Run with me - 3/6
There’s a soft sound, a low growl, rumbling deep in Klaus’s chest, barely audible over the rushing in Alaric’s ears. It’s not meant to intimidate. Or to scare him. It’s something else, something completely different from what the whole situation seems to imply. He’s never heard a sound like this before-and for some reason that will never make sense to him he suddenly has to fight the ridiculously strong urge to roll his head to the side and bare his throat.
~~~~~*~~~~~
It's like being on vacation.
Alaric has stayed in his own apartment for a couple of days and, so far, it’s been a quiet, uneventful time. When he goes out to go grocery shopping he sees the same streets of the same town, meets the same people he always meets… and still it feels different. In a good way. When he is home, he sleeps. Wakes up, stays awake for some time, doing nothing, goes to sleep again. Gets some rest. Watches TV and dozes off in front of it. He’s probably more asleep than awake, but he craves the rest, more than he does food at the moment, and so he gives in. Doesn’t fight it whenever his eyes grow heavy and he can feel himself start to relax.
At some point he even starts to dream again. He never remembers what exactly his dreams are about. But they don’t wake him up in the middle of the night, he doesn’t come awake screaming or with his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest anymore.
He doesn’t see Elena for almost a week. She calls him occasionally, checks in to make sure he’s okay.
“Look, Ric-I understand. You deserve a break from me, from us. We’re fine. You just… you just relax and get some rest and we’ll be fine.”
He believes her.
But he’s also not deaf or dumb. He does hear the awkward silences, how she takes a breath as if she is about to say something-but stops. Doesn’t say it. Not that she needs to, he knows.
Don’t stay away forever. We need you. We can’t do this on our own, not forever.
He won’t.
But he does need this break and he enjoys it to the fullest.
Until there’s a knock on his door one morning, pulling him out of a deep sleep.
He knows that knock. Annoying and persistent. Too loud to ignore. And too early to not be important. Or whatever a certain someone deems important.
"Go away, Damon!"
The knocking doesn’t stop-of course it doesn’t stop, Damon just doesn’t know when to quit and Alaric’s not really expecting the knocking to stop-so he gets up and stumbles to the door. Tries to think up some adequate curse to throw into Damon’s face about how this is not the right time of the day to come bothering him with whatever it is that he’s not interested in. He opens the door, words about to tumble from his mouth-
It’s not Damon.
“You’re not who I expected.”
Elena gives him a pointed look and Alaric is suddenly very aware that he’s just answered the door with his pants hanging open and no shirt on. He backs away from the door, starts buttoning up, trying to hide his surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I need you to tell me what you know about Stefan and Tennessee.”
Great, so Damon’s finally told her something. He rolls his eyes, barely holds back a curse.
A warning would have been nice, asshole.
"Elena, I don't think this is a good idea."
Elena doesn’t listen; she steps inside the apartment, turns to meet his eyes. Wearing that face, the one that tells him she’s determined to find out everything he knows. It’s almost a glare.
“Whatever Damon knows, you know. I need to know what happened.”
He follows her into the kitchen, pulling over a shirt. "Why don't you ask Damon then?"
Now it's a glare.
"Well, Damon's not exactly in the mood to help right now." Elena uses his name like a swearword and stalks over to the counter in the kitchen area.
Alaric feels the familiar beginning of a headache pound behind his eyes. This will end in a disaster if he can’t talk her down. “Elena, you weren’t there, what we saw-it’s not safe for you, okay?” He turns his back to her, busies himself with his coffee-machine to not have to look at her right now. “Stefan’s off the rails.”
Elena is silent. “He's holding on to his humanity," she says finally, voice soft and hesitant, sounding not as convinced as he knows she would like to. "And if he is it means he still can be saved."
"Elena..." Alaric sighs, steels himself, turns back. Meets large, dark, hopeful eyes. "What I saw... there was no humanity in that." She winces. "It was awful. And if he is capable of doing something like this... I just don’t know if there’s any getting back from it.”
The words hurt her, more than she would like to show, more than she can hide behind her determined look. “I'm gonna save him."
Alaric pinches the bridge of his nose, tries to get rid of images of Stefan tearing people apart with his bare hands. People who suddenly have long, brown hair and doe eyes that have already seen too much. "Why do you have to be the one to save him?"
He knows the answer, of course.
Because I love him.
He’s been there, he’s been through the same thing. The night Isobel walked back into his life. When he realized she was a vampire now and lay awake for hours, thinking. Wondering if it was possible to get his wife back. Or, at least, an undead version of her. Wondering if he could do that, be with her like this. He’d seen it work with Stefan and Elena; despite the supernatural crap about doppelgangers and rituals life kept throwing at them they seemed happy together. They made it work, somehow.
He and Isobel never made it, and he knows, now, that it was for the best.
Elena, though, is still fighting for Stefan. She looks exactly like he felt back then, miserable yet hopeful.
