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Here is another drabble meant to chronologically fall after the last one. Thanks, songtoyou, your support is amazing! Again, I am taking requests, so please hit that review button.
"He doesn't deserve to be human in my eyes." – Miss Crane
[Gary Jules – Mad World]
Clothing and appearances were a tricky thing on the Other Side. Admittedly, it took him a while to figure out how it worked, too. It wasn't like the living world where you woke up every morning and wasted thirty minutes trying to decide what outfit to wear before finally settling on the first one you had started with. No, appearances were very reflective of your mood and your mental state on the Other Side. The more unhinged you were becoming, the more it looked like you were falling apart.
He wasn't really sure what to say about himself. His appearance did change a little bit on the Other Side, it was never constant, except for his clothing. He still wore the same clothing as the ones he had burned to death in. Maybe it was reflective of the war inside of him; the part of him that desired to move on to something else, but it he was still so fixated on his murderers.
The real reason he noticed this trend wasn't because of himself, but he saw it in her. He saw her several times more and each time he thought she looked a little better. The holes in her stockings disappeared, instead having smooth fabric curving over the angles of her knees. The most striking difference when he noticed the day her hair was brushed and curled gently, it wasn't full of that smoky scent or clumped together by dried blood. He knew it wasn't the same as coping with depression in the living world, but it still seemed like a small victory when he noticed. The glossy shine to her hair that day told him, 'Yes, there is a part of me worth saving today. This is worth trying for.'
He talked to her several times, but it was really more of a bizarre chess match. Just when she would soften up, she would snap shut quickly again – like a Venus fly trap. He was the same. Their conversations were a challenge of carefully guarded confessions and snarky comments before one got irritated with the other and left. It was quite an amusing waltz to him and quite frankly, there was very little else left to do in this world.
"For a dead man, you sure hang around cemeteries a lot," Her voice interrupted up his pacing.
He stopped and pulled his hands away from the scowl on his face. She was leaning her shoulder against a tree, not too far from the place he had been talking to the blonde boy from.
"Consider it a little unfinished business, darling," He replied to her with an insincere smirk. His eyes darted back to the tombstone in front of him that read Vicki Donovan.
What was taking the human boy so long? He shouldn't have gotten through to the Bennett witch by now. They didn't have time for dilly dawdling. He already had seen more people being dragged away.
"With who?" She wondered. There was still the subtle glare at the nickname, but he found that she tolerated darling more than sweetheart.
"The ones who murdered me," He growled out. It was sick and twisted, the ones that banished him to this hell he was now relying on any chance of staying here, to keep it from falling apart. What did that they say about his siblings?
"Oh, don't look at me like that," He snapped out when he saw the expression she gave him. It was small, but the unimpressed rise of her eyebrows and the hardening of her eyes was telling enough. "You can't tell me you don't have any unfinished business yourself."
"I did, but not anymore," She admitted to him in a gentle tone. He glared at her, it almost sounded like there was pity in her tone. "Now I'm just trying to find somewhere to be," She said, glancing around to the surreal woods they stood in. They weren't welcoming, but it was better than being back in Richmond.
He just nodded. He remembered hearing her say how she couldn't stand to go back home. She didn't want to watch those missing or try to watch them carrying on with their lives, like if everything was going to be okay. It was never going to be okay for her.
"You did?" He repeated dubiously. "You found him?" He found it hard to believe.
"Yes, the man who killed me –"
"The vampire who turned you," The Original corrected her swiftly.
Her expression froze momentarily before muttering dryly, "Right." He tried to explain the supernatural to her before – although rather halfheartedly – he still wasn't sure if she was convinced or just went along with it because she believed him to be crazy.
"He's here in this town," She said.
This drew his attention even more, perhaps out of curiosity more than anything else.
She saw this. "Come on, I'll show you," She raised a hand for him to follow her.
He hesitated, torn. For the first time, she wasn't walking away from him, but beckoning him to come with. The temptation was strong to go with her. At the same time, his eyes went back to the tombstone. If the Donovan boy was to come back, he would be here.
But how long would he have to wait for him to die again to speak to him? He didn't know and it was because of that reason he decided to follow her. For just a little while, he decided to put his fears about the fate of the Other Side aside and follow this plain, ordinarily boring girl.
