Fic: The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right (2/2)
Title: The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right (2/2)
Author: lit_chick08
Verse: Show
Warning: underage sex
Word Count: 12,293
Rating: MA for language and sexuality
Pairing: Elena/Alaric, Jenna/Alaric, Stefan/Elena, mentions Alaric/Isobel
Spoilers: everything thus far just to be safe
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: Alaric never thought he was the type of man who would betray the ones he loved for a woman but maybe it was just because he hadn’t met Elena yet
Two nights later, Alaric was grading papers when someone knocked on his door. He expected it to be Damon, who dropped by some evenings to have a drink, or even Jenna, who was becoming more mobile every day; he was not expecting Elena, swaying somewhat unsteadily on her feet.
“Elena?”
She smiled lazily, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, Ric.”
Instantly Alaric knew what was going on. “You’re drunk.”
Elena nodded slowly, stepping into his personal space as she attempted to pass by him. Alaric moved out of the way, watching in surprise as she shed her coat and sweater, dropping down onto his couch in nothing but her jeans and camisole.
“Sorry for just showing up but you live the closest to the Grill.”
“You got served at the Grill? How?”
Her giggle was positively girlish. “A boy thought I was hot. And then he bought me a lot of shots. And now I’m drunk!”
“Does Stefan know where you are?”
Elena shook her head, snuggling into the cushions in an attempt to get comfortable. “He and Damon are having a powwow about what Katherine told me.”
“You talked to Katherine? About what?”
“About why Rose and Trevor kidnapped me and why Elijah came for me. There’s a very bad vampire named Klaus and he wants to sacrifice me and Tyler and Caroline and Bonnie to break a curse. And Katherine is afraid of him, so he’s going to kill me.”
“No one’s going to kill you, Elena.”
“I know. That’s why I came here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vampires can come into the boardinghouse and Jenna can be compelled; and even if she’s not compelled, she could just invite him in, you know? But you…you’ll never invite anyone in. I’m safe here.” Tears swelling in her eyes, she whimpered, “I just wanna feel safe again.”
With a sigh, Alaric crouched down beside her, gently brushing the loose hair away from her flushed face. “Elena - “
“I feel safe with you,” she cut in, touching his face with clumsy fingers. “Am I safe with you, Ric?”
“Always,” he swore.
Her eyes drifting shut, she whispered, “I love the way you look at me.”
He moved her to his bed, tucking the blankets around her, her dark hair scattered across the crisp white of his pillows.
In the morning, Alaric awoke to the smell of bacon. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up on the couch to see Elena standing at the stove making breakfast, her wet hair wrapped tightly into a bun, wearing her jeans and a dark undershirt Alaric recognized from his own closet.
“’Morning.”
Elena spun around, startled, before relaxing into a smile. “I figured the least I could do for showing up on your doorstep like a drunk, crazy person was make you breakfast.”
“Coffee?”
Elena pointed to the freshly brewed pot before turning her attention back to the skillet. “I’m really sorry for doing this. I don’t - I mean, I’m not - It won’t ever happen again.”
“You’re always welcome here, Elena. Though the stealing my clothes is new.”
Elena turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, tugging self-consciously at the bottom of the tank. “About four in the morning the tequila made an unexpected reappearance. It got on my shirt. I’ll wash it and bring it back - “
“Elena, I’m teasing,” he interrupted with a chuckle. “Trust me: I’ve done far more embarrassing things while wasted. And it sounded like you were pretty upset.”
Carefully setting the bacon on a plate, Elena twisted off the burner, trying to busy herself with the meal. “I shouldn’t have put that on you. I really am sorry, Ric. You shouldn’t have to deal with me just showing up and taking over and - “
He pressed a finger to her lips without thinking. “Just stop, okay? You are always welcome here, Elena, no matter what.”
She looked up at him beneath her lashes, her eyes swelling with emotion, and Alaric felt the last tenuous hold on his control break. Before he could even consider the ramifications of what he was about to do, Alaric inclined his head, his lips brushing across Elena’s whisper soft. Almost immediately she pulled back, surprise on her face, and he was about to apologize when she stepped forward and tentatively pressed her mouth against his.
Her mouth tasted of peppermint and coffee, her tongue hot against his; when he settled his hands against the curve of her waist, Elena whimpered sweetly into his mouth, stretching up on her toes in an attempt to get closer.
And then she was pulling away, horror all over her pretty face.
“Oh god!” she gasped, rushing into the living room, grabbing her discarded sweater and coat.
“Elena, wait!” he called as he followed, trying to will away the erection now pressing against his zipper.
“Please don’t tell Jenna,” Elena implored before disappearing out into the early morning, leaving Alaric to stare after her, angrier at himself than he had ever been in his entire life.
* * *
Alaric knew he needed to break up with Jenna.
Despite his affection for her, Alaric knew he was being bitterly unfair; it now went far beyond the secrets he kept or what really happened to Isobel. He had made out with her niece, was deeply regretful it hadn’t gone further than it did, and the idea Jenna would one day find out about this betrayal made Alaric physically nauseous. Jenna did not deserve what he was doing to her.
And yet every time Ric went to end things, he found himself unable to make the words come out, to shatter the fragile sense of normalcy he had built with Jenna Sommers.
Family Night was every Wednesday night; it was the one night of the week Jenna insisted Jeremy and Elena be home, a tradition which had apparently existed before Miranda and Grayson Gilbert had died that Jenna insisted on continuing. When Jenna extended the offer, Alaric wanted to refuse it, wanted to have the strength to say no, pack up his apartment, and flee Mystic Falls.
But it had been a very long time since Alaric felt like part of a family.
Jenna answered the door, greeting him with a kiss and a smile, thanking him for the bottle of wine he brought. The smell of the food was heavenly and instantly Alaric knew Jenna was not cooking, a suspicion confirmed when he entered the kitchen to find Elena at the stove, a recipe card in her hand.
“Elena’s making us Grayson’s chicken Alfredo,” Jenna informed him as she uncorked the wine, pouring a glass for him and then herself. “It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever had in your mouth.”
“If I can ever read his writing,” Elena piped up, frowning.
“Want me to take a crack at it?” At Elena’s cautious expression, he added, “I spend a lot of time deciphering bad handwriting. How else could I grade Jeremy’s papers?”
“Hey!” Jeremy called from his position on the couch, Xbox controller in hand.
Elena held out the card to him. “I can’t figure out what the last few ingredients are.”
They worked in companionable silence, Jenna and Jeremy going head-to-head in a battle to the death, and Alaric couldn’t help but smile at the pride which flooded her face when she tasted the sauce.
“Just like your dad’s?”
Elena nodded, carefully gathering some on the wooden spoon and holding it out to him. “Taste.”
Alaric obediently opened his mouth, gathering the concoction on his tongue. “Jenna’s right. That might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
Elena’s eyes darkened, a bright blush blooming high on her cheeks, and Alaric instantly wanted to kick himself for not thinking. And then she softly chuckled and, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper, asked, “Is it always going to be this weird?”
“No,” he swore in the same hushed tone. “Elena, I want you to know - “
“Not now,” she interrupted, her eyes flicking towards the living room, Jenna’s taunting shouts and Jeremy’s claims of cheating drowning out their voices. “Later, okay?”
He nodded, lifting the pot to strain the penne.
Sometimes it worried Alaric how good he had become at pretending. As he sat at the Gilbert dining room table, taking part in an almost endless stream of conversations about mundane topics, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would always be like this, if deception was going to remain such an integral part of his life. He understood it was essential to keeping Jenna safe, but Alaric was starting to hate the man he was becoming, the kind of man who lied to a woman he cared about and lusted after her underage niece.
And then Elena looked up from her plate and smiled sadly, and Alaric knew he was going to remain whatever man he needed to be to stay close to her.
* * *
“This would kill Jenna,” Elena said later in the darkened living room. She was curled up on the couch in her pajamas, her robe cinched tightly at her waist, her hair pulled back in a messy bun; Alaric couldn’t remember her ever looking so young before.