“Stefan would never give up on me. Never.”
It’s true, Stefan, in his right mind, wouldn’t. Alaric would never doubt that. But the problem is, that his mind doesn’t seem right. And it’s Alaric’s job to keep Elena safe.
“He’s not himself anymore.”
“I’ll get him back. Ric, please, tell me what you know. Please.” There are her eyes again, big, pleading, so hopeful it breaks his heart.
Alaric sighs. Picks up his cup of perfect coffee, doesn’t drink it. Just looks at her. “They’ve been tracking werewolves, he and Klaus. All over the eastern seaboard.” He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We thought we had them outside of Memphis, but we never saw them. There was a family, relatives of a werewolf. They had a hidden room in their house with chains, claw marks on the walls.”
Plates laid out on the table in the kitchen, a bottle of Coke opened, a glass half-full…
"Did they know where Stefan and Klaus went? Could they tell you anything?"
…vegetables cut on the on the counter, the knife next to them, a magazine open in front of a chair-peaceful…
Normal.
Alaric closes his eyes, tries to shake off the memories. "They were dead, Elena. Stefan killed them.”
Her gaze, determined and calm, wavers a little, disbelief darkening her features. “How do you know it was Stefan? If Klaus was there-“
There’s a reason they call him the ripper-he feels remorse-he put the bodies back together-
Alaric holds up a hand. "Look, just believe me, okay? It was Stefan, Damon could tell it was him. You really don't need to know the details."
He must look as miserable as he feels, because Elena backs down after a moment. "Okay. Okay, Stefan killed those people-and then? Did you find out more?"
Alaric shakes his head. "No, just that they are after werewolves."
"So he's planning to raise his army."
The big master plan, Klaus and his plan of creating a hybrid army. "It looks like it."
Instead of shocked, Elena looks thoughtful. Looks up. “I think I know where we have to go.”
Alaric must have heard wrong. “Go? What-“
He has no idea what exactly happened, but suddenly Elena is full of energy. “Look, if they are looking for werewolves, maybe we should look for werewolves, too. And I know a good place to start.”
Sweet Jesus, this can’t be happening. “Elena…”
Elena reaches across the counter, takes the cup out of his hand, takes a sip. Scrunches her nose. “Come on, Ric, they have real coffee at the Grill, how can you even drink this?”
And this is how Alaric finds himself sitting at the Grill only a few minutes later with a cup of ‘real’ coffee cradled in his hands. It smells fantastic, tastes even better, and still he would rather have his own right now.
Elena is talking to Tyler and they are sitting at one of the tables close to the door. She had been uncharacteristically silent on the short drive and Alaric is starting to worry. Silent with Elena usually means she’s up to something.
He doesn’t have to wait long, Elena slides onto the stool next to him before he can finish his drink. "Did you get anything?"
Elena smiles, a small spark lighting up her eyes. He hasn’t seen her looking this alive in weeks. "How do you feel about a little hike through the Smoky Mountains?"
He stares. Runs over the details he has picked up so far. "You want to hunt down a pack of werewolves on a full moon?"
"We'll be out of there before the moon is full."
Alaric shakes his head in amazement, she has obviously not thought this through, there is no way he’s going to let her do something this-
"If you don't come with me, I'm going by myself."
Alaric is too stunned to say anything. Hopes, for just a second, that he’s dreaming and that this is the first nightmare he’s had in days. “Elena…”
She flips her hair back, eyes determined, fixed on his. “Ric. You can't hold me back. I'll go, with or without you."
Alaric shakes his head. Runs his hand through his hair. Closes his eyes. Calls himself all kinds of names. Shakes his head again.
What choice does he have?
“All right. Let’s just… let’s just go, let me pick up some things from my place…”
~~~~*~~~~
Elena is waiting in the car while Alaric collects some of his weapons to go on a werewolf hunt. Meeting. Whatever.
The first thing he does, as soon as the door closes behind him, is call Damon. To say that his friend doesn’t take the news lightly would be the understatement of the century.
"She what? Are you nuts? How can you agree to this? How can you go with her? This is suicide!"
"I didn’t agree to anything, she left me no choice! She’s determined to go, with or without me. You think you can hold her back? Be my fucking guest, Damon, I wish you good luck with that!”
There’s a dull crash in the background and Alaric knows Damon has just kicked some furniture. Or thrown something against a wall. “Can you please calm down and think? I have to get back to her before she takes off on her own.”
Damon takes a deep breath. “All right, go with her, I'll find you."
Alaric stands in the middle of his apartment packing for something he has no idea how to handle. Hiking through the woods with a stubborn doppelganger and a pissed vampire. To look for a pack of werewolves. On a full moon.
How do you prepare for that?
~~~~*~~~~
"Promise me something."
