#imagine reading your brothers journal about this amazing and clever muse only to find out its a 2D shaped monster thats eye is also its mou

[awtysm-cryptid]

You ever think about how Stan must've read about Ford's "Muse" and had to come to the realisation that his brother wasn't talking about a pretty lady but

HE WAS TALKING ABOUT THE MURDEROUS TRIANGLE

[athousandsouls-blog1]

⚜ atsco: part sixteen

“I never stopped trying to find a way back.”

Summary: Bonnie has chat with Celeste, who tries to entice her to work against the Mikaelsons.

Celeste entrances me; she is perfection.

The words she had read days ago in Elijah’s journal come screaming to the forefront.   She is sure that she has a look of shock on her face as she stands there with her feet rooted to the ground (she can’t seem to focus on anything, eyes moving wildly between Elijah and Celeste).  Klaus has gone rigid too, although his eyes are solely on his brother.  

Above them, Elijah’s face plays through a series of emotions, some more recognizable than others.  It is the most vulnerable Bonnie has ever seen him. He seems teetering on the edge of something so personal that she feels as if she is intruding simply by being there. Her gaze slips to Celeste, standing proudly in her red dress.  Her stance, the chose in clothing —- it goes beyond catching their eye, Bonnie realizes, Celeste wants to rule the space she inhabits.

She is certainly doing a damn good job of it.

Finally Elijah moves and in a blink of an eye he is standing so close to Celeste that it almost appears that they are one.  He has his back to Bonnie so she cannot see his face.  However, she notes that Celeste looks pleased.  Her eyes travel the length of him and a smile spreads slowly across her face.

“I have missed you so,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.  

Klaus jolts, a growl rumbling low in his throat.  When Bonnie looks to him she notes the lurid shade of yellow his eyes have taken on. She wonders if he is angry at Celeste’s very presence or experiencing some kind of jealously for the effect she seemingly has on his brother.    He steps forward, the growl still emanating from him.  “You…”

Celeste glances at him over Elijah’s shoulder.  “No,” she says simply but firmly and with a flick of her wrist a cracking sound echoes through the courtyard.   Klaus falls like deadweight and Bonnie has to step back to avoid being taken down with him, bumping into the table as she does so.  

For a moment she stares at the unconscious man pooled at her feet with a mixture of horror and awe. Then she is looking back to the source. Elijah has turned, his features twisted in confusion.  He is about to speak when Celeste traces a finger down the strong line of his jaw. It is enough to pull his attention back to her and Bonnie wonders if she has woven some kind of spell over him.  

“You have missed me too,” Celeste says.  It is not a question.  It is a statement of fact and given Elijah’s current behavior there is little room to argue with it.  She still has a hand on the side of his face.  “I never thought I would get this — I never thought I would be standing here in front of you again.  I have watched you for so long.  You have no idea what that is like…seeing you but not being able to talk to you, to touch you.”

Elijah might not but Bonnie does.  It does not take much prompting to remember the beautiful agony of watching her friends move on with her life, of falling into step with them as they talked and laughed. For a while she had convinced herself that it was enough.  What a terrible lie.

He moves to cover her hand with his own, his face tilting into her touch.  “I thought I would never see you again.”

Celeste’s smile twists into something more unsettling.  “Doubts from a man who often touted the phrase always and forever…” It sounds as if she has to spit the bad taste of the words from her mouth and he flinches.  When she speaks again, her voice is softer and it seems to soothe him.  “I never stopped trying to find a way back.”

Bonnie feels like an interloper to something that clearly should be between the two of them.  Maybe this is nothing more than what it appears to be: a reunion between two people who were ripped apart by the cruelty of death. Celeste has been watching, waiting and maybe she has seized her moment when the rest climbed over one another for a chance to live again.  Bonnie moves slightly, pushing herself away from the table and stepping over Klaus’ prone figure (there is a small measure of satisfaction in her move).   She is aware that Celeste has shifted her attention away from Elijah and is watching her retreat.  Bonnie gets all of five steps before Celeste speaks.

“Stay, Miss Bennett.” There is something very subtle in her tone — it reminds Bonnie of a fairy tale villain plying young children with the promise of sweets.

“I thought you two would prefer to reunite without an audience,” Bonnie tells her but realizes that she has listened to Celeste, stopping dead in her tracks.

