Run with me - 4/6
Damon doesn’t believe him, but that’s okay, Alaric knows he’s a terrible liar. But whining about the situation won’t get him anywhere, he needs to keep himself together and figure out a way how to deal with it.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Alaric considers himself an easy-going person. He doesn’t fly off the handle easily; it takes a lot to provoke him. To make him lose his composure. To actually get a reaction out of him. He’s hit a few tight spots over the past few weeks, but, all in all, he’s calm. Controlled.
Right now, one wrong word-and he’ll explode.
He’s tired. He’s miserable. He’s hurting. Pissed. He’s sick, sick of vampires, sick of hybrids. Of werewolves. Dead werewolves.
He’s so sick of all of it.
There had been so many corpses. A bloodbath. The campsite had looked worse at dawn, when the day’s first light had crawled over still bodies. Most of them young people, barely older than Alaric’s senior students. Bleeding from their eyes, out of their mouths, like a hideous mask covering each contorted face. A lot of them had had their hearts ripped out, a few carried claw marks all over their bodies, men and women alike. He’d lost count as he’d checked them, all of them, to make sure he didn’t turn his back on possible survivors.
Werewolf or not, supernatural being or not, no one deserves to be slaughtered like that.
Alaric moves slowly, muscles stiff and cramped. He feels worse than after any night spent on the Gilbert couch. The bruises on his throat are gone now; he no longer has trouble breathing or swallowing. But he’s still cold, chilled to the bone. He’d briefly considered going through the tents at the campsite to look for a jacket to… to steal, but he couldn’t do it. Stumbled away from the massacre before he could change his mind.
His ring is gone. He’d been walking for some time when he suddenly realized his hand felt weird, empty. And found the ring gone. He can’t remember when he’d lost it, thinks that either Klaus or Stefan must have taken it. Why, he doesn’t know, is too exhausted to try and figure it out. All he cares about, right now, is getting as far away from the mountains and the blood as he can.
It takes him until midday to finally get back to the spot where Damon had found them yesterday and pushed Elena off the cliff. He pauses on top of it, staring down into the pool of water beneath, lost in thought.
“There you are.”
Alaric flinches so badly he almost loses his footing and falls down.
A cool hand grabs his wrist, pulls him back, turns him around. Damon is standing before him, a rucksack slung over one shoulder, looking him up and down. Wearing that smirk, that shit-eating grin that is usually the last thing Alaric wants to see.
Right now it takes all of his self-composure to not pull Damon into a hug and never let go. It doesn’t last long, maybe the span of a heartbeat, maybe the time it takes for his instincts to decide to make him take a breath-but he’s never been this fucking happy to see his friend.
And then, of course, Damon opens his mouth to ruin it.
“Now, you look like you had fun last night, anyone I know?”
Just like that, Alaric wants to take a swing at him. Wipe that grin off his face. Yell at him that this isn't funny, that he’s been through hell and back. That, behind him, lies a night that defies description. Images he will never be able to get out of his head, no matter how long he lives.
But anger requires strength. Strength he doesn’t have anymore. So, instead, what comes out of his mouth is a tired question.
“Where’s Elena?”
Damon studies him closely. “She’s home, safe and sound. I promised her I’d come looking for whatever the wolf left of you.”
Another joke. On any other day he might look for (and possibly find) concern in Damon’s voice. He knows it’s there, he’s just too drained to listen for it.
And so Alaric starts walking, concentrates on the way back. On keeping upright. Putting one foot in front of the other. It had taken them roughly an hour to get here yesterday, but with him slowed down as he is it will be double to get back.
“Your back looks… interesting.”
Damon is worried. Curious. Dying to know what had happened. Alaric winces. There had been enough dying the previous night. He keeps walking, doesn’t look back, talks to the empty air in front of him.
“The wolf attacked me, tried to rip my spine out.” It certainly felt like it had succeeded; maybe Klaus’s blood had healed that as well. Alaric stops, takes a deep breath. “Klaus saved me, took me to the werewolf pack. All dead. Oh, and-“ He turns, looks at Damon, puts on a fake smile, “Stefan sends a message: leave him alone, he’s not coming back.”