They are following a trail deeper into the woods. The weather is great, it’s warm, sunny, birds singing all around them, the perfect day for a trek like this. And if they weren’t on the look for potentially dangerous werewolves-on a full moon, he can’t stress that often enough-Alaric would actually enjoy the workout. It feels good to be outside, to be moving, breathing fresh air. He should definitely do this more often.
Elena is a little out of breath, definitely not used to exercise like this, but she’s trudging on determinedly. Now she’s looking at him, brushing hair out of her face. “What?”
Alaric stops walking, because this is important, he needs to get his point across. "Promise to listen to me, okay? If I say run, you run. If things go bad, don't get yourself killed because you want to save Stefan. If he's there and he acts weird-Elena, I saw what he can do.” He lets his words sink in, then goes on when he senses she’s about to protest. “He killed Andie. He knew Andie. If Damon's right and he's dangerous you have to-Elena, promise me that you won’t do something stupid.”
He can see it in her eyes, she is conflicted. Sorry about Andie, shocked about what Stefan has done-but she’s made up her mind, she’s going to save him, no matter what. “I promise I won’t do something stupid.” She grins, looks around. “Something even more stupid. I promise to run when you tell me.”
She means it, he knows she means it. Probably even believes it to be true, that she’ll be able to keep her word. He looks at her for a long moment, wills her to realize what she’s just said.
“All right…”
Alaric takes out his map, looks around, checks his compass. Damon should be joining them soon, Alaric is not really sure how he’s going to find them, but he will. Alaric straightens, points ahead. “In a couple of hours the full moon’s gonna rise just above that ridge. If Tyler's right, that's where the pack'll be."
Elena walks past him, turns to look at him with a grin. “You were a boy scout, weren’t you? A boy scout slash vampire slayer?”
“Slash whiskey-drinking all-around lost cause,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. He puts his bag down, kneeling next to it. Elena looks over his shoulder, eyeing the small arsenal he’s brought along.
“Wow, you came stocked.” Again he realizes she has no idea at all just what she is getting them into. He takes a deep breath, bites his tongue to not start another lecture of how they really, really shouldn’t be here.
“Well, we aren’t exactly bird-watching.” He takes out a grenade, holding it up to her. “Here, put that in your bag.”
She looks at it from all sides, curious. "Is that one of your vervain grenades?"
"Wolfsbane." He has no idea if it works like vervain does for vampires, if the grenade will even faze the wolves, but it’s better than nothing.
When he looks up, Elena is going through her smaller bag as well. “Since we’re exchanging gifts…” She takes something small out of the bag, holds it out to him. “Take it.”
"That's John Gilbert's ring." He remembers the last time saw this, the look on John's face, his own anger at how the other man was playing him. He had never expected to see it again.
"It was yours once," Elena explains, gets a step closer. "Go ahead, take it. It'll protect you from whatever supernatural danger we're about to get ourselves into."
He is relieved that she's thought this at least half way through, but he just can't... He can’t take it. “He gave it to you."
Elena rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but I'm a doppelganger. It's not gonna work on me." She hesitates. "He left if for if I ever have kids."
"Then why don't you save it for future generations of stubborn, relentless baby Gilberts?"
He's a little surprised at how much he doesn’t want to take it back, it's not his anymore. The ring means Isobel, his past, like it’s somehow catching up with him again. He’s worked so hard to leave her and all his conflicting feelings for her in the past, and now it’s back, right in front of him. Literally within touching distance.
He doesn’t want it back, any of it.
Elena takes another step closer, still holding the ring up. She looks pleading now. "How 'bout you borrow it until we survive this?" Something flashes through her eyes, something like fear. "I'd feel bad if I got you killed before happy hour."
It's supposed to be a joke, but he sees the truth behind it: She's afraid of losing him.
And she's right, as much as he hates it, she's right. It's suicide to be out here and do what they are doing, but it's even dumber to not take every advantage they have. He stares hard at the ring for a moment, then takes it from her hand, puts it on. Feels the familiar weight on his finger. Tries to ignore how much he hates it.
Elena, on the other hand, seems relieved, she takes a step closer to the cliff and talks over her shoulder. "I don't know why you think you're a lost cause-"
A shadow rushes past him, and Elena goes flying, falls down the small cliff with a loud yell. Alaric has his crossbow up-too late-pointing it at the figure that’s now standing in Elena’s place, looking down.
At Damon, dressed in black.
It takes all Alaric’s concentration to not give in to his instincts and just shoot his friend where he stands.
“Jesus Christ, Damon!” His voice is shaking almost as much as he is.
Damon ignores him, his back to him, still looking down at Elena. Who is getting to her feet, soaking wet, her long hair plastered to her skull and over her back like a second skin. She looks up at them with wide eyes, but as soon as she sees Damon she starts glaring again.
“Damon! How are you even here?”
Damon leans back, looks at Alaric, a satisfies smirk crossing his face. "Thanks for the tip, brother."