Celeste shakes her head. “There will be plenty of time for that. First we have to discuss business.  Unfortunately — but it is better to get it out of the way.”

For the first time, Elijah seems to snap out of his trance.  He steps back from her, untangling himself from her hands as he does so.  His brows push together.  “Business?”

All thoughts that Celeste is an opportunistic women looking to mend her broken heart flee from Bonnie’s mind.  

“There are those…” Celeste begins.  “…that have suffered at the hands of your family, Elijah.  I do not think you need me to point this out to you.”  She pauses for a moment.  “I am one of them myself of course.   You know this and you know why I cannot simply let it go unchecked.”

“Celeste,” Elijah counters and there is an edge to his voice.  He is still reeling no doubt, his emotions hard to pin down at the moment.

She gives him a sort of sad smile.  “I realize it has the potential to dampen this moment but I want to be upfront with you. Klaus took much from me — I want to do the same to him.”  She steps closer to Elijah as if she has noticed the way his features harden.  “I know he is your brother.  I know you care for him.  But he has taken much from you too. I am not asking you to play a part. I am merely asking you to step aside.”

“I cannot do that,” Elijah says immediately.

Celeste looks disappointed. “You do realize what this means.”

There is a beat of silence. Long enough for Elijah to consider.  He nods his head.  

There is a look of devastation on Celeste’s face before she flings her hand once more.  Elijah joins his brother on the ground, his head tilted at an odd angle.  Bonnie feels her stomach twist as Celeste leans down to place a hand almost lovingly on his cheek.  “He needs more time to think,” she muses aloud.  “I have overwhelmed him.  That was my mistake — because the Elijah I know does not make snap decisions.”

Bonnie wants to point out that his desire to protect his family should come as no surprise to Celeste; after all it has been ingrained in him for centuries.  There is nothing impulsive about it.  Instead she remains silent as Celeste stands to her full height once more.  

It is just the two of them now.

Bonnie decides that she does not like the way that Celeste looks at her.  It is almost as if the witch has the ability to weigh each part of her separately to determine her self-worth (or more accurately, Bonnie’s chances of interfering with whatever Celeste has planned).  

Finally, Celeste smiles. “I knew Bennett witches.  Clever, brave, strong.  Every one of them.  I am certain you are too.”  

“I am not a witch,” Bonnie says and she doesn’t know why these are her first words.  Maybe it is a kneejerk reaction to what she has lost.  

“Maybe not in the truest sense of the word,” Celeste corrects.  “But I am sure those qualities that defined you when you had magic still define you now.”  She moves towards Bonnie, careful to step around Elijah while nearly walking over Klaus. “I have to say that I am sorry for what has happened here.  It was never my intention to bring you any harm.”

Sabine had apologized to her too.  It had sounded hollow, as if it had been rehearsed before hand — a standard line to give anyone who had been deemed innocent but important enough to serve as collateral. Celeste sounds truly sincere in her words yet Bonnie finds she would rather the former than the latter.  She can’t hold her tongue.

“Would you apologize to Davina?  If she were alive?”

Celeste dips her head. “Unfortunately, she did not make it. Does it help you to know that I reached out to her to encourage her to make it through?  Given that I failed her in that regard, I also have ensured that the bodies of she and her fellow witches are not splayed out for just anyone to come across…”

Bonnie shakes her head. “No — no, it does not help.”

Before she speaks, Celeste sets her mouth in a thin line.  She appears to be considering her words carefully.  “I realize you are angry, Bonnie.  I know what you tried to do for her.  It speaks to your kind heart.  Your generous nature.  Things men like Klaus would rip from you.  He has tried, hasn’t he?”

There are countless crimes that Bonnie could charge Klaus with if she recounts their sordid history. The same goes for Elijah as well. That is not the point, at least not in Bonnie’s mind.  

Celeste must take her silence as an agreement for she continues.  “I wish I could say that I can only imagine what he has done but I know how his mind works.  I know his cruelty and his inability to care for anyone beyond himself.”  She casts a glance at Klaus and perhaps she is reliving those memories because her control slips.  A heel comes out from underneath that dress and strikes him in his ribs.  

Bonnie raises an eyebrow.

