CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA

a brief summary…

This is partially inspired by the Pilot episode of Vampire Diaries. Bonnie Bennett is coming off the back of a hellish junior year she'd rather forget which involved vampiric foes, losing and regaining her powers, and reluctantly ending her two-year relationship with the perfect Adam Milligan. Come senior year and said ex's estranged brothers come to town under the guise of 'reconnecting with their half-brother'. Why does Bonnie feel like they're lying? Saving her cursed town from (yet another) threat will be hard enough without being pulled into a convoluted love triangle with the "other" Winchester boys. Her senior year is going to be explosive.

I hate feeling like this

I'm so tired of tryin' to fight this

I'm asleep and all I dream of

Is waking to you…

- 'Comatose' by Skillet

Bonnie could feel the pair of accusatory blue eyes boring holes into the back of her head, even through the thick wool of her grey slouch hat. It was close to the end of summer and an early Fall chill hung in the air, pervading her senses and turning her button nose a faint pink. She refused to turn around, to leave the comfort of her bent position in a corner booth at Steam Café, drinking her third skim milk latte and pretending the worn red leather upholstery was comfortable at her back. That was because turning around would mean meeting those aforementioned blue eyes, eyes that conjured up too many painful memories of the year that was.

"Bonnie, don't do this. Whatever's wrong, we can work through this. We're not that high school couple that calls it quits after a little thing-"

"It's not a little thing though!" Bonnie cried. How could he understand? He couldn't. And that was the problem. "The longer you stay with me, the more you're just gonna get hurt, Adam. Trust me. I'm not- I'm not safe."

"What the hell are you talking about? Is it those Salvatore guys? I knew they were trouble. What did they do to you, Bon? You can tell me anything. It's me. It's Adam. It's always been us, Bon-"

Bonnie shook her head furiously, her brown ringlets slowly frizzing until they formed a fluffy halo framing her tear-soaked face.

"I want 'us' more than anything, Adam. But that would be selfish. I mean, you have a whole future to think of. You'll be pre-med, and in a few years, I'll just be some girl you dated in high school. Just a memory, nothing more."

"I- I don't want that," Adam told her, desperately tripping over his words. "You're not making any sense, Bonnie."

"It's better this way," she said softly, as though trying to convince the both of them. A fresh batch of tears blurred her vision. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut.

She had never seen Adam Milligan cry before. He was always so calm, so logical. He was senior school captain, a Mathlete, a varsity lacrosse player, and was well on his way to one day being a cool and collected surgeon. Because that's what he was: calm, cool, collected.

Not now. Now, he turned his face away from her, hiding the few tears that slipped down his pale cheeks. It was like all the life had been sucked out of him, like he couldn't believe two years of the most well put-together plans had just been torn to shreds by the girl he thought was his 'forever'.

Bonnie felt hot pinpricks of tears form in her eyes and she gulped down the hot coffee quickly, burning her throat and tongue in the process. She heard a shuffling of bags and two figures exited the coffee shop. She could see Adam determinedly avoid her eyes as he walked past with one of their classmates, Matt Donovan. She sighed, which came out as an awkward hiccup, and drained her cup. She took a while, biting tenderly into her scotch fingers and taking an extra-long time finishing them. The coffee shop was deserted by the time she picked up her brown leather purse and exited herself.

School started in three days. This was all that ran through Bonnie's head as she internally panicked over how entirely unprepared she was for her senior year. Suddenly, the sound of a generic ringtone playing from her compact black Motorola proved a welcome distraction.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bonnie! It's Elena-"

Or not. Bonnie was suddenly very sorry she picked up the phone at all.

"Hey," she greeted half-heartedly. "What's new?"

"I'm going to see a movie with Damon tonight, and I have no clue what to wear at all."

"Dilemma," Bonnie said flatly.

Neither of them broached the painful subject of Stefan running away with his former lover and her ancestor-cum-doppelganger, Katherine Pierce. It had taken months to console Elena and she was only now, nearly the beginning of their senior year, recovering. Too bad 'recovering' involved finding solace in the arms of his thoroughly psychotic (and inhuman, literally) brother, Damon. This was a disaster waiting to happen and Bonnie found she really could not care less. Not after the hell they put her through and the losses she suffered. Her grams, Adam….

"I just want to look nice, you know. This is the first time I've gotten to really enjoy myself since…you know." Elena quieted. A few seconds of silence followed before Bonnie sighed tiredly.

"Yeah, you should…have fun. Just throw on your favorite heels and do your thing."