He sat in the easy chair in his own pajamas, an ear out for any movement from upstairs where Jenna and Jeremy were asleep. “I know.”
“And I don’t want this to ruin…I like talking to you, Ric, and I don’t want what I did to make it so we can’t talk anymore.”
“What you did? Elena, what happened was my fault. I initiated it. I crossed the line. You shouldn’t blame - “
“But I kissed you back!” she hissed, twisting the cuffs of her sleeves anxiously. “I could’ve stopped it right away and I didn’t! And if Jenna knew that - “
“Jenna will never know that,” Alaric insisted. “I don’t want to hurt Jenna either, Elena. That’s why I’m going to end things - “
“You can’t!” Elena interrupted, her eyes wide. “Jenna loves you, Ric. And I know you love her too. She’s going to need you after…”
“After what?”
The ensuing silence was deafening, and Alaric knew instantly what she meant.
“You’re not dying, Elena.”
Getting to her feet, she sighed, “The deal’s already been made. Elijah gave me his word he’d keep you safe, and I know what I have to do. And I need you to be here for Jenna and Jeremy when it’s over.”
“Don’t put that on me.”
“It’s you or John, Ric, and I can’t trust him with the people I love.”
“You’re asking me to just sit around and wait for you to die! Does Stefan know - “
“Don’t bring him into this! This isn’t about Stefan! I’m telling you this because I trust you, Ric, and I trust that you will do what’s best for my family because you want them to be your family too.” Unshed tears welling, she gritted out, “You searched for Isobel for years because you loved her so much; you learned everything you could about vampires so you could avenge her. Stefan loves me and Damon would do anything to save me, but you’re the only one who understands what it’s like to be left behind. I need you to hold them together, especially Jeremy.”
Ric pushed himself to his feet, emotion now stinging his throat. “And who’s going to hold me together, Elena?”
The tears hit her cheeks quickly, her lower lip quivering pathetically. “I don’t want this, Ric! But Klaus killed anyone Katherine had ever cared about. And I can’t be like Katherine; I can’t live with that on my conscience for eternity. I can’t watch everyone die because of me!”
“And I can’t watch you die!” he fiercely declared, moving closer to her in an effort to keep his voice down.
Elena opened her mouth to respond before shaking her head, trying to push past him and head upstairs. Alaric gripped her upper arm, spinning her back around, the momentum sending Elena tumbling into his chest. She slipped her arms around him, holding him tightly as she rested her forehead against his breastbone.
“Please don’t hate me,” she pled into the cotton of his shirt.
Alaric rested his chin atop her head, his hands soothingly stroking her back.
He wished he could hate her.
* * *
The night he put the dagger through Elijah’s heart, all Alaric could think about was the threat he posed to Elena. He heard the threat Elijah was making to Damon and John, casually explaining how he would take Elena away and how they’d never see her again, and Alaric suddenly knew he would do anything to prevent that. Damon’s plan was reckless and stupid - Damon’s plans were always reckless and stupid - but Alaric suddenly realized Damon was right. As long as Elijah lived, he would be a threat to Elena.
And then Elijah disappeared and Damon went off to warn Stefan and Elena, and all Alaric could think about was how he might have just signed Elena’s death warrant himself.
As he stood in the Gilbert kitchen, listening to Jenna challenge him about the lies he had spun throughout their relationship, hearing the pain and betrayal over Isobel in her voice, Alaric knew he could not handle this anymore. He did not want to be the man who did this to Jenna Sommers; he did not want to be the type of man John Gilbert was.
A peaceful calm descended upon him as he set the ring on the counter, John’s smug face taunting him for a reaction. He knew how well the ring could protect him, but Ric no longer wanted the damned thing, Isobel’s parting gift, the twisted token of John Gilbert’s adolescence affection.
Alaric was willing to die if it meant he could finally be free of Isobel Flemming.
* * *
He knew it was wrong to pull Elena into his classroom to discuss the situation with Jenna, but he needed her to understand why he was going to be unable to uphold his promise. But then Elena started encouraging him to tell Jenna the truth, and Alaric realized sometime between his arrival in Mystic Falls and that moment, the truth stopped being important.
Alaric thought the conversation was over when Elena asked, “Why did you give John your ring?”
“It’s his ring.”
“It’s your ring. Isobel gave it to you.”
“And I don’t want it anymore.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “You’re being stupid.”
The criticism stung sharper than it should have and Alaric bristled at her tone. “Look, Elena, I don’t expect you to understand - “
“Don’t act like I’m some stupid kid who doesn’t know what’s going on,” she cut in, irritation flitting across her features. “You’re pissed at John and you’re still pissed at Isobel, and you don’t want the ring as a reminder. Believe me: I get it.” Reaching into her pocket, Alaric was stunned to see her produce his ring.
“How did you - “
“I told John I wanted to wear it. He wants me safe, so he gave it back.”
“If he sees me wearing it - “
“I don’t care.” Crossing the room, Elena held out to him expectantly. “I need to know you’re safe, Ric, and I need you to wear this.” When he made no motion to accept it, she added, “It’s not from Isobel or John. It’s my ring and I’m giving to you. Will you wear it?”
Alaric nodded reluctantly, slipping the ring firmly back into place.
It felt like a shackle, tethering him to Elena for as long as he lived.
* * *
There was nothing as satisfying as the connection of his fist into John Gilbert’s face. From the first moment he had sauntered into town weeks earlier, it was all Alaric could think about, how desperately he wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face. And now, with everything falling apart so spectacularly, Alaric decided it was not worth pretending like he was the better man.
Alaric Saltzman was done being the better man. It never got him anywhere.
He apologized to Elena (who actually looked pretty pleased with the turn of events) before hurrying to his car, needing to put as much space between himself and John Gilbert as humanly possible. Perversely, Alaric wondered if he could persuade Damon to finally murder John and then quickly hated himself for thinking it.
When Isobel appeared in front of his car to offer an apology, Alaric was stunned to realize just how little her declaration meant. There had been a time when all he had longed for in the world was to hear his wife’s voice again, to hear her say she loved him, but this Isobel was not the Isobel he married, the Isobel he wanted to start a family with and spend the rest of his days beside.
When the world goes black, Isobel walking away yet again, Alaric’s last thought was of Elena.
* * *
While Klaus was in his body, Alaric was aware of nothing. It was the worst feeling in the world, to be cast into utter darkness with no respite, no concept of time; Alaric had never truly considered eternity until faced with the prospect of being in limbo indefinitely.
When he came back to his body, he was lying on the floor of the Gilbert living room, a large bloodstain over his heart, Stefan, Elena, Damon, and Elijah surrounding him. As he coughed at the familiar burn of oxygen reentering his lungs, Elena’s eyes closed, a shaky exhalation leaving her lips.
“What happened?” he gritted out as he hauled himself into a sitting position.
“Klaus possessed you,” Stefan succinctly explained.
Damon held up the dagger Alaric had forced through Elijah’s heart. “And then we killed him…in your body anyway. Good thing you were sporting your pope ring; otherwise this story’s ending would not be quite so happy.”
Alaric could not help but look at the Original standing near the couch, fear twisting in his chest. Elijah looked back at him, his face blank, before assuring him, “You’re still on the list, Alaric; I won’t seek revenge for what you did.”
Alaric almost wished he would.
* * *
For the next two days, Alaric did not leave his apartment. It was the only place he could guarantee was safe, the only place no vampire (other than Damon) could enter. He sat, he drank, he scrubbed Katherine’s blood from the carpet; Alaric did everything he possibly could do but he still could not sleep. Despite the exhaustion which positively filled him, he was terrified to close his eyes and hurtle back into the blackness, into nothingness.
On the third day of his self-imposed exile, Elena used Jenna’s key to let herself into the apartment. Alaric did not move from his position on the couch, a glass of bourbon clutched tightly in his right hand; he was not drunk (yet) but it was only a matter of time.
