Title: The Gods of Virginia

Rating: M

Genre: AU/AH, Time Travel/Romance

Pairing(s): Bonnie/Stefan, Bonnie/Damon, Elijah/Katherine, Tyler/Caroline, Rebekah/OC, Matt/Katherine, etc.

Summary: When an accident sends Bonnie Bennett back to 1864, and circumstance forces her into becoming a "kept" woman, she is less than excited to find that Damon Salvatore will be the one for whom she will play placée, but it is the price she must pay to live amongst the gens de couleur, a society that holds the only ancestor she has with the power to send her home. However, Bonnie begins to interest Stefan Salvatore as well and to make matters worse Mystic Falls isn't ready to witness open concubinage between a white man and a black woman especially when that woman is suspected of witchcraft.

Warnings: Time Travel, Non-Canon, Racism, Sexual Content, Violence, Original Character etc.

Author's Note: This fic is a repost and could go one of three ways as far as pairings go If you don't know what plaçage is, it is basically a system most well known in New Orleans, in which white men entered extralegal unions with women of color. In most cases the relationship lasted up until and sometimes after a suitable (basically white) match was found for the male parties involved. In some cases when such relationships ended if the woman of color was still of a young and desirable age she entered into another such union with another male, most times she would marry a man of African or Creole descent. Because I am basically building a, gens de couleur, society from the ground up in Mystic Falls, Virginia, there will be more than one original characters popping up here and there the main three being, Antoinette Aimee Bennett-Mercier, Thomas La Belle, and Raoul Mercier, who I will repost pictures of (to show you how I imagine them in my head) on my authors page, and who will have reason and development. So apparently according to Vampire Diaries Wiki, Katherine arrived in Mystic Falls in September so Bonnie will be arriving in April and will be gone in or before July. Anyway there have been some rewrites, particularly the last two chapters. Please do not message me regarding updates or other stories. As usual thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Part One: The Pocket Watch

The gods of Virginia aren't really gods at all. At least not in Mystic Falls, those gods are people, mere mortals that have a god complex. These people, they think that they know more than any higher power that man could fathom. These mortals masquerading as gods, they police us, they tell us how to behave, how not to behave. They tell us what to fight for, and when to keep our mouths shut and our eyes closed. They tell us what to live for, what to die for. Who to include and who to exclude. They tell us what is right and what is wrong. They tell us who we are supposed to hate and who we are allowed to love. No matter how much we pray to the God that we know to be real, it is always the will of these imposters that is done. If these are the only gods we have then I prefer the rule of men that see themselves as men. But that is not entirely truthful, the truth is that my rule of my own life, is what I prefer above all. However, no matter what I prefer I will never have that control.

― From the journal of Stefan Salvatore circa April, 1864

Mystic Falls, Virginia, 2011

Bonnie Bennett watched as her mother walked around her deceased grandmother's old house with a sense of detachment. While everyone else in the town was at the ball that the Originals were throwing Bonnie had been at the cemetery with Abby, helping her to say goodbye to Grams.

Now they were in her Grams' old house with Abby looking around at old pictures and looking to be on the verge of tears. She had went from looking at pictures and recalling memories from her childhood, to peering around corners and into rooms as if she expected Sheila Bennett to pop out of one of them.

Bonnie sat down on the well worn but well loved couch feeling uncomfortable. She wished that her life could be different. She wished that she could still smile. She wished that she could still be a normal teenager. She wished that she still knew what it was like to have real friendship that didn't come under the condition that she be available for on call witch craft. She wished that she could dress up and be the belle of some ball that didn't involve the Originals and that she could attend it on the arm of a man that was interested in her and only her, not her powers and not another woman. She wished that she had a mother that had never left her and had always stayed by her side and loved her unconditionally, and things were anything but awkward between them. She wished that she had a father that wouldn't rather stay out of town than take care of or simply be there for his only daughter. But most of all Bonnie wished that she cared about herself enough to change the things that she could, let go of the things that she could not, take back the person that she once was, and become the person that she always wanted to be.

"Bonnie," her mother's voice said breaking Bonnie out of her thoughts. She looked up from where she sat on the couch to find Abby Bennett-Wilson staring down at her. "Come with me please," she said, "There are some things that I would like to show you."

Bonnie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she nodded anyway and stood. She smoothed her hands down the plain black dress that she wore and walked after her mother, letting herself be led through the house that she knew so well.

They ended up in the attic, a place that Bonnie rarely went unless it was to look into her grandmother's witch reserves. Usually when she was looking it wasn't for her own benefit or to find out more about her family or her craft, it was always for someone else. When she had first discovered who she was, or rather what was in her blood, she had been equal parts scared and curious. She had never delved beyond the surface of it, she only knew a little about the Salem witch thing, and then there was what she knew of Emily. Though, Bonnie had always found it extremely funny that though both Salvatore brothers had known Emily neither had ever really discussed her ancestor with her outside of asking her to contact her to provide them assistance. Then again Bonnie wasn't surprised, she was sure that the Salvatore brothers knew more about her line then even she did but as they weren't interested in her outside of her magic, it wouldn't make sense for them to have an actual conversation with her, let alone one that delved into her family history. Once upon a time she had thought that she and Stefan could at least be friends but that time had long passed.

