Inspired by my continued frustration with CW's The Vampire Diaries...
It's short and not so sweet...be kind my fanfiction fingers are very rusty
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Bonnie Bennett was exhausted. She stumbled into the dreary home she occasionally shared with her father and looked from left to right. She was careful not to awaken any long repressed memories; Saturday mornings spent watching cartoons with her parents, family game night, or the virginity she lost on the living room's expensive leather couch before her summer adventure with the world's most boring relatives. Some things were better left in the graveyard of her subconscious. She pressed the panel on the wall and illuminated the dark space before her. There were faint traces of the meal her father had prepared before his latest business excursion. Her stomach recoiled at the thought of the food waiting in the kitchen. Her appetite had become non - existent with her constant exposure to mutilated frames and walking corpses. Adrenaline was the only sustenance she now required...that and the carefully hidden bottles of gin in Senor Bennett's bedroom. It was only Tuesday and The Little Witch That Could, had just saved the world for the fifth time that week. Her knees ached. Her fingers still burned from the fire that shot from beneath her nail beds. A few dark and brooding hybrids, a loyalty torn, punk ass Tyler, and a couple of incantations that still had her tongue twisted, little Miss Witchy Falls wanted to spend the night becoming reacquainted with her favorite episodes of Glee on the DVR. Bonnie was desperately in need of a new hobby or at least a new crowd.
She bypassed the den and bounded up the stairs. With each height a new thought emerged; loss after loss in twelve months time - family, friends, and love.
"Not tonight B."
The warning was one meant only for her ears. A cautious statement designed to steer her back from the ledge. She knew if she allowed herself a trip down that road, she'd be hung over and more depressed with the morning's light. She took a breath and continued the journey to her room. She hesitated in front of her father's door. One drink could create the numbing sensation and increase her chances for a peaceful slumber. Her fingers grasped the handle but Bonnie chose to ignore the devil on her shoulder, and opted for a warm bath instead. She snatched off her boots, shucked the jacket from her arms, pulled the sweater over head, and kicked off her jeans. She averted her gaze from the mirror before her. She didn't need to see the fresh scars, those visible, and the ones hidden by layers of dermis. She peeled the undergarments from her skin and padded into the adjoined bathroom. She hummed softly as she turned the knobs and filled the tub with water. She poured a capful of bubble bath into the heated liquid. She slipped into her sanctuary and tried to forget.
Bonnie was still unaccustomed to the silence that greeted her when she returned home. There was no chirp of the cell phone buried deep in her bag. No surprise visits from Jeremy in the middle of the night; just the eerie quiet that lingered twenty four seven. She missed him, but she understood her best friend's decision. This was no place for him. He had lived to die and live again. Only to suffer through the loss of his first love a second time. She didn't blame him for what happened with Anna, in some minute way, she knew she was truly accountable for the confounded idiotic nature of their love triangle. Jeremy cared for her, Bonnie would even venture to say he loved her, but closure was a powerful, much needed thing in order for the boy to move on. The option was never granted when he lost Anna, he was compelled into a new life. Now he had the chance, for peace, and most importantly true happiness. She didn't begrudge him that, it's what she wanted for everyone she loved. Not the day in and day out tactical maneuvers required just to see another day in Mystic Falls.
Her eyes slid closed and she forced the recollections from the corners of her mind. She choked on the bitterness slowing rising to the back of her throat. She constantly lost and across town a brown eyed girl continued to gain.
She had a steady, whiskey drinking, stake driving father figure under the same roof, a blue eyed shell of a man who still embodied the sexiness that followed him life and the undying affection of said man's younger brother. There was a psychotic killer sending her sentiments and tokens of his affection on a regular basis in the hopes of just a drop of doppelganger blood.
And Bonnie...had...nothing...unless you counted the tub filled with ice cold water.
She reached for a towel and eased from her reclined position. This time she didn't avoid the mirror. She studied her reflection; the weary lines of her face, the bags beneath her eyes, and the undeniable sadness in the pools of green staring back at her. She pressed the switch and cut the lights. A few steps were all it took to return to familiar loneliness of her bedroom. She folded her body into the center of the mattress and began to cry.
She shed tears for the mother, long gone, and content with a daughter who was now a stranger. She sobbed for the victims who lost their lives due to the insatiable thirst of the demons she sometimes referred to as friends. She wailed for the mentor and grandmother who sacrificed her spirit for the undeserving bitch who wore her best friend's face. She wept for the normalcy she knew her life would never achieve. She shivered when two frost tinged fingers captured the tear sliding down her cheek, "Don't cry Bonnie, you still have me."
Bonnie's eyes adjusted to the darkness and she located his frame as he lowered himself to the bed. A messy crop of golden strands and gray orbs greeted her. She didn't recall extending an invitation but at the moment she didn't intend to argue. She was thankful for his presence and his misplaced offer of comfort. She didn't flinch when his hand caressed her cheek. She didn't protest when his digits moved towards the towel shielding her body from his sight. She only offered his name, "Stefan."
The scene played out like a movie; the intensity in his actions accompanied by a gentle forcefulness that left her breathless. She wanted to kiss him and he only desired to explore. A finger traveled along her collar bone, to her cleavage, to her belly button, and finally slipped between her thighs. She watched as he teased and recorded her reactions. She bit her tongue. She closed her eyes. Yet in the end she uttered his name again, "Stefan."
His ministrations continued. When her lips would begin to form the name they held in common his thumb would ghost across her clit and she would quickly forget why the pleasure she felt should have been replaced with guilt. She deserved a moment of abandon and then tomorrow Bonnie Bennett could return to being the brokenhearted girl who always saved the world.