Jeremy Gilbert has been walking for a long, long time. He doesn't know where he is by the time he ends up there at the pool hall. Jeremy doesn't know that Alek will be there right now, but he's angry (and hurting and upset) and he's walked more than he has any right to walk. He can't walk anymore so he steps into the pool hall that he's been to before with Alek in the past. They talked about hanging out in his journal entry, and they did. It helped distract Jeremy from the stalker situation, which has thankfully quieted quite a bit since she was bodily removed from their house.
He steps through to the back, looking for something... anything.
Just fuck.
The whole of it is still racing through his head, and he wants to be numb. He wants to forget about it for the night at least, because he can't handle it. Jeremy can still remember her hands on his face, the coolness of her underneath him as he kissed her, her smile when she's laughing, and how she looked on that street when he found her.
He could shake with rage, with the pain that hits and hasn't gone away. It's not until Jeremy reaches the pool hall that he bothers checking his phone, not surprised to see Elena's calls and texts. Jeremy doesn't want her worrying, but he can't- he can't talk to her right now. He fires off a text in response and then another before he turns his phone off altogether.
Jeremy could really use a drink right now, but he doesn't know if he could get away with that. Part of him doesn't care, part of him wants to try anyway, anything to make this feeling a little less painful, ease the strength of that rage and that... that pain screaming through him in some resounding... something resounding.
It never changes.
It doesn't.
He doesn't know why he thought it would be different here. Death follows them.
The lights are dim but one can still make out his form if they're paying enough attention, sitting at a table by himself. There's a glass of something strong served in front of him, but he hasn't taken a sip from it. He's just staring down at it sullenly. He could use a drink himself, but he could use anger more, and he keeps being taught that that's wrong.
By the very people that have been keeping things from him.
Like the existence of his own brother.
Alek's not stupid. He knows exactly why they would keep it from him, why they wouldn't trust him not to go half cocked and do something dumb, and God forbid he make those choices on his own. There's a bitter, metallic taste that keeps swirling in his mouth, and his hand tightens on the glass but he still doesn't bring it to his lips yet.
He hasn't gone home. He hasn't answered calls of his own. He hasn't done anything but sit there and stew and let it build and wonder what else they've been keeping 'for his own good.'
Are there more people running around with his blood that he just has no idea of?
"Rough night?" he asks once he spots Jeremy walk in from the back.
They've been here before already, Alek introduced him to the place, a hangout for the younger crowd, seniors and some college students. Alek looks as rough as he feels, he looks kind of like how Jeremy feels, and he's almost tempted to hand over the drink to the guy as it is.
Jeremy is not expecting to see Alek at the pool place. He should have since they've been there before together. It's not why he came. It's just where he ended up, and it seemed better waking into a place that he knew than some random building on the street.
He may have walked all this way, but he's not going to take any other chances with his safety. Jeremy doesn't want to die. He's just angry. It's not that he wants something to happen. Well, he does. He is angry, and he wants to fight someone, but not to the extent that he would walk into a building that he doesn't recognize and hope it wasn't Society related.
It keeps ringing through his head like some constant drum, like an endless thudding, warning in his chest that he cannot ignore though he wishes he could. He wishes he could for just a moment to calm down again, to not feel like it's all pointless.
Because everyone dies anyway... for no good reason. It's just the way that life is, car accident, murdered, staked, broken neck, shot.
It's the question that alerts Jeremy to the fact that Alek's there. There was a brief moment where he'd almost shot off an angry answer, unaware that it was someone he knew. Jeremy looks over at him, nodding.
"Yeah," he says, hand behind his neck, taking in how Alek looks. It hits him, and he sits down at the table, staring at the top of it before he manages the words that he wants to say. "You too?"
It's that persistent anger, the kind that doesn't go away. The kind that's born from grief, yes. Elena would know that, and he knows it too. There's a difference, and this is how he's felt many times before.
It's why Alek hasn't bothered making friends again since he became a full-fledged werewolf. It's why he hasn't bothered reaching out, not that he'd know how anyway, because everyone dies, and everyone does whatever they think is best without taking into consideration what you want.
Whether it's his friends that the Rift takes or his mom who just died one day, or his father who never bothered showing up at all, people leave. They leave by death or they leave by choice, and he can't decide which one of the two alternatives is worse.
"Something like that," Alek says with a humorless snort, nodding at Jeremy in greeting when he sits down. It sounds bitter, more bitter than he usually lets himself sound, Bitterness means he cares. Bitterness means something matters, and it would be much more preferable if nothing did matter.
If he could just. Not. Care.
"Life, I have decided, is a pile of horseshit." He finally takes a swig of his drink. "Or goatshit. Or bullshit. Someone's shit."
The words aren't managed easily for the same reasons. His fists are itching to be used.
That anger, that anger that comes so quickly is burning through his chest, and it's taking everything now to lash out.
Jeremy sometimes doesn't understand how anyone does it, how anyone that has experienced loss does it again and again. His sister and him are here after losing countless numbers of people, and they have both managed to make friends, make a whole new family of people to count on, to rely on, to love.
They could be as easily lost as all the people that died back home. It doesn't matter how hard they hold on. It slips through their fingers and leaves pieces behind.
He talked about that with Sarah not long ago though it suddenly feels like they spoke about it months ago, like he kissed her months ago. People who die don't simply die. They leave something that you can hold on to, and it helps and makes the losing of them a little easier than it would if there was just nothing left of them at all but a broken memory of who they used to be.
"No offense, but it... looks like it," Jeremy says as he looks sideways at him, and it sounds like it too. He hears the bitterness, recognizes it as another emotion that he's so familiar with. Rarely has Jeremy preferred numbness especially after spending so long unable to feel anything but...
However, he would really like to not feel right now either, to not feel how much he cares and how much he wants to fight against something that's so inevitable. At some point, it has to hit. He has to get it, right?
"Yeah, it is. It's a lot of bullshit, and nothing changes. It doesn't matter where you go, who you are," he mutters under his breath. "It's just bullshit," Jeremy says, making a face that's as bitter as Alek sounds.
There's a lot of anger. They're both feeling it, and it's dangerous like a powder keg. It can't really be contained, and Jeremy knows what that means but there's nothing to strike out against.
You can't fight death, can't fight insanity, can't fight the rules of this universe.
Alek snorts, again without any humor to it, but he nods and rubs a hand against his face. "It's been a long day," he says, and it sounds almost offhanded but there's nothing really casual about it. His whole posture is stiff, shoulders knotted with tension, definitely like a powder keg.
But Jeremy's helped him out of two binds already, and Alek's not really an asshole.
He's not going to take it out on the one person that's given a crap for no real reason other than he's just a nice guy.
Who's also had a shitty day.
There's a small pause as he listens to Jeremy, as he hears the words and applies them to his own context, and the anger and the dullness quietly simmer opposite each other, counter arresting their own effects but never for too long before he's just angry again. "Nope. Doesn't change. Why it's called circle of fucking life. You just go round and round and round and end up right back where you started."
And he is so sick and tired of going back to where he started, with all the questions that never get an answers, without really knowing who he is or where he comes from, as if he's supposed to just be okay with that.
He's been so focused on the drink and on his own thoughts he genuinely never noticed Carter step into the pool hall. The only thing that brings about the attention is a small chorus of cheers and whooping. Alek lifts his head up and his face twists even further with the disdain once he recognizes where the noises are coming from.
Carter just won a game. Sherri's cheering him on, and his buddies are hi-fiving him as the guy he won against slaps the dollar bills onto the palm of his hand--because Carter Hawthorne needs more money.
Jeremy smirks in response to the snort again with no humor of his own, and he nods in response, hand behind his neck again as he shoves down the feeling in his chest that threatens to give way to grief that makes his eyes burn. Not today, not right now, not out here.