“We’re all worried about you,” Elena began, nervous hands straightening the mess on the coffee table. “Damon said you won’t answer the phone - “
“Then I guess I don’t want to talk,” he interrupted, enjoying the brusqueness of his voice, the way it made her draw back momentarily.
“You’re our friend, Ric. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
He laughed mirthlessly, taking a heavy swallow from his drink. “Yeah, I’m peachy-fucking-keen, Elena. So if that’s everything…you can go.”
Alaric wanted her to recoil, maybe even tear up; he wanted her to hate him, to leave his apartment and never return. It would be easier if she hated him, if she wasn’t looking at him with such tenderness and guilt; it would be easier if he didn’t desperately want for her to wrap her arms around him and make the hurt go away.
“Why, so you can drink yourself to death?” Elena shook her head, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Ric, not until I know you’re okay.”
“Elena - “
“I’m sorry this happened to you, that Klaus compelled Isobel to do this,” she rambled, “and I’m sorry Isobel is dead and that Klaus used your body, that I had to wake up Elijah and that Damon had to kill you so you could…be you again. And I understand if you hate me because it’s all my fault; if you weren’t a part of my life, Klaus never would have used you, and I am sorry for that. If you want me out of your life, okay, but I care about you and I don’t want you to fall apart.”
“I don’t blame you,” he rasped after a beat, setting the bourbon on the table. “It’s not your fault that you’re a doppelganger.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?” she asked, her voice cracking.
Alaric lifted his head, finally meeting her gaze. With a shaky exhalation, he confessed, “Because I want you so badly and I don’t have it in me to fight it right now.”
He waited for her to excuse herself, to apologize and leave the apartment, return to Stefan’s embrace; instead, she stepped forward, her fingers sliding into his hair as she tilted his head up to look at her. Instinctually Alaric settled his hands on her hips, tugging her closer.
“Just tell me what you need,” Elena implored, her eyes wet with emotion.
Alaric exhaled shakily, resting his head against her sternum, holding her as if she was all that was keeping him from blowing away. “Stay with me.”
“As long as you need,” she swore, stroking his hair soothingly.
He was asleep within an hour.
* * *
It was the middle of the night when Alaric awoke, rubbing at his face as the disorientation faded away. The shades were drawn over the windows, only the glow of his alarm clock providing any light, but it was the warmth beside him which brought Alaric fully back to consciousness.
Elena laid beside him, sleeping comfortably on her left side, her hair falling across her face. In sleep, she looked unbearably young and incredibly peaceful, her face relaxed for the first time in weeks. Alaric could not help but carefully reach over to brush the hair back from her face. At the touch of his skin against hers, Elena’s eyes fluttered open, a soft smile upon her lips.
For a moment, it was as if the world stopped. And then Alaric leaned over, his fingers sliding into Elena’s hair and drew her in for a kiss.
If she would have protested, Alaric would have stopped, drawn back, and immediately apologized; instead, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him more fully against her, and Alaric knew he was lost.
Elena trembled as he drew his lips down her throat, his tongue tracing the line of her collarbone. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, slowly drawing it upwards, awaiting the rejection; when she lifted her arms to help, Alaric resisted the urge to thank god, tossing the shirt away from the bed before exploring her warm, olive skin.
So absorbed in discovering her, Alaric was surprised when she grunted his name while tugging at the front of his shirt. He pulled back, afraid she was trying to stop everything, only to laugh as she pulled his shirt off, pressing a kiss beneath his ear.
For some reason, whenever he imagined them like this (and he had imagined it far more frequently than any respectable authority figure should have), he had imagined Elena to be passive, to be pretty and delicate, the sort of woman who wanted you to make love to her sweetly. It was more than a pleasant surprise when she pushed him onto his back, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his pajamas, tugging down the fabric before shedding her jeans, returning to the bed in nothing but her smile.
“Let me take care of you,” she murmured as she straddled him, sliding her hands up his chest, setting his body alight. They kissed, long and deep, before he broke away, gasping as she playfully nipped his jaw.
“What if I want to take care of you?” he countered, writhing as she rolled her hips against his erection.
She flicked her gaze up, sadness clouding her eyes momentarily as she replied, “I’m really tired of people taking care of me.”
Alaric pushed the hair back over her shoulders, hauling himself into a sitting position, Elena now balanced on her knees over his lap. Cupping her face, he suggested in a whisper, “We could always just take care of each other.”
She smiled against his mouth, slightly shifting her body before slowly descending onto him. As he moaned at the feel of her body surrounding him, Elena exhaled, “Perfect.”
Alaric wasn’t sure if she was talking about his suggestion or how well their bodies fit together.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
* * *
Later, as the sun rose over Mystic Falls, they sat on his couch eating breakfast, Elena in his t-shirt, Alaric in his pajama pants. After two rounds of fairly exhaustive sex, they had napped for a couple of hours before rising again, Elena volunteering to make breakfast.
They ate quietly, the silence comfortable, before Elena finally said, “I don’t want you to think…I mean…I’ve never done this before.”
“Slept with your history teacher?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Elena smiled despite herself before clarifying, “Cheated. I’ve never cheated on someone before.”
Alaric has; long before he ever came to Mystic Falls, he cheated on his girlfriend of two years with a pretty brunette he met in the bookstore, a parapsychology major he ended up marrying. “Okay.”
“I don’t want…” Setting her plate onto the coffee table with an exasperated sigh, she blurted out, “I’m not like them.”
He knew she meant Katherine and Isobel; he couldn’t imagine what it was like to know they were the examples of the women in her family. “I never thought you were.”
“I don’t want to hurt Jenna or Stefan. Or Damon,” she added with a rueful twist of her mouth. “I don’t want to be the reason they’re hurt.”
“They don’t have to know. This,” he said, gesturing to the two of them, “doesn’t have to go beyond right now.”
Elena looked down as she asked, “Is that what you want, for this to never happen again?”
Alaric shook his head. “No but this can’t…Even if we take away Jenna and Stefan, I’m still your teacher. And believe me when I say John would do everything he could to make sure life becomes very rough for me in Mystic Falls.”
In a voice so soft Alaric had to strain to hear her, Elena confessed, “I wish I had met you later.”
And then Alaric was crossing the cushions, breakfast forgotten.
* * *
For the three days following their night spent together, life was as normal as it ever got in Mystic Falls. Elijah helped prepare them for Klaus, Stefan and Damon plotted with Bonnie’s assistance, and Alaric made vervain grenades and showed Jeremy how to use weapons in his arsenal. Jenna, who now knew what was going on, kept a careful distance, clearly reeling from learning everything and the secrets which had been kept from her. Alaric did not begrudge her the sense of anger and betrayal she felt; he could not imagine what it was like to find out everyone you loved was actively involved in a conspiracy to keep you in the dark.
And then everything blew apart.
They were all gathered in the boardinghouse having what Caroline called “the war council.” Elena was perched on the arm of the couch beside Stefan, Damon was near the fireplace, Caroline and Tyler sat on the floor, and Jeremy was in the easy chair, holding the laptop which allowed Bonnie to participate. Elijah and Katherine were discussing Klaus in Bulgarian, Katherine shouting in her typically spoiled manner, boredom all over Elijah’s features, and Alaric couldn’t help but wonder how they were ever possibly going to win.
To be honest, Alaric did not even know how it came to be. He was daydreaming, his thoughts a million miles away, when Katherine and Elena began to snipe at each other. It had become so commonplace, Alaric had long since ceased paying attention; he was in the middle of idly browsing the internet on his phone when Katherine’s crisp voice snapped, “That’s rich coming from the girl who’s fucking the teacher!”
Instantly Alaric’s head snapped up, hoping his guilt wasn’t written all over his face; Elena sat frozen, shock and shame all over her face, and Alaric knew without a doubt this was going to be how he died.