"Before she died your Grams always said that she wanted us both to be women who were well informed about who and what we are," Abby said, "Our family has a great wealth of history, culture, and experiences, from Salem to the Civil Rights Movement, to everything in between. There is a reason that the Bennett name is known throughout the supernatural world. Bennett witches are notorious not just because of our power and our strength, we are history, and we make history." Bonnie was surprised to hear Abby speak of their family with such pride and respect. It surprised her that Abby's abandonment had nothing to do with unwillingness to accept their heritage, she had after all allowed her powers to fade. "Did she ever get to tell you about the witches in our family?"

Bonnie shook her head as Abby opened the attic door. "Not really," Bonnie said sadly, "Somewhat. I mean she told me about Salem and about Emily. But we never delved into it the way that I wanted to. I was too busy using my powers to help other people, I didn't really learn to appreciate where and who they came from. But I always wanted to know."

They walked into the attic, Bonnie on Abby's heels. It looked the same as always. Crowded with low lighting, more dust than substance. Piles of books in every corner, old trunks and card board boxes, and trinkets and artifacts that Bonnie didn't understand.

"Our history is far richer than Salem, Bonnie," Abby said as they walked inside of the attic and Bonnie closed the door behind them, "I know that if mom had a chance that she would have told you all of it. But since she can't now, it's my job to." Abby hadn't truly believed that her mother was really dead until the moment that she had saw her grave. It had broken her. Everything she had done, everything that she had willingly left and abandoned had came crashing down on her. She could no longer justify her actions to herself. As she had looked down at her mother's headstone she had realized that none of it had been worth it. She had lost her mother and she didn't want to lose Bonnie as well, not when she had finally realized what she had left behind.

Bonnie was surprised by the offer but as Abby turned to face her Bonnie saw it for what it was. It wasn't just about Abby informing Bonnie about their history, or using the information to make Bonnie a better witch. It wasn't even about the guilt Abby felt about leaving her, of not seeing Sheila before she had died. It was about them spending time together, and as Bonnie was not only using Abby just to help the people that she could just barely call friends, but she had immediately moved out of her Grams' house and back into the house that she was sharing with her father when Abby had decided to stay in her grandmother's house while in town just so that she wouldn't have to be near the woman, Bonnie could understand why Abby would feel that they would need an excuse to spend time together.

Sighing Bonnie decided that even if her relationship with Abby wasn't improved by the time that they did spend talking about their family, at the very least Bonnie would learn her history and maybe by doing so she could rediscover who she was and in discovering that figure out who she wanted to be. "Alright," Bonnie agreed, "Where would you like to start?"

Abby smiled a watery smile at her. Bonnie was surprised when she was suddenly enveloped in Abby's arms. Bonnie awkwardly returned the hug before Abby pulled away. She watched as Abby wiped a few wayward tears before turning away from her and entered the attic more fully. Abby walked across the room her own black dress flaring with each step. She stopped in front of a large oak trunk, with intricate designs carved into the surface of the dark wood.

Abby ran her hands almost reverently over the lid, before she unlocked it and lifted it slowly and carefully. Her eyes roved over the trunks contents. She reached inside and retrieved a sepia colored photograph. She studied the picture a moment before handing it to Bonnie. The first thing that Bonnie noticed about the woman in the photo were her eyes, they looked dark and dangerous even in black and off white, and her stare was direct and unnerving. It almost seemed as if she were challenging the viewer of the photo to look back. The rest of the woman's features Bonnie noticed after her eyes, long unruly black hair, which she wore down which was unusual for the time in which it looked like the photograph had been taken. Wide nose, full lips, oval shaped face. There was a caption beneath the photo, a name, Aimee Antoinette Bennett. Even from the photograph she looked like a woman to be reckoned with.

"She's beautiful," Bonnie whispered, "Who was she? I mean beyond the name on the photo." There looked to be a story there and Bonnie suspected that it was an interesting one.

"Aimee Antoinette Bennett-Mercier," Abby said a hint of fondness in her tone, "Was the quadroon wife of the son of a New Orleans plantation owner. She and her husband met when his father arranged for her to become his placée, a concubine of sorts, it's a system that's hard to explain by today's standards. She was meant to substitute until he found a proper wife, which in those days meant white and of good social standing." Abby and Bonnie shared a look before she continued. "But Raoul Mercier never could listen to the rule of the south. He married Aimee and together they sought to amend the system in which they fell in love to allow it to accommodate feelings and romanticism with rather mixed results. Their marriage wasn't recognized in the states but he never denied who she was to him when asked. Her grandfather fought in the Haitian Revolution of 1797, and like him she was a force to be reckoned with. She was an influential member of the gens de couleur, the society of free people of color that flourished in the 1800's. She was also the one to bring Haitian Vodou to Mystic Falls."

Bonnie instantly thought about Damon Salvatore's definition of voodoo but Bonnie didn't think that was what her mother meant. "What exactly does that type of magic entail?" Bonnie asked, "And how did she end up in Mystic Falls?"

Abby shrugged. "The details are sketchy and the story has been edited in many ways overtime but she did leave her mark," Abby said, "So much so that she was executed here, before Emily even, and the Creole people that they had left behind were run out of town or killed before the end of the Civil War. As for the vodou is a syncretic religion, its similar to what we practice today, the vodouists are even sometimes known as 'servants of the spirits'. There are many types of magic Bonnie, and if we so choose we can understand and access them all."

Bonnie nodded and then looked over to the remaining contents of the trunk. There was a necklace wrapped in satin cloth, the stone was pitch black and the hung from a silver chain. Bonnie held the necklace up to herself.