Alaric starts walking again, doesn’t wait for Damon’s reaction. He stumbles over some root, barely catches his balance. Curses under his breath. Keeps going.
“Where’s your ring?”
“Taken. Klaus, maybe Stefan. I don’t know.”
I don’t care.
A shadow falls across the ground. When Alaric looks up, Damon is standing in front of him. Must have done one of those vampire moves. Too fast to see. Alaric takes a step back, closes his eyes. Annoyed. He should be used to this. Still catches him by surprise.
“Get out of my way.”
Damon doesn’t move. “What happened last night?”
“I told you. Now leave it.”
Damon usually knows when to leave something alone, when Alaric really doesn’t want to talk about it, needs him to shut up about it. Despite his super-senses Damon must be blind today.
“Ric, tell me what happened.”
Alaric takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “I told you, wolf tried to kill me, hybrid saved my ass, vampire knocked me out. That’s it.”
Damon isn't moving.
“Damon, get out of the way.”
Damon shakes his head. Stares at him. Determined. “Nuh-oh, you’re talking. Now.”
Fuck him.
“You wanna know what happened? Fine.” Alaric takes a step toward his friend, using his height to tower over him as he holds Damon’s gaze easily, glaring. “They killed them. All of them.” Alaric gestures back the way they came, as if Damon could still see their corpses if he looked hard enough. “They killed a whole pack of werewolves. Sixteen people. Klaus ripped their hearts out, he had to put them down because they went rabid. He was trying to turn them, it didn’t work and now they’re dead!”
He’s shouting now, and it takes all he has to stop himself. To take a step back and a deep breath. To calm down enough to drop his gaze and no longer stare at his friend. To force his voice into something resembling his usual tone instead of the angry growl that wants to break out.
“Maybe that doesn’t mean anything because they were werewolves-but they were people. No one deserves to die like that-“
Like her, like Jenna. He doesn’t say it, could never bring it over his lips, but it’s there, hangs in the air between them, as if he had spoken it out loud. His eyes are burning, not with tears.
Damon doesn’t say anything, but after a long beat he takes a step back. Gets out of Alaric’s way and starts walking. Not looking back. Giving Alaric some much needed privacy.
They walk in silence from then on.
When they get to the parking lot, Damon hands Alaric his rucksack so he can change his torn T-shirt and they get into the car. Alaric sinks into the passenger’s seat, exhausted and beaten. Closes his eyes and tries to think of anything but slain werewolves and blood and corpses. He asks Damon to drive him to his loft. He can’t deal with Elena right now, not after everything that’s happened. He longs for his own place, a hot shower, his own bed.
Alaric falls asleep to the gentle feel of the car eating up blacktop and the sound of Damon talking softly on the phone.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Alaric probably never would have found out about the trip if Jeremy hadn’t called him on the third day.
“Have you seen Elena today? She didn’t come home last night.”
Normally, Alaric makes sure to stay at least three nights a week at the Gilbert house to keep an eye on them. He hasn’t been over ever since he came back home from the Smoky Mountains. Three days ago. The kids usually don’t notice his absence until they run out of groceries.
“Did you call Caroline? Or Bonnie?”
“Yes and yes and no, they don’t know where she is, haven’t seen her. She’s not answering her phone.”
Not the first time she has stayed out for a night. Or ignored their calls. It’s usually linked to a heavy bout of Stefan-related heartsickness that makes her go quiet and depressed. You can live a whole week next to her room without ever hearing a single sound from her. Alaric has been there, done that. Has done his best to get her to come out of her room. To get her to eat something or at least talk to him, with varying degrees of success.
Most of the time it’s best to just leave her alone.
And then there are the nights when she stays at the boarding house. Probably sleeping in Stefan’s bed, spending time in his room. Damon usually calls him to let him know she’s there if she stays for more than a night.
“I’ll ask Damon if she’s at the boarding house.”
Damon doesn’t answer his phone. Not on the first call. Or on the four after that. It takes Alaric six additional tries to get someone to pick up the phone-and it’s not Damon.