It was pathetic how Elena so thoroughly missed the sarcasm in her response. It was pathetic how Bonnie still managed to offer up some form of advice at all. She deserved an award or something for being such a fucking martyr.

"I knew you'd understand," Elena said gratefully. "So, enough about me. What are your plans for tonight?"

I don't know, you dumb bitch, she wanted to retort. You took my entire life away from me when I lost my grandmother to save your batshit crazy boyfriend and his conniving slut of an ex, and you stuck the final nail in the coffin when I had to dump my boyfriend so he wouldn't get hurt as a result of a mess your dumb ass created and couldn't clean up.

But she didn't say any of that. Instead, she plastered a faux smile on her face, twirled a limp curl around her forefinger, and said, "Nothing much. I'll probably just watch some Dexter, fix myself a sandwich, and maybe organize my room later on if I'm up for it."

There. It was such a normal, unassuming answer. She sounded like she was coping and moving on after the hellish year she'd had. It was healthy.

"Cool. Have fun, okay B? You deserve it. I'll call you tomorrow, alright?"

"'Kay. Bye."

She ended the call, curled up on her side with the corner of the phone jabbed sharply into her abdomen, and cried into her pillow as she'd done nearly every night for the past month.

Bonnie slept in the next morning and awoke to harsh sunlight flooding into her room through parted curtains that were an earthy brown in color. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed and looked over at the standard digital alarm clock on her bedside table which blinked 12:46 PM in fractured neon red.

"Oh, shit." She threw the thick indigo covers off her small body and tumbled out of bed, landing lightly on the pads of her feet. Jamming them into fluffy slippers, she trudged over to the adjoining bathroom and turned on the cold water tap, letting the cool stream of water flood down into her pearly white sink.

She'd been staying at her Dad's place since her Grams died. It was a large and very impersonal house, ornately designed in beige wood and fabrics. It was entirely modernist and conservative in style. Except for her room. Since moving in, Adam had convinced her to at least make her room feel like home. It was spacious and she decorated it in earthy colors and florals, reflecting her own personal style. There were photos of her, Elena and Caroline before everything got complicated. And photos of her and Adam before everything got…well, downright fucked up.

A glance in the mirror confirmed her first suspicion: she looked like hell. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat, her T-zone was giving off some serious shine, her lips were dry and severely cracked and she had developed a heinous case of 'raccoon eye' after neglecting to wash her make up off her face the night before. She tied her hair back with a rubber lackey and smoothed a foam-like cleanser over her face before brushing her teeth, washing her face, and combing out her hair.

Feeling suitably prepared to tackle what was left of her Friday, she returned to her room where she changed into a red-and-white checkered flannel hoodie and her only clean pair of bottoms: faded denim short shorts. The hem was all frayed (though she suspected it was like that for stylistic purposes) and it was low-rise, to make matters worse. There was no way her father was letting her out of the house like this. There was no way she would wear this. But then, maybe that was all the more reason to dress however the hell she wanted. She'd given everyone everything she had and then some, it wasn't fair for them to get to choose what she wore for Chrissakes. Besides, she was single now, she remembered bitterly. It wasn't like the attention was entirely unwelcome.

Pulling on her favorite brown cowboy boots, she threw the essentials into her purse: phone, music, keys, lollipop.

"Dad, I'm heading to work!"

"You're not-" Dr. Bennett appeared at the doorway. "You're not going to work at that seedy bar…and certainly not dressed like that! Is that underwear under that shirt? Go put on some proper pants!"

Bonnie thrust her chin up. "I'll probably get more tips this way, anyway. Come off it, Dad. You can't decide to be all fatherly when it comes to my clothing and nothing else."

"What will everyone think?" he asked, becoming increasingly red-faced.

"Fuck them," declared Bonnie boldly. She turned on her heel and left before he could stop her. She took quick steps to her small silver Aston Martin Cygnet, already hearing the furious ranting and heavy steps of her father behind her. Beeping open the door, she slid in and dropped her purse in the passenger seat.

She pulled out of that driveway so fast, she could already hear Adam's reprimanding in her head. She smiled but the sensation was brief. The thought only made her sadder.

The bar was called Retrospect and was the small town's only offer of nightlife. It wasn't large or frequently packed but, between the hours of 10 PM and 3 AM, it attracted everything dodgy and seedy in town and for miles around. Due to her age, she was only allowed to work the day shift and the pay was great considering no one else wanted to take the job. 'Dangerous' humans didn't scare Bonnie. She could protect herself, after all.