Abby smiled. When she had been younger she had admired Antoinette, and begged her mother to allow to try on the clothes and trinkets that her trunk had held. Sheila had never allowed it and now she doubted she could fit into anything outside of the jewelry. "You should try it on," Abby suggested, "I bet it would suit you." She reached into the trunk and lifted the dress from the inside. "You should try on the dress as well," Abby said, "I know this isn't exactly the kind of thing that the other girls are wearing to the ball that they're all at tonight but I've missed all of your dances and I'd like to see you all dressed up."

Bonnie eyed the hunter green dress. It was beautiful, if a bit excessive, in the way that only a traditional southern ball gown could be. "Where did this dress come from?" Bonnie asked.

"Aimee wore this to her first quadroon ball," Abby said, "It was where she met Raoul."

Bonnie smiled. She wouldn't exactly be the belle of the ball, she would actually likely look rather ridiculous. But Bonnie hadn't done anything ridiculous in a while. Besides trying on old dresses and listening to old stories her mother told her, was something that made Bonnie think of little girls listening to bed time stories and trying on their mother's clothes. Bonnie wasn't a little girl anymore but she had missed that time with Abby and this would be the best that she could get.

:::

Mystic Falls, Virginia, 1864

April brought showers along with a friend from New Orleans. Stefan Salvatore had never understood the business side of things when it came to his family wealth and prosperity. He understood that they were more than well off, he understood that it afforded him certain advantages, and he understood that it sometimes kept his father up at night. He also understood that it required his father to meet with a number of different people.

Usually when his father's associates would visit Stefan was unbothered. It was a rather regular occurrence. They would come, many times stay a few nights, talk business and politics and then leave. But the appearance of Raoul Mercier all the way from Louisiana, was something that Stefan Salvatore could not ignore. Especially given the fact that his brother had just arrived home after deserting the fight for the confederacy.

Giuseppe hadn't done business with the Mercier family in close to three years. Ever since, Raul had run off to France and gotten married to a quadroon, Stefan's father had declared the family unfit to associate with. Though, Stefan had never been in love, had never defied his father, and had very little experience with women, colored or otherwise, he was much more understanding of Raoul's situation.

As the system hadn't reached Virginia, Stefan knew very little of plaçage. However, he did know enough to know that the colored girls involved were only meant to act as a body to warm one's bed until a more suitable match came along. Sometimes the arrangements carried on after a marriage occurred but the relationships were never recognized publically and the placées and any children that they birthed had very little rights, especially in face of the wives of the men that kept them. To Stefan it had all seemed like a rather organized form of prostitution. The men offered money and a better life in exchange for sex. When explaining it to Stefan his father had made it seem very businesslike and impersonal. There weren't supposed to be feelings involved.

When Raoul had married his placée, even if the marriage wasn't legally recognized in the states, Stefan's father had been up in arms. Giuseppe had called Raoul every name in the book. He claimed that the young man had no sense of duty and had even claimed him to be corrupt and insane. Giuseppe had been surprised and disappointed by Raoul's irrational and seemingly impromptu actions. Stefan on the other hand had known Raoul's plan all along.

Raoul and Stefan had always been friends of sorts. Though, Raoul was closer to Stefan's brother's age, he had always found more common ground with Stefan than Damon, which was why he usually sought Stefan out when their father's did business together. In many ways Raoul actually reminded Stefan of Damon, though he was much less impulsive, had a better sense of self, and didn't live in anyone's shadow. Unlike both Salvatore siblings Raoul had never been concerned with pleasing his father, he made choices based on what he thought was best for himself and what he wanted, it was something the Stefan had always envied and that Damon had always resented him for.

Even with his sometimes selfish ways, Raoul had always been a closet romantic. He had always been against arranged marriages or even marriages of convenience. Damon had always seen it as some sort of weak way to rebel against his father, but Stefan saw it for what it was. Stefan found the concept archaic himself but he had no delusions as to whether he would agree to such a match if his father were to place one in front of him. But Raoul had wanted to marry for love, because his parents had been proof of the misery that could come about if one did not.

But Raoul had kept his mouth shut about such things when he wasn't around Stefan. He acted with a quiet defiance, though even he had to acquiesce on occasion. Like the rest of them Raoul was forced to do things out of duty that he wouldn't have done otherwise. Participating in plaçage had been one of those things.

In the beginning though Raoul had agreed to make the arrangement, it had been merely to shut up his father and he hadn't planned to have any sort of relationship with the girl outside of providing her with what he had promised. He wouldn't touch her, he had told Stefan. He hated the system and he had felt that they both deserved to live and love in a more natural way. And so he had declared that he would provide for the girl until they were afforded the opportunity to end the arrangement all together. While the thought had been nice, Stefan supposed, the sentiment hadn't really lasted long.

Raoul had written Stefan letters. In them he had talked of the girl, in bits and pieces at first, but he began to mention her more and more often. At first it was a mere mention of a trip here and there to check on the girl's wellbeing and the distaste he felt for the arrangement altogether. Then he had begun to visit her for longer periods of time, they talked Raoul had said, about what Stefan was unsure as their lives and positions in society were so drastically different that Stefan didn't understand what the two could possibly find to discuss. But Raoul had begun to refer to the girl as his friend, which was odd to Stefan, but as she seemed to be the only person who actually listened to Raoul and his wants and needs outside of him, Stefan had kept his confusion on the matter to himself.

