little."

Bonnie pursed her lips, unwilling to answer him, continuing to tramp through the woods.

Damon followed behind her, wielding a stick to absently bat at branches and poke at bushes. "Will you let me apologize? Please."

"For what? For doing exactly what you always do? For choosing Elena? For sacrificing me? For practically begging me to die so she would live?"

He swallowed tightly, his face drawn. "I made a mistake…" His voice caught. "I wasn't thinking. I panicked. I— I never meant to lose you, or hurt you. I just—"

"You just decided it was worth it. That Elena's life outweighed mine. Like it always does." She turned around, and took a step toward him, pointing angrily. He didn't step back, instead letting her stab her finger at his chest. "I told you— I confided in you— How hard it was, how lost I was, how desperately I wanted someone to tell me I didn't have to sacrifice myself anymore. And you looked me in the eye and told me you wouldn't do it again. You wouldn't push me over that edge. But you did."

His face screwed up, eyes damp. "Bonnie, please…"

"You were supposed to be my friend." She pressed a hand to her stomach. "You were supposed to care…"

"I do." His mouth trembled. "I do. I just— I do stupid things. I— I don't think them through. I just— react."

"So that's it? That's your excuse? 'Sorry, Bonnie, but my first instinct is to throw you away.'" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head. "That's not friendship, Damon!"

"I was wrong. I'm an idiot. I don't know how to prove it to you. But I won't make the same mistake again, I won't."

"How am I supposed to believe you?"

"I don't know. Time? You let me prove it to you?" He reached for her, hands sliding over her shoulder, squeezing. "I'm not the same guy that was standing in that room. And I know you have no reason to believe me. You should hate me. I deserve it. But I knew as soon as you walked away, as soon as I lost you, I knew I made the wrong choice…"

Bonnie stepped back, out of reach. "It doesn't matter. I didn't come back here to hear your apologies. I came back to stop Lily, and that's all that matters."

"That's not all that matters! You matter!" He was in front of her so quickly, she hardly saw him move, his hands wrapped around her neck, thumbs brushing against her puckered scar. "If you want to kill Lily, fine. I'll help you and dig their graves after." His face turned sharp with determination. "But at some point, we need to talk. Not because you need to forgive me. I'll understand if you don't. But I need you to know that if I had to make the choice again, I would do it right this time. And that's not about you forgiving me, it's about you knowing that your life is worth a hell of a lot more than we've let you think."

Bonnie stared up at her, her brow furrowed. She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure there was anything to say. So instead, she tugged at his arms, pulling them down until his hands released her neck. "Which way gets us close to Grams' house?" she asked.

He pivoted on his heel and pointed. "That way…" He eyed her. "It'd be quicker if you just let me take you."

"We'll walk," she decided firmly, and turned to walk in the direction he pointed.

"Fine." He stood a little taller, as stubborn as ever. "But get used to having a shadow, 'cause I'm not going anywhere."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, but didn't spare the time to argue. It was useless. He'd made up his mind and there was no changing it.

In the end, it didn't matter. Soon enough, Lily and her heretics would be nothing more than a bad memory. And she would be on the road, headed far, far away, never to set eyes on Mystic Falls or Damon Salvatore again.

[next: part four]

author's note: remember when this was supposed to be three parts? it got too long, so the final show down with the heretics and the resolution between bonnie and damon will (likely) find its end in the next chapter. unless that also gets long, in which case i might make it four plus an epilogue. i haven't decided yet. in any case, i was happy to have these two crazy kids reunite, even if it's full of pain and betrayal and the like.

for anyone wondering what was going on in the prison world, bonnie was reconnecting to nature and the balance, and in doing so, she asked for its help. the 1903 prison world, made completely of magic, decided that yes, it would help her. considering it was built to house the heretics and now could no longer do its job, it decides to aid bonnie in destroying them by giving its power to her. so when she returns to reality, it's destroyed, the power that kept it together now becoming her own. this isn't meant to suggest she's a siphon; she's not. she asked the power to help her and it responded kindly.

so yeah, bonnie's spent some time healing and reconnecting with her magic and figuring out who the heretics are by reading their journals. she's gone over her own grimoire as a way to focus her energy and to reunite with her family's history and spellwork. and now she's back in the regular world to take on the enemy... and to get some things off her chest, because she's been the sacrificial lamb far too many times.

hope you enjoyed it! please try to leave a review; they're my lifeblood!

- Lee | Fina