“Of course, you and I are not the only ones he has done this to.  There are scores of them, far too many to name here and now.  It is amazing that despite time and species, how many of us have that one thing in common…”

Bonnie knows what this is. This is recruitment.  Celeste wants her to join whatever makeshift army she has amassed — and for the briefest of moments it is tempting.  She has lost much because of the Mikaelsons’ (Klaus may be the chief culprit but he is not alone).   It would be so easy to call on that pain and let it fester.  So easy to step across that imaginary line and declare war.

“I am not interested,” Bonnie says aloud.  “Before you can go through your whole sales pitch, I am not interested.”  

Celeste frowns.  “I thought you wouldn’t even need to think about it.”

Bonnie shrugs.  “I am not denying those crimes you speak of. Klaus has given me more than enough reason to hate him.  But I am already up to this to my neck — and I am tired of it.  I was only supposed to be a messenger.  Nothing more.  I have a life I want to get back to.  I don’t want to be your solider, Celeste.”  Especially considering how casually Davina had been tossed aside in the name of the greater good.   Bonnie may not be able to avoid being pulled into the supernatural world but she is not going to willingly offer herself up as the next sacrifice.

She expects an argument, a passionate speech about the sisterhood of witches and how shared trauma binds them together.  Instead Celeste’s features turn cold.  For the first time, Bonnie has the urge to cower.  She doesn’t give in (she is well practiced in hiding her fear given bad odds). “I would have been proud to call you an ally.  Instead you choose to ignore your calling.”  Celeste steps back, and for the first time eyes the exit.  “I respect your free will.  However, I will caution you against getting in my way.”

Naturally.

Celeste turns to retreat. As she does so, she pauses beside Elijah. “À bientot, mon amour.”   She leaves without sparing Bonnie another glance.  

Once she is truly gone, Bonnie surveys the scene before her and then sinks like a stone into the nearest chair.

X

She is still sitting there when Rebekah’s voice echoes throughout the courtyard.  

“Marcel is absolutely broken.  I tried to persuade him to come here but he is a stubborn…” Rebekah trails off and she skitters to a stop (both indications that she is fully aware of the state of her brothers now).  “What on earth is going on?”  Her eyes narrow in on Bonnie.  

Bonnie knows exactly what Rebekah is thinking.  That she has somehow managed (without her powers mind you) to overpower two Originals. She shakes her head automatically. “It is not what it looks like.”

“Then you best explain what it is!” Rebekah counters, moving towards her.  It is easy to forget, given her blonde hair and wide smile, how threatening she can be.  In the end, she is just as deadly as her siblings and just as motivated to protect them.

So Bonnie does just that. It takes her a moment to run through what has happened but she manages to get it all out without Rebekah questioning its credibility.  Instead she watches as Rebekah mirrors her early action, sinking down in the chair opposite her.

“Celeste,” Rebekah repeats quietly.

“Yes,” Bonnie confirms.

“Oh, bloody hell.” Rebekah leans her forehead against the palm of her hand. “This is a disaster.”

Bonnie agrees, although she doesn’t quite know why.  She thinks of what Elijah had told her when he found her pouring through his journal: just ask.  Unfortunately, he is out of commission and she is far too frazzled to wait. She looks to her only other source of information.  “Who is Celeste?  I mean, obviously she is a witch and obviously she and your brother had a thing. But who is she?

Rebekah sighs, her eyes sliding to her brothers splayed out on the floor.  “I remember when Elijah first made it known he was with her. Klaus couldn’t let it go of course. Teasing him about being with a witch. It seemed innocent enough mind you, but I knew even then that nothing good would come of it.”  She presses her mouth in a thin line and Bonnie is wondering if Rebekah is considering what to tell her and what to leave out.  “We had it good when we first came here.  Too good of course.  The effects of compulsion and bribery.  But after running all over Europe from Mikael, I figured we deserved to have it too good.”

There is no way Bonnie is wading into that argument.  

“I was dating the son of the governor.  He was handsome.” There is a wistful look on Rebekah’s face. “Elijah had Celeste — and Klaus just did whatever came to him.  You can imagine what that looked like of course.”

Of course.  Without the threat of Mikael looming directly over their heads, Bonnie is sure that Klaus indulged his every whim.  Every pretty face.  Every instance of blood lust.  

“We should have taken better care,” Rebekah confirms.  “Death is a part of every society, especially one still growing as New Orleans was then. But when the bodies pile up too quickly questions will be asked.”

It doesn’t surprise her that Klaus had threatened their fresh start.  She thinks to what Celeste had just told her: he is unable to think of anyone but himself.  “They thought they had a killer on their hands?”