Eventually it got the point that the girl, Aimee, was all Raoul talked about. Stefan had realized that Raoul was in love with her before Raoul did. It was strange and unconventional and to many wrong, but Raoul was his friend and he was afraid and so Stefan stuck by him. When Raoul had revealed his plan to run away with Aimee, Stefan had not tried to stop him. He had wished his friend happiness and he had kept his mouth shut. No, Stefan had not been surprised when they had run; he had however been surprised when they had come back. But they had made their way rather fearlessly into society on more than one occasion and Stefan had heard that Raoul's wife (though Stefan was the only one outside of a very small group of people including Damon, despite his brother's dislike of Raoul, that referred to her as such) was a woman that could hold her own in any company despite her position in society.

Stefan could not begin to understand their relationship. Not only because he didn't really understand the system in which they met, or even because they had gone against societal standards, the main reason that Stefan could never understand their relationship was because he himself had never been in love with anyone before. But Raoul was happy and that was really in Stefan's eyes the only thing that really needed to be understood.

However, the moment that Raoul had barged into the Salvatore Estate demanding to see his father, it was clear to Stefan that he wasn't there on a friendly visit. Despite maintaining his friendship with Stefan, Raoul had not set foot in their home or spoken to Giuseppe since his marriage. So when he had all but broken the door down his black hair in a frenzy, his blue eyes wide, and his lips curled in a way that made the scar on the side of his cheek that he had gotten in one of his many tussles with Damon all the more prominent, Stefan had been shocked to see him. He had made no objections when Raoul had gone right to his father's office, he knew that the man had a temper, and if he was there then he had one hell of a reason.

Stefan who had been focused on his studies at the time had abandon them in favor of following Raoul through his house and toward his father's office so that he could eavesdrop at the door. Damon who had been drinking and sulking about his desertion soon followed. Raoul was far too distracted to notice them, which while convenient for their purposes, was another bad sign.

For a moment as Stefan pressed his ear to the closed door of his father's office, he thought to similar eavesdropping missions had had done with Damon in their childhood. But thinking of Damon made him think of the war, which made him wonder what would happen to his brother now that everyone knew where he was and what he had done. Stefan knew that Damon couldn't fight for a cause that he did not believe in, but it had been more than that, it had been his fear of death, and his unwillingness to kill. Now Damon was labeled a coward by the town and a disappointment by his father. Stefan wasn't sure that Damon would be able to rise out of the depression that was now consuming him. Thankfully, the conversation on the other side of the door soon distracted Stefan from his dark thoughts, and Damon from his self-loathing sulking.

"I'm assuming from your anger and the state of your appearance that you received my response to your letter," Giuseppe said his voice unsurprisingly cool.

"Indeed, Mr. Salvatore," Raoul said his voice sounding deeper and more controlled than Stefan remembered, "I have and have come to convince you to reconsider your stance on the matter."

"Good luck with that," Damon muttered from behind Stefan. Stefan couldn't help but grin. Even in his current state his brother's sarcastic wit was still intact.

"Considering Mr. Mercier," Giuseppe began, "That you wish to corrupt my town by bringing in the very system that caused your own disgrace and societal downfall in the first place-"

Raoul who had always been respectful even in his defiance seemed to have no problem with cutting his father off much to Stefan's surprise. "The father of a deserter wishes to tell me about disgrace and downfall," Raoul said. Stefan couldn't see his face but he could almost feel the moment that Damon winced. "The south isn't fairing very well in this war," Raoul said, "Though I cannot say that I will be very disturbed if the outcome of our loss is to end the abomination that is slavery." Giuseppe sputtered but Raoul ignored him and continued. "My way of life and the society in which my wife was birthed is being threatened, as is yours. My position in our society should not sway you from thinking on those terms as yours is beginning to lack."

"Your way of life," Giuseppe said his tone mocking, "This isn't about your way of life. You my son have an equal amount of hatred for the system of plaçage as I do, though for a very different reason. No, this is about the girl. The one you can call wife according to the sacrilege that is French law but is nothing to you here."

Stefan heard what may have been a groan come from behind him. "Why must he always go below the belt with his attacks," Damon sighed, "A man's wife is his wife, no matter whose law it is under." Stefan was surprised that Giuseppe would attack Raoul's wife in so openly a manner, but more surprised that Damon would object to the fact. Damon hated Raoul, but even so he had nothing against Aimee, as neither of them had met her. Still Stefan doubted Damon understood the relationship anymore that he did.

It was clear that whatever respect their father had once had for Stefan's friend was now gone. "You will not speak of my wife in that manner, masseur," Raoul hissed, the threat in his tone clear.

Stefan opened the door just a crack so that they could peek inside. Giuseppe rolled his eyes. "Admit that she is your sole motivation," he said, "That your silly little tryst with her has caused you to lose what good sense your father managed to breed into you all of these years."

"My motivation is to save a society that now considers me to be a disgrace," Raoul said, "Whether you or I agree with the system for whatever reason, it is a southern tradition and it will be attacked before the end of the war along with the rest. It will be the beginning of the end for the south and life as we all know it will come tumbling down. This is about preservation Salvatore. Surely you know about survival. If I must spread this tradition in order to keep it alive then I will and that goes for any others that have come to be essential to our society and our way of life." In truth Raoul was not doing this for the south but rather the, gens de colour, free people of color or not, the end of plaçage meant the end of any social standing that they possessed. They were his Aimee's people so they were his as well, his to stand behind and his to protect.