He grimaces, but takes a step closer. Looks calmly at Elena who's, of course, glaring at him now, too. "You sold me out!"
Alaric sighs. "You think I'd take you to a mountain range of werewolves on a full moon without backup?"
"Get out of the water, Elena."
Elena crosses her arms in front of her chest. Looking for all the world like a pouting teen. Which is exactly what she is. "If I get out of the water, you're gonna make me go home."
Damon rolls his eyes. "Yes, because I'm not an idiot. Like you."
It’s like watching two kids at kindergarten. "Right now you're both acting like idiots."
They don’t listen, Elena glares at Damon, her voice rising in accusation. "You gave up on him, Damon. You don't wanna save him anymore."
Damon tenses, flexes his shoulder. Starts walking toward the water. "I didn't give up on him, Elena. I faced reality. Now get out of the water."
"No!"
Damon walks right into the water, stopping in front of Elena. "What's your big plan, Elena? Huh? You gonna walk through a campsite for of werewolves, roast a marshmallow and wait for Stefan to stop by?"
"My plan is to find him and help him. Damon, this is the closest that we've been to him since he left. I'm not going home."
Damon looks as if he is fighting back the impulse to just grab her and drag her back to land. "Klaus thinks you died when he broke the curse. That makes you safe." He throws his arms to the side, indicating the forest around them. "This, this is not safe."
It's not going to work, Alaric knows this before Elena shakes her head, takes a step back. Stubborn as always. "I'm not leaving before we find him."
"It's a full moon tonight, Elena. The pack sees me and they'll rip me apart. Or you."
"Then we'll find him before that."
Alaric sighs. She's won, he already knows that, Damon's gonna fold, just like him. He knows it.
"Damon, please."
Damon shakes his head, and Alaric knows exactly what his friend is thinking right now. How do I get myself into situations like this?
"Okay. But we are out of here before the moon is full and I'm werewolf bait."
Elena nods, but Alaric knows she would agree to anything right now. "I promise."
"Elena, I mean it, I don't have another brother to spare for a cure." Damon turns and walks out of the water, not looking back at her.
"I said I promise!"
Alaric sighs and picks up his bag, joining them at the bank. Elena climbs out of the water, dripping water everywhere. "Did you really have to push me in there?"
"I was making a point." Damon stares at her without batting an eyelid. "I could have been a werewolf, I could have attacked you, just like that. You’d be dead, just like that.” He mimics breaking something with his hands. A neck. Alaric’s stomachs turns cold, Damon is right. He never saw him coming; he wouldn’t have been able to protect her.
"That's how fast you could have been werewolf- chow, Elena. And Ric would have been dead as well."
That shuts her up. Elena stares at Damon for a long moment, then turns and walks away. Not once looking back.
Alaric wants to say something like that was a bit harsh or you didn’t need to put it like that, but Damon is right.
God, he hates it when Damon is right…
~~~~*~~~~
They’ve been walking for over an hour when Alaric stops to check his map again. "We got about a mile left."
Damon, who is walking before him, looks at the sky. "The sun's about to set," he says and Alaric can hear Elena's eye roll.
"I can see that, Damon."
"I'm just saying," Damon singsongs in typical Damon fashion.
"The moon doesn't reach its apex for a while. We have time." Elena again, sounding way too sure of herself.
A twig snaps, somewhere to their right. Slow steps shuffle closer, then a figure steps out from between the bushes. The man looks like he has been in a car accident, run over at least twice. He is bleeding from his eyes, from his nose, from his mouth. His hair is a mess, his clothes are torn and bloody. He walks slowly, looks more like a zombie than a human being, arms hanging loosely at his sides as if he doesn’t have any strength left anymore.
All that changes the moment the man becomes aware of them. He tenses, straightens, looks at them. Fixes his gaze on Damon, as if it's drawn there.
"Stay where you are," Alaric says, pointing his crossbow at the man, but he doesn't react, doesn't even look at the weapon.
"Vampire." It's a growl, barely recognizable as actual speech.
And then all hell breaks loose.
The man is fast, so fast Alaric is still staring at where he was standing when Damon is thrown against a tree a few feet away. Elena cries out in shock, moves forward. Alaric holds her back, pushes her behind him, tries to get a clear shot at the growling man. The arrow hits the stranger in the back and he howls in pain, but he doesn’t let go of Damon. Instead his struggles increase and he tries to get closer to Damon’s throat.
“Damon!”
Elena pulls something out of her bag and throws it over to Damon. A moment later the grenade explodes, spraying water and wolfsbane everywhere. The effect is instantaneous; the man cries out again and starts clawing at his face, staggers away from Damon, groaning. Damon kicks him hard in the stomach and the man collapses to the ground, out cold. Damon pulls the arrow out of his back, then rolls him onto his back with a boot, studying him.
"Damon, are you okay?"