“Ric, listen, I’m sorry, I thought he’d told you-“
Elena. Sounding vaguely annoyed and genuinely apologetic. There’s the sound of a car running in the background and Damon’s voice, saying something in that sing-song tone.
Alaric sits up straighter on the couch, straining to pick up the words. “Told me what?”
Elena takes a deep breath. “Promise me you’re not going to freak out.”
Oh, this is bad. Alaric feels his insides twist into a tight knot. His cell phone squeaks in protest as he tightens his grip, slowly getting to his feet. “Where are you?”
A pause. Then, “Damon knows where Stefan is. We’re going to Chicago to find him.”
Of course they are.
Chicago?
“Chicago?”
“Damon knows where to find Stefan-we’re going to save him, Ric, we’re bringing him back-“
“Get Damon on the phone, Elena.”
“Ric, I know what you think-“
“Now, Elena!”
There’s some rustling. “Ric, my friend, how’s the weather in Mystic Falls? I think they mentioned rain on the news yesterday, guess where it won’t be raining today-“
“Damon, what the fuck are you doing?”
Damon has the nerve to make an exasperated sound. As if Alaric’s outbreak is completely uncalled-for. “I’m looking for my brother. You know the bastard who gave himself over to that hybrid to clean up my mess again.”
Alaric gets off the couch, starts to pace. Crosses the few feet to the kitchen with long strides, before stalking back to the couch. Fighting the urge to yell some sense into his friend. “Why are you taking her with you? Are you nuts?! You said yourself that Klaus doesn’t know she’s alive, it’s not safe there, she could be killed-“
Damon sighs. As if Alaric is playing dumb on purpose. As if they’ve been over this before and how could he even doubt him. “I have a plan, Ric. Elena is part of it. It’s perfectly safe for her. I would have asked you to come along, but you lost your eternity ring. You don’t have her stunning looks and I don’t think you could pull off-“
“Cut the crap, Damon, Elena doesn’t even have a ring, you’re risking her life to get Stefan back!” Alaric barely refrains from punching his fist through the wall next to him. Gives up on trying to keep his voice down. “Are you completely out of your mind? Bring her back, now!”
Telling Damon to do something is a sure way to see him do the exact opposite. Just to prove that he can.
This, though, this is worse. Damon isn't ignoring him to spite him. No. Damon has a plan, a fucking master plan to risk his life and, apparently, that of Elena as well. And nothing Alaric could say will make him change his mind.
“I have a brother to save, Ric. I’ll call you later.”
It’s the last he hears from them far too long.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Two days.
Two fucking days.
48 hours without a word. Without a sign of life. Nothing. No text message, no call, nothing.
A drive to Chicago takes about twelve hours. Plus a minimum of six hours of rest at a motel. And then another eighteen hours of driving back. Not to mention the time spent looking for a ripper and a hybrid. A hybrid who cannot find out that Elena is still alive.
Alaric doesn’t get it. A few days ago, out in the woods, Damon was arguing with Elena about how it wasn’t safe for her to be there. How Klaus thought she’d been killed during the ritual. How that made her safe from him, from everything he might want to do to her if he found out she’s still alive.
And now, only a few days later, Damon seems hell-bent on getting her killed. That so-called best friend of his takes her to Chicago to go looking for a mass-murderer and honestly thinks he can keep her safe. And it never occurred to Damon to ask him to come along. Alaric had agreed to go with Elena into the mountains before she gave him back his ring, he would have gone to Chicago without it. He’d never have thought twice about it.
Because anything, even getting his neck snapped by a raging hybrid, is better than this. Than being forced to stay at home, staring at his phone. Praying for either of them to call him, to let him know they’re okay.
He’s angry. Terrified for her safety. Promises himself that, if they get out of there unharmed-and they will (they have to)-he‘s going to give Damon a piece of his mind. Maybe in the form of a stake to his chest. Or vervain in his bourbon. Or a combination of this and a night (a week) spent in the dungeon.
And Elena?
