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Finally: A Song of Moving On

Summary:

Bonnie Bennett reflects upon her short life at the time of her latest death. How did she end up here? Why did she end up here? With no hope, no will to live, and the Other Side gone, how will she move on?

Notes:

Okay, so it's been a while since I've written anything creatively. This popped up for a class and I decided that I needed to flesh it out more. I love crackfics as much as the next person so, if I can squint and make Bonnie fit into Westeros somehow, why not? We need more characters of color in fantasy anyways! So, take a peek and I hope you enjoy the beginning of this ride.

Chapter 1: Bonnie

Chapter Text

Finally: A Song of Moving On

 

Drip. Drop. Drip.

She couldn’t believe it came to this, of all things.

Drop. Drip. Drop.

Dying here, of all places, was almost as big of an insult as finally admitting defeat.

Drip. Drop. Drip.

If she had the strength she would laugh. Even at the end, bleeding out in this ridiculously ostentatious house, she couldn’t die right.

Drop. Drip. Drop.

The first time she “died,” she didn’t. Things were so easy back then. The biggest thing they had to worry about was watching each other’s’ backs and staying one step ahead of that pyscho. Of course, that didn’t end up working out all that well for her either.

Drip. Drop. Drip.

Nothing worked out well for her after they came. Of course, no one else saw the problem with them in the beginning, and why would they? The brothers were mysterious, handsome, and just so attractive. But Bonnie was never fully ensnared in the web. For a time, Stefan was her friend, but that didn’t last long. Her heart clenched as she remembered how callously Stefan gambled with her and her mother’s lives. Still, no matter what they did, Bonnie was unable to escape from them. If it wasn’t Stefan arguing for the sake of her friends or the town, it was Damon arguing that she did it for Elena or just to piss Bonnie off. Whatever happened to what she wanted? Whatever happened to being more than just the help?

Bonnie wasn’t sure where things went wrong, though if she had to think now, as she lay dying, she would say that it came from not being able to say no. At some point she lost all confidence in herself and just let Elena, Caroline, and those who were supposed to be her friends all use and abuse her without a second thought. Bonnie choked down a sob, unable to stop the painful flashes of memory: her Grams lying on the bed in front of her, so still and quiet; the sickening sound of bone snapping as easily as a pencil breaks and the dull thud of Abby’s body hitting the ground; the dull look in her father’s eyes as his throat was ripped out in front of her; Jeremy’s betrayal. Through it all she remained useless, weak.

Was she really part of the so-called powerful Bennett line if this legacy of blood, death, and carnage was all that she left behind? Bonnie missed enjoying her magic, she missed feeling the warmth of it coursing through her veins and feeling like air as she floated feathers around her.

“So much for that,” she coughed out, her hand gingerly pressing against the wound that still wasn’t getting any better. Of course, what did she expect after being stabbed so ruthlessly and efficiently by Kai? It’s a wonder she even made it home. Well, home to Mystic Falls. It would be her luck to only be able to make it as far as the Salvatore Mansion before her body became too weak to go on. Damon and Stefan Salvatore were the bane of her life from the moment they entered, but at least now maybe she could return the favor and haunt their home. It would make her spirit not miserable, at least.

“Is this really how low my line has gotten? First you let that pathetic boy get away with using you and now you’re dying, magicless I might add, because of another weak excuse for a man. At least this last one was pretty to look at.”

Bonnie’s sudden intake of breath was drowned out by the sudden pounding of her heart and the blood rushing to her head. She sat up in Damon’s favorite seat, after all why not bleed out and ruin one more thing just to spite him, and turned herself to face the fireplace. There, looking completely nonchalant, was the biggest pain in her ass not even two years ago.

Qetsiyah,” Bonnie hissed, angry and suddenly feeling more alive than she had been. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you’d be too busy obsessing over your jealousy to ever be concerned with little old me again.”

Qetsiyah raised her eyes from her nails and gave Bonnie a slow smirk.

“You would think that. However, someone thought it necessary to give you a little pep talk so you didn’t die, again, in such a pitiful, lonely way. I voted that you should reap what you’ve sown but I was outvoted,” Qetsiyah said, her eyes narrowed as they focused on someone just outside of Bonnie’s periphery.