Rebekah nodded.  “And an unnatural one at that.  Despite our arrangement with the governor, efforts were made to find the source of it all.  Those with money and influence were behind it — no doubt worried that Klaus would rob of them of all their servants if he continued unchecked.  I tried to plead with my brother…”

“I can only imagine that going over like a lead balloon,” Bonnie says with a snort.  The sound earns her a sharp look from Rebekah.  It must be hell, Bonnie thinks, to be stuck between wanting to condemn and protect Klaus.

“He wouldn’t listen,” Rebekah confirms a moment late.  “He was too caught up in the idea that he deserved this freedom.  But he was clever and he found a scapegoat to shift the blame to.”

Bonnie is already putting the pieces together and she doesn’t like it one bit.

“The witch community was already shunned by those hiding behind the guise of religion. Personally, I think those men were terrified that a group of women could hold such power,” Rebekah says fiercely. Bonnie decides right then and there that throughout history Rebekah has probably always been a champion of women’s rights.  “Klaus whispered in their ears.  Spoke of blood sacrifice and dark magic.  It was enough to push them over the edge and that hoard that had once been coming for him went for the witches instead.”

Bonnie closes her eyes, feeling anger bloom in her.  A whole community had been ripped apart because Klaus refused to curb his behavior. When she opens her eyes once again they are set on him and she has the urge to kick him as Celeste had. “Celeste…”

“Was caught up in it,” Rebekah confirms.  “When Elijah found out what Klaus had done, he rushed to warn her.  It was too late.  They had gotten to her and she couldn’t be saved.”

Bonnie shakes her head. “How can Elijah even look at Klaus now?” Let alone want to protect him.

“It’s easy for you to ask something like that,” Rebekah answers.  “You haven’t been privy to all our history — the good and the bad.  We have been together for a thousand years. It has not all been pretty but that does not change the fact that we love one another.  Despite everything.”

Rebekah is right. Bonnie doesn’t understand.  Especially now.   She sits there, feeling as if she has melted into the furniture.  She is exhausted.  Physically. Mentally.  She doesn’t want to move but she doesn’t want to stay there either.

It takes Klaus’ hand twitching to get her moving.  She doesn’t want to be there when he comes around.  She bids Rebekah a good night and climbs the stairs in search of just a moment’s peace.

X

Bonnie dreams instead.

It is chaotic.  A jumble of all the events of the past few days.

Davina reaches for her in the middle of the cemetery.  She looks distraught; her dress stained a bright red.  Bonnie reaches back and for a moment she thinks she has her but then Davina is pulled back, like a puppet on a string.

She searches wildly for her but finds that the cemetery is a maze.  The more she twists and turns around the mausoleums the further away she gets from Davina.  She can feel it.  By the time, she comes to a clearing she is exhausted, frustrated, worn so paper thin that she wants to scream until there is no air left in her lungs.

Standing there is Celeste. She too is in red, although she looks comfortable in her attire.

The way she smiles at Bonnie, the way she seems to laugh — it strikes those frazzled nerves in just the wrong way.  

She wants to launch herself at Celeste but is so painfully aware of what she lacks.  She can’t overwhelm a witch.  She needs something…

“This might prove useful,” a familiar voice all but sings in her ear.

It is Klaus.  She doesn’t have to look to know this. Instead she focuses on what he has holding out to her. A knife.  A weapon. A chance to even the playing field. She wants to push it away.  Wants to tell him to go to hell where he belongs. Her eyes are blazing when she finally meets his gaze.  He just smiles instead.  

A smile brought on by some newfound understanding perhaps?

Her fingers close around the knife and she eyes Celeste.

Then lurches forward.

X

Bonnie jolts awake to find that it is morning.

Funny how she has slept through the entire night but yet does not feel rested at all.  The compound is deathly quiet — a strange realization given everything that has happened.  She decides to use it to her advantage, changing and making a quick exit before anyone else tries to stop her.

The sun has brought the tourists out early and they clamber down Bourbon Street, laughing and taking pictures.  They don’t have a care in the world because they have no idea what is lurking in the shadows around them.  She can’t help now.  Despite the brightness and the warmth, everything has taken on a grey shadow to her. She has no idea if any of these people she walks among are alive because they pushed through her.  