She should know better. So many people worked so hard to keep her safe, to keep her alive through the ritual-and now she’s doing everything she can to get herself killed. He doesn’t get it; he just can’t understand how she can risk her safety when it came at such a high price.
Maybe he should leave; maybe he should just turn his back on her and go. Start a new life some place else and leave all the horrors behind. No longer be responsible for a teenager with a death wish. She clearly doesn’t need his protection and whether or not he’s there, doesn’t really make a difference.
Yeah, he should just go, leave it all behind and find a new life.
Less than five minutes later he decides to stay. He won’t leave. He has no idea why, but he’ll stay. For now.
And when he gets a text message that says to “meet us at the boarding house” he gets into his car and drives there. Doesn’t even feel angry. Much.
Alaric doesn’t bother knocking, he lets himself in, walks straight up into the living-room. Damon is standing at the fire place, a glass in his hand, staring into the flames. Alaric knows he’s heard him, but he doesn’t react, doesn’t move at all.
Elena is sitting on the couch, her back to the door, equally silent. Alaric can’t see her face, but her huddled posture is all but screaming at him that something has happened. Something bad.
It takes him a deep breath and a slow count to three to fight down the not-so-irrational urge to hug both of them-and then punch Damon’s lights out for good measure. He stays in the doorway, looks at them. Waiting for an explanation.
“Stefan’s gone.”
Damon’s voice sounds calm, controlled. Matter-of-fact.
Elena flinches, curls in on herself. Stays silent. Alaric doesn’t know if she has heard him, if she knows he’s there. He doesn’t move, tries to wrap his head around the meaning of the words. Tries to figure out what exactly they mean. He fears the worst, thinks they killed him, that Damon killed his brother.
What happened? Who did it? Are you okay?
“How?” It’s all he can get out through his tight throat.
Elena doesn’t flinch this time, doesn’t turn to look at him. She keeps staring at the fireplace. “We broke up.”
Alaric frowns. “What happened?”
Damon doesn’t look at him, takes a step back, seems to deflate a little. He takes another sip of his drink. “Stefan won’t come back, he’s gone. All ripper-fun. He’s lost to us.”
That sounds a little better than I drove a stake through his heart, but it’s not exactly good news.
“Take her home.” Damon turns away from him, his posture tense and wrong. Hurting.
Elena gets off the couch and walks out of the room, giving Alaric a small, sad smile as she passes him. He watches her walk to the front door and turns to look at Damon’s back.
“You okay?”
Damon makes a vague motion with his hand, but stays silent. Alaric gets the message, loud and clear: He’s not wanted here, not now.
Elena doesn’t look up when he joins her in the car a moment later. She’s staring out of the passenger window, eyes a million miles away.
“You’re angry at me,” Elena says, a few minutes into the drive. Alaric turns slightly to look at her and she finally meets his eyes. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone. It was a stupid idea.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Elena grimaces. “You mean other than tell me that it’s over? That there’s no way back for us?” Her voice wavers slightly. She shakes her head after a moment. “No, he didn’t touch me.”
Alaric feels something deep inside his chest relax a little and he looks back at the dark road. “What happened?”
Elena is silent, looks out of the window, then down at her hands. “Damon had a plan, I was supposed to vervain Stefan while he distracted Klaus…” She takes a deep breath, turns away from him again, her gaze fixed on the window. “Stefan caught me, he told me… he told me he’s not coming back.”
So much for relaxing. Alaric’s hands tighten around the steering wheel and he has to force himself to keep calm. That’s not even a plan, that’s-
Alaric takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. It’s over, they’re back, they’re safe.
“I’m sorry, Ric.” Elena’s voice is so small he almost doesn’t hear it. “I shouldn’t have taken off like that, it was-it was a dumb move… I shouldn’t have done it.”
He has never heard her talk like this. “Does Klaus know you’re still alive?”
She winces, looks surprised for a moment, then shrugs miserably. “I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”
That’s good and Alaric wants to relax again, but he can’t. There’s something else, something she’s not telling him, he can feel it. But, in true Elena-fashion, she apparently doesn’t want to talk about it, whatever it is.