He was expecting Stefan to fly at him, for Damon to snap his neck without hesitation; instead, Alaric barely had time to register the sound of the laptop crashing to the floor before Jeremy was on him, his fist crashing spectacularly into his face. Alaric did not bother to block the blows; he deserved them for what he had done to Jenna, to Elena.
It was chaos as Tyler pulled Jeremy away, Stefan attacked Katherine, and Caroline fled the room, the smell of the blood gushing from his nose too strong for her. It was Elijah of all people who helped him to his feet, handing him a handkerchief before suggesting, “You should probably leave now.”
“I will fucking kill you!” Jeremy shouted as Tyler and now Damon tried to hold the boy back, adrenaline and rage fueling the teenager.
“Stop it!” Elena begged, tears on her cheeks, her hands pressed against Jeremy’s chest.
“Don’t touch me!” her brother shouted, jerking backwards. “You’re worse than she is!”
It was the sound of Elena’s heartbroken sob which followed Alaric out the door.
* * *
Jenna showed up on his doorstep that night.
Her face was tearstained from hours of obvious crying, but her body was tense with anger, her features blatantly disgusted. Alaric knew instantly Jeremy had told her what happened, and Alaric had never hated himself quite so intensely as he did in that moment.
“Is it true?” she gritted out, her voice trembling with repressed anger.
“Jenna - “
“Did you sleep with Elena?” she cut in.
Alaric nodded, jerking at the force of the slap which followed his admission.
“I loved you,” Jenna hissed, fresh tears in her eyes. “I thought we were going to have a life together, a future together. And you were fucking my seventeen-year-old niece.”
“I wasn’t,” he immediately objected. “Elena and I never - “
“I’m sorry; are you debating the degree to which you violated my trust?!” Jenna snapped, body vibrating with fury. When he said nothing, she continued, “I thought you would be good for her, a father figure; after all, you’re her stepfather! And instead…” Her voice trailed off, the tears momentarily overpowering her.
“Jenna, Elena and I - “
“No!” she interrupted, wiping the tears away with determination. “You do not her name. As of today, you don’t know Elena. You will never come near her again. You have two choices here, Ric: you pack your shit and get the hell out of this town or I’m going straight to Liz Forbes and telling her what you did. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head, pushing her hair back from her face, clearly resisting the urge to strike him again. “She’s seventeen, Ric. She’s a fucked-up seventeen-year-old kid who lost her parents and needed you to be there for her, and you slept with her. Do you have any idea the damage you have caused? Do you care?”
“Of course I care.”
Jenna scoffed. “I know everyone thinks I’m a shitty guardian but I love Elena. And every day I have to live with the fact that the boyfriend I brought into the house did this, took advantage of her like this. Jeremy won’t even speak to her. You were the closest thing he had left to a father, and you slept with his sister! Do you realize how badly you have hurt everyone in this family?”
“Jenna, I never meant - “
“Pack your shit and leave my town,” Jenna reiterated, “or I swear to you, Stefan Salvatore will be the least of your problems.”
And then Jenna Sommers turned on her heel and left Alaric’s life completely.
* * *
Stefan showed up an hour later.
“I’m not going to kill you,” the vampire said by way of greeting. “I think we should talk.”
Alaric wasn’t sure if he trusted him; he invited him anyway.
“She told me everything,” Stefan began over bourbon, his voice amazingly detached. “She said it was all her fault.”
“It wasn’t,” Alaric instantly objected.
Stefan nodded. “I know. She’s afraid we’re going to kill you.”
“But you’re not.”
“I’m not.” Taking a heavy swallow of bourbon, Stefan admitted, “I’m not quite sure about Damon. He’s taking this…pretty hard.”
“Harder than you?”
“You’re not my best friend, my only friend. I think you betraying him bothers him more than Elena sleeping with you.” Finishing his glass and pouring another, Stefan added with a smirk, “The sleeping with my girlfriend bothers me more.”
“We never intended for this to happen. She loves you.”
“I know she does. This is tearing her apart. But the thing is…she loves you too.”
Alaric swallowed hard, shaking his head almost absentmindedly. “No, Stefan, it’s not - “
“She doesn’t want to be a vampire,” he interrupted. “I don’t want her to be one either, but it’s the only way we would ever be able to have a life together. Vampires and humans in the long-term…it gets pretty ugly. I think it’s taken this long for it to start to sink in for her, that there isn’t going to be a happy ending for us no matter how hard we try.”
Alaric poured himself another glass. “Stefan - “
“She deserves a happy ending,” Stefan concluded, throwing back his bourbon like a shot before rising to his feet. “I’m not giving you permission to be with her; quite frankly, I’d rather kill you. But if she wants you…I won’t stop it.”
Sometimes Alaric forgot Stefan was 163-years-old until moments like this, moments where the age and wisdom in his voice overpowered the visual he presented.
“But Damon isn’t going to be so kind.”
* * *
Damon killed him the next morning. He stuck a knife between two ribs, much the same way he had upon their first encounter, and Alaric drowned in his own blood. When he woke up a few hours later, Damon was watching HBO on the couch, a bottle of half-empty whiskey in his hand.
“Are we even now?” Alaric coughed, wiping the blood from his mouth.
“Well…I did fuck and turn your wife.”
Alaric wasn’t sure what it said about Damon that it was a logical conclusion for his friend to kill him in retribution and consider themselves even.
Alaric definitely wasn’t sure what it said about himself that Damon’s twisted logic was starting to make sense.
They finished the bottle of whiskey in silence.
* * *
Alaric only packed what was necessary, leaving the furniture and tokens of his life with Isobel in the apartment. He had finished securing the last of the boxes when he noticed Elena standing on the sidewalk.
“Running away before the big fight?”
Alaric felt the flush of shame fill his face. “I have to - “
“I know,” she assured him, gesturing to the car. “Jenna told me about the ultimatum. If I survive Klaus, she’s making us go to family therapy.”
“You’ll survive.”
She smiled crookedly. “If ink blots and ‘show me where he touched you’ dolls are in my future, I’d kind of prefer not to.”
Alaric couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing as Elena’s smile grew. “Elena…”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to stay with my parents for awhile, figure some things out.”
“I thought you never wanted to return to Boston.”
Alaric shrugged. “I think I need to remember who I was before…everything happened. Besides, you can’t really hit rock bottom until you’re thirty-three and living with your parents.”
The smile faded from her face as she took a step closer. “I’m so sorry, Ric.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he objected. “I was the adult - “
“Stop, please.” Tentatively touching his chest, Elena moved forward, wrapping her arms around his body and squeezing him tightly. “I’ll miss you.”
He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, hating himself for the stir of arousal in his stomach. “I’ll miss you, too.”
“Are you going to keep in touch?”
Alaric heard the tremor in her voice, the naked longing, and he blinked back the tears in his eyes. “Of course.”
They both knew it was a lie.
Elena brushed her lips against his cheek as she drew back, her eyes swollen with tears. “Be safe. Keep drinking vervain. Let me know you’re alright.”
He nodded, quickly brushing away the tears on his cheeks. “I will.”
“Do you…If I make it, do you want to know?”
Alaric couldn’t bear the idea of her not surviving the sacrifice. But he also knew if she contacted him, he wouldn’t have the strength to stay away.
“Damon will tell me.”
Elena nodded before impulsively jumping forward, mashing her lips against his. Alaric knew he should resist, that kissing her in the street was the surest way to start gossip, but he didn’t care anymore; he was leaving Mystic Falls and he never planned on returning.
He wasn’t sure how long they kissed but then Elena was pulling back, wiping at her face, biting her swollen bottom lip. “You have to go.”
Alaric nodded, taking one step forward to brush one last kiss against her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered selfishly before hurrying to the driver’s side, locking himself in the SUV and pulling away from the curb Elena remained upon, shoulders now bouncing with sobs.
He watched her in the rearview until she disappeared from sight.
And then Alaric Saltzman finally allowed himself to cry over Elena Gilbert.