There is a whole ‘army’ after all.

Bonnie moves with purpose, heading to the Jardin Gris.  As she does so, she tries her best to shake free from any remnants of her nightmare. She doesn’t want to think too deeply about it. Doesn’t want to read into her acceptance of the weapon Klaus had offered her (if she does she knows she will find herself right back in the middle of the conversation they were having before Celeste interrupted them the day before).  

It is too early in the morning for the Jardin Gris to be open but she figures she can rouse Enid.  Just as she is about to knock, the door opens on its own accord.  Bonnie raises an eyebrow and steps inside.  Enid is wandering down the aisle and before Bonnie can close the door, Enid does it with a subtle movement of her hand.

She heaves something of a happy sigh.  “You know, despite everything, it feels good to be able to do that again,” Enid confesses. “It’s a terrible to say, I know, given everything.  Feel free to judge me.  I can take it.”

Bonnie doesn’t say anything even though she feels she could.  She would rather not focus on that at the moment.  “Did Sophie make it home okay?”

Enid shakes her head. “She’s still here.  There was no way I was letting her wander off without supervision.  She’s all over the place.”

Despite the circumstance, Bonnie thinks it is a good thing that Sophie is here.  She will only have to tell the story once.  “Is she in the back?” When Enid nods, Bonnie moves with purpose towards the cluttered room where she had first found proof of the Harvest ritual.  Enid is right behind her.

Sophie looks like she has aged at least a decade.  Her hair is a wild tangled mess and there are dark circles under her eyes.  Her mouth is set in a heavy frown.  She barely turns her head to acknowledge Bonnie’s arrival.

“Wow,” Bonnie says before she can help herself.

“She’s less green than she was an hour ago,” Enid adds. “But she won’t eat.”

“She’s a human being not a zoo animal,” Sophie mutters.  Even her voice sounds off.  It’s hollow, rough.  

Bonnie immediately sits down across from her on a stack of old books.  For a moment the pair look at one another but then Sophie jerks her gaze to the floor.  Just like the night before, she doesn’t want anyone’s pity.  

Enid joins them, forming a haphazard circle in the cramped space.  She has a mug of tea in her hands and Bonnie can see a full one at Sophie’s feet.  It is probably the perfect blend to take the edge off that hangover Sophie is feeling but she is too stubborn to accept that help right now.  Maybe she has decided she deserves that pain.

Bonnie understands that line of thinking well (and has fallen victim to it more times than she would like to admit).

“Look, I know there is a lot going on but I thought you both should know,” Bonnie began.  The two of them look at her expectantly.  “Have you ever heard of a witch named Celeste?”

It doesn’t take long for them both to nod their heads although it is Enid that speaks.  “She was an elder in our coven.  A long time ago.  A pretty powerful one too.”  There is a note of pride in Enid’s voice.  

“She helped start this coven,” Sophie adds, speaking slowly.  Perhaps she already has an inkling of what Bonnie is going to say. “Help build it into something that was formidable in its time.”

“But not indestructible,” Bonnie concludes.  She does not want to dwell on the details of Rebekah’s story.  

Enid stiffens, fingers tightening around the mug of tea.  “Many of them were killed after they were accused of human sacrifice. Including Celeste.”

“It was totally bogus,” Sophie adds, her voice tight.  “But Celeste —we all know her name.  We all get told the same story.  She stood in front of what was left of the coven.  She did her best to protect them long enough for them to escape.  And she was killed for it.  I don’t know how true it was of course.  Thing get lost over the centuries but I do know that the French Quarter Coven proudly pass that story on.”

Bonnie shakes her head. This is all a mess — a twisted mess and she doesn’t even know where she is supposed to stand.  She is angry for the French Quarter Coven (both then and now).  She is angry for Celeste.  But she is also angry for Davina.  There is no simple solution and a voice in the back of her head reminds her that none of this is battle.  

Still…

“Do the stories say anything about her being involved with Elijah Mikaelson?” she asks.  She can tell by the look on their faces that Celeste’s relationship with an Original vampire had been a well-kept secret. “Because they were involved.  Very much involved.  I would say she told me herself but it was more like showed me…”  Their confused looks morph into shock.  Bonnie spends the next few minutes carefully retelling them all she has learned.  

When Bonnie is finished, Sophie reaches for the tea at her feet (perhaps she is realizing she is going to need all the strength she can get for what is about to come).  