Bonnie stiffened in response, prepared to use whatever strength she had to defend herself. She wasn’t sure who she pissed off in a past life but there were any number of enemies who would love to take a stab at her right now, “Pun intended,” she thought. Instead of being overwhelmed by a sense of malevolence or ill-will, Bonnie found herself relaxing. The knots in her body loosened and released, tension she hadn’t realized she had dissipating. The throbbing from her wound lessened, the sweat on her brow cooled. Bonnie hadn’t felt this relaxed, this comforted in so long. Not since-

“Grams!” Bonnie exclaimed, feeling her Grams magic and presence wash over her, as comforting now as it had always been. Sheila stepped into Bonnie’s vision and smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners the way they always did when she was especially happy. Bonnie’s eyes devoured her Grams’ face, roaming over the smooth skin of her nose, the fullness of her cheeks, the laugh lines that looked so familiar and were so missed. Deep in those familiar eyes Bonnie saw the love and affection her Grams always had for her and with that, Bonnie’s resolve and fear of an elaborate trick instantly dissolved. No one could replicate that look, no one could fake that love and anguish. Bonnie knew because that’s what she felt at that moment.

“Grams,” Bonnie sobbed again as she found herself wrapped in Sheila’s arms. Bonnie hiccuped and laughed incredulously, surprised that even after death her Grams still managed to smell the same. It was like coming home. It was like being home, finally.

“I’m ready Grams,” Bonnie finally managed to say through her tears, throat tightening again at the thought that this was it, things were finally over and she could finally rest. She didn’t want to die at 22 but it couldn’t be worse than the pain of being the anchor or losing any more people she cared about. No. This way she would be with someone who cared about her through everything. No more worrying if she was good enough, strong enough, or useful enough to warrant anyone’s attention, anyone’s affection. Bonnie had only recently felt useful by helping her friends and doing what she could to try to maintain the balance. But again, she was the one who ended up having to pay for it in some way. Not only did she die, again, but she also let Kai slip through her fingers and who knew what kind of chaos he would bring. Even if she weren’t bleeding out in the Salvatore manor and had a way to escape, she still didn’t have her magic so she would be next to useless. It would be better if she just died for good and stayed out of everyone’s way.

“Bonnie Sheila Bennett, you are not dying today. No, child, you are going to live,” said Sheila, her voice strong and assured, as if she knew something Bonnie didn’t.

“What do you mean I’m not dying? I hate to break it to you Grams, but I lost, again. There’s no doctor to help me and no vampire blood to heal me, not that I’d drink any. And I hate to break it to you, but you and crazy over there are dead,” Bonnie giggled, suddenly finding herself lightheaded. Sheila held up a hand, signaling Qetsiyah to remain quiet and grabbed Bonnie’s hands in her own.

“Do these feel like the hands of a dead witch, child? They always say to watch out for a Bennett witch, but you don’t even know why. That’s my fault Bonnie, and I’m sorry. I wish we had more time for me to teach you. I told you that magic was real and serious once, and well, you’ve seen exactly what magic can do to an unprepared witch. I didn’t prepare you for the real world as a witch then, and sadly I don’t have time to prepare you for your future now. What I can do is make sure you get a chance to do more. There’s great potential in you child, but you’ve got to learn to believe in yourself just as much as you believe in others.”

Bonnie was stunned. She had always felt like her Grams was still watching her from the Other Side but she didn’t expect her to be so invested in what happened with Bonnie. After all, she was still the screw up, no matter what she did. Still, when her Grams talked like that, Bonnie almost believed she could really do more and be the Bennett witch everyone seemed disappointed she wasn’t.

“It’s not your fault Grams. I was too embarrassed and then too eager. I should have listened to you when you tried to teach me about my heritage instead of trying so hard to fit in. I love my friends, but being around them has brought me nothing but pain lately. I’m sorry, Grams. It’s my fault you died in that tomb and it’s my fault that all of this happened. I don’t have potential, I’m just barely good enough to be the magical fix-it-all, but I still manage to screw that up,” Bonnie whispered. She didn’t know where the words came from, but knew they were true. The shame and disappointment she felt from failing her Grams first, then her mother, then her father, were all usually so buried away and hidden, but she was so tired of trying to maintain the lie. All she wanted to do was rest.