"Whatever your silly little reasons," Giuseppe said, "You will not spread it here." Stefan could tell from his father's tone that the discussion was over as far as he was concerned.

Stefan doubted that Raoul would give up. It was not in his nature. There was a pause and Stefan realized that they were at a stalemate of sorts. He knew well of the matter of which they were discussing. Raoul had written to his father about bringing plaçage to Mystic Falls. A letter that Giuseppe had read aloud to Stefan and mocked relentlessly. But Giuseppe had been surprised to find that other associates in neighboring states had agreed to try the system on for size and that amounted to more business partners being cut off.

"I did not want things to come to this Giuseppe," Raoul said his tone sounded sad, yet resigned, "You have been a friend of my family for years. I love your sons as if they were my own brothers. Because of this love I have been protecting both of them, one of them in particular. As I said before the south is not fairing well in this war. The draft has been opened and despite his youth Stefan's name has appeared on it more than once, then there is the matter of Damon's resent desertion. It is only because of me that they have remained untouched. I have approached other members of the town's council on this matter and you are the last that needs to agree. The council has approved the quadroon ball for tonight, if Damon and Stefan are not in attendance and if your sons do not participate in full…," Raoul hesitated his voice breaking slightly. It was only his thoughts of Aimee that allowed him to continue. "I will withdrawal my protection of them."

Stefan's mouth fell open. He had been unaware that Raoul had been protecting them all of this time. All this time he had thought that it was Giuseppe's influence that kept him away from the war.

"It was him protecting me," Damon whispered, "All this time I had thought it had been father. I should've known."

Stefan turned and looked at Damon in shock. "What do you mean you should have known?" he asked, "How would you know? Raoul detests you, so him protecting you makes no sense."

"You do not have to like someone for them to be your brother, Stefan," Damon said simply, his blue eyes guarded, "As you may recall, upon returning home, father declared that I has no longer his son. So why would he protect me? However, no matter how much we have fought or do not care for each other, Raoul has never disowned me. There is respect, there is love, and that is why I can call Aimee his wife and mean it, and that is why he can protect me now."

Stefan wasn't stupid or blind. He knew that he was the favored son, though he never understood the reasoning, beyond his agreeableness toward his father. But he had thought in the end that Damon meant something as well, at least enough for him to have his father's protection. To think that it had been Raoul who had been using what little standing, influence, and likely the immense amount of money his family still allowed him access to in spite of his marriage, he had left in society to keep Damon and he safe. He felt some since of betrayal at losing that protection for the sake a system that Raoul hated. However, there was understanding there as well. Stefan knew that Raoul would never put his or Damon's life at risk if he didn't think his cause important.

Stefan didn't think that there was a place in Mystic Falls for the, gens de colour, the rest of the council may have permitted the ball but in all likelihood they had done so in order to watch it fail or out of curiosity, and because of a large sum of money given to the town on Raoul's part no doubt. Even with the bribe the council would use the ball to prove to the entire town that Raoul was what they all thought he was, a dreg on the outskirts of society. But Raoul was his friend, and apparently someone Damon respected, and in many ways he was their brother. He was willing to risk Giuseppe's wrath and Stefan's friendship because of this endeavor, so there was no question of its importance.

Giuseppe looked stricken but Stefan knew he was stubborn and would argue. "We must back him in this brother," Damon whispered, "He has saved us both. It is one night and one ball. He would do the same for us."

It was for this reason that Stefan walked into the room and made his presence known, Damon standing close behind. Before his red faced and angry father could speak Stefan cleared his throat causing both the rooms occupants to look in his direction. Taking a deep breath Stefan spoke his first words of defiance toward his father. "There is no need to argue any further," Stefan said, "We will attend the ball."

:::

Mystic Falls, Virginia, 2011

Bonnie didn't look as ridiculous in the dress as she thought that she would. The green of it actually brought out the color of her eyes and cut of it was actually rather flattering. She had thought the material would be worn, but it looked like knew. She was sure that it had to have been put under some sort of preservation spell, along with the emerald laced shoes. Abby smiled as Bonnie twirled around. "Shall we do your hair?" Abby asked.

Bonnie frowned slightly. "Isn't that a bit excessive?" Bonnie asked. For her trying on the dress was enough. But she could tell by the look on Abby's face that the woman was trying to make up for lost time so Bonnie conceded even before Abby could talk her into it. "Alright but this stays between us."

"Of course," Abby nodded. She beamed at Bonnie as she took her hands and tugged her out of the attic and toward the bathroom. "So what was your first dance like?" Abby asked.

Bonnie shrugged, not sure what to make of having a mom that was actually interested in her and her life. "Okay," Bonnie said, "The usual. Cheap punch, bad music, and no one actually danced." She thought about it as Abby plugged in her curling irons. "Well," she amended, "No one except for Tyler Lockwood, which now that I think about it, probably scared everyone else away from the dance floor. " Bonnie shook her head. "I still can't look at him without having flashbacks of him doing the robot to The Backstreet Boys, and before you ask yes, unfortunately, that is very possible."

Abby let out a laugh. "Maybe it's a good thing that you weren't invited to this ball tonight if that is what you would have to look forward to," she said. Upon seeing Bonnie's expression she thought that maybe she had miss stepped. "Touchy subject?" She asked.