“Elena, promise me something.” She turns her head reluctantly, meeting his eyes for a heartbeat. “Promise me you won’t get yourself killed. Not for him. Not… not after everything.”
She nods, maybe a little too quickly, but he can tell she means it. At least for now.
The fall silent, both lost in their own thoughts.
It happens when he turns a corner and enters a side-street. There’s a flash of movement, a white shadow, illuminated by the headlights for a second-It bounces off the hood and disappears into the darkness again before he gets a good look at it-
Next to him, Elena cries out in shock, bracing herself against the dashboard as he steps on the breaks and brings the car to a sudden stop. They sit in the darkness for what feels like an eternity, breathing heavily.
“Oh my god, we hit something-we hit something!” Elena is fumbling the passenger door open, stumbling out into the dark. Alaric watches her get out, dazed, his gaze snapping to the dark lump on the road, taking in its shape.
They didn’t hit something, they hit someone.
Alaric turns in his seat, opens the door-
A searing pain rips through his chest, bringing him to his knees.
He tries to drag in a breath, to scream, to do something-but it feels like his chest is being squeezed by a giant iron fist, completely cutting off his air. He is dimly aware of his knees crashing into a hard, unyielding ground, sending a second stab of pain through his legs. He tries to keep upright, grasping blindly for something to hold onto, but his head starts to swim and everything around him starts moving in crazy circles.
“Oh my god, Ric, we hit a girl, she’s not moving, Ric, she’s not moving-“ Elena’s voice comes from far away.
Heat surges through his body, setting his veins on fire. It centers in his head, in his brain, getting so hot he dizzily expects to feel it melt and pour out of his ears.
“Ric-Ric, are you okay?”
Hands-blessedly cool hands-touch his face, turn his head to the side. A dark shadow appears in his line of sight, but the face is too blurry to make it out.
“Oh my god, you’re burning up-Ric? Can you hear me?”
He tries to talk, tries to nod, but he can’t move, his whole body tense, un-cooperative, muscles locked against the desperate need to breathe. Elena rests her hand on his forehead and starts talking agitatedly. It sounds like she is talking to someone else, but Alaric can’t concentrate on what she is saying. His heart is pounding so hard the sound of his heartbeat is slowly drowning out his surroundings. He can feel himself start to slip away, but he can’t, he just can’t let go, he fights stubbornly to stay conscious…
He doesn’t exactly fall unconscious, but he isn't really awake either. Reality becomes muted, then shifts, but he is still… aware… on some level. It’s cold around him. His skin is burning. The street is cold against his clothes. Elena keeps talking, in the background, her hand stroking his forehead, keeping him grounded.
He doesn’t know how long he drifts, floating somehow in the confines of his own body. It’s a disconcerting feeling, it scares him. Whenever he can gather enough strength he tries to fight against it, tries to claw his way back to full consciousness, to full control over himself. Elena is never far, her voice always close, next to him, above him. She calms down after some time, the panic slowly disappearing from her voice. He wants to tell her he is sorry for scaring her like that, that he’s okay, but he can’t bring his mouth to form the words.
At one point there is a second voice, close to him, on the other side. It asks a question he can’t make out and Elena answers for him.
“The girl-she appeared out of nowhere… she ran in front of the car, it happened so fast-he got out of the car and then he collapsed and he was in pain… I think he hit his head…”
“Sir, sir, can you hear me? What’s his name? Sir?”
It’s difficult to follow them when they talk so fast- And then someone touches Alaric’s head and his vision explodes in a bright light. He flinches, groans, rolls his head to the side.
“Ric-his name is Ric-Mr Saltzman…”
“Mr Saltzman, can you hear me?”
The hand is back on his head, turning it toward the light again. He somehow manages to lift his own hand and push it away.
“’m okay,” he says. Or hopes he says.
“Mr Saltzman, can you open your eyes? Can you look at me?”
He forces his eyes open, blinks an unfamiliar face into view. A man, holding a pen light he is about to shine into Alaric’s eyes again. Elena is next to him, looking down at him as well, eyes wide and worried.