Damon ignores Elena and leans down to drag the man toward a tree to his feet. "Ric, get the ropes, I don't know how long he’ll be out."
Alaric takes the ropes out of the bag, walking over to help Damon tie the man to the tree. Elena hovers in the background, nervous.
"He's a werewolf, right? That's why he went after you?"
"I think," Damon huffs, ducking beneath the rope Alaric is looping around the man and the tree. "Or he was just angry I’m better looking than him."
They work quickly, securing the stranger to the tree. Before long, he starts moving, straining against the bonds. Damon curses.
"These ropes aren't gonna hold him," he says. "He's too strong for them, what else do we have?"
From behind them Elena says, “Ric, here, take these.”
Damon reaches out for whatever she hands over, then yelps, yanking his hand back. “Ow!”
“I said Ric!”
“Why did you put vervain on it? He’s a werewolf!”
“Because we have nothing else left, it’s all we have!”
It’s not enough, it won’t work.
“That’s the last rope… We don’t have enough stuff to hold him-Elena, I don’t think we’re gonna make it to that ridge before the full moon…” They won’t, not if they want to get back to the car before the full moon, the whole trek is taking them too long. They need to get out of here, they need to go. To leave.
Now.
“If we can get him to talk, we don’t have to.” Elena sounds so convinced, so sure of herself.
She takes a step toward the bound werewolf-and Alaric steps between them, can’t hold himself back, he doesn’t want her close to that man.
“Get back,” he growls.
“Ric-“
Before Elena can protest, the man’s eyes suddenly snap open and he starts screaming at the top of his lungs. He throws his head back, knocking it into the tree behind him-and starts twisting in the bonds, his body contorting as much as it can-
“Jesus Christ, is he turning?”
“It’s impossible, it’s still daylight!”
“Tell him that,” Alaric growls, watching as Damon pins the man against the tree at his shoulders. Even bound as he is, Damon’s strength is barely enough to hold him back. It won’t be long until the werewolf breaks free.
“There aren’t supposed to be werewolves out there until the moon is full.” Elena sounds frantic now.
“We need to go,” Alaric picks up his bag. “We need to go, the ropes aren’t gonna hold a wolf, we need to leave! Now! ” He hates running from this, but he can’t protect them both, not against this… thing.
They run.
~~~~*~~~~
Once the sun sets, it gets dark really fast in the woods. It's a matter of half an hour, maybe less.
They are running back the way they came, Damon in the lead. Alaric has lost his compass, but they are heading roughly in the right direction and so he doesn’t question Damon’s way, doesn’t think much besides the fact that coming here was a stupid thing to do. They need to get away, they need to get Elena out of here, she’s in danger. She shouldn’t be here; she needs to be as far away as possible.
The man-the wolf is hunting them now. He can feel it, like a hot breath crawling down his neck, urging him to run faster, even though he knows they can’t outrun it. They are not fast enough, he and Elena can barely see where they’re running in the twilight, and soon the remaining light will be gone, practically blinding them. They will never make it out of the woods alive, especially not now that the forest starts working against them, making them stumble over roots they no longer see or causing them to slip on damp leaves.
But still, they run on, dashing through bushes as fast as the fading light allows.
Elena begins to tire, her movements becoming more and more awkward by the minute. She’s running out of breath, leans heavily against a tree as they stop briefly at a junction.
“I need a minute,” she gasps, fighting to get enough air into her lungs.
“We don’t have a minute,” Damon huffs back, starts moving again, but at a slightly slower pace, looking back at them. “Come on, we need to go.”
Alaric catches up with Elena and grabs her hand, pulling her away from the tree. “We need to keep going,” he says, urging her along the small path.
For once, she doesn’t argue and he is grateful for that.
A sound cuts through the night, shivering down his back like a cold breeze, a long, haunting howl close-too close-to them. It’s a call for others to join, an invitation to share the ecstasy of the hunt, the thrill of victory. A promise to share the prey.
The call stays unanswered, but their pursuer doesn’t give up the hunt, he’s getting closer, should be with them already, they are too slow-
Elena stumbles, cries out, and goes down hard. Alaric reaches out to help her up-
“Don’t move.” Damon’s voice is low, tense.
It's here.
The wolf is behind Alaric, so close he can hear it panting, hear the growl that rumbles through its chest, so close he can feel its hot breath creep over the fabric of his jeans. Alaric freezes in shock, doesn’t dare to move, his pulse hammering so hard in his veins his skin starts to tingle.
“Oh my god…” Elena’s small voice is barely audible and her hand trembles in his grasp.
Alaric turns, slowly.
It’s a huge beast. Shaggy fur, as dark as the night, standing on end. Yellow eyes gleam in the moonlight, their feral gaze locked on something behind Alaric. Foam gathering at the snout, the werewolf holds his body stiff, sinking to the ground, muscles bunch to pounce-
A loud growl echoes through the night, wild and vicious.