"Yeah, it has been," he says quietly, and hey, Jeremy doesn't think Alek's an asshole. If he did, he wouldn't have gone out to Vegas to save him from that near wedding that happened.
There's a difference between Alek and real assholes like Carter, and Jeremy knows it and he's not about to take his bad day out on Alek either. It wouldn't make him feel any better as angry as he may be.
Jeremy looks sideways at him in response, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, that's exactly how it works," he says, swallowing back the feeling rising in his throat. His jaw locks and he shuts his eyes before he opens them again.
A year ago, he was exactly like this. Well, it's not like the differences or the growth has gone away at all. It hasn't. Both are still there, still a part of him, but the anger has returned with a vengeance at the moment and he just wants to tear something apart.
He looks over when Alek does, and he takes one look at Carter, rage hitting him stronger than ever. There are a lot of things that don't occur to him in his current emotiona state like his promise to Sarah though the reason he's going over there has nothing to do with what she told him.
Well, it might have a lot to do with that. Her time is limited as it is and this jackass forces a kiss on her like she'll have time to have that many kisses other than his toad mouthed tongued bullshit? But Jeremy would want to punch Carter right now even if he didn't know what happened at Sarah's birthday party. There's plenty of reason to, and it's exactly what he wants despite the guys he sees surrounding the pool table to.
"I thought you said this was a Carter free zone. Looks like he didn't get the memo," he says, reaching over to have a drink of alcohol from some waiter that passed by, didn't bother to check an ID. Jeremy keeps hold of the bottle of beer. "Guess I'll go give it to him."
Jeremy gets to his feet and steps directly over to Carter and his gang with his beer in hand, because this is smart, Jeremy Gilbert. This is totally not a self destructive moment that you're having. The anger rushes through him, and it's not about thought. Jeremy steps in front of the pool table, and the people with Carter quiet at the sight of him.
It's a little obvious that Jeremy isn't there to make nice, and that anger and that grief and that everything is pounding through him like some tidal wave.
"Now I know you wouldn't want a slum touching your pool table or getting in the way of your good times, but I just felt like someone should tell you, I may be a slum, but you're a complete fucking tool."
"I... ah, it... was supposed to be," Alek says carefully, his jaw locked while he surveys the scene, not quite as angry as Jeremy, considering. He detects the anger in Jeremy's voice, in his movements, recognizes it so painfully since he finds it so frequently in himself, and his shoulders stiffen further once Jeremy gets to his feet. "Jeremy, what the hell--"
Okay, this isn't good.
Alek swallows back the emotions swirling in his own chest, fighting for the control that his brothers swear he's got in him, before he gets up and motions to the waiter with a quick wave of his hand. The crowd immediately quiets down, and he also can't believe his eyes at first.
This can't possibly end well, but he's not going to just leave Jeremy up against these assholes by himself.
Not after the parking lot incident, and not after the Vegas incident, and if he's honest with himself, Alek's itching for a fight himself, though he'll... try to do the right thing. He's not quite as angry as Jeremy is, but he will be once the shock wears off, once he does get those answers he will demand from those that have been keeping it from him.
"Jeremy, bad idea. Bad idea, man."
Carter isn't expecting Jeremy to approach him.
It's always the other way around, and he's almost ridiculously pleased by how easy this will be. "Here I thought only an idiot would stick around when he knows he's outnumbered," he says, echoing the last time they ever had a conversation, and how Carter actually left because he knew he couldn't fight two against one.
Now there are at least four guys surrounding Carter, remaining behind him while he folds his arms across his chest and takes a step toward Jeremy. There's a smirk veering into a sneer filled with amused contempt, and he tilts his head sideways. "You sure told me. I don't know how I'll be able to live with myself now. What the fuck is your problem now?"
There's the arrogance he's known for.
Why not? He's the one with backup tonight, though he sees Alek quickly comes to stand behind Jeremy--the slum has backup of his own but it's still five against two. "Come on, man," Alek says, a hand on Jeremy's shoulder as he tries to steer him away from the pool hall. It's similar to the Halloween night when Jeremy tried to intervene but everyone somehow knows, without needing to know the particular details that the stakes have been raised.
Makes things that much more interesting.
Carter's a nosy sort of guy, and he doesn't like missing a piece to the puzzle, but he's still good at pushing those buttons. "Let it be known I didn't do anything to you this time around. You're right about one thing, though. Like hell I want slum... or a mutt, anywhere near my personal space."
Jeremy is very, very angry. He hasn't really expressed any anger that he has felt over the time that he's been here in any fights though. Jeremy's been good about that for the latter half of the year that he was in Mystic Falls and since he came here. Violence has not really been his answer, pushing assholes to punching him or to his tackling them hasn't really been his answer either.
Not for a long time, but there is so much anger through all that grief. It pisses him off, all of it pisses him off more than he could put into words, and he's been wanting to punch Carter for a long time and he really wants to punch someone tonight, to get into a fight with someone, to tear someone down until he doesn't feel anything else.
So much has been shoved out of his head like about how he is basically being the bully this time, like about how he shouldn't want this because it doesn't help. Carter has lots of goons with him, and Jeremy in no way wants to die or be hurt. He just wants to hurt someone that deserves it.
He's not thinking about how Carter is a product of his environment, how this proves nothing, how it's going to be something that he is at fault for for once. The very existence of Carter is enough to piss him off, and Jeremy wants o give into anger, give into hate until that's all there is of it. No pain, no grief, no knowing like some persistent fear in his veins that time is limited.
For everyone, everywhere but especially for Sarah, and he is so angry at this world and his word and every world. He's angry at life and he's angry at himself.
And he's angry at Carter and Carter is about the only one of the above that Jeremy can actually hit.
Bad idea, man.
Jeremy hears him, but it's literally like he can't stop himself, and Jeremy smirks at him at the way he's throwing his words back at him. "I'm not panning on sticking around, I came to tell you what a tool you were. That's all," he says and it's nearly said between his teeth but seriously, JerBear. No one believes you.
He levels a glare at Carter. "You are my problem," Jeremy says distinctly biting back the bile that rises up in his throat and begs him to say all the reasons that Carter is his problem.
Sherri loyally turns her nose up at Carter's side. "He's just jealous," she says with a tiny smirk, chin raised. "And who would blame him? He's dating the Grim and he doesn't belong here like trash that should be thrown out. The Grim being the slum lover that she is can be thrown out with the trash. It's where they all belong."
It's said simply, as simply as something filled with such vitriol can ever be said.
Fff, Sherri, if Jeremy hit girls, he would seriously consider punching you right about now.
It's only because Alek is there that Jeremy calms down marginally. He stands behind him, and Jeremy might be looking for a fight, but he doesn't want Alek dragged into it. Not when there are five of them, not when they may all be angels as far as they know and that's not really a good ratio.
Jeremy glances back at Alek, feeling the heat of his anger through his chest up to his head but he nods, trying to force his legs to turn in another direction.
But he turns back at what Carter says about personal space, moving in the other direction again, jaw locked, hands already formed fists at his side. "And I don't want a gigantic douchebag looking down on me like he's tough shit, but I guess we'll both have to learn to live with what we don't want."
Jeremy cannot stop himself. It gives him an inkling to just how bad his day must've been, and he's not planning on letting him stick around with the way the angels are all crowding around him, and Alek can't be sure they're all angels, he can't tell the way they can, but he can only assume as Carter wouldn't hang out with anyone other than his kind.
And Alek remembers what his brothers told him. He should walk away, be the bigger man, but that's hard to remember when they're being such assholes and there's an uncontrollable urge to strike back, the world of redness blinding him at his eyelids, the rage building up until there's nothing else but that rage.