“…a witch from our coven…” Enid says slowly as if she is still trying to process this.  “…is about to lead an army of the newly risen against the Mikaelson family.”

“Klaus specifically,” Bonnie points out.  

“Elijah and Rebekah will stand by their brother,” Enid predicts and no one argues with that fact.

Sophie runs a hand through her wild hair.  “I want to say this is a good thing.  I mean…we have wanted the vampires out of the Quarter for a long time.  But…”

That ‘but’ lingers in Bonnie’s mind too.  Throwing off the shackles of the vampire community is one thing.  Declaring all-out war against an Original is quite another.  Especially when, in her mind, Celeste is all too willing to throw others on the fire first if it helps to achieve her goal.

She can be back at Whitmore before dark, she reminds herself.

Sophie stands, a little shaky but looking less like death warmed over.  She is about to explain her thoughts further but they are all interrupted by the sound of a commanding voice.

“Sophie Devereaux!”

All three of them turn their heads towards the front of the store.  The voice is not one known to Bonnie but she can tell by the way the other two glance at one another that they know all too well who is waiting for them.

Sophie groans.  “No sense in prolonging the inevitable.” She is the first one to move towards the door.  Enid is right on her heels.  Bonnie feels compelled to follow.  Although Sophie has her head held high, she walks slowly, as if she is moving towards her execution.  

The door is opened to an older woman.  She is clad in colorful clothing, bangles covering her wrists.  She holds herself with an air of superiority and wastes no time in moving inside the Jardin Gris.  

“Agnes,” Enid greets with a forced smile.  She is barely spared a glance for her efforts.  This woman is solely focused on Sophie.

“You have failed you coven,” Agnes states.  

Bonnie narrows her eyes. Sophie already feels like she has failed more than that — who is this woman to say such a thing when Sophie is already down?

As if she can read Bonnie’s thoughts, Agnes turns her head to look beyond Sophie.  “This is business between an elder and her witches.  You are not welcome here.”

The urge to protect Sophie is stronger than the urge to back down.  Besides, Bonnie has already stepped into so many hornet’s nests already. What is one more?  She stands her ground, right behind Sophie.  

“We have our magic, Agnes. Fully,” Sophie points out.  There is no passion in her defense.  No doubt she wants to curl up and let Agnes rip into her.  

“But we do not have our girls,” Agnes retorts (as if Sophie needs reminding).  “At least not completely.”

“Cassie…” Enid begins.

“Is lost without her sisters,” Agnes says sharply.  “Each represents something in our coven.  We are not complete without them.”

“She couldn’t have known what was about to happen,” Bonnie says before she can even stop herself. This earns her another look of disdain from Agnes.  “From what I can tell, Sophie has done whatever she could these past few months to bring those girls back.  Instead of rebuking her because things fell apart, how about you support her?  Isn’t that what a coven is supposed to do?”  

Agnes carries her weight to move around Sophie and stare Bonnie down.  In the shadow of what she has already faced within the last day (Celeste carried herself with a quiet menace; Agnes has none of that), Bonnie doesn’t waiver.  

“You are not even a witch anymore,” Agnes points out; seemingly delighted that she can do so. “So do not stand there and pretend to understand.  Sophie Deveraux can speak for herself.”

“She can,” Enid agrees. “But she doesn’t have to.  Instead of banding together to mourn the loss of Abigail, Monique and Davina, you are scolding her?  How is that helpful, Agnes?”

The elder’s fury turns to Enid now.  “If you took more interest in how the coven works, perhaps you would understand. Instead you hole up in here and sell trinkets to tourists.”

“Enough, Agnes!” Sophie barks.  “I get it. I screwed up.  I did what I thought was right and it blew up in my face. I don’t need to hear it from you. I already know that.  So you can get out.”

“I’m far…”

“Get out!” Sophie repeats, her voice much louder.  Around them, items on the shelves tremble.  

Agnes, for all her bluster, seems to understand when to retreat.  She tries to take her exit with as much dignity as her station affords her but Bonnie gets the impression that underneath it all, she is just a sad old woman who chooses to cling to rules instead of her actual sisters.  If this is what covens are truly like, Bonnie suddenly feels as if she hasn’t missed out on much.

