Alaric walked through the door, tossing his keys into the bowl on the dining room table. He stifled a yawn as he flipped through the day's mail. Bills, the monthly Duke newsletter, a postcard from a former student of Isobel's. Ric smiled as he glanced over the scribbled paragraph. Isobel had only been teaching for a few years, but she was already immensely popular among the students.

Truthfully, Ric knew he was, too- when he'd canceled tonight's class, for example, there was actually a groan from the class instead of a cheer. But it was such a nice night, the first warm evening of spring, and he wanted his students to enjoy it. And hell, he wanted to enjoy it, too. He planned to give Isobel a call once he got home, and go pick her up her up for a night out, just the two of them. He was pretty sure she had taken advantage of his "long day" to go out with the girls, like she usually did on Thursdays, but he was sure he could convince her to cut it short for a date night.

Ric dropped the mail back on the table. As he did, the dim light from the kitchen reflected off the silver crest on his newly-acquired "family heirloom." He fingered it absently, a smile on his lips. It had taken a few days to get used to, but he already loved the ring. Though Isobel used to give him gifts out of the blue all the time, he couldn't remember the last time she had done it.

And not a moment too soon.

"Surprise gifts aren't fair. I always feel bad for not getting you something." Ric absently fingered the velvet box.

"Just open it." Isobel looked like she would burst from anticipation.

He opened the box. "Oh, that's... a giant piece of jewelry."

She laughed. "I know, it's... ridiculous. Just tell people it's a family heirloom. Nobody questions that."

"Where'd you get this?"

"If I told you, you'd laugh at me." She laughed, herself. "But promise me that you'll always wear it. It'll protect you from all the things that go 'bump' in the night."

"A ring to ward off the demons, huh?" He chuckled.

"Consider it a token of my love, my affection... and, if nothing else, an apology for being so crazy."

"Well, you are definitely crazy," he said, but he knew she understood that his teasing was light.

She continued. "I am selfish, and I am obsessed, and I am a horrible wife. But you love me anyway."

"Yes, I do." He gazed at her, with adoration in his eyes. She stared back with the same intensity.

He had been worried about her for so long, and not just for the sake of their marriage- he was worried about her safety in general. What if, during one of her many trips to Mystic Falls, she stumbled across what she was looking for? Or- more likely, since he couldn't bring himself to believe in the vampires Isobel so stridently insisted were reality, not fiction- what if she stumbled upon a real, human killer? A serial killer, even, one who had been disguising his vicious murders as animal attacks? Ric had discovered the crime scene photos that Isobel had so carefully concealed from him- he didn't even want to think about how she'd obtained them, or how she could bear to study them. The photographs were disturbing. They almost didn't look real. He had hoped and prayed that there truly were just an unusual amount of animal attacks in Mystic Falls. He just couldn't imagine a person doing something like to another human being.

But it was all irrelevant now- Isobel had promised she would give it all up. Well, not in so many words- but she'd apologized and given him the ring, and that meant she was giving it up. Right?

Right.

So, it was all okay now. It was all over now. And now Ric had, essentially, two wedding rings- one that celebrated the day of their marriage, and one that celebrated the day he became certain of their future together once again. So maybe it had all been worth it. She'd gotten all of this craziness out of her system, and now they would be settled. Maybe even talk about children again. In a year or two...

A voice, followed by a soft noise, from above pulled Ric out of his thoughts. He realized that, despite her car not being in the driveway, Isobel must be home. He smiled, realizing he could surprise her. They could stay up all night. Isobel had always been a night owl. He was the one who conked out at 10, and woke up at dawn. Just that morning Isobel had teased him about it.

Florence and the Machine, a little-known band they both loved, hummed on their iPod dock. He kissed Isobel's forehead.

"No... it's not even seven yet," she protested.

"Which means you shouldn't be awake for at least six hours." He smiled at her.

She smiled back, sleepily. "I hate morning people."

"I'm gonna be home late."

"I love you." She looked so happy. He was so happy.

"I love you, too." She slid under the covers.

Ric began to creep up the stairs, a smile on his face, but three steps up, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye and turned. He walked slowly through the foyer and entered the living room, which he'd skirted by earlier, his head buried in the mail. He flicked the light on and stared in disbelief into the large room.

It was a disaster. Cushions were pulled from the couch and chairs, lamps lay on their sides, and several were broken. And there was something all over the beige carpeting, some dark liquid. Ignoring the voice in his head that said panic, Ric leaned over the carpet, and touched one of the spots. He pulled his hand back and recoiled.

It was blood. And it was everywhere. The voice took over, and Ric panicked.

"Isobel? ISOBEL!"

He flew up the stairs, then forced himself to slow down as he approached the bedroom. He cursed the panic- if whoever attacked her was still in the house, it would have been better to have the element of surprise. He crept through the hallway, pausing at the door. He winced, momentarily afraid of what he might find.

He shook off the fear. Called out, hesitantly.

"Isobel...?"

And then, time stopped. When Alaric looked back on that night- the next day, in the police station, the next month, in the North Carolina Missing Persons' Center, the next year, in the Mystic Grill- that's always how he remembered it. Time stopped, the world paused, and the only thing that moved was it.

It was the stopped minute hand of the clock, the halted gravity of the sun, which no longer had any pull on the Earth. It was the only thing that moved. For years the image of It holding his wife, ripping the life out of her, was all he could remember. But even after he stopped thinking of the vampire as an it, and realized it was a him, he couldn't put that image out of his mind. Most people would say that was normal. He saw his wife being murdered, of course he would always remember it, have the image burned into his consciousness, forever. And that was true, of course. But he knew that there was another truth.

It wasn't just a murder that he saw. There was so much more to it than that.

A predator celebrating the capture of his prey, a lover's caress, a father cradling his sleeping child. All of those things at once. The intensity, the passion, the solace- Ric had never seen anything like it before, and he was sure that he never would again.

He saw them for ten seconds- maybe less. But in those horrifying moments, he realized it was all true. Everything Isobel had sought to uncover, everything she'd yearned to find. It was all true. And that truth—that proof that she had been so desperate to discover— was draining the life from her. Or she was already dead. When he first saw them, framed in the window in the blue-grey light, he saw his face, buried in her neck. And even though blood soaked her shirt, and even though he seemed to be holding her off the ground, which would require an enormous amount of strength, and even though he knew what he knew, Ric still held onto the tiniest piece of hope that he was just a killer- "just" some psychopath who Isobel had stumbled upon in her misguided search. In that split second, as awful as it was, he grasped at this notion as some sort of truth. But that was all over the second the vampire paused.

The vampire didn't look up at him, which Alaric found out later was miraculous, and could only be explained by bloodlust. He didn't lift his head to acknowledge Ric, or check to see if he and his victim were still alone.

He was merely pausing to savor the moment. He was reveling in the kill, in the blood that was smeared on his inhuman face, and dripping off of it. He licked his lips, and sighed, moaned. He stared into his prey's neck like it was the sun, and the moon and the stars, and all he would ever need. Then he sank his teeth into her neck again. The sight of it, and the sound of the blood dripping from his wife's neck into an already enormous pool on the floor, and the coppery smell of the gore- Alaric couldn't help it, he gasped, and staggered backward. The vampire lifted his eyes to Ric's, and they were black and soulless. He was death, and nothing more. Ric blinked, and in a flash, less time than it took a lightning bolt to strike, or a lightbulb to pop out, the vampire was gone.

And so was Isobel.