Why should he keep his promises when no one's been straight with him?
"Trust me, there's nothing to be jealous of when it comes to Carter Hawthorne, and plenty of people not drinking the kool-aid would agree," Alek says with a snort, her own jaw locking.
Carter almost says something to Sherri, like he's almost offended that she's spoken up.
She's a girl, and they're meant to sit in the sidelines while the boys deal with the issues, but he's so proud of her when she says what she says that he only smirks at her fondly, since she knows what buttons to push as well. He turns back to Jeremy with that smirk still on his face. "She does have a point. Is that it, Jer? You jealous? You're trash, and she's hanging out with those at the bottom of the totem pole so none of you really belong here."
It's unseemly to him.
They're angels.
They're inherently the superior race by sole virtue of existing. They're better than these lowlifes that keep trying to worm their way into their world. Willingly choosing to not only be in their presence but care for them is completely disgusting to him.
"How is Sarah, by the way? We haven't had a change to catch up lately, since she's all but trash too at this point. That's about the only talent wanderers have. Turning everything to trash. Way to go."
Alek doesn't stand behind Jeremy any longer. He comes to stand beside him, and the red anger that's boiling through him almost radiates from his posture, from the hardness of his gaze. Sherri is lucky she's a girl, or Alek would've started up the fight himself at those words alone.
"You need to shut your mouth right now, asshole," he says, voice dangerously low but eerily controlled, and Carter glances from him and back to Jeremy, focusing on the former when he turns back at him to speak.
"No. You're the one that's going to learn," he says, whispering into Jeremy's ear. "I win, Jeremy. I always win. I look down on you because you're both nothing. To me and to this world. Abominations. Lower than the pond scum that insects feed on. I'm not here to give you what you want. I'm here to give you what you deserve. And when I'm through with you, you'll know exactly what it is that you deserve."
There's not even a second before he's done speaking when his hand is drawn back. Carter's fist connects with Jeremy's jaw with full angel speed, and hell breaks loose quickly after that.
The angel behind Carter moves to grab Jeremy by the collar so Carter can keep pounding on him, but Alek's quick to step in and deliver a blow himself, knuckles shoving their way down the angel's ribs, the strength of it pinning him to the wall. "Ganging up on 'trash' now? I'd like to see you try," he says, before driving his elbow into the other boy's solar plexus, the rim of his eyes now a startling shade of blood red.
They both tumble across the pool table as it cracks in half, and once Alek's on the floor surrounded by splintered wood, the punches start flying from his direction and everyone else's.
There’s no way to be sure that they are all angels or not, but Jeremy would expect that they were from the way that Carter is. He would only hang out with his own kindand it has to be what the other people with him are, angels or soon-to-be angels maybe if they’re lucky. However even that would mean hanging out with underclassmen.
It’s easy to say. It’s easy to talk about waking away, but it is much more difficult to actually walk away in the face of assholeness like this, with words like this thrown at them. It’s complete vitriol, and it’s poisonous and it’s filled with hate, and it isn’t in Jeremy to do anything but fight back against it, aware that he won’t ever change Carter’s mind, aware that he is much stronger than Jeremy could ever hope to be.
Jeremy knows something about fighting now thanks to Wes, but Wes likely did not intend for him to use it in the way that Jeremy will be using it in just a few short minutes when things explode like they’re about to do.
“Yeah, I’m far from jealous. I’d rather be slum than a tool,” he says, rolling his eyes and barely suppressing the rage that rushes up through him like a hurricane, like a volcano, like something that can’t and won’t ever be ignored. To ignore it would be impossible, would be ignoring a very loud part of himself.
And he doesn’t want to. He wants his fist to connect with that asshole’s jaw. He wants to dole out a small amount of pain, nothing at all like the pain that he’s feeling. It couldn’t reach it, no matter how hard Jeremy could hit. He could break Carter’s jaw, and he would never understand what this feels like.
Sherri only grins brightly at Carter’s fond look before she takes a step back, because she senses this is about to get dirty and she won’t get her hands dirty along with it. She’ll stand back and cheer along naturally though she has no doubts who will win in this case, and she sits up high on a table nearby, texting her friends the whole time with updates about how amazing Carter is doing.
Jeremy cringes when he calls him Jer, that’s Elena’s nickname for him, no one else’s, but he doesn’t say that because he knows it will only egg Carter on. And Jeremy really doesn’t want to bring his sister into this. “Yeah, that’s completely it. I’ve just been jealous of you this entire time, so jealous that I can’t do anything else but come over here and call you a tool over it,” he says, jaw locking as he looks at him.
The sarcasm is clear in his voice. There’s bitterness too but it has absolutely nothing to do with jealousy of course. It has everything to do with life, this word, this universe. He hates it. He really does.
And he feels something like bile, like lava slide through him at that question. How is Sarah? He shouldn’t have the right to ask, and it’s a wonder and it’s only because of Alek that he manages to keep himself from springing forward and punching him right then and there.
“I think she gets like I do that the real trash is you,” Jeremy says between his teeth as he looks at him. “I could say the same for you. Look at this, you and your gang of douchebags, really something to be proud of here. I’m sure you’re just preening about it.”
Jeremy senses Alek beside him, but he doesn’t turn to look, can’t afford to. It’s fairly clear that the stakes have been raised, and it’s up to him to maintain his stance right about now. Sherri feels lucky she’s a girl, but if she was a boy, she would have kicked both of their asses, okay? 8)
Go away, Sherri. You’re being a ‘good woman’ and not speaking up anymore, remember?
He freezes at the whispering into his ear. Jeremy freezes, but he doesn’t stop glaring daggers, can’t fight back the feeling in his chest like it is going to explode at any moment. His hands are already fists, and they tighten and they shake on either side of him. Jeremy swallows, jaw locking. Every word hits him, it hits him hard and harder than it should because he knows logically that none of it is true, but he doesn’t let the effect show or he tries not to.
Jeremy has never been good at masking his reactions, and right now is no different than any other time. When he’s numb, it’s easy enough to hide because none of it shows, there’s nothing to show, but now it’s in his eyes and Carter is far too close for comfort.
The anger in his expression doesn’t waver, doesn’t deepen.
It’s hate.
Jeremy once told Sarah that hate can be poisonous, but it’s all he feels coursing through his arms, tight, muscles tight with the need to attack. He doesn’t though. If anyone is throwing the first punch, it’s going to be Carter, but from that point on, he will fight back with everything he has and everything that Wes taught him.
Whether this is the correct time for it or not, granted, his anger which takes over him and makes him irrational is going to have a huge effect ton his ability to follow what Wes taught him. But he’s still better off than he would be if he attacked before he’d trained. Carter’s fist swings back and hits Jeremy square in the jaw. The force of it sending him back but not before the angel behind Carter grabs hold.
Fuck, they’re fast. It’s the one thought he has before Alek steps in, and Jeremy pushes himself forward, attacking with a fury, fists and legs and every part of him fighting. It’s still five against two though, and they’ll be beaten down, but they get in more punches than Jeremy can count. He’s bleeding and bruised, but he won’t stop until he’s physically removed or physically knocked out.
Every ounce of that anger that has been pounding through him since he read those statistics, knew the truth like a shadow against his back pumps through him and out into his fists. He sees nothing but red and only half registers the pain.
Jeremy would be correct, and Carter isn't exactly unpredictable in that respect.
There's no way he would befriend a demon, no way he'd befriend a werewolf, certainly not a wanderer. Carter and his friends come from a long, long line of familial traditions that include old age sentiments. He is not meant to be friends with these people. Angels and demons should forever be at war. They shouldn't be making friends with each other, much less dating and fornicating each other.