She turns to Sophie after Agnes is fully out of sight.  “Look…”

Sophie holds up a hand. “I know you’re trying to spare me guilt, Bonnie. I know that there are things about all of this that were beyond my control.  It doesn’t change the fact that my niece is gone.  I’m just going to need some time to wrap my head around all of that, okay? That doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate what you…what both of you just did.” She turns on her heels and retreats towards the relative safety of the back room.  

Enid and Bonnie are left to look at one another.  

“I hate to say this but I don’t think things are going to get any easier.  Celeste is not the only one running around with a vendetta to fulfill,” Bonnie begins.

Enid nods.  “Everyone in the supernatural community is going to get pulled in one way or another.”  She takes a deep breath.  “Well, I’ve got about a hundred things running through my head — first thing, charm bags.  I’ll have one with your name on it.”

Bonnie smiles.  

X

She had spent the better part of the morning helping Enid put together a protection spell.  Of course, she hadn’t been able to provide any magic but she did make an excellent assistant, running the lengths of the store to find ingredients.  For her efforts, there is a sweet smelling bag tucked deep in her pocket.  It is designed to ward away negativity and ill will. Bonnie is unsure that it will be able to withstand an hour around a Mikaelson but she appreciates the thought that went into it.

She does not want to go back to the Abattoir.  She knows it is inevitable. Even if she is there only to gather her things and make her exit, she will have to face Klaus, Elijah and Rebekah once more.  She might be feeling on firmer ground now that she has spent time with some witches but she still would rather avoid another confrontation.  

She wanders into Jackson Square.  The sun is warm on her skin now and the place is filled to the brim with happy people. It has an effect on her (and perhaps the charm bag too because Bonnie swears she can fill it humming against her skin).  She walks a little, pretending to be a tourist and wishing that she had come to the city under better circumstances.  She thinks she would have liked to buy a painting, have her fortune told, let loose a little on Bourbon Street.  

Instead she is trapped in something that is overwhelming (but she doesn’t have to be).

Bonnie finds a bench and pulls out her phone.  She doesn’t want to call Caroline because she knows her friend has the uncanny ability to hear something is wrong in her voice.  She hopes that texts will be sufficient.  

Hey, checking as promised.

Good, was about to sending you an angry faced selfie as a reminder.  Are you okay?

Bonnie’s fingers hover over the keys for a moment, wonder how to put it.

I’ve been better.  But I’ve been worse too.  You know how that is.   What about you?

Deflection! Nice tactic.  I am up to my ears in assignments.  I want to say I hate it but you know me.

You have a color coded chart to keep track of the due dates, huh?

With cute post it notes and everything!

Bonnie smiles.  That sounds so perfectly Caroline.  She wishes she could be there to see it even though she knows it would have driven her nuts to listen to Caroline put it together. She bets there were several drafts before Caroline unveiled her masterpiece.  

When are you coming home?

She blinks and knows she should have been expecting that question form the start.  She chews her lips and then realizes she knows what the answer is.  With confidence, she types it in and hits send.  Before she can read Caroline’s response (because she knows there will be one), someone sits down on the bench next to her.  

“Little witch.”

Something in her blooms and she is smiling before she even turns her head.  “Kol…”

His mouth mirrors hers. “You’re happy to see me.”

There is no denying it. It is written over the lines of her face plain as day.  Still, she can’t help but want to make things perfectly clear.  “Relieved.  I’m relieved.”  Their last true conversation had been rushed and incomplete. She can still see how he had been ripped from the very ground he stood on and tossed aside.  “What happened?”

“There were far too many of them,” he tells her.  “They took me by surprise.  I guess they wanted to make sure that I didn’t…”  He trails off.  “It knocked me for a loop too.  I’ve had trouble getting my bearings since then.  This is the first time I’ve stayed in one place long enough to hold a proper conversation.”  

Bonnie’s face falls. He had been so close to coming back. It had probably been a tangible thing. If only he had reached out to take her arm, to steady her — anything.  She wonders how often he has thought of that since then (too often no doubt).  

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

He leans in, a look of surprise on his face.  “What was that?  Did you just express sympathy at my continued dead state?” He waits a beat or two.  “I have to say — I am surprised.  Here I thought you always wanted me dead.”

Bonnie avoids his eyes for a beat or two because he is gloating (he can’t help it; it’s a Mikaelson trait).  “I…” She struggles for the right words.

“Oh go on and say it, Bonnie,” he practically sings.  “You like having me around.  I’ve grown on you.”