So it was only her and fellow bartender, Amber Bradley, who worked the day shift. She walked in to see Amber wiping down a gleaming black bar counter and juggling six shot glasses in her other hand (and the crook of her elbow). Her glossy blonde hair was pulled into a low side braid and she wore the compulsory black apron over a pair of cuffed 'jeggings' and a plain white racer-back top that clung to her ample cleavage and revealed the lace lining of her black push up bra.

"Hey, Ambs."

"Bonnie, hey! Overslept or something?"

"Yeah. Totally lame of me but-"

"Nah, don't worry about it. Not many customers this morning anyway, and the next shift starts in half an hour."

"Oh my God." Bonnie buried her face in her hands. "You had to work the whole shift by yourself? I'm so sorry. God, I suck. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Seriously, leave it alone. Look, how about two screwdrivers? On you, of course." Amber winked.

Amber was a notorious alcoholic. Bonnie cocked a brow at her in amusement.

"Hey, it's happy hour somewhere in the world."

Bonnie laughed openly. "Okay, how about you have one while I go serve that gentleman over there? On me, of course."

Amber shrugged. "Suit yourself."

It was true; a rugged man in his late twenties (or maybe early thirties) had entered the bar and sat in the furthest seat down the other end of the counter. He had a worn camel-colored jacket over checkered flannel and slightly baggy jeans. His boots were scuffed and looked like they'd weathered a storm or two. When Bonnie got closer, however, she began to notice his face (which was currently reading something on the screen of his small silver flip-top phone). He had short brown hair that wasn't neat by any means and wizened hazel eyes that still retained somewhat of a humorous glint to them. His strong jawline was covered in a rapidly thickening coat of dark stubble, like he hadn't shaved in days. "Designer stubble!" Dr. Bennett would scoff derisively.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, chipper and bouncing on the balls of her feet. The man cleared his throat harshly and snapped his phone shut, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I'll have a beer thanks."

"On the rocks?"

"Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart."

She smiled. "No problem."

A tingling sensation grew in her chest as she walked back over to Amber and relayed his order. It took her a few seconds to get what it was. If her heart hadn't become so hardened by the past year's events, and dating wasn't totally unthinkable right now, the man at the counter would be totally her type. Rough around the edges, non-pretentious and striking in a classic fairytale prince handsome way. Well, that and if he were about ten years younger.

"He's cute," Amber commented.

"Mm," Bonnie replied in half-assed agreement.

"So what happened with you and that Adam kid anyway?" Amber said. Somewhere between Bonnie sending her for the beer and her commenting on his looks, she'd returned with a stick of gum in her mouth. "I liked him," she said between chews.

Bonnie's face froze, and Amber immediately backtracked. "Oh sorry, is that a no-go? Right, I totally get it. When me and Rick Saunders broke up – oh, you know Rick-"

But Bonnie had already grabbed the beer and was walking quickly over to the mystery gentleman. Placing his beer in front of him, she smiled stiffly and made to walk away. Suddenly, a large but warm hand grabbed her wrist. It didn't turn her back around or anything, just sort of held it, smoothing the skin with a coarse thumb and rubbing up and down her forearm.

"Look buddy," she began. She dealt with pervy types everyday at Retrospect. It pretty much came with the job description.

"Dean," he told her. "I'm Dean."

"I'm Bonnie," she blurted out, as if on command. No doubt her excellent pedigree and disciplined upbringing wouldn't have allowed her to walk away without introducing herself properly.

"That's cute." Was he…smirking?

Bonnie snatched her arm away. "Well, it's nice meeting you but-"

"Stay and chat," he insisted. "I mean, no offense, but this place isn't exactly crowded at the moment."

Bonnie glared. "I should be offended."

"Maybe." Dean shrugged. "So, you live here all your life?"

"Pretty much. What brings you here?" Bonnie leapt up onto the bar counter with the grace of a cheerleader. It was hard to ignore the way his eyes constantly flickered down her bare legs and back up to her face.

"Um…family business," he said smoothly.

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"You ask a lot of questions." He grinned, reaching out to draw little circles around her ankle that grew steadily wider. "Tell me a bit about yourself."

"I'm seventeen," she blurted out. She began to internally reprimand herself when she remembered she wasn't, couldn't, be interested in this guy. Who cared if he knew she underage? Maybe he'd cool it a bit then.

"Am I that obvious?" he joked, but his hand had left her ankle.

