To say I was in a bad mood was like saying the sun rose in the east. Technically true, but nowhere near dramatic enough. I wasn't a happy‑go‑lucky person on the best of days, but today? Today was a cosmic joke.
First of all, for some strange reason, I woke up more than five times last night. For normal people, that's insomnia. For me — someone who sleeps like the dead and could snooze through a nuclear blast — it was a sign the universe hated me. And if that wasn't enough, I ran out of coffee this morning.
Today was hell on earth.
So when some dude popped out of nowhere with a million‑dollar smile asking where the office was, I just glared at him with all the fury of a caffeine‑deprived witch. He backed away like a sensible man.
Only after I walked a few steps did I recognize him. Wasn't that the teen warlock who worked for Elijah? One of the Martin witches? Probably.
Let's see if he tries to get on my good graces again. Really? Trying to seduce me for Bennett‑coven‑death‑site intel? Tough luck, buddy.
Caroline called, asking me to meet her and Peaches at the Grill, but I was too tired. I tried to nap. That didn't work either — I kept waking up the moment I drifted off. At this point I was convinced someone cursed me.
I checked. No curse. Just misery.
Since sleep was a lost cause, I drowned myself in coffee and went to the attic to finally work on something I'd been meaning to do for ages: a spell upgrade.
When I was reborn into this fictional world, I wrote down everything I remembered in a pink diary with a Disney princess on the cover and a heart‑shaped lock. It held all my knowledge — canon events, magical theory, Gloria's teachings — but it was falling apart. The lock wouldn't stop a toddler, let alone a thief.
It was time for a Grimoire upgrade.
Except I was too lazy to rewrite everything by hand. And I didn't have the time. So my insomniac, caffeine‑fueled brain came up with a brilliant idea:
A spell to transfer knowledge.
Thinking about it was easy. Creating it took five hours and several mental breakdowns. But eventually, I cracked it.
A three‑layered spell: absorption, reorganization, transference.
Basically, I could absorb a book into my mind, reorganize the information, add details or mental images, and then transfer it into another book.
A cheat code.
Goodbye studying. Goodbye reading hundreds of grimoires. Goodbye memorizing ancient Latin.
Honestly, the idea came from wanting a super dope Grimoire like the Book of Shadows from Charmed. Beautiful handwriting, demon sketches, the works.
I should sleep less and drink more coffee.
I set up the circle — four candles, salt — and began.
"Da mihi in hac paginae notitiam, da mihi potestatem sapientiam, et scientiam scripturae."
I touched my pink diary.
"Ergo animus ad se trahunt virtute verborum, cum sit una scientia facti sunt."
My hands covered my eyes. My mind expanded — familiar knowledge flooding back like I'd just reread it.
"Aliquando enim plus est verbum hoc fac, ut faciam illud video, plenus sapientia, ut sit et illud."
I touched the new Grimoire — a large leather book I'd "pimped" earlier. Two back‑to‑back B's on the cover. Spells woven into the leather: invisible to non‑Bennetts, infinite pages.
The candles died. The salt circle blew apart.
I opened the Grimoire.
It was perfect.
A timeline from 1st century BC — Tessa and Silas — through the Middle Ages, the creation of the Originals, the 15th‑century ritual attempt, Katerina's turning, Mystic Falls history, the Salvatores, all the way to 2010 and beyond.
Seeing it written out helped. My mind had filled in dates I hadn't consciously remembered.
The next section was pure Charmed aesthetic — demon‑style entries, except instead of demons, it was important supernatural figures. Beautiful illustrations.
The Bennett family tree came first. Ancient to modern. Many branches dead, only mine complete.
Then Qetsiyah. Emily. Grams. Abby. Maisie. Even Canon Bonnie had a page — literally titled "Canon Bonnie: Supporting Character Who Sacrifices for the Female Lead."
And Caroline wonders why I don't like Elena.
After the Bennetts came the Originals. Their family tree. Their portraits. Rebekah in braids, then as a French courtesan. Klaus and Elijah with long hair, then modern. Finn looking like a pirate. Kol with long hair and his current look. Even Henrik had a tiny portrait.
I flipped through until Caroline texted me to take Tyler to meet Reid. I drove him, introduced them, and reminded Tyler he owed me one.
The lack of sleep finally hit me. I collapsed on the couch and turned on the TV. Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl was on.
Bless.
I drifted off during the Tortuga scene.
Instead of peaceful sleep, I found myself in a loud, smelly bar.
A dream. A very vivid one.
Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom were drinking in the corner. Or rather, Jack Sparrow and Will Turner.
I looked down.
Green dress. Boobs out. Hair long and braided.
A bar wench.
Of course.
"Hey'a lassie, gi'me a bottle of rum," a toothless drunk demanded.
I rolled my eyes. Dream logic. I grabbed a bottle — ready to smash it over his head — when someone yanked him back and sank fangs into his neck.
He dropped dead.
No one reacted. Dream NPCs.
The vampire bent down, stole the dead man's pirate hat, plopped it on his head, and sauntered to the stool in front of me.
"Man, I haven't had a meal in a century," he said, stealing my rum. "Even if it's dream blood, it's better than nothing."
"Well, shiver me timbers," I gasped. "How?"
"That's not the question, Bonnie lass," he smirked. "Why?"
"Why am I dreaming about you, Kol Mikaelson?"
"You're not," he said. "You're dreaming you're a bar wench in the mid‑18th century. I'm the one visiting you."
"Impossible."
"That's you, not me." He grinned. "Think about it. I'm a dead vampire. Where do dead vampires go?"
"The Other Side," I said slowly.
Why was Kol Mikaelson pestering me?
I didn't have strong feelings about him in my past life. He was the wild Mikaelson brother who got himself killed by Jeremy and Elena. When he died, I thought Elena was selfish for killing an entire bloodline for a cure. When Silas killed her brother, I thought "karma, bitch."
But Kol? He was unpredictable. Klaus wanted power. Elijah wanted redemption. Rebekah wanted love. Finn wanted death.
Kol wanted chaos.
"Exactly," he said. "I hear you like making deals. How about one?"
"What do you want?"
"The dagger out of my heart."
I snorted. "Not possible."
"Name a price," he said, leaning closer. "Whatever you want."
"There's nothing you can offer that's worth Klaus hunting me down," I said. "Ask Katherine. And I don't even know if you're real. You're daggered. You shouldn't have enough power to stroll into my dreams."
"Klaus doesn't have to know. Does it look like I want a family reunion? That backstabbing wanker gave me a dagger in the heart for Christmas."
"That just proves I should stay out of your family drama."
"I would protect you," he said. "Help me, and I'll protect you and every one of your descendants."
"You can't even protect your own heart from getting stabbed."
"Harsh," he muttered. "Look — I've been on the Other Side for a century. Watching time pass while no one sees me, no one hears me, knowing I'm not actually dead. It's worse than torture."
"Me pitying you won't help your case."
"What if I tell you something Qetsiyah doesn't want you to know?" he said. "She's keeping something from you."
I frowned. Tessa keeping secrets? Absolutely. Kol lying? Possible. But he didn't seem to be.
"Even if I took this deal, I don't know you're real. I don't know if you're telling the truth. I don't know where your body is. And I'm not pissing off Klaus."
"Talk to your teacher Emily. Mention me," he said. "Come on, Bonnie lass. You know you want to. And freeing me before the time is right will give you something you want more than anything."
"And what's that?"
"You want something fun. Unpredictable. Something to break the monotony of knowing the future. Tell me — do you know anyone more unpredictable than me?"
I gaped.
How did he know?
Before I could answer, I blinked—
And woke up.