“Like a fungus,” she retorts but there is no real heat behind it.  It’s true — how she feels about Kol Mikaelson is a hell of a lot more positive than this time last year.  She blames it on being his partner in crime.  He might have dragged her into all of this kicking and screaming but he hasn’t once blamed her for any of it.  In fact, he seems grateful to her for all that she has done.  She looks back at him.  “I might have dreamt you came back,” she admits.  She is giving him ammunition to use against her at a later date and she knows he will (she’ll be ready for it).  

“That was no dream,” Kol tells her.  “You were out of your skull though.  So I guess anything that left your mouth is subject to scrutiny.”

It is all the confirmation she needs (deep down she had already knew).  “So you hung out at my bedside while I was delirious?  Bit creepy…”

It is like he knows she is trying to deflect the real pain that was present in that situation.  “I would call it gallant. Especially since you looked a mess.  Muttering all kinds of things too.  Did you know you confessed that you found me wildly handsome?”

“I was out of my skull,” Bonnie retorted immediately with a smile.  She wants to say more but instead something cracks through the ordinary sunny day.  Over Kol’s shoulder there are men and women — over a dozen.  They look torn, battered…

…dead.

She braces herself, her entirely body going rigid.  

Kol glances behind him and then looks back to her.   A hand shoots out to rest on her shoulder, calling her attention fully to him if only for a fraction of a second.  “You have to stay as calm as possible, Bonnie.”

She wants to snarl at his words but she knows there is a ring of truth to it.  She is in the wide open, with hundreds of people walking by. She cannot afford to turn herself into a public spectacle.  

Still, it is easier said than done.  

When the first one touches her, she feels the slash of a blade across her chest.  It is deep, robbing of her breath.  She glances down, expecting to see blood.  Before she can fully comprehend why there is none, another reaches for her — and then another.

She is has her hands on the bench, fingers curling around the wood until her knuckles are bone white. Her mouth is open in silent protests and she is shaking all over.  Despite her best attempts to stay silent, she can’t hold on any longer.  She cries out, the sound cutting through the tranquility of the scene around her.  Already a few stop in their tracks to eye her suspiciously.

Kol’s hand presses down on her shoulder, acting as a counterweight to what is happening.  She can hear him in her ear.  “It is almost over, they are almost gone.  Breathe, Bonnie.”  He almost sounds as if he is pleading with her and she manages to turn her head away from the carnage to look at him.

Still she can’t silence the pain.

A woman moves forward first. “Are you okay?  Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Bonnie tries to speak but finds she has no voice. She knows she has to get out of there.  There is no explaining this to anyone in the medical field. She staggers to her feet and pushes through the crowd.  Some attempt to steady her; some jeer her but in the end she is able to walk away.

With the dead trailing right behind her.

X

By the time she arrives at the Abattoir she feels bruised and beaten.  The immediate pain has faded but the after effects will linger as a reminder of just what she is.  Kol is still with her; he has been with her the entire time, helping her stay focused until he was the only one that remained (she had to stop then, and lean heavily against a brick wall to catch her breath).

No one spares her a glance when she walks in.  Instead Marcel and Klaus remained locked in a heated conversation while Elijah stands as moderator.  She furrows her brows, catching only snippets of what is being said.

“They didn’t stand a chance,” Marcel hisses.  “She just barreled right through…”

Bonnie steps closer but Rebekah appears next to her, a hand shooting out to stop her in her tracks.

“Best not to,” Rebekah says. “Marcel is not in his right mind at the moment — losing Davina and now this. He is liable to strike out when he shouldn’t.  Klaus can handle it.”

Bonnie turns her head and for a moment reflects on the fact that Rebekah is standing right next to Kol, even though she is not aware of it. He is eyeing his sister with mixed emotions and once more Bonnie finds herself wishing that the two of them could talk properly.  

“What happened?” she asks, already knowing that this conversation (that looks ready to become a fight as Marcel gives Klaus a hard shove with one hand) is related to the crowd of dead that has just passed through her.

“Someone killed a whole room full of Marcel’s daywalkers,” Rebekah says.  “They barely were able to fight back apparently.”

Bonnie doesn’t need any more information to fill in the blanks.  Whether or not she actually wielded the blade (because Bonnie knows all too well what weapon was used), this is Celeste’s doing.

She has struck first.