"Tonight, night of the comet! Would you like a program?" I called out to a passing group, only to be ignored.
"Would you like a program?" I tried again, same result. "God, I sound like a Jehovah's Witness," I snorted, then turned to Elena. "So Peaches didn't call?"
"Or text," she sighed. "But I realized we never even exchanged that stuff. We've never gotten to the texting part."
"Elena, you guys met like three days ago. Of course you don't know all the skeletons in his closet." I rolled my eyes. "You haven't exchanged numbers yet, so what? Do it when you see him again. Stop whining, start doing."
"The timing is wrong anyway," she continued. "At least I put myself out there."
"For Christ's sake, either you go all out or you don't," I replied, resisting the urge to bang my head against a wall. This conversation was killing me.
"It's just…" she started, but I cut her off.
"Stop listing all the reasons why you can't, and start thinking about the reasons why you should." My frustration was obvious. "Let's go meet Care."
Before she could reply, I turned and went searching for my Buffy.
"Hey, I got some candles," Caroline called when we reached her in the town square. I took one, as did Elena. Of course Mattie Blue Blue immediately did the intense puppy‑eye stare at Elena while lighting her candle. One minute later, Peaches made his dramatic entrance. God, what is up with these love triangles?
Tired of the Elena‑centric drama, I pulled Care aside. "Let's light them up," I said. She nodded eagerly.
Care started digging for her lighter, but before she could find it, I smirked, winked, and the candles lit themselves as if by magic.
"Bonnie!" Caroline gasped, glancing around for witnesses. "This town is the Hellmouth, but it can be the next Salem if you're not careful." She punched my arm lightly.
"Relax, that was actually a parlor trick I learned in Vegas," I said, laughing. It really was just a magic trick I'd learned in my past life.
"You've never been to Vegas, bitch." Caroline rolled her eyes.
"Not that you know of," I replied mysteriously. Then a feeling hit me — a tug in my gut. Witchy spidey senses. Gloria used to describe them as the will of another brushing against our own. Could be a spirit, could be nature, could be something else entirely.
Curious, I let my feet guide me.
I ended up at the Grill just in time to witness an interesting encounter. Damon Salvatore was sitting at the bar, all dark‑tall‑and‑handsome, when Vicky noticed him. I was close enough to hear without magical help.
"I know you," Vicky said, puzzled.
"Well, that's unfortunate," Damon replied.
"I don't… I don't know how, but… your face." She blinked, clearly high as a kite. "Excuse me. Sorry." She hurried toward the bathroom.
I frowned. Was I supposed to stop Vicky from getting munched on? Did my existence as Bonnie Bennett have some higher meaning? Before I could spiral, I decided to wing it.
"Well, hello there, cowboy," I greeted the elder Salvatore before he could follow Vicky.
"Well, hello," Damon said, smirking that devilish smirk. Sorry honey, you'll have to try harder. I've watched enough Vampire Diaries reruns to be immune to that face.
"I thought I should introduce myself," I said, offering my hand.
He looked mildly perplexed but shrugged and shook it. After all, what could a cute little teenager do to a big bad vampire?
"Damon Salvatore. And you are?" he asked, amusement rolling off him.
Well, the answer was: a lot of things. Especially if this cute little teenager packed a magical punch.
The moment our hands touched, I used one of Gloria's personal spells — a supernatural greeting, from one creature to another. Enough to hurt, not enough to kill. Damon groaned, eyes squeezing shut. The spell made the target relive their most painful physical injuries as if they were happening again, on loop.
"Bonnie Bennett. Pleasure, Mister Salvatore," I said, enjoying this a little too much. Call me sadistic, but having Damon Salvatore on a silver platter is kind of a kink of mine.
"What can I do for you, Miss Bennett?" he asked tightly, still feeling the spell. I half‑expected him to attack, but I could handle that too.
"Just a small greeting. Welcoming you back to the neighborhood," I said sweetly. "Sorry for the lack of cookies — I didn't have time to bake."
"Glad to feel welcomed home," he replied sarcastically, smile strained.