Bonnie nodded twisting the odd pocket watch she had found in Aimee's trunk in her hands. The silver glinted in the light of the bathroom. The necklace, the dress, and the shoes, Bonnie understood, but the watch seemed out of place. Not only that but as she opened the face she realized it didn't ever work, not even a single tic could be heard. "I just thought that maybe since I had released Klaus' mother in the first place that that would warrant an invitation," she said, "Not that I wanted to go. Besides I am pretty sure someone will call me later when the Originals decide to go all crazy and they need a witch to clean up the mess."

"Well," Abby said, "If they do tell them that you are taking the night off." Bonnie almost laughed. If only it were that simple. "Don't give me that look," Abby said seriously, "I know I haven't been here and it's a little late for me to give advice and act all preachy but I have learned from experience that people can only do to you what you let them. "

"You sound like Grams," Bonnie muttered. But Abby sounded like Sheila only made Bonnie more inclined to believe that she was right.

"Another reason to take the advice," Abby said stepping up behind her and beginning to fuss with Bonnie's hair.

"Tell me more about Aimee," Bonnie said wanting desperately to change the subject.

Abby knew that she was dodging but decided not to push. "Well," she said, "As I said before she brought Haitian vodou to Mystic Falls but she also brought plaçage with her as well. It's a wonder how the council put up with her as long as they did though most thought that her magic had something to do with that. Actually if my memory serves me, Aimee's first and last quadroon ball held in Mystic Falls took place just short of one hundred and fifty years ago tonight."

Bonnie laughed, causing Abby to burn her ear with the curling iron. "Ow," she winced.

"Sorry," Abby muttered, "But you can't move around like that. What was so funny anyway?"

"Nothing," Bonnie said starting to shake her head and then thinking better of it, "It's just…I just realized how old Stefan and Damon are." Bonnie's eyebrows furrowed as she thought about their ages turning the time of the ball. "Do you think they might have gone…to the ball I mean?" Bonnie asked.

Abby shrugged. "They're no real record of who was in attendance," she said, "Actually the who time period beginning with Aimee's arrival has almost been obliterated from our history. I doubt we would ever know."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" It just reminded her of every other part of the town's history and present that they tried to sweep under the rug. "So these balls," Bonnie asked, "What were the like?"

"Well when I was a little girl I had painted a pretty little picture of them in my head," Abby said, "The dancing, the pretty dresses, and the wooing. Now that I am older though, I'd say they were a more dignified form of the slave block." Bonnie winced. "Don't get me wrong though," Abby said, "While the gens de clour had nowhere near the rights of whites, they were miles ahead of slaves in many respects. They're were allowed education, and many lived by their own means, they were after all considered free. If I had to choose between plaçage and slavery well..."
Bonnie frowned. "We shouldn't have had to choose," she stated, "Neither system should've existed."

"You sound like Aimee,' Abby said, "She made a similar declaration in her journal after her childhood friend Claudette fell in love with a slave and he was auctioned off."

Bonnie had thought hat Abby had been exaggerating about her respect for Aimee but she was obviously not. In a way Bonnie was jealous. Abby cared enough to know the details of Aimee's life but not her own daughters. It was odd. "If she didn't like either system why would she want to bring plaçage to Mystic Falls?" Bonnie asked getting away from her dark thoughts.

"The free people of color, her people, it was what had built their society," Abby said as she pinned up Bonnie's hair, "She felt that if the system could outlast the civil war then they could use it for them to thrive and eventually move beyond it."

"I guess that makes sense," Bonnie said spinning the watch around in her hands once more.

Abby put the finishing touches on her hair and smiled. "Still think you look ridiculous?" She asked. She watched as Bonnie looked at herself in the mirror.

Bonnie studied herself in the mirror. She wondered not for the first time what it would have been like to be of that time. Even if those women were being auctioned off to the highest bidder but surely some of them had felt desired and wanted. Why else would those men flock toward the balls in droves? Aimee had found love in that system if what Abby had said was true. She had met someone who was willing to give up everything and take her as his wife in a time where it could have easily meant death for them both. Bonnie couldn't even fine someone who wanted her for he, even Jeremy had chosen a ghost over her in the end.

Perhaps Bonnie was romanticizing the situation, but the more the thought about it the more she was she wanted to be in that time. She wanted to dance with men who didn't know that she was a witch, she wanted to be looked at with desire because they thought that she was exotic and beautiful. More than that she wanted to escape her life, her prison. She wanted to be away from a place where she was one call every minute when someone needed a quick spell and nonexistent when they didn't. It was crazy she knew, that she would prefer a place where she would have no rights and so much less of a future. But what would be here future here, to do spell after spell until she eventually died for Elena's sake?

Bonnie's thoughts stopped as she realized that the watch in her hand had started to tick. She looked down at the open face and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as realized that the hands on the face of the clock were moving backward. She turned to show Abby but realized with a start that Abby was no longer there. In fact things were disappearing at a rather rapid rate and then being replaced by other things. Bonnie watched in horror as the room began to change and kept changing and changing as the hands on the clock moved backward so fast she was sure that they would break.

:::

Mystic Falls, Virginia, 1864

Thomas La Belle had been hiding in the bathroom of the home that Aimee and Raoul had purchased for close to twenty minutes now. It did not escape him that hiding was a rather juvenile thing to do for a grown man who had just reached one and twenty, however, when he thought about the fact that if he left the bathroom that he would not likely reach two and twenty it made him certain that it would only make sense for him to stay put.