Read the Sequel: The Angels Get A Better View
Author: lit_chick08
Verse: Show
Warning: underage sex
Word Count: 12,293
Rating: MA for language and sexuality
Pairing: Elena/Alaric, Jenna/Alaric, Stefan/Elena, mentions Alaric/Isobel
Spoilers: everything thus far just to be safe
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: Alaric never thought he was the type of man who would betray the ones he loved for a woman but maybe it was just because he hadn’t met Elena yet
Two nights later, Alaric was grading papers when someone knocked on his door. He expected it to be Damon, who dropped by some evenings to have a drink, or even Jenna, who was becoming more mobile every day; he was not expecting Elena, swaying somewhat unsteadily on her feet.
“Elena?”
She smiled lazily, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, Ric.”
Instantly Alaric knew what was going on. “You’re drunk.”
Elena nodded slowly, stepping into his personal space as she attempted to pass by him. Alaric moved out of the way, watching in surprise as she shed her coat and sweater, dropping down onto his couch in nothing but her jeans and camisole.
“Sorry for just showing up but you live the closest to the Grill.”
“You got served at the Grill? How?”
Her giggle was positively girlish. “A boy thought I was hot. And then he bought me a lot of shots. And now I’m drunk!”
“Does Stefan know where you are?”
Elena shook her head, snuggling into the cushions in an attempt to get comfortable. “He and Damon are having a powwow about what Katherine told me.”
“You talked to Katherine? About what?”
“About why Rose and Trevor kidnapped me and why Elijah came for me. There’s a very bad vampire named Klaus and he wants to sacrifice me and Tyler and Caroline and Bonnie to break a curse. And Katherine is afraid of him, so he’s going to kill me.”
“No one’s going to kill you, Elena.”
“I know. That’s why I came here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vampires can come into the boardinghouse and Jenna can be compelled; and even if she’s not compelled, she could just invite him in, you know? But you…you’ll never invite anyone in. I’m safe here.” Tears swelling in her eyes, she whimpered, “I just wanna feel safe again.”
With a sigh, Alaric crouched down beside her, gently brushing the loose hair away from her flushed face. “Elena - “
“I feel safe with you,” she cut in, touching his face with clumsy fingers. “Am I safe with you, Ric?”
“Always,” he swore.
Her eyes drifting shut, she whispered, “I love the way you look at me.”
He moved her to his bed, tucking the blankets around her, her dark hair scattered across the crisp white of his pillows.
In the morning, Alaric awoke to the smell of bacon. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up on the couch to see Elena standing at the stove making breakfast, her wet hair wrapped tightly into a bun, wearing her jeans and a dark undershirt Alaric recognized from his own closet.
“’Morning.”
Elena spun around, startled, before relaxing into a smile. “I figured the least I could do for showing up on your doorstep like a drunk, crazy person was make you breakfast.”
“Coffee?”
Elena pointed to the freshly brewed pot before turning her attention back to the skillet. “I’m really sorry for doing this. I don’t - I mean, I’m not - It won’t ever happen again.”
“You’re always welcome here, Elena. Though the stealing my clothes is new.”
Elena turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, tugging self-consciously at the bottom of the tank. “About four in the morning the tequila made an unexpected reappearance. It got on my shirt. I’ll wash it and bring it back - “
“Elena, I’m teasing,” he interrupted with a chuckle. “Trust me: I’ve done far more embarrassing things while wasted. And it sounded like you were pretty upset.”
Carefully setting the bacon on a plate, Elena twisted off the burner, trying to busy herself with the meal. “I shouldn’t have put that on you. I really am sorry, Ric. You shouldn’t have to deal with me just showing up and taking over and - “
He pressed a finger to her lips without thinking. “Just stop, okay? You are always welcome here, Elena, no matter what.”
She looked up at him beneath her lashes, her eyes swelling with emotion, and Alaric felt the last tenuous hold on his control break. Before he could even consider the ramifications of what he was about to do, Alaric inclined his head, his lips brushing across Elena’s whisper soft. Almost immediately she pulled back, surprise on her face, and he was about to apologize when she stepped forward and tentatively pressed her mouth against his.
Her mouth tasted of peppermint and coffee, her tongue hot against his; when he settled his hands against the curve of her waist, Elena whimpered sweetly into his mouth, stretching up on her toes in an attempt to get closer.
And then she was pulling away, horror all over her pretty face.
“Oh god!” she gasped, rushing into the living room, grabbing her discarded sweater and coat.
“Elena, wait!” he called as he followed, trying to will away the erection now pressing against his zipper.
“Please don’t tell Jenna,” Elena implored before disappearing out into the early morning, leaving Alaric to stare after her, angrier at himself than he had ever been in his entire life.
* * *
Alaric knew he needed to break up with Jenna.
Despite his affection for her, Alaric knew he was being bitterly unfair; it now went far beyond the secrets he kept or what really happened to Isobel. He had made out with her niece, was deeply regretful it hadn’t gone further than it did, and the idea Jenna would one day find out about this betrayal made Alaric physically nauseous. Jenna did not deserve what he was doing to her.
And yet every time Ric went to end things, he found himself unable to make the words come out, to shatter the fragile sense of normalcy he had built with Jenna Sommers.
Family Night was every Wednesday night; it was the one night of the week Jenna insisted Jeremy and Elena be home, a tradition which had apparently existed before Miranda and Grayson Gilbert had died that Jenna insisted on continuing. When Jenna extended the offer, Alaric wanted to refuse it, wanted to have the strength to say no, pack up his apartment, and flee Mystic Falls.
But it had been a very long time since Alaric felt like part of a family.
Jenna answered the door, greeting him with a kiss and a smile, thanking him for the bottle of wine he brought. The smell of the food was heavenly and instantly Alaric knew Jenna was not cooking, a suspicion confirmed when he entered the kitchen to find Elena at the stove, a recipe card in her hand.
“Elena’s making us Grayson’s chicken Alfredo,” Jenna informed him as she uncorked the wine, pouring a glass for him and then herself. “It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever had in your mouth.”
“If I can ever read his writing,” Elena piped up, frowning.
“Want me to take a crack at it?” At Elena’s cautious expression, he added, “I spend a lot of time deciphering bad handwriting. How else could I grade Jeremy’s papers?”
“Hey!” Jeremy called from his position on the couch, Xbox controller in hand.
Elena held out the card to him. “I can’t figure out what the last few ingredients are.”
They worked in companionable silence, Jenna and Jeremy going head-to-head in a battle to the death, and Alaric couldn’t help but smile at the pride which flooded her face when she tasted the sauce.
“Just like your dad’s?”
Elena nodded, carefully gathering some on the wooden spoon and holding it out to him. “Taste.”
Alaric obediently opened his mouth, gathering the concoction on his tongue. “Jenna’s right. That might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
Elena’s eyes darkened, a bright blush blooming high on her cheeks, and Alaric instantly wanted to kick himself for not thinking. And then she softly chuckled and, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper, asked, “Is it always going to be this weird?”
“No,” he swore in the same hushed tone. “Elena, I want you to know - “
“Not now,” she interrupted, her eyes flicking towards the living room, Jenna’s taunting shouts and Jeremy’s claims of cheating drowning out their voices. “Later, okay?”
He nodded, lifting the pot to strain the penne.
Sometimes it worried Alaric how good he had become at pretending. As he sat at the Gilbert dining room table, taking part in an almost endless stream of conversations about mundane topics, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would always be like this, if deception was going to remain such an integral part of his life. He understood it was essential to keeping Jenna safe, but Alaric was starting to hate the man he was becoming, the kind of man who lied to a woman he cared about and lusted after her underage niece.
And then Elena looked up from her plate and smiled sadly, and Alaric knew he was going to remain whatever man he needed to be to stay close to her.
* * *
“This would kill Jenna,” Elena said later in the darkened living room. She was curled up on the couch in her pajamas, her robe cinched tightly at her waist, her hair pulled back in a messy bun; Alaric couldn’t remember her ever looking so young before.