Sheila gently pulled Bonnie to her feet, mindful of the wound from Kai, and brought her to stand in front of the fireplace. With Qetsiyah on one side and Grams on the other, the three women formed a triangle and suddenly, Bonnie felt rejuvenated.

“You’ve been so hard on yourself lately, Bonnie, and that’s not fair. Everyone has made their fair share of mistakes, but spirits talk sweetheart. While you’ve been so focused on everyone you haven’t saved, there are so many you have and so many you’ve helped find peace. Don’t ask me how because there’s never enough time to get into it, but the special thing about us Bennett witches is that we have a leg up on all those other witches. Qetsiyah made the Other Side and all your ancestors were able to move on there. We’ve all agreed that the best chance our line has is to maybe move you away from vampires. We’ve found another way for you to maintain the balance with nature. It won’t be glamorous, and it won’t be fun, but you’ve got the chance at life now, child, and I won’t let you waste it.”

Bonnie watched, confused, as her Grams helped her remove her sweater and tossed it into the fireplace. Qetsiyah had reappeared, a fistful of dirt and Silas’ headstone in her hands. She tossed those into the fireplace as well and glanced back at Bonnie, a sneer on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that, little witch. I’m not going to have generations of magic snuffed out like that. You’re from my line, and my line is made of stronger stuff. We don’t just give up,” Qetsiyah scoffed and wiped the dirt from her hands onto the sides of Bonnie’s face. She softly stroked Bonnie’s cheeks and forehead, eyes gazing into Bonnie’s own as though searching for something. Finally, she blinked, and for a second Bonnie thought she saw the sheen of tears in Qetsiyah’s eyes.

“There, that should do it. Toughen up, Little Bennett Witch. You’ve always had a coven looking out for you, even if you didn’t know it. Now you’ll need to be strong enough to find a new one for yourself if you want to enjoy this last chance you’re being given. Don’t waste it.”

Qetsiyah and Sheila were both looking not at Bonnie, but beyond her now, as though they could see through the room. Bonnie wasn’t sure what they were looking at, or looking for, but then she felt it. The shiver started at the base of her neck, a prickle at first before it expanded and bloomed. She could feel them. Generations of Bennett witches behind her, supporting her. She wasn’t alone, she could do this, whatever this was, somehow. If they still believed in her, then she had to find the strength to believe in herself, too.

“Alright child, this is it. Give yourself grace, Bonnie, and the chance to be vulnerable. Not everyone is out to hurt you. Just, learn from your past and you’ll be fine, baby, I know you will.”

Bonnie watched with tears in her eyes as her Grams stepped back into place, whatever ritual she and Qetsiyah worked on seemingly complete. Bonnie could feel the throbbing of her wound lessen as the magical power in the air increased, growing to the point of oppression. She hadn’t been around magic this powerful in so long and the rush was incredible. Bonnie felt her body weaken and her eyes start to close as she heard Qetsiyah and her Grams’ voices ebb and flow, the spell they weaved cradling her in a cocoon of magic, keeping her safe in this maelstrom of power.

Phasmatos motus ignus vitae

Phasmatos resurgemus tamquam phoenix

Phasmatos mundum confractus

Phasmatos transform

Nos autem non phasmatos verum

Bonnie drifted away to the familiar sound of a spell being cast. As she slipped into unconsciousness she hoped and wondered if she would be able to be more than the magical help wherever they were sending her. She needed to be more.

“You are a queen, Bonnie Bennett,” whispered Qetsiyah, so quietly Bonnie almost thought she was hearing things. “You are a queen and deserve a throne. To play the game of thrones though, you either live or you die. You, my child, will live.”

Then the fire burning behind her eyes grew dark and Bonnie Bennett knew no more, her presence blinking out of existence as quickly as the prison world did. All was dark. All was silent.