The wolf… hesitates, flattens its ears against its head.
Takes a slow step back, moving almost in slow-motion. It keeps moving, its posture changes, turns into a respectful crouch. Some of the tension leaves the shaggy body, but the wolf stays cautious, doesn’t take its gleaming eyes off the man before it.
Watching his every move.
Alaric takes a step toward it… and the wolf takes a step back, turns its head to the side.
“No.”
It’s said in a low voice, determined. Commanding.
You will not attack them.
The wolf backs off, another step.
Still looking at him.
Waiting.
"Get her out of here." Alaric doesn't take his eyes off the wolf, but he is talking to the people behind him.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
As soon as Damon’s voice sounds, the wolf tenses, jerks around, body going stiff in alarm, getting ready to jump-
"No." Says it just like before.
Back. Off.
The wolf obeys.
"Ric..." Elena breathes behind him.
"Go, get out," he hears himself say, voice calm. Sharp contrast to his heart beating so fast in his chest it hurts.
"I'm not leaving you here-" Elena starts to protest, but he needs her to shut the fuck up for once and listen.
“Remember what you promised, Elena, run. I have the ring, leave!”
Damon hisses something, maybe it's a curse, maybe it's an insult. A plea to join them, Alaric doesn't listen. Doesn't care. All he hears is them taking off at top speed-vampire speed-and their movements are swallowed by the night.
And he is left, locked in a stare down with a werewolf under a full moon. With no fucking idea what has just happened or what he is supposed to do now.
To look away now would be fatal and so he stares back. Watches as the creature becomes braver. Curls its lips and displays its teeth again, a challenge. He doesn’t return the gesture, but he stands up straighter, makes himself taller.
The wolf flattens its ears against his head, issues a growl, a deep, wild sound coming from the depths of his chest. Meant to intimidate him, to scare him.
Alaric growls back.
It sounds weird to his own ears, not wolfish-but also not entirely human either, something weird and in between. For a moment the wolf almost looks as if it can’t decide whether to be impressed or amused.
Alaric doesn't know how long they stand there, staring at each other. Locked in a weird dance-like back and forth of threat and calculation. Trying to gauge the other’s strength. They are an uneven match, he wouldn’t stand the slightest chance against the wolf if it decided to attack him-but it doesn’t. Something is keeping it back, something he doesn’t understand.
"Impressive."
The calm voice takes him completely by surprise.
It’s a reflex, Alaric whirls around to look behind him, even though his brain is screaming frantically at him to not take his eyes off the-
Something barrels into his back with the force of a freight train. He goes down hard, crashing to the ground. A searing pain rips through his back, taking his breath away. Claws pull at his skin, tearing it open, massive jaws snap shut and start to tug at his flesh-Alaric tries to cry out, but there is no air left; all that gets out is a weak croak that doesn’t even begin to describe the agony that is burning through his veins. The pain is so severe his whole body is straining to get away from the source, but his limbs are too heavy to move. Reality starts to disappear behind a veil of red and he welcomes the darkness that starts gathering at the edge of his vision.
Dimly, Alaric hears a yelp of pain, but he doesn’t know where it comes from. His back is on fire, it feels like it has been ripped open and his spine torn out. He moans weakly, tries to roll onto his side, but he can’t move, even the thought of moving makes him dizzy with more pain.
He is dragged onto his back with no regard to his injury. The world dims even more, and he doesn’t fight against it, would gladly crawl toward the darkness if he could only move. There’s a voice, close to him, talking to him, but the blood rushing through his ears is too loud to make out what it’s saying. A cool hand grips his neck, forces his head back. Something is pressed across his lips and warm liquid runs into his mouth, down his throat. It’s blood, he can taste it, starts to gag at the coppery flavor. Vampire blood, most likely. Alaric instinctively tries to cough it up, but he can’t, his body won’t cooperate anymore.
The voice sounds again, agitated and angry. More liquid pours down his throat, filling his mouth until he has no choice but to swallow. Just one heartbeat later his back begins to tingle, like thousands of ants crawl over it. The pain lessens immediately and he regains his ability to draw air into his starving lungs. He sags back to the ground, no more strength left.
Slowly, one by one, his senses return. He can hear soft rustling all around him, small animals moving in the undergrowth. He tastes blood in his mouth, smells blood on him, senses someone close to him, next to him-
“What are you doing out here?”
It’s the voice that makes him freeze on the spot, turns his insides cold, colder than the blood that was just poured down his throat. The voice from his memories, of the man who changed everything. For the longest moment Alaric feels paralyzed, can’t move a single muscle. Fear slithers through his veins, fighting him for control over his body, trying to get him to run, just run, get away from there, as fast as he can.
Alaric has never, in his entire life, run away from something. If he’s going to die here, now-he won’t go down like this. He fights down the rising panic, struggles against his own body until he can finally open his eyes and blink at his blurry surroundings.