"Dean!" They both looked to the door, startled by the shout. It was a taller man who bore a resemblance to Dean but with a younger looking face and longer, floppy brown hair. He was handsome, attractive in a different way, and disturbingly familiar. Come to think of it…

She looked back down at Dean and that devil-may-care grin and mussed hair were all too reminiscent of someone. She couldn't pin down who though. It ghosted around her memories, just out of grasp…

"Seriously, already feeling up the locals?" The other man took in the compromising situation with Bonnie's bare legs practically in Dean's lap. "We haven't got time for this, Dean."

Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled out his wallet, threw a fifty on the counter and a wink in Bonnie's direction and followed the other man out of the bar. "Catch ya later, sweetheart."

Bonnie nodded dumbfounded. She didn't stress over the two men or who they reminded her of so strongly. Probably déjà vu, she told herself. Or maybe they just look like someone I've seen around, that's all. A lot of guys look like that around here.

She contented herself with this thought and went to help Amber serve a 40-year-old suit and his college-aged girlfriend, a 20-something year old with jumbo headphones around his neck, and a nearly-middle aged woman with a tiny Pekinese dog which brought their shift to an end. Luckily, Adam (or her love life for that matter) wasn't raised again.

It was four in the afternoon when Adam came storming through the double doors of the Milligan residence. Another shitty day in what appeared to be the worst few months of his life.

"Mom!" he hollered up the staircase. His mother, Kate Milligan, was a nurse and often worked the far more lucrative night shifts at the general hospital in town. His new stepfather, David Piedmont, was a wealthy real estate agent that had sold most of the founding families their illustrious homes, and bought this spacious two-story home for him and his mother to move into. Neither were home very often so it surprised Adam when he heard: "In the den, darling."

Her voice sounded thin and distraught so, dropping his heavy black backpack at the bottom of the stairs, he jogged to the den. He turned up the lights so a brighter glow cast the three faces in the room into sharp relief.

"Mom, who are these guys?" Adam asked suspiciously, his eyes roving from one to the other. They looked like real tough, wouldn't-leave-your-mother-or-your-sister-around-them types. That was obvious from the scuffed boots of one to the worn leather jacket of the other; everything about them screamed danger.

"Adam, honey, these men are…" She took a deep breath as thought to hurt to talk. "They're your brothers."

One of them, the short-haired one, grinned in a laidback, cocky way. The other smiled sheepishly, his long-ish curtain of brown hair covering part of his face.

"What are you talking about?" Adam said, voice beginning to break. "Seriously, who are you?"

"Seriously," the short-haired one repeated. "We're your brothers. Well, half-brothers technically. I'm Dean, and this is Sam."

"How-" Adam's voice began to break somewhat.

"Well, when your mummy and my daddy got the hots for each-"

"Dean, stop." The one he called Sam looked up at Adam apologetically. "Look, they're both right. We share the same father – John Winchester. Dean is my – our older brother-"

"And the handsomest and the smartest…" Dean recited, ticking imaginary qualities off his fingers like a checklist. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm his and your younger brother. And your John's youngest son."

"This is crazy," Adam told them. "Mom, get these strangers out of our house!"

A pale, drawn-looking Kate Milligan looked up at her only son sadly. "I'm afraid they're telling the truth, Adam."

"No…" Adam muttered. "No, my father was some douche bag who walked out on us 17 years ago. Even if you were telling the truth, there's no way I'd consider this John guy my dad." He hesitated, then added, "Or you as my brothers."

Turning roughly, he left the room, almost tripping over his bag as he raced up the stairs to his room. He thought he could hear a sarcastic voice say, "Well, that went well." Probably that Dean jerk.

Once in his room, he flopped onto his bed and pulled his Treo out of his back pocket. He needed to talk to someone, he needed to vent. Unconsciously, he found his fingers dialing an all-too-familiar number.

"Hello?"

"Bonnie? This is… this is Adam. I- I need you. Can you come over?"

A/N: So that's the end of the first chapter! I implore you to listen to the songs at the beginning of each chapter if you haven't heard them before. I may be a tad biased but I think they rock. ;) I've been reading a spot of SPN/VD crossover 'fics recently which inspired this. This is partially inspired by the Pilot episode of VD where Elena was just coming off the back of a great tragedy, had ended her relationship with Matt, and then met the Salvatore brothers. Except unlike Matt, Adam in this 'fic is going to play a much bigger role.

And this is the part where I shamelessly beg for reviews! :) This will be a multi-chapter fic so it's a reeeeaaalllyyyy good idea for you to leave a review. Okay? Yay.

Oh, and the title is just based on an Oasis song I was listening to when I was writing this. Not sure it means anything…nope. It sounds really, really out of this world big as opposed to a typical luuurve story, so it'll stick. For now.