It's the most disgusting thing he's ever heard.
Wanderers in general should just not exist.
They're the reason the world is the way that it is. They come here, turn the world topsy turvy, and then expect to be treated like everyone else when they're not. They're inferior abominations that have no place here. They are not supposed to be here, and the only reason they are is for the very same design that they keep messing with by their very existence.
Wes, for the record, would like to state he did not intend for Jeremy to use his teachings in this way at all. He has taught them first and foremost to know when to pick your battles--and which ones to walk away from. The first thing he ever taught both Jeremy and Elena were defensive strategies, tactics that would work long enough for them to get away.
From species that are stronger and faster than them.
He would always want them to be prepared, but that means using a cool head--and not an angry fist.
"Besides, you know the slums frequented this place. So why the hell are you even here? Peeing on territory or were you just that bored?" Alek asks with a sneer that would be impossible to contain. The scathing voice is also impossible to miss, as he hates Carter almost as much as Jeremy does.
If not the same.
He hates being told what he is by these people who believe themselves so superior they feel entitled to classify them to begin with. He's a werewolf, yes, but he's no less than this dumbass that walks the earth as if he owns it, as if he was more deserving of anything within it than the rest of them. There's very little that pisses him off more than that kind of self-entitlement.
"I decided to give the place some class," is Carter's cool answer.
He likes it. He wants to hang out here, and by default, Jeremy and Alek shouldn't.
Jeremy doesn't have to say anything.
Carter's far more observant than one would think of him, because he's been taught to zero in on weaknesses. It only took one conversation with Jeremy to know which were his, and the cringe isn't something Carter blinks and misses. There's more smugness from him, if possible, at the answer. "You sure still cared enough to bring your ass over here to say so, Jeremy. So much for not being worth the time. You keep proving otherwise. It's almost amusing."
The amusement is laced with such disdain it can't really be taken humorously.
"That's rich coming from the scum that feeds off our world, infecting everyone else in it that for some ungodly reason decides you're some cause worth touting. Makes them feel good about themselves." Carter laughs, leaning against the pool table, sticking his hand into his pocket. "You're in top form today, Gilbert. I have to hand it to you."
Alek agrees, Sherri. Go away. 8|
The smirk is soft, so deceivingly soft, when Jeremy freezes. Carter isn't just an angel. He looks like one. His features are angelical, deceivingly so, he can look innocent and would look so now if it wasn't for that hardened, hateful intensity in his eyes that he doesn't bother hiding. There's no reply, and Carter's all but victorious. He may have been the one to throw the first punch--but he still wins here.
Jeremy and his mutt of a friend will be the ones kicked out, and he wins.
Carter admittedly does not expect the vehemence with which Jeremy returns the punches, but he's not holding back, either. Carter doesn't have any training. He doesn't have any finesse, any real experience--but he has the brute strength, despite how lanky he is in countenance, and his fists slam down on Jeremy's face, on his ribs, on any part of his body that he can reach while they struggle.
Alek's fast, and he's just as strong, if not stronger, for reasons he doesn't understand and cannot conceive yet, but there's still more of them. It doesn't mean he's letting Jeremy fight this one on his own--he could very well die. He's knocked out one of the angels, and another one comes at him, but Alek is pissed enough he matches the speed, snatching him up by the throat and pinning him to the wall.
"This mutt could tear you apart from limb to limb right now if he wanted to, leaving nothing but the bones to send to Daddy. You remember that next time you decide to mess with me or my friends," Alek says, and what follows is a visceral, violent blow to the stomach, followed by another, and another. There's only red for him too, and he barely notices that there's the other angel lifting up a chair to break it across Alek's back.
They're outnumbered, and while he got that initial edge, he's beaten down, as well, and every time they punch him to the ground, Alek forces himself to stand back up, despite the pain that's exploding in his body, vision blackening whenever he does so. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?" one of them asks with a laugh, before driving their knee back into his stomach, the break knocked out of him.
Eventually, the barkeep manages to split them up, and it's--to the surprise of no one--Jeremy and Alek that get tossed out the back.
"So much for your tip!" Alek calls out, grunting as he lands on the pavement.
There isn't an inch of his body that doesn't currently hurt.
Alek spits out blood, hissing in pain as he slowly, slowly rolls over onto his back, not trusting himself to move.
Jeremy can never understand or accept that train of thought, and he realizes full well that he can’t do anything to stop it. It was created far before he ever existed in any universe, hundreds of years ago in this world, angels were believing they were more important than anyone else, that wanderers were the scum of the universe. It’s a pervasive belief in all of these people, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t piss him off.
It doesn’t mean that he can understand it when push comes to shove, and he is standing in front of someone that has power, that has money and likes shoving people around because they’re ‘nothing’ in his eyes, because they don’t belong, because he is filled with poison and disgust of his own that has taken over him.
Like that somehow means they’re nothing in anyone’s eyes, in this world’s eyes.
He knows. Jeremy knows that Wes would never want him to use those skills in the way that he’s using them right now. There’s so much anger though that he’s not really thinking about it, about him. Even if he did think, it wouldn’t stop him at this point. It’s not like he didn’t know so frequently over that time that he’d get on those drugs, that he’d get into fights that Elena and Jenna would not approve.
Jeremy knew, but it never stopped him for whatever reason. It never even made him pause.
There was pain and there was anger, and it was best expressed by throwing himself at the first person that pissed him off, which was usually Tyler back home.
Carter makes Tyler seem like the nicest guy in the world right about now.
“It sounds like you were asking to have slum in your personal space,” Jeremy says through his teeth when Alek asks that question, because it doesn’t make any sense unless Carter was looking to mess with people. Which he can do just with his stupid presence for anyone that knows him, knows what he believes, and how entitled he thinks that makes him. They can hate together, hate in equal measure Carter for everything that he is, everything he ‘stands for’, and everything that he does.
There is more than enough to hate when it comes to that asshole.
“Class?” Jeremy snorts, rolling his eyes. “You mean you wanted to take the value of this place down, right? That’s what you meant by class.”
It’s enough to make Jeremy want to come back. Fuck Carter, fuck what he wants, fuck all of it right now.
No, he wouldn’t need to say it.
Guys like Carter are good at knowing which buttons to push and they figure that out by seeing, by noticing those small cringes that those they’re pushing around hope to remain unseen. There’s no chance of it when being shoved around by a bully like Carter either metaphorically or literally. Jeremy stifles down the rage somehow at his response, and he does know exactly what to say and it’s that smugness that has Jeremy wanting to punch it, punch it directly from his face. “I’m sure it’s hilarious,” he says between his teeth, voice so low that it almost can’t be heard but then it is. “About as funny as you are with how much power you think you have and how you ran scared when we saw you in the parking lot the other night.Not so confident without your gang.”
It can be said of any bully though. They’ll back down if they’re outnumbered. The problem is that Carter is rarely outnumbered. He’s smart enough to know that he should keep a few of his ‘friends’ by his side whenever he goes anywhere, and he has a willing group who’ve had too much Kool-Aid following him around.
There is so much anger that Jeremy literally cannot formulate a response, and it’s a good thing that Alek was there to pull him away at that point…even if he ended up stepping back, even if it didn’t make a difference because the fight had already been set into motion and they’re fucked.
There’s no other way to look at it.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how much he fights, how strongly, because Carter is stronger than him, much, much stronger than Tyler ever was. Jeremy doesn’t stand a chance, but that doesn’t stop him from landing as many hits as he possibly can, taking each hit from Carter and getting back to his feet to shove himself at Carter again. He shoves his fist into his stomach, into his face.
Without thought, without anything but that anger that had driven him to stand in front of Carter and speak so plainly, practically guaranteeing that this would happen.
