Bonnie Bennett was stronger than ever before, Damon had noted. Other than being a Bennett witch, hailing from the blood of Qetsiyah—Psycho Bitch, as Damon preferred to call her—she had many years of practice. Sometime in her mid-twenties, after defeating Kai's spell on Elena, she extended her life line. To Damon, she still looked like the girl he spent months with in the prison world; Bonnie still looked like his best friend. 

   "When Stefan called to tell me that you disappeared, he only had one explanation to why," she said as she pulled a book from her bag. Damon noticed it was one of the many grimoires she had collected over the years: big and leather-bound and with hundreds of yellowing pages. She glanced up at him as she let the book fall from her hands to the table. "Freya. It's the anniversary of her death, so she must have been the only reason why you disappeared out of nowhere."

   Damon crossed his arms and watched. "How do you know she's alive?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. He didn't want to speak about his sudden disappearance, especially since it involved his feelings, and he wasn't well-practised in showing those for quite some time.

   "Stefan said you've been having dreams about her for the past month," she said, opening the book. "The same dream every night, and that's very unusual."

   "Right," Stefan answered for his brother, quickly glancing at him. "Damon, you must admit that it is a bit strange that you've had the same dream every single night for thirty days straight."

   "I wasn't thinking about that," he mumbled, looking down at the floor. "It didn't cross my mind that it was strange. I just let it happen."

   Bonnie watched him for several seconds, sighed then glanced down at the book. "Anyway, I think you were dreaming of Freya because you had some kind of psychic link with her. Tell me, Damon, before she died, did you feel anything strange?"

   "No," he immediately answered, glancing down at his feet. "I didn't feel anything weird."

   "I know it's painful," Stefan began, walking over to him. "I know it's hard to think about the day she died, but maybe it holds an answer to why you have a psychic link."

   Damon decided to take a seat on the bed and bring his hands together, then closed hie eyes. He remembered the day she died as if it were yesterday. It was after Rohan's wedding to Thomas Howell, the man who had cold feet a few minutes before the ceremony and Damon convinced him that he was being stupid. Somehow, he had become the best man. He remembered how he danced with Freya at the reception, how he dipped her under and kissed her well. She wore a crown of flowers, he recalled, pink and white and purple flowers decorating her dark hair. 

   And then, he decided to go with the men and drink until his head felt light, his thoughts were rumbled, and his thirst wasn't for blood. He remembered Logan and Jacob, the lawyer and second year resident at a hospital. Logan had pointed out the flower Freya had recoloured was dried, how it slowly died and broke between his fingers. For him, it was strange, so he looked for her. And then—

   "I felt like crap," Damon said, looking up at his brother and the witch. "I felt sick, like throwing up. I could barely walk, but I continued because I needed to find her." He looked down at his hand and tightened his lips.

   Bonnie nodded. "That's a side-effect for one of those spells," she said as she stared at him. Slowly, a smile appeared on her lips. "Damon, I think she did that spell before dying."

   All while Damon sat and drank the cheap bottle of liquor he had brought at a gas station, Bonnie and Stefan continued to plan. To him it seemed ridiculous how they were more into finding out why than he was. He didn't care how or why, he just cared that she was alive again. Maybe, in the back of his mind were the questions burning, but in the now all there was were the many probabilities of kissing her again, of holding her in his arms one more time. That time, she would be alive and not a ghost.

   "Do you miss her?" Bonnie quietly asked when Stefan walked out of the hotel room.

   Damon glanced up at her. "What?"

   "Do you miss Freya?" she repeated. "Of course you do, what kind of question is that? You never told me about her, Damon, why?"

   "She died," he sighed. "She was gone; she was in my past and I didn't want to remember her. I didn't tell anyone."

   "I wish you would have told me about her," she said, taking a seat besides him. "At least I would have known; I could have helped you."

   "You did," he told her, giving her a small smile. "You reminded me a lot of her, Bon Bon." He gave her a playful wink and stood, grabbing the bag by the end of the bed. "Come on, let's get going. You said we have to make a stop in Hartford, Connecticut. Question: why?"

   "There's a witch there that can help us," she responded, brushing past him. "She's a distant family member."

   The drive to Hartford was long, especially since Damon and Stefan could hear Bonnie's stomach rumbling every now and then. It wasn't until the first hour and a half that Damon pulled over at a gas station, bought everyone food and snacks, refuelled the car, and then continued on their way. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously, already wanting to find Freya. He wanted to kiss her, hug her, simply have her by his side. As he drove, he wondered how was she? Was she terrified? She must have been; the world had changed ever since she died. 

   Bonnie gave him the directions: turn left, right, left, make a U turn and turn left at that stop sign. When he stopped, it was in front of a store with its name—Voodoo Authentica—in neon lights. When the door opened, bells rang around the store. The inside was a dark red colour, decorated with dolls, crystals, herbs, statues, paintings, and altars. It was a kaleidoscope of colours, of magic and a strong presence that made the vampire shift uncomfortable.

   "How may I help–" The voice stopped mid-sentence as its owner came from a long curtain of beads. "Damon?"