He sat in the easy chair in his own pajamas, an ear out for any movement from upstairs where Jenna and Jeremy were asleep. “I know.”
“And I don’t want this to ruin…I like talking to you, Ric, and I don’t want what I did to make it so we can’t talk anymore.”
“What you did? Elena, what happened was my fault. I initiated it. I crossed the line. You shouldn’t blame - “
“But I kissed you back!” she hissed, twisting the cuffs of her sleeves anxiously. “I could’ve stopped it right away and I didn’t! And if Jenna knew that - “
“Jenna will never know that,” Alaric insisted. “I don’t want to hurt Jenna either, Elena. That’s why I’m going to end things - “
“You can’t!” Elena interrupted, her eyes wide. “Jenna loves you, Ric. And I know you love her too. She’s going to need you after…”
“After what?”
The ensuing silence was deafening, and Alaric knew instantly what she meant.
“You’re not dying, Elena.”
Getting to her feet, she sighed, “The deal’s already been made. Elijah gave me his word he’d keep you safe, and I know what I have to do. And I need you to be here for Jenna and Jeremy when it’s over.”
“Don’t put that on me.”
“It’s you or John, Ric, and I can’t trust him with the people I love.”
“You’re asking me to just sit around and wait for you to die! Does Stefan know - “
“Don’t bring him into this! This isn’t about Stefan! I’m telling you this because I trust you, Ric, and I trust that you will do what’s best for my family because you want them to be your family too.” Unshed tears welling, she gritted out, “You searched for Isobel for years because you loved her so much; you learned everything you could about vampires so you could avenge her. Stefan loves me and Damon would do anything to save me, but you’re the only one who understands what it’s like to be left behind. I need you to hold them together, especially Jeremy.”
Ric pushed himself to his feet, emotion now stinging his throat. “And who’s going to hold me together, Elena?”
The tears hit her cheeks quickly, her lower lip quivering pathetically. “I don’t want this, Ric! But Klaus killed anyone Katherine had ever cared about. And I can’t be like Katherine; I can’t live with that on my conscience for eternity. I can’t watch everyone die because of me!”
“And I can’t watch you die!” he fiercely declared, moving closer to her in an effort to keep his voice down.
Elena opened her mouth to respond before shaking her head, trying to push past him and head upstairs. Alaric gripped her upper arm, spinning her back around, the momentum sending Elena tumbling into his chest. She slipped her arms around him, holding him tightly as she rested her forehead against his breastbone.
“Please don’t hate me,” she pled into the cotton of his shirt.
Alaric rested his chin atop her head, his hands soothingly stroking her back.
He wished he could hate her.
* * *
The night he put the dagger through Elijah’s heart, all Alaric could think about was the threat he posed to Elena. He heard the threat Elijah was making to Damon and John, casually explaining how he would take Elena away and how they’d never see her again, and Alaric suddenly knew he would do anything to prevent that. Damon’s plan was reckless and stupid - Damon’s plans were always reckless and stupid - but Alaric suddenly realized Damon was right. As long as Elijah lived, he would be a threat to Elena.
And then Elijah disappeared and Damon went off to warn Stefan and Elena, and all Alaric could think about was how he might have just signed Elena’s death warrant himself.
As he stood in the Gilbert kitchen, listening to Jenna challenge him about the lies he had spun throughout their relationship, hearing the pain and betrayal over Isobel in her voice, Alaric knew he could not handle this anymore. He did not want to be the man who did this to Jenna Sommers; he did not want to be the type of man John Gilbert was.
A peaceful calm descended upon him as he set the ring on the counter, John’s smug face taunting him for a reaction. He knew how well the ring could protect him, but Ric no longer wanted the damned thing, Isobel’s parting gift, the twisted token of John Gilbert’s adolescence affection.
Alaric was willing to die if it meant he could finally be free of Isobel Flemming.
* * *
He knew it was wrong to pull Elena into his classroom to discuss the situation with Jenna, but he needed her to understand why he was going to be unable to uphold his promise. But then Elena started encouraging him to tell Jenna the truth, and Alaric realized sometime between his arrival in Mystic Falls and that moment, the truth stopped being important.
Alaric thought the conversation was over when Elena asked, “Why did you give John your ring?”
“It’s his ring.”
“It’s your ring. Isobel gave it to you.”
“And I don’t want it anymore.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “You’re being stupid.”
The criticism stung sharper than it should have and Alaric bristled at her tone. “Look, Elena, I don’t expect you to understand - “
“Don’t act like I’m some stupid kid who doesn’t know what’s going on,” she cut in, irritation flitting across her features. “You’re pissed at John and you’re still pissed at Isobel, and you don’t want the ring as a reminder. Believe me: I get it.” Reaching into her pocket, Alaric was stunned to see her produce his ring.
“How did you - “
“I told John I wanted to wear it. He wants me safe, so he gave it back.”
“If he sees me wearing it - “
“I don’t care.” Crossing the room, Elena held out to him expectantly. “I need to know you’re safe, Ric, and I need you to wear this.” When he made no motion to accept it, she added, “It’s not from Isobel or John. It’s my ring and I’m giving to you. Will you wear it?”
Alaric nodded reluctantly, slipping the ring firmly back into place.
It felt like a shackle, tethering him to Elena for as long as he lived.
* * *
There was nothing as satisfying as the connection of his fist into John Gilbert’s face. From the first moment he had sauntered into town weeks earlier, it was all Alaric could think about, how desperately he wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face. And now, with everything falling apart so spectacularly, Alaric decided it was not worth pretending like he was the better man.
Alaric Saltzman was done being the better man. It never got him anywhere.
He apologized to Elena (who actually looked pretty pleased with the turn of events) before hurrying to his car, needing to put as much space between himself and John Gilbert as humanly possible. Perversely, Alaric wondered if he could persuade Damon to finally murder John and then quickly hated himself for thinking it.
When Isobel appeared in front of his car to offer an apology, Alaric was stunned to realize just how little her declaration meant. There had been a time when all he had longed for in the world was to hear his wife’s voice again, to hear her say she loved him, but this Isobel was not the Isobel he married, the Isobel he wanted to start a family with and spend the rest of his days beside.
When the world goes black, Isobel walking away yet again, Alaric’s last thought was of Elena.
* * *
While Klaus was in his body, Alaric was aware of nothing. It was the worst feeling in the world, to be cast into utter darkness with no respite, no concept of time; Alaric had never truly considered eternity until faced with the prospect of being in limbo indefinitely.
When he came back to his body, he was lying on the floor of the Gilbert living room, a large bloodstain over his heart, Stefan, Elena, Damon, and Elijah surrounding him. As he coughed at the familiar burn of oxygen reentering his lungs, Elena’s eyes closed, a shaky exhalation leaving her lips.
“What happened?” he gritted out as he hauled himself into a sitting position.
“Klaus possessed you,” Stefan succinctly explained.
Damon held up the dagger Alaric had forced through Elijah’s heart. “And then we killed him…in your body anyway. Good thing you were sporting your pope ring; otherwise this story’s ending would not be quite so happy.”
Alaric could not help but look at the Original standing near the couch, fear twisting in his chest. Elijah looked back at him, his face blank, before assuring him, “You’re still on the list, Alaric; I won’t seek revenge for what you did.”
Alaric almost wished he would.
* * *
For the next two days, Alaric did not leave his apartment. It was the only place he could guarantee was safe, the only place no vampire (other than Damon) could enter. He sat, he drank, he scrubbed Katherine’s blood from the carpet; Alaric did everything he possibly could do but he still could not sleep. Despite the exhaustion which positively filled him, he was terrified to close his eyes and hurtle back into the blackness, into nothingness.
On the third day of his self-imposed exile, Elena used Jenna’s key to let herself into the apartment. Alaric did not move from his position on the couch, a glass of bourbon clutched tightly in his right hand; he was not drunk (yet) but it was only a matter of time.