He doesn’t have to look too hard, Klaus is right there, right next to him. Staring down at him, his brow furrowed into a displeased scowl. His eyes gleam softly in the darkness, a slightly golden color. There’s blood on his lips. He’s crouching next to Alaric, studying him. Mouth partly open, fangs visible between his lips. Looking for all the world as if he is planning on feeding on Alaric.
But he doesn’t. Klaus doesn’t do anything but look at him.
Freaking him the fuck out.
Get away from me.
Alaric is pretty sure this is what Klaus will read in his eyes, or maybe even hear his thoughts since is mind is screaming at him.
When Klaus moves-dips his head a little closer, cocks it to the side-Alaric flinches. Tries to pull back. Realizes he can’t move because his neck is still trapped in an ice-cold iron grip.
“How did you find me?”
Klaus sounds surprisingly… calm. Not aggressive, quite the opposite. Curious. Nothing about his voice indicates he is about to tear Alaric’s head off. It should be soothing, calm him down.
It doesn’t.
Nor does the sudden move Klaus makes as he leans toward him. For the eternity of one single heartbeat he is convinced that Klaus is about to kiss him-until he feels surprisingly warm breath ghost across his throat. Alaric goes completely rigid beneath the hybrid, stays perfectly still. Waiting for the horribly familiar sensation of fangs pierce his skin, the inevitable pain that follows a bite.
There’s a soft sound, a low growl, rumbling deep in Klaus’s chest, barely audible over the rushing in Alaric’s ears. It’s not meant to intimidate. Or to scare him. It’s something else, something completely different from what the whole situation seems to imply. He’s never heard a sound like this before-and for some reason that will never make sense to him he suddenly has to fight the ridiculously strong urge to roll his head to the side and bare his throat.
And then the moment is gone, as is Klaus, who is suddenly no longer crouching next to him, but standing a few feet away. Arms crossed over his chest, staring down at Alaric’s prone form.
“Damon is looking for his brother.” It’s a statement, not a question. “And he dragged you along to-what? Act as bait while he tries to steal Stefan from my side?”
Now that Klaus is no longer holding him down, Alaric can finally sit up. He runs a hand through his hair, looks around. Finds a dark lump a few feet away, a smaller one close to it. Realizes the wolf no longer has its head attached to its body.
“What the hell…”
Klaus follows his gaze, takes a step closer, eyes on the werewolf. “You made me kill my hybrid.” When he looks back at Alaric, his eyes are cold, hard, his mood switching from relaxed to pissed so fast it’s dizzying to watch. “I should take you as a replacement.”
Alarmed at the low growl Klaus’s voice has become, Alaric tries to get up-
Alaric never gets a chance to. Klaus blurs toward him, something hits him hard across his temple-and everything goes black.
~~~~*~~~~
Alaric comes to slowly. His head is reeling, pounding in time with his heartbeat, making it difficult to concentrate. His body feels sluggish, it takes some real effort to move-but there is no pain. There should be, he is sure of that, he feels like his head should be hurting as if something had cracked his skull open… but there’s nothing.
Must be the blood, he thinks fuzzily. He’s had vampire blood, it must have healed him.
He’s lying on his side on something hard, uncomfortable. The air around him is fresh and cold and he’s shivering, his teeth chattering slightly. Someone is close to him, shifting, readjusting their weight and a little further off there are footsteps rustling through leaves, getting closer. It takes Alaric a moment to convince his eyes to open and he blinks up at a blurry version of Stefan Salvatore. The vampire is clutching his left arm close to his side and his face is strained, he looks like he is in pain. He regards Alaric with an irritated frown, then stumbles closer, his gaze shifting to something behind Alaric’s back.
“They went rabid.” The voice is quiet, subdued. It’s so close Alaric actually jumps in surprise and turns his head sharply, eyes going wide when he finds Klaus sitting on a log behind him. The hybrid is staring off into space, maybe not even aware he’s talking.
“Some of them I killed. The others just… bled out.” He pauses, looks around. Alaric follows his gaze. All around them there are dark shapes on the ground, human shapes, none of them moving.
“They’re all dead.”
The pack, Alaric realizes, Klaus and Stefan must have found the werewolf pack… and killed them. He pushes himself up to his elbows and lets his eyes wander across the place. God, there are so many of them, ten, fifteen people-all dead. And the smell. Now that he’s become aware of the dead bodies so close to them, he can smell it: Blood. A lot of blood, on the people, on the ground… everywhere. His stomach rolls in protest and Alaric closes his eyes, fighting the impulse to take a deep, calming breath.
“What’s he doing here?”
Stefan’s voice sounds closer.
“A present from your brother. Ray found him.” Klaus prods Alaric’s ankle with his boot, grinning wickedly at him when Alaric’s eyes fly open and he can’t help but glare at Klaus. “I saved him from becoming our hybrid’s chew toy.”