Thomas was a mulatto warlock that Aimee Bennett-Mercier had taken under her wing shortly after her marriage to her husband Raoul. Thomas for his part loved being her apprentice and he loved working on her husband's accounts, despite Aimee's need for perfection and Raoul's notorious temper. So when Aimee had asked his help in organizing the quadroon ball in Mystic Falls, Thomas had agreed. Thomas was given one job, he was to make sure that all of the girls arrived safely and on time. And all of them had, save for one, Thomas' own sister Lisette. Lissette who had taken it upon herself to run away with a house slave, Coleman, from the Mercier plantation. While Thomas wished his sister all the happiness she could find and hoped for her safe passage with Coleman into Canada, he also wished that his sister in leaving had not signed his death certificate.

Thomas did not see what difference one girl would make, but he knew what Aimee would say on the matter. "One girl, Thomas," she would insist, "Could bring the entire ballroom to their knees where the others fail. One girl, Thomas, could persuade one man. One man that could, if not persuaded, persuade others to run us from this town."

Thomas, though he loved his mentor, always found Aimee to be dramatic at times. Still, he knew that he could not tell her that they were short one girl. If he did she would give him that speech before calling on the spirits to end his existence. Trying to think Thomas began to pace. So focused on his pacing was he that Thomas did not notice that a woman had appeared in the bathroom with him until he bumped into her and the watch that she was holding fell from her hands, hit the floor, and shattered into little pieces.

As Thomas met the woman's eyes he had no time to worry about the watch however. Because there as a woman, a beautiful woman, dressed in a quadroon ball gown, and ready to take his sister's place. For a moment Thomas thought that he had somehow scared her up, with either his powers or his prayers, which had done the trick Thomas was not sure. However, as Thomas took in the girl's expression it was clear that she was frightened and confused. As the girl looked down, Thomas looked down and finally he saw the watch. It was a watch not unlike the one that the peddler on the street outside of the town they had passed through just as they had left New Orleans, had been selling. The old trickster had claimed that the watch could allow one to move backward or forward in time depending on how it had been set. Thomas had luckily talked Aimee out of the purchase.

But as Thomas registered the look of shock on the girl's face, the broken watch, and the fact that the girl had appeared out of nowhere, his mind began to consider. "You wouldn't perhaps be from the future would you?" He asked. Surely she couldn't have been while dressed like that, the fashion would have changed at least some. But then again he had known many a woman and none had ever gotten their hair quite so perfect. The girl nodded. So that settled it, she was from the future. "How far away would you say?" Thomas asked curiously.

The girl eyed him, her green eyes seeming out of place against the brown of her skin. "Is this 1864?" She asked.

"It was when I awoke this morning, yes," Thomas nodded. He took off his spectacles and cleaned them with his handkerchief before placing them back on. Yes, she was indeed still there. Thomas pinched himself, his caramel skin turning slightly red in the spot that he abused. No, not dreaming.

"Well, I am from about one hundred and fifty years in the future, give or take a few years," the girl said.

"Alright then," Thomas said, "And you got here by what means exactly?" She gestured toward the watch on the floor. "I see," Thomas, nodded, seeing that he had been right.

"Do you happen to know how I can get back?" The girl asked.

"We must find the old man with the cart," he said, "The trickster that sells these watches. The problem is that the last I saw of him I left him in New Orleans after calling him a scam artist. However, it seems I was wrong. But we are not in New Orleans you see, we are-"

"In Mystic Falls, Virginia," the girl said. Thomas nodded, giving her a questioning look. "I'm from here," the girl explained, "I am in the right place but not the right time."

"We have some friends back in Louisiana that might be able to help," Thomas said, "But that might take some time and we will have to figure out something to do with you until then. Do you have a name, la petite amie?

"Bonnie," she responded.

"Well," he said, "My name is Thomas and if you got ahold of that watch I am assuming that you are a witch." At the girl's nod he continued. "I might just have a proposition for you after I run it by my mentor Madame Aimee."

"Aimee Bennett-Mercier?" Bonnie asked.

"You know of Madame Aimee?" Thomas said, not bothering to hide his shock. He had thought the woman was making waves and if she was still known in the girl's time then it was safe to assume that he had been right.

"I'm her descendant," Bonnie said, "She's family."

"Then you are very lucky, Mademoiselle," Thomas informed her, "Madame Aimee takes care of her own."

:::

Mystic Falls, Virginia, 2011

The town was in the midst of being wooed by the Original family as Elena Gilbert joined the balls festivities with a Salvatore on each arm. They were midway down the staircase when both brothers suddenly froze.

Elena frowned as she looked in between them as they both let go of her arm at the same time. Stefan hissed in pain and held his head and Damon did the same a moment later. "What's going on?" Elena said, unsure of who to go to, "Are you alright?"

Damon froze as memories began to flash before his eyes and he knew none of it made sense or could be possible but he couldn't help but pay close attention to each and every one. Each of them featuring the same woman, with brown skin and green eyes, Bonnie Bennett.

Damon forced himself upright, adjusting his tuxedo. His eyes met Stefan's over Elena's head and he could tell by the array of emotions on his brother's face that he had just experienced much of same thing.

"Damon?" Elena said, looking between them, "Stefan?"