Jeremy barely registers Alek nearby, making a dent in the angels facing up against them, but in the end, it’s no use. They’re outnumbered, overpowered, and they are beaten down in the end. His world explodes into pain as Alek and Jeremy are punched back down to the ground repeatedly. He tries to get up every single time too though he doesn’t have the werewolf strength and endurance that Alek does so there are times when he can’t manage it.
But a part of him has to smile just a little somehow in all this pain and defeat that Alek keeps getting up anyway.
He hates more than he can say that he dragged Alek into this in a sense, hates that this is happening at all to Alek too, but it’s like a ‘Fuck you’ to them each time and someone should be able to do it. Jeremy should have known. He’s gotten used to adults who would side with the underdogs, with the wanderers and the werewolves, and it might just be that Jeremy started it so of course… of course they’re the ones tossed out back.
Jeremy lies on the floor, every breath hurts, every movement hurts more than he can put to words. He slides over on to his back, blood dripping from a cut on his lip that he reaches up to push away.
Everything hurts.
And he glances over at Alek, the very act making him wince. Damn. Alek looks bad off, they both do. Jeremy closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, man,” he says after a moment, and it’s hissed out through this world of pain that’s hit him.
He can’t say he didn’t expect it to happen, can’t say that he didn’t want it to happen even if he never wanted to rope Alek into it. Not for a moment. And it's starting to hit him now... all the people that will see him like this and worry. God, what's his sister going to say when he gets home?
What's Sarah going to say or think or feel? He doesn't want to be one more worry on their list, but he's still so angry, still so hurt and it goes deeper than this hurt that has him lying on the ground, unable to get up.
"It was stupid." He settles on that because that is... very, very true.
He steps through to the back, looking for something... anything.
Just fuck.
The whole of it is still racing through his head, and he wants to be numb. He wants to forget about it for the night at least, because he can't handle it. Jeremy can still remember her hands on his face, the coolness of her underneath him as he kissed her, her smile when she's laughing, and how she looked on that street when he found her.
He could shake with rage, with the pain that hits and hasn't gone away. It's not until Jeremy reaches the pool hall that he bothers checking his phone, not surprised to see Elena's calls and texts. Jeremy doesn't want her worrying, but he can't- he can't talk to her right now. He fires off a text in response and then another before he turns his phone off altogether.
Jeremy could really use a drink right now, but he doesn't know if he could get away with that. Part of him doesn't care, part of him wants to try anyway, anything to make this feeling a little less painful, ease the strength of that rage and that... that pain screaming through him in some resounding... something resounding.
It never changes.
It doesn't.
He doesn't know why he thought it would be different here. Death follows them.
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The lights are dim but one can still make out his form if they're paying enough attention, sitting at a table by himself. There's a glass of something strong served in front of him, but he hasn't taken a sip from it. He's just staring down at it sullenly. He could use a drink himself, but he could use anger more, and he keeps being taught that that's wrong.
By the very people that have been keeping things from him.
Like the existence of his own brother.
Alek's not stupid. He knows exactly why they would keep it from him, why they wouldn't trust him not to go half cocked and do something dumb, and God forbid he make those choices on his own. There's a bitter, metallic taste that keeps swirling in his mouth, and his hand tightens on the glass but he still doesn't bring it to his lips yet.
He hasn't gone home. He hasn't answered calls of his own. He hasn't done anything but sit there and stew and let it build and wonder what else they've been keeping 'for his own good.'
Are there more people running around with his blood that he just has no idea of?
"Rough night?" he asks once he spots Jeremy walk in from the back.
They've been here before already, Alek introduced him to the place, a hangout for the younger crowd, seniors and some college students. Alek looks as rough as he feels, he looks kind of like how Jeremy feels, and he's almost tempted to hand over the drink to the guy as it is.
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He may have walked all this way, but he's not going to take any other chances with his safety. Jeremy doesn't want to die. He's just angry. It's not that he wants something to happen. Well, he does. He is angry, and he wants to fight someone, but not to the extent that he would walk into a building that he doesn't recognize and hope it wasn't Society related.
It keeps ringing through his head like some constant drum, like an endless thudding, warning in his chest that he cannot ignore though he wishes he could. He wishes he could for just a moment to calm down again, to not feel like it's all pointless.
Because everyone dies anyway... for no good reason. It's just the way that life is, car accident, murdered, staked, broken neck, shot.
It's the question that alerts Jeremy to the fact that Alek's there. There was a brief moment where he'd almost shot off an angry answer, unaware that it was someone he knew. Jeremy looks over at him, nodding.
"Yeah," he says, hand behind his neck, taking in how Alek looks. It hits him, and he sits down at the table, staring at the top of it before he manages the words that he wants to say. "You too?"
It's that persistent anger, the kind that doesn't go away. The kind that's born from grief, yes. Elena would know that, and he knows it too. There's a difference, and this is how he's felt many times before.
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It's why Alek hasn't bothered making friends again since he became a full-fledged werewolf. It's why he hasn't bothered reaching out, not that he'd know how anyway, because everyone dies, and everyone does whatever they think is best without taking into consideration what you want.
Whether it's his friends that the Rift takes or his mom who just died one day, or his father who never bothered showing up at all, people leave. They leave by death or they leave by choice, and he can't decide which one of the two alternatives is worse.
"Something like that," Alek says with a humorless snort, nodding at Jeremy in greeting when he sits down. It sounds bitter, more bitter than he usually lets himself sound, Bitterness means he cares. Bitterness means something matters, and it would be much more preferable if nothing did matter.
If he could just. Not. Care.
"Life, I have decided, is a pile of horseshit." He finally takes a swig of his drink. "Or goatshit. Or bullshit. Someone's shit."
The words aren't managed easily for the same reasons. His fists are itching to be used.
That anger, that anger that comes so quickly is burning through his chest, and it's taking everything now to lash out.
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They could be as easily lost as all the people that died back home. It doesn't matter how hard they hold on. It slips through their fingers and leaves pieces behind.
He talked about that with Sarah not long ago though it suddenly feels like they spoke about it months ago, like he kissed her months ago. People who die don't simply die. They leave something that you can hold on to, and it helps and makes the losing of them a little easier than it would if there was just nothing left of them at all but a broken memory of who they used to be.
"No offense, but it... looks like it," Jeremy says as he looks sideways at him, and it sounds like it too. He hears the bitterness, recognizes it as another emotion that he's so familiar with. Rarely has Jeremy preferred numbness especially after spending so long unable to feel anything but...
However, he would really like to not feel right now either, to not feel how much he cares and how much he wants to fight against something that's so inevitable. At some point, it has to hit. He has to get it, right?
"Yeah, it is. It's a lot of bullshit, and nothing changes. It doesn't matter where you go, who you are," he mutters under his breath. "It's just bullshit," Jeremy says, making a face that's as bitter as Alek sounds.
There's a lot of anger. They're both feeling it, and it's dangerous like a powder keg. It can't really be contained, and Jeremy knows what that means but there's nothing to strike out against.
You can't fight death, can't fight insanity, can't fight the rules of this universe.
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But Jeremy's helped him out of two binds already, and Alek's not really an asshole.
He's not going to take it out on the one person that's given a crap for no real reason other than he's just a nice guy.
Who's also had a shitty day.
There's a small pause as he listens to Jeremy, as he hears the words and applies them to his own context, and the anger and the dullness quietly simmer opposite each other, counter arresting their own effects but never for too long before he's just angry again. "Nope. Doesn't change. Why it's called circle of fucking life. You just go round and round and round and end up right back where you started."
And he is so sick and tired of going back to where he started, with all the questions that never get an answers, without really knowing who he is or where he comes from, as if he's supposed to just be okay with that.