“We’re all worried about you,” Elena began, nervous hands straightening the mess on the coffee table. “Damon said you won’t answer the phone - “
“Then I guess I don’t want to talk,” he interrupted, enjoying the brusqueness of his voice, the way it made her draw back momentarily.
“You’re our friend, Ric. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
He laughed mirthlessly, taking a heavy swallow from his drink. “Yeah, I’m peachy-fucking-keen, Elena. So if that’s everything…you can go.”
Alaric wanted her to recoil, maybe even tear up; he wanted her to hate him, to leave his apartment and never return. It would be easier if she hated him, if she wasn’t looking at him with such tenderness and guilt; it would be easier if he didn’t desperately want for her to wrap her arms around him and make the hurt go away.
“Why, so you can drink yourself to death?” Elena shook her head, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Ric, not until I know you’re okay.”
“Elena - “
“I’m sorry this happened to you, that Klaus compelled Isobel to do this,” she rambled, “and I’m sorry Isobel is dead and that Klaus used your body, that I had to wake up Elijah and that Damon had to kill you so you could…be you again. And I understand if you hate me because it’s all my fault; if you weren’t a part of my life, Klaus never would have used you, and I am sorry for that. If you want me out of your life, okay, but I care about you and I don’t want you to fall apart.”
“I don’t blame you,” he rasped after a beat, setting the bourbon on the table. “It’s not your fault that you’re a doppelganger.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?” she asked, her voice cracking.
Alaric lifted his head, finally meeting her gaze. With a shaky exhalation, he confessed, “Because I want you so badly and I don’t have it in me to fight it right now.”
He waited for her to excuse herself, to apologize and leave the apartment, return to Stefan’s embrace; instead, she stepped forward, her fingers sliding into his hair as she tilted his head up to look at her. Instinctually Alaric settled his hands on her hips, tugging her closer.
“Just tell me what you need,” Elena implored, her eyes wet with emotion.
Alaric exhaled shakily, resting his head against her sternum, holding her as if she was all that was keeping him from blowing away. “Stay with me.”
“As long as you need,” she swore, stroking his hair soothingly.
He was asleep within an hour.
* * *
It was the middle of the night when Alaric awoke, rubbing at his face as the disorientation faded away. The shades were drawn over the windows, only the glow of his alarm clock providing any light, but it was the warmth beside him which brought Alaric fully back to consciousness.
Elena laid beside him, sleeping comfortably on her left side, her hair falling across her face. In sleep, she looked unbearably young and incredibly peaceful, her face relaxed for the first time in weeks. Alaric could not help but carefully reach over to brush the hair back from her face. At the touch of his skin against hers, Elena’s eyes fluttered open, a soft smile upon her lips.
For a moment, it was as if the world stopped. And then Alaric leaned over, his fingers sliding into Elena’s hair and drew her in for a kiss.
If she would have protested, Alaric would have stopped, drawn back, and immediately apologized; instead, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him more fully against her, and Alaric knew he was lost.
Elena trembled as he drew his lips down her throat, his tongue tracing the line of her collarbone. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, slowly drawing it upwards, awaiting the rejection; when she lifted her arms to help, Alaric resisted the urge to thank god, tossing the shirt away from the bed before exploring her warm, olive skin.
So absorbed in discovering her, Alaric was surprised when she grunted his name while tugging at the front of his shirt. He pulled back, afraid she was trying to stop everything, only to laugh as she pulled his shirt off, pressing a kiss beneath his ear.
For some reason, whenever he imagined them like this (and he had imagined it far more frequently than any respectable authority figure should have), he had imagined Elena to be passive, to be pretty and delicate, the sort of woman who wanted you to make love to her sweetly. It was more than a pleasant surprise when she pushed him onto his back, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his pajamas, tugging down the fabric before shedding her jeans, returning to the bed in nothing but her smile.
“Let me take care of you,” she murmured as she straddled him, sliding her hands up his chest, setting his body alight. They kissed, long and deep, before he broke away, gasping as she playfully nipped his jaw.
“What if I want to take care of you?” he countered, writhing as she rolled her hips against his erection.
She flicked her gaze up, sadness clouding her eyes momentarily as she replied, “I’m really tired of people taking care of me.”
Alaric pushed the hair back over her shoulders, hauling himself into a sitting position, Elena now balanced on her knees over his lap. Cupping her face, he suggested in a whisper, “We could always just take care of each other.”
She smiled against his mouth, slightly shifting her body before slowly descending onto him. As he moaned at the feel of her body surrounding him, Elena exhaled, “Perfect.”
Alaric wasn’t sure if she was talking about his suggestion or how well their bodies fit together.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
* * *
Later, as the sun rose over Mystic Falls, they sat on his couch eating breakfast, Elena in his t-shirt, Alaric in his pajama pants. After two rounds of fairly exhaustive sex, they had napped for a couple of hours before rising again, Elena volunteering to make breakfast.
They ate quietly, the silence comfortable, before Elena finally said, “I don’t want you to think…I mean…I’ve never done this before.”
“Slept with your history teacher?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Elena smiled despite herself before clarifying, “Cheated. I’ve never cheated on someone before.”
Alaric has; long before he ever came to Mystic Falls, he cheated on his girlfriend of two years with a pretty brunette he met in the bookstore, a parapsychology major he ended up marrying. “Okay.”
“I don’t want…” Setting her plate onto the coffee table with an exasperated sigh, she blurted out, “I’m not like them.”
He knew she meant Katherine and Isobel; he couldn’t imagine what it was like to know they were the examples of the women in her family. “I never thought you were.”
“I don’t want to hurt Jenna or Stefan. Or Damon,” she added with a rueful twist of her mouth. “I don’t want to be the reason they’re hurt.”
“They don’t have to know. This,” he said, gesturing to the two of them, “doesn’t have to go beyond right now.”
Elena looked down as she asked, “Is that what you want, for this to never happen again?”
Alaric shook his head. “No but this can’t…Even if we take away Jenna and Stefan, I’m still your teacher. And believe me when I say John would do everything he could to make sure life becomes very rough for me in Mystic Falls.”
In a voice so soft Alaric had to strain to hear her, Elena confessed, “I wish I had met you later.”
And then Alaric was crossing the cushions, breakfast forgotten.
* * *
For the three days following their night spent together, life was as normal as it ever got in Mystic Falls. Elijah helped prepare them for Klaus, Stefan and Damon plotted with Bonnie’s assistance, and Alaric made vervain grenades and showed Jeremy how to use weapons in his arsenal. Jenna, who now knew what was going on, kept a careful distance, clearly reeling from learning everything and the secrets which had been kept from her. Alaric did not begrudge her the sense of anger and betrayal she felt; he could not imagine what it was like to find out everyone you loved was actively involved in a conspiracy to keep you in the dark.
And then everything blew apart.
They were all gathered in the boardinghouse having what Caroline called “the war council.” Elena was perched on the arm of the couch beside Stefan, Damon was near the fireplace, Caroline and Tyler sat on the floor, and Jeremy was in the easy chair, holding the laptop which allowed Bonnie to participate. Elijah and Katherine were discussing Klaus in Bulgarian, Katherine shouting in her typically spoiled manner, boredom all over Elijah’s features, and Alaric couldn’t help but wonder how they were ever possibly going to win.
To be honest, Alaric did not even know how it came to be. He was daydreaming, his thoughts a million miles away, when Katherine and Elena began to snipe at each other. It had become so commonplace, Alaric had long since ceased paying attention; he was in the middle of idly browsing the internet on his phone when Katherine’s crisp voice snapped, “That’s rich coming from the girl who’s fucking the teacher!”
Instantly Alaric’s head snapped up, hoping his guilt wasn’t written all over his face; Elena sat frozen, shock and shame all over her face, and Alaric knew without a doubt this was going to be how he died.