"I'm sure we can agree to a friendly relationship. You don't get in my business, I don't get in yours."
"And what exactly is your business?" he asked. Well played.
"My family is my business. My friends are my business." I kept my tone even. Canon Damon didn't exactly target Bonnie's family, but better safe than sorry. And he did kill Abby — not that I cared much.
"And who counts as family and friends?" he pressed. Translation: who can I kill without pissing you off?
"Sheila Bennett is family. Caroline Forbes is a friend," I said. No more names. If this didn't work, I wasn't giving him a hit list. Elena was safe because she looked like Katherine. Mattie was destined to be alive forever. Tyler wasn't Damon's type. Jeremy… maybe.
"Only that?" he asked, brow raised.
"Yup. And my perky blonde friend knows everything, so keep your fangs to yourself. We good?"
"Indeed. However, this demands equivalent exchange," he said. "I want a favor for future use, wicked witch."
I pretended to think for a second before nodding. I already knew what he wanted — the tomb. And honestly, it needed to happen eventually.
"Agreed." I released his hand and took a seat at the bar. Damon went off to torment his little brother by mind‑fucking Vicky. I preferred dinner over Salvatore drama.
Caroline eventually found me and joined me for a late‑night snack. Vicky, who had indeed disappeared, had already been found by Saint Stefan and was now hogging everyone's attention.
"Ugh, it's just so much drama. Ever notice how the druggies are the biggest attention whores?" Caroline sighed, watching Vicky cling to Mattie.
"Yeah," I said, not really caring.
"Excuse me. Hi." Stefan approached our table.
"Yo, Peaches," I greeted.
"Have you guys seen Elena?" he asked. Caroline answered, "I think she went home."
Broody Stefan was about to go home and write sad poetry in his journal, so I decided to be helpful.
"Take this shit and call her — I'm not listening to this bullshit again." I scribbled Elena's number and handed it to him.
Then I got up and left the Grill. I had witch stuff to do.
Just because I'm a witch doesn't mean walking through a cemetery at night is any less creepy. After meeting Damon, I'd reached a conclusion: this timeline was probably a parallel one. No matter how hard I tried not to change things, I was not canon Bonnie.
Canon Bonnie wasn't closer to Caroline than Elena. Canon Bonnie adored her Grams. Canon Bonnie was terrified of Damon in season one. Canon Bonnie had her powers bound. Canon Bonnie was clueless at first. Canon Bonnie didn't drop pop‑culture references every five minutes.
I could list differences all night.
So I decided: screw canon, screw the writers. Some things could stay the same, but the rest? I was changing them to suit my needs. If you knew the future, wouldn't you?
Dark magic? Fine. Dying? Been there, done that. Being the anchor and feeling millions of deaths? Hard pass. Being stuck in a prison world with a psycho? Absolutely not. Kai Parker could rot alone forever.
This was my story now. Bonnie Bennett was going to be badass.
I finally reached the tombstone I was looking for — Giuseppe Salvatore.
"Hello there, Papa Salvatore," I said, staring at the grave. I ignored the little voice reminding me grave‑robbing was illegal and knelt. Placing my hand on the earth, I began chanting.
"Inflexio ad terram meam, inflexio ad terram meam."
The soil shifted beneath my fingers, parting to reveal the coffin. When it was reachable, I stopped.
I stared at the old wooden coffin for a moment, then sighed. "Papa Douche is probably just bones by now. You're not going to puke on the guy's bones after robbing his grave," I muttered.
After a deep breath, I twisted my hand and forced the coffin open with magic. Sure enough, Giuseppe Salvatore was all bones — and buried with Emily Bennett's grimoire resting beneath his hands.
I lifted the book with magic, not touching anything, and chanted again to restore the grave.
With the grimoire tucked under my arm, I headed home.
One of the most powerful grimoires in existence was now mine — and the first thing I was going to do was cast Maisie Bennett's invisibility spell on it.
Bonnie Bennett — 1. Damon Salvatore — 0.
Let the games begin.