Both ignored her as they continued to stare at one another; both reliving the past in each other's eyes. Elena felt as if she was an outsider witnessing a personal moment in which she was intruding on. Perhaps because she was.

In all the times and in all the years that they had spent torn up over the same woman they would never have thought it would be her. They had thought that Katherine had been the first but they had been wrong. One had come before, one that for some reason they hadn't remembered until that very moment. Even Katherine had not been so beloved by both. Even she had not inspired so much simultaneous joy and pain all at once.

Elena opened her mouth to say something in hopes of getting at least the attention of one of them when an unfamiliar man came to stand before them. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes that reminded her of Damon.

"Hello boys," the man said, with the edge of an accent that Elena could not place.

Both Damon and Stefan seemed to jump to attention as he spoke, but it was Damon who broke the silence. "Raoul?"

"Have you missed me much, Damon?" The man asked, "Stefan?" Neither of them answered as they watched him pull a silver pocket watch from inside the jacket of the black tuxedo he was wearing and shine it with his handkerchief.

:::

Mystic Falls, Virginia, 1864

Aimee Bennett-Mercier eyed the girl in front of her. She had basically just finished discussing the girl's options with her. Bonnie Bennett was out of place and out of time; and in this time her options were few. But as she was both a witch, and family, Aimee was determined to take care of her; even as she was focused on her last ditch effort to save a dying tradition that she despised for the people that she wanted to see thrive.

"Come to the ball tonight," Aimee said, "I will introduce you as my relative. You make an appearance and tomorrow I will contact my friends in New Orleans and hopefully they can find what we are looking for."

"And how long with that take?" Bonnie asked.

"It could take some time to get the letter to them and then we must wait for the reply," Aimee explained, "And it could take possibly longer to find the man that was selling the watches to begin with. It could be weeks, months. You may stay with Raoul and me until then. You will be well taken care of."

Bonnie sighed looking down at her hands. "That really isn't the issue," she said. Though, she had teased the idea of being in a different time being better, this was far from what she wanted. She supposed she had brought it on herself, however.

"The issue is that you wish to go home," Aimee nodded, to herself. She looked almost too exquisite to Bonnie. Like some sort of warrior angel, the white dress embroidered with gold thread that she was wearing a stark contrast to her dark eyes and angular features. "Trust me, Bonnie," Aimee said, reaching up and adjusting the comb holding up her dark curls, "When I say that I will do everything in my power in order to get you home as soon as possible. This is not a place for one as powerful and rebellious as me and since you are more powerful and I can sense fire in you, I am sure you will do even more poorly than me here. And being of a different time will do nothing in your favor."

Bonnie didn't know whether to take her words as a complement or an insult, and so she simply smiled politely as Thomas came to sit down next to her.

Aimee rolled her eyes in his direction as Thomas leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You will get accustomed to her brazenness I assure you," he muttered.

"Thomas," Aimee said, her tone flat, "She is from one hundred and fifty some years in the future. Did it ever occur to you that she could be more brazen then me?" Thomas made a gesture of conceit and she continued. "But do not worry Bonnie," she said, "I may not be fond of the proper decorum but I know it. I can teach you and once you learn then you will know how to survive."

"If nothing else," Bonnie said, thinking on her life up until that moment, "I know about survival."

"Then perhaps," Aimee smiled, "You will do better in this time than I initially thought." Aimee opened her mouth to speak once more but she stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps. "That would be my husband and his childhood friends." She glanced from Thomas to Bonnie. "Allow me to do the talking and remember the story we agreed to use."

Bonnie and Thomas nodded. As the door to the small sitting room opened, Thomas and Aimee stood and so Bonnie followed suite.

She watched as an unfamiliar man walked in followed by Stefan and Damon Salvatore. She would have been surprised had it not been for Aimee mentioning them. Bonnie had mentioned knowing them in her time and Aimee had simply said that they would rectify any issues that her presence might cause before she left. Bonnie felt as if she had no choice but to trust her.

She watched as the Salvatore were introduced to Aimee and waited holding her breath as Aimee moved to introduce her. It was odd seeing Damon and Stefan as human. Odder still seeing them dressed in the manner in which they were and with hair much longer than she had ever seen on either of them.

Bonnie almost expected them to have some sort of recognition on their faces as Aimee gestured toward her. "This," Aimee said, "Is my cousin, Miss Bonnie Bennett."

Thomas made a gesture with his head and Bonnie took note, bowing lowly. She smiled at Raoul whom returned the gesture.

However, when she looked toward Stefan and Damon they were both looking at her oddly. Bonnie managed to keep the smile pasted on her face as Thomas took her arm and excused them both from the room.

She followed him out, noting that both Damon and Stefan turned their whole bodies as they watched her go.

Bonnie looked at Thomas raising a questioning eyebrow. "If we were not one girl short then I would advise you to stay here tonight," he said, once they were out of earshot of the others.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bonnie asked.

"If you aim to make it home without forming any attachment and affecting the future," Thomas sighed, "It would be easier I think if you were not so attractive. You said you knew them in your time. Did they happen show any particular interest in you before?"

Bonnie shook her head vehemently. "Not outside of using my magic," she told him.

"Well," he said, "Being a man myself I am familiar with their ways and they are definitely making their interest known now."

Frowning Bonnie had half a mind to make a run for it and go find the old man with the cart and the pocket watches herself. But if she ran, there was no telling what her fate would be.