He's been so focused on the drink and on his own thoughts he genuinely never noticed Carter step into the pool hall. The only thing that brings about the attention is a small chorus of cheers and whooping. Alek lifts his head up and his face twists even further with the disdain once he recognizes where the noises are coming from.
Carter just won a game. Sherri's cheering him on, and his buddies are hi-fiving him as the guy he won against slaps the dollar bills onto the palm of his hand--because Carter Hawthorne needs more money.
Obviously.
"... Greaaaaaaaat."
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"Yeah, it has been," he says quietly, and hey, Jeremy doesn't think Alek's an asshole. If he did, he wouldn't have gone out to Vegas to save him from that near wedding that happened.
There's a difference between Alek and real assholes like Carter, and Jeremy knows it and he's not about to take his bad day out on Alek either. It wouldn't make him feel any better as angry as he may be.
Jeremy looks sideways at him in response, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, that's exactly how it works," he says, swallowing back the feeling rising in his throat. His jaw locks and he shuts his eyes before he opens them again.
A year ago, he was exactly like this. Well, it's not like the differences or the growth has gone away at all. It hasn't. Both are still there, still a part of him, but the anger has returned with a vengeance at the moment and he just wants to tear something apart.
He looks over when Alek does, and he takes one look at Carter, rage hitting him stronger than ever. There are a lot of things that don't occur to him in his current emotiona state like his promise to Sarah though the reason he's going over there has nothing to do with what she told him.
Well, it might have a lot to do with that. Her time is limited as it is and this jackass forces a kiss on her like she'll have time to have that many kisses other than his toad mouthed tongued bullshit? But Jeremy would want to punch Carter right now even if he didn't know what happened at Sarah's birthday party. There's plenty of reason to, and it's exactly what he wants despite the guys he sees surrounding the pool table to.
"I thought you said this was a Carter free zone. Looks like he didn't get the memo," he says, reaching over to have a drink of alcohol from some waiter that passed by, didn't bother to check an ID. Jeremy keeps hold of the bottle of beer. "Guess I'll go give it to him."
Jeremy gets to his feet and steps directly over to Carter and his gang with his beer in hand, because this is smart, Jeremy Gilbert. This is totally not a self destructive moment that you're having. The anger rushes through him, and it's not about thought. Jeremy steps in front of the pool table, and the people with Carter quiet at the sight of him.
It's a little obvious that Jeremy isn't there to make nice, and that anger and that grief and that everything is pounding through him like some tidal wave.
"Now I know you wouldn't want a slum touching your pool table or getting in the way of your good times, but I just felt like someone should tell you, I may be a slum, but you're a complete fucking tool."
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Okay, this isn't good.
Alek swallows back the emotions swirling in his own chest, fighting for the control that his brothers swear he's got in him, before he gets up and motions to the waiter with a quick wave of his hand. The crowd immediately quiets down, and he also can't believe his eyes at first.
This can't possibly end well, but he's not going to just leave Jeremy up against these assholes by himself.
Not after the parking lot incident, and not after the Vegas incident, and if he's honest with himself, Alek's itching for a fight himself, though he'll... try to do the right thing. He's not quite as angry as Jeremy is, but he will be once the shock wears off, once he does get those answers he will demand from those that have been keeping it from him.
"Jeremy, bad idea. Bad idea, man."
Carter isn't expecting Jeremy to approach him.
It's always the other way around, and he's almost ridiculously pleased by how easy this will be. "Here I thought only an idiot would stick around when he knows he's outnumbered," he says, echoing the last time they ever had a conversation, and how Carter actually left because he knew he couldn't fight two against one.
Now there are at least four guys surrounding Carter, remaining behind him while he folds his arms across his chest and takes a step toward Jeremy. There's a smirk veering into a sneer filled with amused contempt, and he tilts his head sideways. "You sure told me. I don't know how I'll be able to live with myself now. What the fuck is your problem now?"
There's the arrogance he's known for.
Why not? He's the one with backup tonight, though he sees Alek quickly comes to stand behind Jeremy--the slum has backup of his own but it's still five against two. "Come on, man," Alek says, a hand on Jeremy's shoulder as he tries to steer him away from the pool hall. It's similar to the Halloween night when Jeremy tried to intervene but everyone somehow knows, without needing to know the particular details that the stakes have been raised.
Makes things that much more interesting.
Carter's a nosy sort of guy, and he doesn't like missing a piece to the puzzle, but he's still good at pushing those buttons. "Let it be known I didn't do anything to you this time around. You're right about one thing, though. Like hell I want slum... or a mutt, anywhere near my personal space."
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Not for a long time, but there is so much anger through all that grief. It pisses him off, all of it pisses him off more than he could put into words, and he's been wanting to punch Carter for a long time and he really wants to punch someone tonight, to get into a fight with someone, to tear someone down until he doesn't feel anything else.
So much has been shoved out of his head like about how he is basically being the bully this time, like about how he shouldn't want this because it doesn't help. Carter has lots of goons with him, and Jeremy in no way wants to die or be hurt. He just wants to hurt someone that deserves it.
He's not thinking about how Carter is a product of his environment, how this proves nothing, how it's going to be something that he is at fault for for once. The very existence of Carter is enough to piss him off, and Jeremy wants o give into anger, give into hate until that's all there is of it. No pain, no grief, no knowing like some persistent fear in his veins that time is limited.
For everyone, everywhere but especially for Sarah, and he is so angry at this world and his word and every world. He's angry at life and he's angry at himself.
And he's angry at Carter and Carter is about the only one of the above that Jeremy can actually hit.
Bad idea, man.
Jeremy hears him, but it's literally like he can't stop himself, and Jeremy smirks at him at the way he's throwing his words back at him. "I'm not panning on sticking around, I came to tell you what a tool you were. That's all," he says and it's nearly said between his teeth but seriously, JerBear. No one believes you.
He levels a glare at Carter. "You are my problem," Jeremy says distinctly biting back the bile that rises up in his throat and begs him to say all the reasons that Carter is his problem.
Sherri loyally turns her nose up at Carter's side. "He's just jealous," she says with a tiny smirk, chin raised. "And who would blame him? He's dating the Grim and he doesn't belong here like trash that should be thrown out. The Grim being the slum lover that she is can be thrown out with the trash. It's where they all belong."
It's said simply, as simply as something filled with such vitriol can ever be said.
Fff, Sherri, if Jeremy hit girls, he would seriously consider punching you right about now.
It's only because Alek is there that Jeremy calms down marginally. He stands behind him, and Jeremy might be looking for a fight, but he doesn't want Alek dragged into it. Not when there are five of them, not when they may all be angels as far as they know and that's not really a good ratio.
Jeremy glances back at Alek, feeling the heat of his anger through his chest up to his head but he nods, trying to force his legs to turn in another direction.
But he turns back at what Carter says about personal space, moving in the other direction again, jaw locked, hands already formed fists at his side. "And I don't want a gigantic douchebag looking down on me like he's tough shit, but I guess we'll both have to learn to live with what we don't want."
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Jeremy cannot stop himself. It gives him an inkling to just how bad his day must've been, and he's not planning on letting him stick around with the way the angels are all crowding around him, and Alek can't be sure they're all angels, he can't tell the way they can, but he can only assume as Carter wouldn't hang out with anyone other than his kind.
And Alek remembers what his brothers told him. He should walk away, be the bigger man, but that's hard to remember when they're being such assholes and there's an uncontrollable urge to strike back, the world of redness blinding him at his eyelids, the rage building up until there's nothing else but that rage.
Why should he keep his promises when no one's been straight with him?
"Trust me, there's nothing to be jealous of when it comes to Carter Hawthorne, and plenty of people not drinking the kool-aid would agree," Alek says with a snort, her own jaw locking.