“Mr Saltzman, are you hurt anywhere?”
Slowly, more details come into focus. There is a second man, behind the first, crouching next to a dark shape a few feet away. A shape that isn't moving, lies eerily still, most of it covered by a large shadow.
“I’m okay,” Alaric says, again, and this time it comes out like he means it. He tries to move, to sit up, fighting back a short bout of dizziness. He can’t tear his eyes away from the still form.
“Do you remember what happened?” The man moves into his line of sight, blocking his view. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No…”
“Can you get up?”
He can and they get him upright. He sways for a moment, then finds himself being led to the back of the ambulance. The man makes him sit down and starts poking and prodding him, running all kinds of tests. Alaric patiently holds still when he has to, moves when he is told to-and still can’t look away from the dead body. He tries to remember what has happened, but he feels too disconnected with his mind, like he is standing beside himself, watching everything like a bystander. As if it has nothing to do with him.
Slowly, the place fills with people. Some of them come to ask him questions and he answers them as truthfully as he can, giving them what little information he has. Elena stays close to him, never lets him out of her sight. Alaric actually startles a little when a dark head suddenly appears over Elena’s shoulder and icy-blue eyes stare into his own.
“Damon?”
For just a second he thinks he might have imagined his friend, since the vampire literally appeared out of nowhere.
Damon regards him with a worried frown. “Are you okay?”
“Why are you here?”
“I called him,” Elena answers instead, squeezing Alaric’s hand reassuringly.
Alaric notices that none of the surrounding police officers attempt to send Damon away and figures he must have compelled them to let him stay.
“I’m okay,” he says, again. He’s been through worse, much worse. Before any of them can say more, an officer steps up to them.
“I need to speak to Mr Saltzman alone.”
Damon and Elena step away from them. Alaric answers the same questions he’s been asked a few times now, watching his friends talking to each other in the background. Elena seems to be agitated and at one point Damon’s gaze suddenly snaps up and he stares at Alaric for a moment, before he shakes his head and looks back at Elena, saying something. The officer distracts Alaric, asking for his personal papers and when he looks up again, they are both further away, standing next to Damon’s car, arguing. Alaric frowns; he’s missing something, something they are not telling him.
He has no idea how often he has to tell what little he can remember of the accident, but when he is finally allowed to leave, he feels like he’s talking about someone else’s story. He’s tired, more like exhausted, it’s taking him his last reserves of strength to remain upright and walking. What’s puzzling him is that, other than the exhaustion, he feels fine. Good, even. There’s no more pain, no lingering ache, nothing. The pain in his chest is gone as if it had never been there. He runs a hand over his face tiredly, turning to look for his friends.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Damon’s voice, close to Alaric’s ear, startles him, as does the hand that suddenly grabs his elbow and drags him away from the crime scene. Alaric stumbles along for a step, then pulls his arm free, walking on his own.
Elena is waiting at Damon’s car, hugging herself against the chilly night air. Right, it’s cold, the air is cool against his skin-but Alaric doesn’t feel it. It’s the weirdest sensation, his senses are telling him one thing, but his brain refuses to accept it.
They don’t talk on the drive. Alaric senses more than sees Elena giving him worried glances, but can’t bring himself to react to them. He loses track of how long it actually takes them to get home, but as soon as Damon parks the car, Alaric gets out. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights, finds his way blindly into the living-room. Alaric sinks into the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. Wishing he could just fall asleep and forget about this night…
“Ric, catch!”
Something small hits the side of his head and drops onto his chest. He reaches out to pick it up and have a closer look-and lets out a yelp when a sharp pain sizzles through his fingers, burning him. “What the hell-“
Alaric looks up to find Damon standing next to the couch, looking down at him with a dark frown. “What the hell was that?”
“Wolfsbane.”
Alaric is shaking his hand to get rid of the tingling sensation, but stops. “What?”
Damon picks up the small plant from where it has fallen onto the couch next to Alaric, holding it up for him to have a closer look. It is, indeed, dried wolfsbane. Alaric stares at the shriveled plant, then at Damon. The vampire holds it out to him. “Take it.”