“Where is Ray?”
Klaus’s eyes darken, all amusement draining from his face in a heartbeat. “Dead.” He growls. “I put him down; rabid as the rest of them.” The sudden mood shifts are intimidating to watch. Klaus’s relaxed posture turns rigid, his body starts to tremble with barely suppressed emotion. Faster than he should be able to, Klaus is standing near one of the many tents, glaring down at a dead person at his feet.
“I did everything I was told.” He turns around, voice rising. “I should be able to turn them.” Klaus takes a step toward Stefan, tense, glaring at the vampire. “I broke the curse. I killed a werewolf. I killed a vampire…” He growls. “I killed the doppelganger…”
Elena.
Alaric flinches, glad that Klaus can’t see him right now. Terrified what might happen if the hybrid picks up on his racing heart, on the hitch in his breath. He looks up at Stefan, eyes wide. What if Stefan is so far gone he’d betray them-betray her? Tell Klaus the truth about her, that she isn't dead-He has to calm down. Now. He has to keep quiet, think about something different, not give anything away.
Klaus is still staring at Stefan. From where he is lying Alaric, can’t see his face. Stefan looks uncomfortable, doesn’t hold the hybrid’s gaze for long, looks to the side. A look of grief flashing across his face, for a moment he looks as if Elena had died-
Stefan is one hell of an actor.
“You look like hell.”
And the moment is over, just like that. Alaric can’t tell if Klaus bought Stefan’s act or if he is merely playing along.
Stefan grimaces, gestures at his arm. “Last I checked, I’m dying. And you don’t want to heal me.”
Klaus’s shoulders tense, then he turns, stalks toward one of the tents. He picks up a bottle from the floor and bites his wrist, pouring some of his blood into the bottle, then hands it over to Stefan.
“Your brother was here.”
Again, Alaric suddenly finds himself at the center of Klaus’s attention. Not a good place to be. Alaric straightens and sits up; looking back at the hybrid with what he hopes is a calm expression.
Behind Klaus, Stefan drinks the blood from the bottle and throws it away. “I know.” Stefan takes a step closer. “I saw him when I was looking for Ray.”
Klaus folds his arms in front of his chest, looking over his shoulder. “He’s trying to get you to go back with him. Trying to save you.” His tone is light, like it’s a joke, something that makes Klaus laugh in his free time.
“I know,” Stefan says again, looking uncomfortable. Squares his shoulders and looks at Klaus, his expression serious. “I won’t break my word. You saved Damon, I’m staying with you.”
Something passes between them, a look Alaric can’t read.
Klaus is so fucking fast when he wants to be. Alaric is still trying to figure out where this conversation might lead, when he is suddenly grabbed by his throat and pushed against the log Klaus had been sitting on earlier. Klaus’s face is close now, so close, his eyes staring into Alaric’s in a way he’s becoming quite used to. “Now,” Klaus breathes against Alaric’s lips, holding his gaze prisoner, “what am I going to do with you?”
Alaric strains against the choke-hold, fighting to get a breath in, his hands digging like claws into Klaus’s grip, trying to dislodge it. He can no longer see anything but the blue of the hybrid’s eyes, and he hears Stefan talking in the background, even though he sounds so far away.
“Let me send him home with a message for my brother.” A dark shadow appears next to Klaus’s head, but Alaric can’t tear his gaze away from the stunning eyes.
“Damon won’t bother us again.”
Alaric tries to drag in a breath, but Klaus’s grip is too strong. Dark spots begin to gather at the edge of Alaric’s vision and he feels his body weaken, sinking back against the log. His ineffective efforts to pry Klaus’s finger away from his neck slowly turn into a weak tugging, until he’s more or less hanging on to the warm hand around his throat instead of fighting against it.
Please…
“Tell him I won’t be so generous next time.”
Whatever Klaus says next, Alaric doesn’t hear. Klaus lets go of him and Alaric crumbles to the ground, dragging air into his lungs, coughing harshly at the same time. It hurts, everything hurts, he can barely swallow, his throat feels swollen. As if he is still being choked.
Dimly, he senses movement close to him, hears voices in the distance, but he doesn’t care. Too busy trying to stop gagging.
Until he’s shoved against the log again. He forces his teary eyes open, blinks rapidly to clear them. Stefan stares back at him, looking serious. As usual.
At least he isn't trying to choke him.
“Tell Damon to leave me alone. I won’t be coming back.” Stefan grabs Alaric by his collar, pulling him closer. “Stay away from us, do not come after us again. Either of you.” For a moment, for just a fraction of a heartbeat Stefan’s eyes soften-or maybe it’s a reflection of the light, because then they are dark again and Stefan smirks. A totally un-Stefan expression.
“Good night, Alaric.”
Stefan moves, Alaric flinches-and then all there is, is darkness.
~~~~~*~~~~~
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