Carter almost says something to Sherri, like he's almost offended that she's spoken up.
She's a girl, and they're meant to sit in the sidelines while the boys deal with the issues, but he's so proud of her when she says what she says that he only smirks at her fondly, since she knows what buttons to push as well. He turns back to Jeremy with that smirk still on his face. "She does have a point. Is that it, Jer? You jealous? You're trash, and she's hanging out with those at the bottom of the totem pole so none of you really belong here."
It's unseemly to him.
They're angels.
They're inherently the superior race by sole virtue of existing. They're better than these lowlifes that keep trying to worm their way into their world. Willingly choosing to not only be in their presence but care for them is completely disgusting to him.
"How is Sarah, by the way? We haven't had a change to catch up lately, since she's all but trash too at this point. That's about the only talent wanderers have. Turning everything to trash. Way to go."
Alek doesn't stand behind Jeremy any longer. He comes to stand beside him, and the red anger that's boiling through him almost radiates from his posture, from the hardness of his gaze. Sherri is lucky she's a girl, or Alek would've started up the fight himself at those words alone.
"You need to shut your mouth right now, asshole," he says, voice dangerously low but eerily controlled, and Carter glances from him and back to Jeremy, focusing on the former when he turns back at him to speak.
"No. You're the one that's going to learn," he says, whispering into Jeremy's ear. "I win, Jeremy. I always win. I look down on you because you're both nothing. To me and to this world. Abominations. Lower than the pond scum that insects feed on. I'm not here to give you what you want. I'm here to give you what you deserve. And when I'm through with you, you'll know exactly what it is that you deserve."
There's not even a second before he's done speaking when his hand is drawn back. Carter's fist connects with Jeremy's jaw with full angel speed, and hell breaks loose quickly after that.
The angel behind Carter moves to grab Jeremy by the collar so Carter can keep pounding on him, but Alek's quick to step in and deliver a blow himself, knuckles shoving their way down the angel's ribs, the strength of it pinning him to the wall. "Ganging up on 'trash' now? I'd like to see you try," he says, before driving his elbow into the other boy's solar plexus, the rim of his eyes now a startling shade of blood red.
They both tumble across the pool table as it cracks in half, and once Alek's on the floor surrounded by splintered wood, the punches start flying from his direction and everyone else's.
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It’s easy to say. It’s easy to talk about waking away, but it is much more difficult to actually walk away in the face of assholeness like this, with words like this thrown at them. It’s complete vitriol, and it’s poisonous and it’s filled with hate, and it isn’t in Jeremy to do anything but fight back against it, aware that he won’t ever change Carter’s mind, aware that he is much stronger than Jeremy could ever hope to be.
Jeremy knows something about fighting now thanks to Wes, but Wes likely did not intend for him to use it in the way that Jeremy will be using it in just a few short minutes when things explode like they’re about to do.
“Yeah, I’m far from jealous. I’d rather be slum than a tool,” he says, rolling his eyes and barely suppressing the rage that rushes up through him like a hurricane, like a volcano, like something that can’t and won’t ever be ignored. To ignore it would be impossible, would be ignoring a very loud part of himself.
And he doesn’t want to. He wants his fist to connect with that asshole’s jaw. He wants to dole out a small amount of pain, nothing at all like the pain that he’s feeling. It couldn’t reach it, no matter how hard Jeremy could hit. He could break Carter’s jaw, and he would never understand what this feels like.
Sherri only grins brightly at Carter’s fond look before she takes a step back, because she senses this is about to get dirty and she won’t get her hands dirty along with it. She’ll stand back and cheer along naturally though she has no doubts who will win in this case, and she sits up high on a table nearby, texting her friends the whole time with updates about how amazing Carter is doing.
Jeremy cringes when he calls him Jer, that’s Elena’s nickname for him, no one else’s, but he doesn’t say that because he knows it will only egg Carter on. And Jeremy really doesn’t want to bring his sister into this. “Yeah, that’s completely it. I’ve just been jealous of you this entire time, so jealous that I can’t do anything else but come over here and call you a tool over it,” he says, jaw locking as he looks at him.
The sarcasm is clear in his voice. There’s bitterness too but it has absolutely nothing to do with jealousy of course. It has everything to do with life, this word, this universe. He hates it. He really does.
And he feels something like bile, like lava slide through him at that question. How is Sarah? He shouldn’t have the right to ask, and it’s a wonder and it’s only because of Alek that he manages to keep himself from springing forward and punching him right then and there.
“I think she gets like I do that the real trash is you,” Jeremy says between his teeth as he looks at him. “I could say the same for you. Look at this, you and your gang of douchebags, really something to be proud of here. I’m sure you’re just preening about it.”
Jeremy senses Alek beside him, but he doesn’t turn to look, can’t afford to. It’s fairly clear that the stakes have been raised, and it’s up to him to maintain his stance right about now. Sherri feels lucky she’s a girl, but if she was a boy, she would have kicked both of their asses, okay? 8)
Go away, Sherri. You’re being a ‘good woman’ and not speaking up anymore, remember?
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Jeremy has never been good at masking his reactions, and right now is no different than any other time. When he’s numb, it’s easy enough to hide because none of it shows, there’s nothing to show, but now it’s in his eyes and Carter is far too close for comfort.
The anger in his expression doesn’t waver, doesn’t deepen.
It’s hate.
Jeremy once told Sarah that hate can be poisonous, but it’s all he feels coursing through his arms, tight, muscles tight with the need to attack. He doesn’t though. If anyone is throwing the first punch, it’s going to be Carter, but from that point on, he will fight back with everything he has and everything that Wes taught him.
Whether this is the correct time for it or not, granted, his anger which takes over him and makes him irrational is going to have a huge effect ton his ability to follow what Wes taught him. But he’s still better off than he would be if he attacked before he’d trained. Carter’s fist swings back and hits Jeremy square in the jaw. The force of it sending him back but not before the angel behind Carter grabs hold.
Fuck, they’re fast. It’s the one thought he has before Alek steps in, and Jeremy pushes himself forward, attacking with a fury, fists and legs and every part of him fighting. It’s still five against two though, and they’ll be beaten down, but they get in more punches than Jeremy can count. He’s bleeding and bruised, but he won’t stop until he’s physically removed or physically knocked out.
Every ounce of that anger that has been pounding through him since he read those statistics, knew the truth like a shadow against his back pumps through him and out into his fists. He sees nothing but red and only half registers the pain.
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There's no way he would befriend a demon, no way he'd befriend a werewolf, certainly not a wanderer. Carter and his friends come from a long, long line of familial traditions that include old age sentiments. He is not meant to be friends with these people. Angels and demons should forever be at war. They shouldn't be making friends with each other, much less dating and fornicating each other.
It's the most disgusting thing he's ever heard.
Wanderers in general should just not exist.
They're the reason the world is the way that it is. They come here, turn the world topsy turvy, and then expect to be treated like everyone else when they're not. They're inferior abominations that have no place here. They are not supposed to be here, and the only reason they are is for the very same design that they keep messing with by their very existence.
Wes, for the record, would like to state he did not intend for Jeremy to use his teachings in this way at all. He has taught them first and foremost to know when to pick your battles--and which ones to walk away from. The first thing he ever taught both Jeremy and Elena were defensive strategies, tactics that would work long enough for them to get away.
From species that are stronger and faster than them.
He would always want them to be prepared, but that means using a cool head--and not an angry fist.
"Besides, you know the slums frequented this place. So why the hell are you even here? Peeing on territory or were you just that bored?" Alek asks with a sneer that would be impossible to contain. The scathing voice is also impossible to miss, as he hates Carter almost as much as Jeremy does.