He was expecting Stefan to fly at him, for Damon to snap his neck without hesitation; instead, Alaric barely had time to register the sound of the laptop crashing to the floor before Jeremy was on him, his fist crashing spectacularly into his face. Alaric did not bother to block the blows; he deserved them for what he had done to Jenna, to Elena.
It was chaos as Tyler pulled Jeremy away, Stefan attacked Katherine, and Caroline fled the room, the smell of the blood gushing from his nose too strong for her. It was Elijah of all people who helped him to his feet, handing him a handkerchief before suggesting, “You should probably leave now.”
“I will fucking kill you!” Jeremy shouted as Tyler and now Damon tried to hold the boy back, adrenaline and rage fueling the teenager.
“Stop it!” Elena begged, tears on her cheeks, her hands pressed against Jeremy’s chest.
“Don’t touch me!” her brother shouted, jerking backwards. “You’re worse than she is!”
It was the sound of Elena’s heartbroken sob which followed Alaric out the door.
* * *
Jenna showed up on his doorstep that night.
Her face was tearstained from hours of obvious crying, but her body was tense with anger, her features blatantly disgusted. Alaric knew instantly Jeremy had told her what happened, and Alaric had never hated himself quite so intensely as he did in that moment.
“Is it true?” she gritted out, her voice trembling with repressed anger.
“Jenna - “
“Did you sleep with Elena?” she cut in.
Alaric nodded, jerking at the force of the slap which followed his admission.
“I loved you,” Jenna hissed, fresh tears in her eyes. “I thought we were going to have a life together, a future together. And you were fucking my seventeen-year-old niece.”
“I wasn’t,” he immediately objected. “Elena and I never - “
“I’m sorry; are you debating the degree to which you violated my trust?!” Jenna snapped, body vibrating with fury. When he said nothing, she continued, “I thought you would be good for her, a father figure; after all, you’re her stepfather! And instead…” Her voice trailed off, the tears momentarily overpowering her.
“Jenna, Elena and I - “
“No!” she interrupted, wiping the tears away with determination. “You do not her name. As of today, you don’t know Elena. You will never come near her again. You have two choices here, Ric: you pack your shit and get the hell out of this town or I’m going straight to Liz Forbes and telling her what you did. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head, pushing her hair back from her face, clearly resisting the urge to strike him again. “She’s seventeen, Ric. She’s a fucked-up seventeen-year-old kid who lost her parents and needed you to be there for her, and you slept with her. Do you have any idea the damage you have caused? Do you care?”
“Of course I care.”
Jenna scoffed. “I know everyone thinks I’m a shitty guardian but I love Elena. And every day I have to live with the fact that the boyfriend I brought into the house did this, took advantage of her like this. Jeremy won’t even speak to her. You were the closest thing he had left to a father, and you slept with his sister! Do you realize how badly you have hurt everyone in this family?”
“Jenna, I never meant - “
“Pack your shit and leave my town,” Jenna reiterated, “or I swear to you, Stefan Salvatore will be the least of your problems.”
And then Jenna Sommers turned on her heel and left Alaric’s life completely.
* * *
Stefan showed up an hour later.
“I’m not going to kill you,” the vampire said by way of greeting. “I think we should talk.”
Alaric wasn’t sure if he trusted him; he invited him anyway.
“She told me everything,” Stefan began over bourbon, his voice amazingly detached. “She said it was all her fault.”
“It wasn’t,” Alaric instantly objected.
Stefan nodded. “I know. She’s afraid we’re going to kill you.”
“But you’re not.”
“I’m not.” Taking a heavy swallow of bourbon, Stefan admitted, “I’m not quite sure about Damon. He’s taking this…pretty hard.”
“Harder than you?”
“You’re not my best friend, my only friend. I think you betraying him bothers him more than Elena sleeping with you.” Finishing his glass and pouring another, Stefan added with a smirk, “The sleeping with my girlfriend bothers me more.”
“We never intended for this to happen. She loves you.”
“I know she does. This is tearing her apart. But the thing is…she loves you too.”
Alaric swallowed hard, shaking his head almost absentmindedly. “No, Stefan, it’s not - “
“She doesn’t want to be a vampire,” he interrupted. “I don’t want her to be one either, but it’s the only way we would ever be able to have a life together. Vampires and humans in the long-term…it gets pretty ugly. I think it’s taken this long for it to start to sink in for her, that there isn’t going to be a happy ending for us no matter how hard we try.”
Alaric poured himself another glass. “Stefan - “
“She deserves a happy ending,” Stefan concluded, throwing back his bourbon like a shot before rising to his feet. “I’m not giving you permission to be with her; quite frankly, I’d rather kill you. But if she wants you…I won’t stop it.”
Sometimes Alaric forgot Stefan was 163-years-old until moments like this, moments where the age and wisdom in his voice overpowered the visual he presented.
“But Damon isn’t going to be so kind.”
* * *
Damon killed him the next morning. He stuck a knife between two ribs, much the same way he had upon their first encounter, and Alaric drowned in his own blood. When he woke up a few hours later, Damon was watching HBO on the couch, a bottle of half-empty whiskey in his hand.
“Are we even now?” Alaric coughed, wiping the blood from his mouth.
“Well…I did fuck and turn your wife.”
Alaric wasn’t sure what it said about Damon that it was a logical conclusion for his friend to kill him in retribution and consider themselves even.
Alaric definitely wasn’t sure what it said about himself that Damon’s twisted logic was starting to make sense.
They finished the bottle of whiskey in silence.
* * *
Alaric only packed what was necessary, leaving the furniture and tokens of his life with Isobel in the apartment. He had finished securing the last of the boxes when he noticed Elena standing on the sidewalk.
“Running away before the big fight?”
Alaric felt the flush of shame fill his face. “I have to - “
“I know,” she assured him, gesturing to the car. “Jenna told me about the ultimatum. If I survive Klaus, she’s making us go to family therapy.”
“You’ll survive.”
She smiled crookedly. “If ink blots and ‘show me where he touched you’ dolls are in my future, I’d kind of prefer not to.”
Alaric couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing as Elena’s smile grew. “Elena…”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to stay with my parents for awhile, figure some things out.”
“I thought you never wanted to return to Boston.”
Alaric shrugged. “I think I need to remember who I was before…everything happened. Besides, you can’t really hit rock bottom until you’re thirty-three and living with your parents.”
The smile faded from her face as she took a step closer. “I’m so sorry, Ric.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he objected. “I was the adult - “
“Stop, please.” Tentatively touching his chest, Elena moved forward, wrapping her arms around his body and squeezing him tightly. “I’ll miss you.”
He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, hating himself for the stir of arousal in his stomach. “I’ll miss you, too.”
“Are you going to keep in touch?”
Alaric heard the tremor in her voice, the naked longing, and he blinked back the tears in his eyes. “Of course.”
They both knew it was a lie.
Elena brushed her lips against his cheek as she drew back, her eyes swollen with tears. “Be safe. Keep drinking vervain. Let me know you’re alright.”
He nodded, quickly brushing away the tears on his cheeks. “I will.”
“Do you…If I make it, do you want to know?”
Alaric couldn’t bear the idea of her not surviving the sacrifice. But he also knew if she contacted him, he wouldn’t have the strength to stay away.
“Damon will tell me.”
Elena nodded before impulsively jumping forward, mashing her lips against his. Alaric knew he should resist, that kissing her in the street was the surest way to start gossip, but he didn’t care anymore; he was leaving Mystic Falls and he never planned on returning.
He wasn’t sure how long they kissed but then Elena was pulling back, wiping at her face, biting her swollen bottom lip. “You have to go.”
Alaric nodded, taking one step forward to brush one last kiss against her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered selfishly before hurrying to the driver’s side, locking himself in the SUV and pulling away from the curb Elena remained upon, shoulders now bouncing with sobs.
He watched her in the rearview until she disappeared from sight.
And then Alaric Saltzman finally allowed himself to cry over Elena Gilbert.
Read the Sequel: The Angels Get A Better View