"You're a bit of masochist, aren't you?" He taunted her as he stepped through the doorway. He wanted to hold it open, but only the patron ahead of him could.
Her eyes narrowed at him, both inquisitive at what he meant, but recognizing the cheek in the tone. She was right behind him.
"You want people to see you – so you come to the place you would be the most invisible," He pointed out, his eyes glancing briefly back to the sign that read Mystic Grille.
"Ah, right," She replied with sudden mock understanding. "How silly of me to forget locking myself away and becoming a hermit is the more sensible and emotionally stable thing to do," She drawled out sarcastically before stepping around him and heading for the bar area.
He smirked, because for a brief moment he saw the slight upturn of the corner of her lips. It was so quick, he almost missed it, but he wanted to see it again.
"Well, you're already halfway there with the hermit look," He gave her appearance a glance over. The jacket he noticed was about three sizes too big, clearly not hers. The singed look and smell with all the various stains did nothing to enhance her plain features. His living self wouldn't have given this girl much thought.
She shot him a harsh glare over her shoulder. There was no grin that time. Okay, maybe that statement had been a little too mean, he thought absently while following her up to the bar.
He almost found it humorous that she chose to step around people to get there, as if she wasn't a ghost that could walk right through them. No one gave the pair a glance. She paused at the bar and just sat in the stool, people watching at first. He leant his back against the counter after giving the partially empty glass from the previous customer a longing glance before the bartender swiped it away. The tender was one of the local college students who moved unaware of the ghostly presence.
The longer he stood there, the more he hated it. He glared sourly at all the ignorant mortals, unaware of the blessing they had. They took for granted the fact they could hold someone's attention from across the room with a simple glance. They took for granted the sound of their laughter and the fact other people could revel in it. Simple, basic human interaction – it was so bittersweet to see it unfold in front of him.
"Once my memories came back, it didn't take me long to find him," Miss Crane broke him out of his thoughts. His head turned to her and she was watching someone else from across the bar. "I felt drawn, like I just knew where he was."
The Original nodded, he knew the burning desire for revenge all too well. It took precedent over everything else when the veil was down. In hindsight, maybe he should have used that opportunity to reconcile with his siblings – but the harsh voice of reality in the back of his mind told him those relationships were beyond repairable, especially any fix one night could bring.
"What did you do to him?" He asked.
This time she gave him an odd look. "Nothing," She said, not even bothering to point out how hard it would be for her to do anything. "I followed him for a bit and watched him," She tore her eyes away from her attacker to the Original, who she surprisingly held his sole attention. "And I realized there was nothing I could do to make him more miserable or pathetic than he already is."
A grin lit up on his face at the viciousness of her words, but she said it so calmly and smoothly.
She then gave a nod with a point of her finger across the bar. He followed her gaze and almost instantly the grin fell off his face.
"Him? He's the one?" The grin was replaced by a snarl, glaring at the man in the black leather jacket, nursing the glass of brandy at the other side of the bar.
"You know him?" She was surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor.
"Unfinished business, so to speak," He repeated his words from earlier, gritting his teeth together before he could help himself.
Her eyebrows rose, interested, thrilled, but alarmed by the anger that radiated off of him. It was impressive, volatile and she was glad it wasn't directed at her.
"He killed my brother, humiliated me, and then played a hand in killing me," He explained shortly, his fingers itching to wrap around the adolescent vampire's throat.
Oh, she thought, her fate didn't seem nearly as bad when it was compared to that. It unnerved her that their fates involved the same person though.
"Don't tell me his name," She requested after a tense silence between them. The Original spent it glaring at the blue-eyed Italian.
Her request caused him to look back to the woman who reminded him of the crisp winter ocean. She still never told him her name. She wouldn't let him tell her his name either. The tone in her voice was harsh and unforgiving, she didn't want her attacker's name for a different reason than the Original's.
"He doesn't deserve to be human in my eyes," She explained coldly. She could hate him right now because he was a faceless monster and nothing more. She didn't want him to be anything more.
The Original nodded tersely and looked back to the source of her anguish and his anger.
Damon Salvatore.