   At the sound of his name, he turned. In front of him stood Helena Beauchene, the same Helena Beauchene he had last seen during the early summer of 1977, the day Freya died. Long dark hair, bright blue eye, and the strong presence that she had always bore. She stood tall and regal, her hand over her waist and her blue eyes scanning him.

   "I thought I told you to never show your face in front of me," she spat, glaring at him. It was blue against blue, hurricanes colliding against each others and wanting nothing to destroy.

   "I thought you would be dead," Damon retorted, crossing his arms.

   "The perks of being a witch is that I can control my ageing," she responded, lifting her hand. Her fingers were suddenly engulfed in blue flames, reminding him of the flames of wood soaked in saltwater. "I don't cheat Death."

   "Same thing," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't age, you slow yours down—we're both cheating Death."

   "Helena," Bonnie stepped in.

   Helena's blue eyes scanned the other witch, and then a smile erupted from her lips. "You're the Bennett witch," she said, almost in awe. "I've heard a lot about you, Bonnie Bennett. Your name does not come with consequences."

   "Is that bad?" Bonnie asked, raising a brow.

   "It can be," the other witch nodded. She sighed and leaned against a table with her arms crossed, her eyes shifting between the three until they finally landed on Damon's. "Now, what can I do for you?"

   "I think you might want to sit down of this," Bonnie said.

   "I can take anything," Helena said with a grin. "I'm very old, Bonnie."

   "Freya's alive," Damon said, straightening his posture. "She's alive, Helena."

   For the first time since he had known her, he saw Helena Beauchene scared. No, she wasn't scared. Because Helena Beauchene never got scared. She was terrified, absolutely terrified. Her eyes were wide and her breathing had stopped, her heart accelerating since his words escaped his mouth. Her hand rested on the table besides, her fingers trembling. 

   "What... What do you mean she's alive?" she asked, her tone filled with disbelief. "She-she died, Damon! You saw her, I saw her, we all saw her. She's dead."

   The vampire took a step closer to her, almost laying his hands on her shoulder but stopped himself. "I know," he said, quietly. "I... I saw her." His voice broke as he spoke, like a splinter digging into his finger and breaking skin. "But, I've been having strange dreams about her for a month straight, and then an even stranger dream for the past week."

   "Dreams?" Helena questioned, tilting her head to the side. "What kind of dreams?"

   Damon laid his hands on his waist and glanced down, swallowing hard. "I, uh..." He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I had a family with her," he said with a faint smile. "I had three kids, a house, and I took them to school every morning. I threatened parents at a school, there was a calendar with special dates in them: Robert's baseball game on Saturday the sixteenth at ten in the morning, Lillian's science fair on Monday the nineteenth at six in the afternoon, Ric's doctor appointment on Tuesday the twentieth at nine in the morning. It was a perfect life, but then something would happen."

   "He would wake up screaming," Stefan stepped in, taking a stand besides his brother. "He said that he had to save them, and then he went back to sleep."

   "Save them from what?" Helena asked.

   "I don't know," Damon said as he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't remember."

   Helena Beauchene led the trio to the back of the store. It was a small room, only lit by candles and a strong presence that Damon couldn't really decipher. There were a few shelves against the wall in front of them, holding little bottles of ingredients with their name written in neat cursive and crystals and little dolls that appeared like the voodoo dolls Damon had seen when he was in New Orleans. Helena motioned them to sit around the table with her hand as she continued to the shelf. She returned with a stack of cards, which she shuffled as she took a seat. Her eyes moved around the table, landing on each person for several seconds. Mostly, her eyes stayed on those of Damon's.

   She had found out that he was a vampire the day of Freya's funeral, all thanks to Ioanna who had comforted him in telling him he was the most compassionate vampire she had ever met. Helena was the most surprised out of the family when she heard that he was a vampire. She threatened to stake him, to kill him in the most brutal way, and she blamed him for her nieces' death. He wondered whether she had forgiven in the many years that had passed or if she still blamed him.

   Helena took a deep breath and continued to shuffle. "The cards like to be read at night when the moon is up," she said. "This is an old set from the 14th Century; they belonged to Ursula Southeil, also known as Mother Shipton. She was feared, and a highly regarded English prophetess. She predicted the Spanish Armada, the Great Plague of London, the Great Fire of London, the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, and the internet with this deck." She raised the deck and gave Bonnie a small smile. "Our ancestor."

   Bonnie nodded. "Gran told me that the Bennett's and the Beauchene's are powerful."

   "We are," Helena nodded. "It is said that we come from another astral plane; the beginning of all magical beings in this world."

   "We met one of your ancestors," Damon said with disgust. "Qetsiyah. We're not big fans of her or her ex."

   "Okay," Helena uttered, slightly confused. She shook her head and looked down at the cards. "The cards like to be read at night, when the moon is up. They'll be most accurate then."

   "So, they're not always accurate?" Damon questioned, leaning against the table on his arms. "What kind of witch are you, Helena?"

   "One that can drop you on your ass," she responded, glancing up at him with a small smirk.

