15 December, 2009
I was sitting at the Grill, staring down at a glass of untouched whiskey, ignoring the world around me.
I had just buried my grandmother. My father didn't even bother to text me back after I left him a voicemail telling him Grams had died, and my dear MIA mother couldn't even show up to her own mother's funeral.
Caroline had been stalking me all day to "see if I was OK," and Stelena showed up to the funeral with those sympathetic eyes that annoyed the fuck out of me.
"Sabrina, how did you manage to get alcohol?" Damon Salvatore asked as he sat across from me, obviously drunk.
"Witch," I said, pointing at myself. "So, pity‑partying because the Datherine ship never sailed?"
"Pity‑partying because I've had a bad century. What's your excuse?" Damon shot back, rolling his eyes.
"Let's see…" I held up my fingers, counting. "My Grams just died because of your brother and his stupid girlfriend. My dad is God knows where, I had to plan a funeral alone, my mother doesn't give a fuck her own mother is dead, and I'm trying to escape the pitying looks everyone in this town keeps giving me."
"Boo hoo, poor little Bennett," he mocked, smirking. "I've spent the past century in utter misery thinking Katherine was stuck in that tomb, and apparently she's been out living her best life."
"You're the idiot who fell in love with a 500‑year‑old manipulative vampire with trust issues," I said, mocking him right back.
"How do you know how old she is?" he asked, surprised.
"Hello? Witch." I pointed at myself again. "Not only can I talk to dear Em whenever I want, I'm also a pretty awesome and powerful seer."
"Tell me something nobody knows about me," he challenged, clearly unconvinced.
"Depends on what you want," I said, amused. "I can tell you something true but irrelevant, or something important. You choose."
"Obviously something important."
"Fine, but go grab me a bottle of vodka from the bar. Whiskey isn't my thing." I pushed the glass toward him. He rolled his eyes and compelled a waitress to bring the bottle.
"Now start talking," he said as the blonde set the bottle down.
"Let's see… you slept with Lexi and then locked her on a rooftop as the sun came up." I tossed back a shot.
"Easy. Maybe she told Stefan who told you," he said, unimpressed. "Try again."
"You killed Zach's pregnant girlfriend in the 90s." Another shot.
"Stefan knew that. Maybe he told you," Damon growled, though the guilt on his face almost made me regret saying it.
"Augustine," I said simply, raising an eyebrow. Stefan didn't know that. Nobody did.
Damon froze. "How did you…? How could you possibly know that?"
"Like I know about your Whitmore hunting game," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm a witch. I know shit."
He was about to respond when my phone rang. I saw "Dad" on the screen and sighed before answering.
"Well, look who it is," I said sarcastically. "Grams died three days ago. You're kind of late."
"I'm sorry, Bonnie. I was busy," Rudy said, not sounding sorry at all.
"Right. I was busy too — planning a funeral, choosing a casket, buying flowers, burying my grandmother alone." My voice sharpened. Seriously, what kind of excuse is I was busy?
"I'm sorry," he repeated tiredly. "I sent you a plane ticket. Let's spend Christmas together."
"No. Just no." I hissed. "Say I go — then what? I'll end up alone in a hotel room like every birthday? Screw you."
I hung up and looked at Damon, who was still staring at me.
"What?" I snapped defensively.
"Nothing," he said quickly, but I could see him trying to piece me together.
"Good, because I have places to be." I stood and left the Grill. I was sad, but not sad enough to get psychoanalyzed by a vampire with severe mommy‑and‑daddy issues.
Caroline was waiting for me at home, worry written all over her face.
"What's this I hear about you getting drunk with a vampire at the Grill?" she demanded, walking in like she owned the place.
"I didn't get drunk with a vampire," I said, rolling my eyes. "I used him for free drinks. It's different."
"The same vampire you told me was a wild card," she said, crossing her arms. "Bon, I'm here for you. If you want to get drunk, call me."
"Care, it's not like I called Damon to hang out," I sighed. "He just showed up. And you know I can take care of myself."
"Of course I do. But I also know you're hurting, and I know what you do when you're hurt." She pursed her lips. "You either lash out or you run off. So which is it this time?"
"I don't know. But a vacation away doesn't sound bad," I said dryly. A quick visit to Gloria actually sounded amazing.
"I was there when your mom left, when your dad was gone, and when your grandmother was hitting the bottle so hard she forgot you needed to eat," Caroline said, pulling me into a soft hug. "You were there when my mom was working nonstop, and when my dad was too busy questioning his sexuality — even though my mom still uses the 'he's helping his friend Steve move furniture' excuse for why he's not here this Christmas. Ugh, I'm rambling. Point is: I have your back and you have mine. If you want to take a few days off, that's fine. I'll cover for you as long as you call me every day."
I chuckled softly. "My dad wants me to spend Christmas with him, and I really don't want to spend Christmas alone in a hotel while he's at conferences. He might show up just to drag me there, so going away for a few days might be exactly what I need."
"But you'll be back for Christmas Day, right?" she asked seriously. "We've always spent Christmas together."
"I'll be back. His conference is on the 24th, so even if he tries to drag me away, he'll be long gone by Christmas Day." I shrugged. In this life, my parental figures were lacking in… many areas.
"Okay. Call me if you need me," she said, giving me a small smile before leaving.
When the door closed, I sighed. What the hell was I going to do now?
I kicked open the old front door of the abandoned house, carrying two bags — one with food and clothes, the other with grimoires and candles.
The place was full of dust, dirt, broken furniture, and random junk scattered everywhere. I headed straight to the cleanest room — the one where I'd contacted Emily before — and dropped my bags.
Before I could even light the candles with my mind, the only dead witch I'd ever spoken to appeared beside me.
"I'm sorry for your loss, granddaughter."
I jumped and let out a small shriek. "Jesus, Emily! How the hell are you already here?"
She smiled and nodded toward the large necklace around my neck. "My talisman and my place of death — not to mention your blood — make it easy for me to force my presence into the world of the living."
"You say easy, but I'm betting ghosts forcing themselves into the living world isn't normal," I said, knowing damn well it wasn't.
"Well, I'm a Bennett. And on this side, Bennetts with connections have a few benefits," Emily said. If I didn't know the future, I'd be completely lost.
"Been making friends with old dead Bennett witches who've been scorned lately?" I asked, unsure if I should say Qetsiyah's name out loud.
"Perhaps. But it's better not to say the devil's name, or the devil shall appear," Emily warned.
Yeah, definitely not in the mood to deal with Tessa today.
"So, what are you doing here, granddaughter? Should you not be mourning with your family?" she asked.
"You said you had a lot to teach me. So here I am — witch boot camp," I said, dodging the question. I wasn't in the mood to deal with my family issues.
"If you plan on staying here to learn from me for a few days, then I recommend you make this place more of a home," Emily said, glancing around the dusty room.
"This place is huge. Cleaning it would take days," I groaned. "This is a vacation, not a cleaning spree."
"Then I suppose I can teach you the necessary spells to do it quickly," she said, amused.
And just like that, I knew this witchy boot camp was going to be way too much like Karate Kid for my liking. I'd need to be a miracle worker to make this house look less like an abandoned haunted mansion.
Bonnie Bennett: witchy maid with magical dust‑cleaning powers.
Yup. Sounds terrible.