If not the same.
He hates being told what he is by these people who believe themselves so superior they feel entitled to classify them to begin with. He's a werewolf, yes, but he's no less than this dumbass that walks the earth as if he owns it, as if he was more deserving of anything within it than the rest of them. There's very little that pisses him off more than that kind of self-entitlement.
"I decided to give the place some class," is Carter's cool answer.
He likes it. He wants to hang out here, and by default, Jeremy and Alek shouldn't.
Jeremy doesn't have to say anything.
Carter's far more observant than one would think of him, because he's been taught to zero in on weaknesses. It only took one conversation with Jeremy to know which were his, and the cringe isn't something Carter blinks and misses. There's more smugness from him, if possible, at the answer. "You sure still cared enough to bring your ass over here to say so, Jeremy. So much for not being worth the time. You keep proving otherwise. It's almost amusing."
Jeremy's sarcasm counterbalances Carter's amusement.
The amusement is laced with such disdain it can't really be taken humorously.
"That's rich coming from the scum that feeds off our world, infecting everyone else in it that for some ungodly reason decides you're some cause worth touting. Makes them feel good about themselves." Carter laughs, leaning against the pool table, sticking his hand into his pocket. "You're in top form today, Gilbert. I have to hand it to you."
Alek agrees, Sherri. Go away. 8|
The smirk is soft, so deceivingly soft, when Jeremy freezes. Carter isn't just an angel. He looks like one. His features are angelical, deceivingly so, he can look innocent and would look so now if it wasn't for that hardened, hateful intensity in his eyes that he doesn't bother hiding. There's no reply, and Carter's all but victorious. He may have been the one to throw the first punch--but he still wins here.
Jeremy and his mutt of a friend will be the ones kicked out, and he wins.
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Alek's fast, and he's just as strong, if not stronger, for reasons he doesn't understand and cannot conceive yet, but there's still more of them. It doesn't mean he's letting Jeremy fight this one on his own--he could very well die. He's knocked out one of the angels, and another one comes at him, but Alek is pissed enough he matches the speed, snatching him up by the throat and pinning him to the wall.
"This mutt could tear you apart from limb to limb right now if he wanted to, leaving nothing but the bones to send to Daddy. You remember that next time you decide to mess with me or my friends," Alek says, and what follows is a visceral, violent blow to the stomach, followed by another, and another. There's only red for him too, and he barely notices that there's the other angel lifting up a chair to break it across Alek's back.
They're outnumbered, and while he got that initial edge, he's beaten down, as well, and every time they punch him to the ground, Alek forces himself to stand back up, despite the pain that's exploding in his body, vision blackening whenever he does so. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?" one of them asks with a laugh, before driving their knee back into his stomach, the break knocked out of him.
Eventually, the barkeep manages to split them up, and it's--to the surprise of no one--Jeremy and Alek that get tossed out the back.
"So much for your tip!" Alek calls out, grunting as he lands on the pavement.
There isn't an inch of his body that doesn't currently hurt.
Alek spits out blood, hissing in pain as he slowly, slowly rolls over onto his back, not trusting himself to move.
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It doesn’t mean that he can understand it when push comes to shove, and he is standing in front of someone that has power, that has money and likes shoving people around because they’re ‘nothing’ in his eyes, because they don’t belong, because he is filled with poison and disgust of his own that has taken over him.
Like that somehow means they’re nothing in anyone’s eyes, in this world’s eyes.
He knows. Jeremy knows that Wes would never want him to use those skills in the way that he’s using them right now. There’s so much anger though that he’s not really thinking about it, about him. Even if he did think, it wouldn’t stop him at this point. It’s not like he didn’t know so frequently over that time that he’d get on those drugs, that he’d get into fights that Elena and Jenna would not approve.
Jeremy knew, but it never stopped him for whatever reason. It never even made him pause.
There was pain and there was anger, and it was best expressed by throwing himself at the first person that pissed him off, which was usually Tyler back home.
Carter makes Tyler seem like the nicest guy in the world right about now.
“It sounds like you were asking to have slum in your personal space,” Jeremy says through his teeth when Alek asks that question, because it doesn’t make any sense unless Carter was looking to mess with people. Which he can do just with his stupid presence for anyone that knows him, knows what he believes, and how entitled he thinks that makes him. They can hate together, hate in equal measure Carter for everything that he is, everything he ‘stands for’, and everything that he does.
There is more than enough to hate when it comes to that asshole.
“Class?” Jeremy snorts, rolling his eyes. “You mean you wanted to take the value of this place down, right? That’s what you meant by class.”
It’s enough to make Jeremy want to come back. Fuck Carter, fuck what he wants, fuck all of it right now.
No, he wouldn’t need to say it.
Guys like Carter are good at knowing which buttons to push and they figure that out by seeing, by noticing those small cringes that those they’re pushing around hope to remain unseen. There’s no chance of it when being shoved around by a bully like Carter either metaphorically or literally. Jeremy stifles down the rage somehow at his response, and he does know exactly what to say and it’s that smugness that has Jeremy wanting to punch it, punch it directly from his face. “I’m sure it’s hilarious,” he says between his teeth, voice so low that it almost can’t be heard but then it is. “About as funny as you are with how much power you think you have and how you ran scared when we saw you in the parking lot the other night.Not so confident without your gang.”
It can be said of any bully though. They’ll back down if they’re outnumbered. The problem is that Carter is rarely outnumbered. He’s smart enough to know that he should keep a few of his ‘friends’ by his side whenever he goes anywhere, and he has a willing group who’ve had too much Kool-Aid following him around.
Whether he asks them to or not, they’re glad to.
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There’s no other way to look at it.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how much he fights, how strongly, because Carter is stronger than him, much, much stronger than Tyler ever was. Jeremy doesn’t stand a chance, but that doesn’t stop him from landing as many hits as he possibly can, taking each hit from Carter and getting back to his feet to shove himself at Carter again. He shoves his fist into his stomach, into his face.
Without thought, without anything but that anger that had driven him to stand in front of Carter and speak so plainly, practically guaranteeing that this would happen.
Jeremy barely registers Alek nearby, making a dent in the angels facing up against them, but in the end, it’s no use. They’re outnumbered, overpowered, and they are beaten down in the end. His world explodes into pain as Alek and Jeremy are punched back down to the ground repeatedly. He tries to get up every single time too though he doesn’t have the werewolf strength and endurance that Alek does so there are times when he can’t manage it.
But a part of him has to smile just a little somehow in all this pain and defeat that Alek keeps getting up anyway.
He hates more than he can say that he dragged Alek into this in a sense, hates that this is happening at all to Alek too, but it’s like a ‘Fuck you’ to them each time and someone should be able to do it. Jeremy should have known. He’s gotten used to adults who would side with the underdogs, with the wanderers and the werewolves, and it might just be that Jeremy started it so of course… of course they’re the ones tossed out back.
Jeremy lies on the floor, every breath hurts, every movement hurts more than he can put to words. He slides over on to his back, blood dripping from a cut on his lip that he reaches up to push away.
Everything hurts.
And he glances over at Alek, the very act making him wince. Damn. Alek looks bad off, they both do. Jeremy closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, man,” he says after a moment, and it’s hissed out through this world of pain that’s hit him.
He can’t say he didn’t expect it to happen, can’t say that he didn’t want it to happen even if he never wanted to rope Alek into it. Not for a moment. And it's starting to hit him now... all the people that will see him like this and worry. God, what's his sister going to say when he gets home?
What's Sarah going to say or think or feel? He doesn't want to be one more worry on their list, but he's still so angry, still so hurt and it goes deeper than this hurt that has him lying on the ground, unable to get up.
"It was stupid." He settles on that because that is... very, very true.
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