   Damon nodded, knowing that what she said was true. Helena was a powerful witch, he had learned. Freya, Frederick, and Rohan had learned their best from her, even though each showed a special gift. From what he had learned, he knew that both Helena and Freya were capable of seeing and reading another being's aura. But her affinity was reading the cards; she was never wrong, according to Freya. 

   Helena shuffled the cards one more time, then pulled out six cards and laid on them on the table. She stared at them for several seconds, then picked them up just to shuffle the cards one more time. Once again, she pulled out six cards. What surprised Damon the most was that they were the exact same cards she pulled out the first time.

   "This is... This is impossible," Helena uttered, staring down at the cards with wide eyes. "This can't be."

   "What?" Bonnie asked, leaning closer to look at them.

   "These are the exact same cards I pulled out to Freya the night you two went to the disco," the witch answered, staring at Damon with wide eyes. She pointed down at one card. "The Magician, also known as The Trickster. It's reversed, and that means manipulation. At first, I thought it was you that was manipulating her, but... I think the card was reading the future, not her present." She pointed at another card. "The Fool, foolishness. Reversed Wheel of Fortune, out of control. The Moon, it means uncertainty. The Lovers, union. The revered Emperor, which means domination and excessive control."

   "What, no Death?" Damon asked, wanting to lighten the situation.

   Helena's blue eyes caught his. She pushed the stack she held in her hand in his direction and quirked the right side of her lips upwards. "You pull out the last card," she said.

   Damon let out a sigh and almost rolled his eyes. He reached for the stack and pulled one out; he held it between his his index and thumb, his middle finger gently resting in the front. He never looked at it, unsure on what could it be and slightly anxious for it be a good card. Only once had he gotten his cards read, and he was pretty sure that it was a fake witch wanting to earn money.

   "You spoke too soon, Brother," Stefan said with a soft chuckle.

   Damon turned the card and sighed, seeing Death staring back at him. "Are you kidding me?"

   Helena grabbed the card and chuckled. "Death is the most misunderstood card out of all the deck," she said. "Just the mention of it and people shake. Upright, it means the ending of a major phase or aspect of one's life that may bring about the beginning of something far more valuable and important. You must close one door to open another. You need to put the past behind you and part ways, ready to embrace new opportunities and possibilities."

   "What about reversed?" Damon asked, staring at the reversed Death between Helena's fingers. "What does it mean when it's reversed?"

   "It means you are on the verge of a major change," she replied with a smaller smile. "You're stuck in a limbo, and you need to let go, Damon."

   The vampire watched her with lips set in a straight line. He wondered whether he was speaking about the past, or if she was speaking of something that would occur in the future. It was one of the many things that annoyed him about witches that read the cards, not knowing what their words exactly meant. He took a deep breath and nodded, glancing down at his fingers. 

   While Stefan, Bonnie, and Helena were gathering ingredients to make a location spell, Damon stood to the corner with a ring between his fingers. The golden band and the garnet in the centre glimmered with the many candles Helena had in the room. He remembered the afternoon he spoke about marrying Freya with Robert. Robert told him about his wife, Vivian, and how they met and how he wanted to marry her the moment his eyes saw her. It was that moment where Damon decided that he wanted to marry Freya, the moment he decided to spend eternity with her. He wondered how the hell could he love someone so much to the point where he would drop everything and leave.

   "We need something that belonged to Freya," Bonnie said, glancing around.

   "Damon," Stefan said. "You have something, don't you?"

   Damon turned and stared at his brother. "I, uh, have the engagement ring," he said, licking his bottom lip. "Will it work?"

   "Yes." Bonnie walked up to him and grabbed the ring, giving him a reassuring nod before she went back to the table. She laid the ring inside the basin, then looked at the other witch. 

   Helena stood in the centre, her head held high and her eyes staring down at the basin filled with water and herbs. She closed her eyes and exhaled, slightly leaning down so her face was close enough to the basin.

   "Aducté do mi volum ix ti de..." she whispered, slow and quietly. She opened her eyes and pushed her hands into the basin, pulling out a handful of water. She dropped the water on the map, and repeated the words. Slowly, the water moved from the different droplets into a big one. The droplet began to slowly move across the map, heading south. At first, the vampire thought it would stop in Florida, but then it moved to the left, until it stopped in Louisiana.

   "Please, tell me it's not New Orleans," he said, glancing up at Bonnie and Helena.

   "New Orleans," Helena sighed, glancing up at the vampire.

   "Of course," Bonnie breathed, shaking her head. "It must have been one of the nine covens of New Orleans."

   Helena let out a huff. "I always hated that place," she said as she laid her hands on her waist. "New Orleans isn't a good place. It's filled with the power-hungry."

   "What if..." Damon began, leaning against the table to glance between the witches and his brother. "What if Klaus has something to do with this?"

   "Klaus?" Stefan asked, surprised. "Damon, I don't think he—"

   "You now that the Hybrid Dick wants power," he snapped. "You know that he would do anything to get power, so why not bring back a powerful witch from the dead?"