The heat had taken on an active form, and after making an alliance with the humidity, was smothering the afternoon in a tangible blanket of stickiness. Everything seemed to shimmer, as if the temperature itself was too much for all things and they were trying to literally shake off their physical selves to escape it.

The blast of cool, dry conditioned air elicited a small moan from Bonnie's tired body as she unlocked the door to her AirBnB. She'd been staying in an admittedly over-sized private guesthouse just outside of Brantford, Ontario, for the past week or so, her 'home' base, so to speak, as she searched for, then finally found, an Anishnawbe Elder who she was told would share teachings that would allow her to gain a deeper understanding of the Earth and her connection to it.

Ever since she left Mystic Falls behind almost three years ago, she hadn't looked, nor been back. Like the dutiful of Lot's kin, she shook the dust off of her shoes and hadn't chanced a peek back into the chaos that had been the majority of her life. Nightly video calls with Caroline had now dwindled to semi-monthly check-ins, and while the love she felt for her had not changed, Bonnie could not help but see Caroline's present existence – mother, teacher, partner – as being completely foreign in ways Bonnie felt no urgent desire to understand.

But while she had maintained a connection with Caro, despite how tenuous it was, she had not been able to forge the same connection to Elena, and therefore, by necessity, Damon. As much as Bonnie knew she loved them both, she also recognized the hazard Elena's mere existence had been to Bonnie's health. Every horrible thing that she had experienced in her life was woven in the web of Elena. Bonnie would never admit it, but she felt a deep-seated sense that her own self-preservation was dependent upon keeping as much distance between herself and All Things Gilbert.

Bonnie walked through the small kitchen, heading directly towards the bathroom. Today was a day she wanted to wash off with as much cool water as she could bear.
She had woken with a need to connect to nature in a physical way, and as soon as she had gathered some fruit and packed a few water bottles, she had set off on one of the rental's bicycles towards the wooded fringe that trailed along both sides of the Grand River as it undulated through the small city. Allowing her senses to guide her, Bonnie locked up her bike, then hiked her way through the conservation area until she found herself in a small clearing with just enough space for her to lie down on the grass. She removed her shoes and socks, then lay on her back, her arms at 45 degree angles to her torso, her fingers spread wide. After a few deep breaths, the hum of the natural world reached out to her, and as her fingers began to tickle Bonnie's mouth pulled into a satisfied smile. She had spent at least three hours out there, lying in the woods. And later, as she cycled past corn fields on her way home, she passed a small cemetery and had to look. There, amidst a small group of tombstones – maybe fourteen or fifteen of them, she found what her senses had been pulling her to all along.

RUTH JUDITH BENNETT
1827 – 1849
Loved. Always.

There were no other Bennetts buried there. And no spouse entombed beside Ruth Judith in perpetual slumber. But it was no accident that Bonnie was drawn to this place, this grave, that had not been in any records she had come across. It was no accident that Ruth Judith was a Bennett, a real Bennett. The energy emanating from around the tombstone proved it. So after offering her thanks to the spirits for leading her there, and showing honour to her ancestor, Bonnie had rode home at double-speed, anxious to find out as much as she could about this new Canadian relative. But it was hot, and July being what it was, a shower was definitely in order before any internet sleuthing could start.

Bonnie made quick work of shedding her clothes and sighed again as she stepped into the shower. Working up a substantial lather on her loofah, Bonnie took her time scrubbing her limbs, luxuriating in the feel of the cool water on her skin. When she finally stepped out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel that undoubtedly had a cotton count higher that she could afford, and barefoot, padded her way back to her kitchen to grab a drink before changing into her comfy clothes for the night.

It was only after she opened the fridge, her back to the living room that had not garnered any attention from her since she got in, that her senses began to staccato exclamation marks up and down her spine. She was not alone. And the intruder was not human. But she was not afraid. Gathering her magic about her, Bonnie closed the fridge then spun round quickly, her hand reaching out, the protection spell already tumbling across her lips.

"Easy there, Witchy, no running with scissors," the intruder said.

Damon.

Da-damon?" Her voice was a gasp, her heart racing, eyes wide in genuine surprise. "What the actual fuck?"