Authors Note: Keep in mind this is my first actual story. Most of my writing is one shots so some chapters will be very short while others may be very long. Each "chapter" will focus on a different point, though, so there is a reason why it stops where it does. I apologize if you were expecting more but I do have a general idea already where I want the story to go. If you have any hopes/ideas/theories for the story, though, feel free to include them in your review. I take my inspiration from the people around me so your idea might help to get the next chapter out. I should be adding a little bit of something at least once a week. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!


It could have been minutes or hours that past since Alaric had sat down beside him. He had lost all concept of when or where he was as his brain spun in dizzying circles. Once Damon had concluded that this man was, in fact, Alaric he needed a moment to process it. Aside from the rhetorical "Can I drink this?" Alaric had muttered when he reached out for the remaining glass, he hadn't so much as whispered a word. He just sat next to him as if no time had past between their last moment and now. Damon looked down at the shattered bits of the bottle on the cool ground, his eye's wanting but unwilling to look at his friend. He couldn't believe he was here. The images of that night were replaying over and over in his head like the faded frames of an old black and white movie. There were things missing among the confusion, brief glimpses of moments he hadn't thought to hold on to. He couldn't recall who struck the first blow or the last in their fight to the death. He couldn't remember how he had convinced Rebekah to run or what his first thought was when he learned that Elena would wake up in transition.

But there was one thing Damon recalled vividly - the moment Alaric Saltzman had died in his arms.

He had felt Alaric's body grow cold and still. He heard him take his final breath, and he heard it release in a faint whisper as he finally passed into the void. The only thing that comforted Damon in his passing was the knowledge that he would finally get the rest he'd deserved.

Yet here he was, sitting beside him, and drinking from the glass Damon had filled. All knowledge of the boundaries between this world and the next now completely out the window. Finally, Damon's mouth opened to speak and his eyes wandered over to meet his friend's gaze as his voice came out a harsh and accusing whisper. "What are you? I mean," he motioned to the drink in Alaric's hand, "You're clearly not a ghost... or a vampire. But how can you be human? You were-"

Alaric cut him off with a chuckle. "No. I'm not human, Damon. I'm not a vampire. Not a ghost - and thank God, too, because I hear they have such a hard time with all of that unfinished business crap." Damon groaned and turned to give him his best no-bullshit-please expression, his brow furrowed and his gaze clearly annoyed. Alaric's smile faded slowly, his eyes casting themselves down as he sat his glass between them. "I'm a Guardian, Damon. Basically, a guardian angel."

Damon's eyebrows curved up, exasperation and confusion clear on his face. "A what? An Angel? You've killed vampires, had sex out of wedlock, and I'm pretty sure the only thing you've gone to religiously is the bar. Come on, Ric, you're about as likely to be an angel as I am a virgin." Damon let out a sarcastic empty laugh, shaking his head as he looked away from his friend and sinking back into the shadow cast by the sliver of moonlight leaking in from the open door. His disbelief and confusion hidden in the cover of the dark.

Alaric continued despite Damon's reluctance. "There are vampires who don't drink from humans, werewolves who don't shift during the full moon, and witches who don't use magic but angels can't have a drink once in a while? I understand it's hard to believe but we don't have time for you to go through one of your many internal struggles. I'm here to help because, yet again, you're all in a lot of trouble."

"Who exactly classifies as 'you' in this?" Damon asked hesitantly.

Alaric sighed and held up his hand as if to count out loud. "You. Stefan, Tyler, Caroline," then he sighed, moving his gaze back to Damon. "and Elena."

Damon huffed, reaching out and pulling the glass from Alaric's grip. "What makes you think I care? She's Stefan's problem now." He gave a shrug as if to play off his clear emphasis of her name as he began to down the glass at a much quicker pace.

"Really?" Alaric's eyebrows rose before he pushed himself off the floor, standing up and dusting himself off. "You and I both know that's a load of bull. Not only did everyone know you loved her before I died, but I've been watching you up there. You're not fooling anyone so cut the crap. No more lies, remember?"

Damon nodded as he set the glass down, copying Alaric and standing up to meet his height, his lips pursed in annoyance. "Right. Well, all of that 'I'm your only friend' crap sort of ended when you almost killed me. Pretty sure that qualifies as the end of our relationship. So go talk to Stefan about saving everyone's ass. I'm not the hero."

Alaric rolled his eyes. "Well, this isn't exactly your choice. Whether you like it or not - whether you trust me or not - I am here for you not Stefan."

And that was all it took. Damon shoved past him, opening the door and storming into the moonlight. Before he could decide where to go he felt Alaric's hand on his wrist and he was unable to pull from his grasp. Damon turned, his fangs bared as his eyes, glossed over from either the alcohol settling in his system or held back tears, darkened as he struggled against his hold. His voice came out a low growl. "What the hell do you want me to do?"

Alaric's dark eyes grew kind and sympathetic, his lips forming a straight line as his grip fell from Damon's wrist. "It's Klaus. They sent me to help you resurrect him."

Damon took in a heavy breath, his mouth contorting into a cringe of disgust at the idea of it. He didn't knew what angered him more. That he had believed his biggest issue was helping Elena through the transition, that he had thought they were rid of Klaus once and for all, or that they had spent so much time trying to fight an evil that they could never get rid of. Damon shook his head, spitting out each word as he closed the distance between the two of them. "Klaus is gone and I don't care what they think is right because I am not dealing with him again."

"He's not gone, Damon."

"You killed him, oh holy one, so if he's not dead where is he?" he spat, sarcasm leaking back into his voice.

Alaric shook his head again. "I can't tell you that. All I can do is help guide your way. However, I can tell you that the people Elena thinks are her friends are keeping a lot of secrets from her right now and you need to be the one to find them out."

"Once again," Damon took a step back, holding up his hands as he exaggerated each word. "Talk. To. Stefan. He's the one who does your homework assignments, Ric, not me."

As Damon turned away and continued to walk Ric shouted out after him. "Don't be a dick. You can't walk away from destiny." But he didn't turn around. There was no smart response or annoyed glare. Instead, he ran. He didn't stop until he reached his destination where he found Elena and Stefan standing in the yard and talking in hushed voices.