Not having the slightest idea what his friend is getting at, Alaric reaches out, slowly, to touch the plant-and draws his hand back when thousands of tiny needles dig into his skin. Damon is watching him closely and when Alaric looks up at him, there’s a knowing look in Damon’s eyes that sends a shiver down Alaric’s spine.
“Damon, what are you-what the fuck are you doing?”
Damon crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring down at him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m-you’re-I’m fine. Okay? I feel fine.” Alaric gets off the couch, can’t sit still, not with Damon staring at him like that. “What’s this all about?”
“Elena said your eyes were glowing when the girl died. And that you were having some weird kind of heart attack, you were burning up.” Damon cocks his head to the side. “But you’re fine now.”
Yeah, he knows that already, he’s been there-“What’s that got to do with this?” He looks around, frowns, finally realizing that they are in his apartment, not at the Gilbert house. “Where’s Elena?”
Damon is still staring at him and it’s starting to piss him off.
“She’s waiting in the car until I’ve figured this out.”
“Figured what out?”
“You.”
“Me? Damon, you’re not making any sense, what’s wrong? I’m okay, I feel fine-” And then he goes still, very still as Damon’s words finally sink in. “She said my eyes… were glowing? Like a… like a-“ He can’t bring himself to say it, it’s too surreal. Ridiculous.
“Like an animal, Ric.”
“Like a…” Oh god, he can’t-
“Like a wolf.”
Alaric remembers it, now, his eyes burning, hurting so badly he would have tried to claw at them had he been able to move.
“But I-“ It doesn’t make any sense, he’s not-he’s not- there is no way-
“Think about it, it makes sense,” Damon is saying, and Alaric wants to punch him.
“No, it doesn’t-“ he snarls, but Damon keeps talking, ignores him.
“How you snap at everything that goes wrong, you have a worse temper than me lately… And then the wolf in the forest, you told it to stay-and it didn’t attack us. It obeyed you, Ric, it shouldn’t have done that, but it did-“
“I’m not a werewolf, Damon!” Alaric is yelling now and it feels so fucking good to let his anger out like this. “Don’t you think I would have known if my parents had grown hairy every month and started killing people? Don’t you think I would have fucking noticed that?”
How can Damon stay so fucking calm?
“Maybe they didn’t trigger the curse.”
And this is-“But I would have known, aren’t you supposed to know this? Feel it?”
Damon shrugs. “I’m no expert on this, Ric.”
“It doesn’t make any sense, I’ve killed before, Damon, you know how many vampires I-we killed, it’s not the first time I-“ Alaric stops, can barely talk past the sudden lump in his throat. “It’s not the first time someone was harmed because of me.”
“Have you ever killed a human before?”
It’s then that it hits him, that he realizes what has happened: He’s killed a person tonight, a girl, someone is dead because of him, she lost her life-and it’s his fault.
“It’s not your fault.”
He can’t look at Damon. “I’ve never-“ he starts, but, again, doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“It was an accident. She ran in front of your car, there’s nothing you could have done.”
Damon is right, there is nothing he could have done, it all happened way too fast… and still… and still... It wouldn’t have happened if he had not been there.
“You gonna be okay?”
Alaric honestly doesn’t know, he doesn’t feel anything. Can’t think anything. He might as well not be there right now. He takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his hair. Counts to ten. Slowly. When he looks up, Damon is still standing there, looking at him, and Alaric is still a werewolf.
No. He’s not going to be okay.
“Yeah.”
Damon doesn’t believe him, but that’s okay, Alaric knows he’s a terrible liar. But whining about the situation won’t get him anywhere, he needs to keep himself together and figure out a way how to deal with it.
"Try to get some sleep. We’ll figure this out tomorrow."
Damon is right, he needs sleep. He needs to get his head clear, he needs to… he needs to-fuck, he needs to do something.
Alaric ends up sitting on his couch, staring at a dried twig of wolfsbane for the rest of the night.
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