Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize here. If I did, this would be canon.
Chapter summary: Alaric is barely starting to make peace with the understanding that he is a vampire now when Rebekah shows up with Vervain and an agenda.
Escaping from her clutches will involve actions that can't be taken back.
Chapter warnings: Torture, violence, minor character deaths. Alaric having severe post-trauma symptoms. An alarming lack of sex.
Damon and Alaric are impulsive, yes, and they tend to drop everything and fly to a horror movie convention at a moment's notice, or a French Burlesque show doing a one-off performance in Memphis or in one particularly memorably incident Elena likes to remind them about occasionally, a pie-eating competition in Salt Lake City.
But they always tell her where they are going. And Elena can't remember the last time she went longer than a day without a text or a phone call from one of them.
Matt thinks Elena is overreacting. "You don't think they could be just enjoying a break from it all? A break from Jenna even?"
Elena gives Matt a skeptical look. "When have they ever wanted a break from Jenna?"
Matt shrugs, and concedes.
Elena calls Liz Forbes, who is irritated; "they are, you know, capable of taking care of themselves, Elena. I have humans to worry about."
"Will you go to the boarding house? Just see if anything looks… wrong?"
Elena and Matt are sitting in a café down the street from where Tyler and Jeremy design apartments and hotels and super-efficient office spaces. A waiter brings coffee, and Jenna is drinking orange juice from a sippy cup, when Liz calls back hours later to say the house is locked up and seems fine, though she admits Alaric's truck was parked in the driveway, not in its usual spot.
The first few days, Elena wasn't really worried, when her messages went unanswered; she imagined Damon and Alaric wouldn't leave the bedroom for days, with some time and space to themselves. But tomorrow is new year's eve. It's been over a week. Elena presses her lips to Jenna's hair.
Jenna's eyes are nearly as dark as Elena's, now, but her hair is very blonde.
"Sheriff Forbes has a point, you know. They are vampires. How much is there that they can't handle?" Matt looks like he is trying to convince himself, as much as Elena.
Jenna chooses this exact moment to start fussing, and Tyler and Jeremy arrive looking every inch a pair of hip gay architects so Elena is effectively distracted, for a while.
Later that night, lying together with Jenna sleeping softly between them, Matt and Elena say little. Matt plays with Jenna's hair. "Do you want to go back?" he asks, and Elena doesn't know.
"I mean – you're right. What could possibly happen to them?"
Still she sleeps poorly, and texts often.
New year's day, 2021, Elena calls Stefan and Caroline. They don't answer, so she leaves a message, asking if they've heard from Damon or Alaric.
Next, Elena calls Bonnie. They swap pleasantries, and talk about the resolutions they will never keep, and then Elena shares her fears.
It is almost a relief, when Bonnie laughs. "No more tomb vampires, no more Originals, and they play poker twice a year with a hybrid pack. What could possibly happen to them?"
Elena feels a faint, cold fear. The Originals. "We don't know where the Originals are. Except Elijah. And Finn, and Esther, obviously," she says. "Kol and Rebekah?"
Bonnie is silent. "They've been gone nearly ten years."
"Can you do a spell? See if you can find out where Damon and Alaric are?"
Bonnie agrees, and Elena gets back to her fretting.
It is patently ridiculous. There is no reason for Rebekah or Kol to go after Damon and Alaric. They had a deal. They'd promised Elijah, and both seemed to harbor a quiet fear of Elijah. Still. There was always the chance they could defy him.
Bonnie sighs.
A map of Virginia, first. Bonnie places a needle over Mystic Falls, and commands it to float just a touch above the paper. She closes her eyes and begins to recite the words, and flinches, when the needle scratches her just below the eye, flying past her to embed itself in the wall behind her.
"Motherfu-"
It's a deep scratch, and a shock, because it is years since a spell went wrong. In the bathroom, Bonnie clears the blood away, shaking a little, and closes the wound with a butterfly bandage.
She takes a long moment to eye herself in the mirror, before returning to try a second time.
The needle fights her.
Bonnie tries something different; commands the needle to find Sheriff Forbes, instead, and it quickly embeds itself in Mystic Falls. Interesting. Perhaps the needle had been trying to find a different state.
Bonnie finds a map of the greater United States, and tries again. Again, the needle flies away, though it doesn't hit her the second time. It embeds itself in the ceiling, instead. No state up there.
Bonnie sits and thinks for a long time, and then heads out to her favorite bookshop.
"Jack," she says, when he turns to meet her eyes, behind the counter. Jack smiles. He is so black his eyes and teeth are a shock, and he laughs every time he opens his mouth.
"Miss Bonnie," he says, in that inimitable French Mauritian accent, after a quick chuckle. Bonnie leans across the counter to accept a kiss on each cheek. "What can I do for you today?"
"I had a spell backfire on me this morning. Twice."
Jack takes in the scratch below Bonnie's eye, and his smile falters. Bonnie explains.
"What could do that?"
Jack comes out from behind the counter, to lock the front door and turn the 'open' sign to 'closed'. Bonnie sorts through a pile of books on the counter; new acquisitions, not yet priced for sale. A book on medicinal and magical herbs in Eastern Europe looks interesting, although the translations will be a bitch. After flicking through it a moment, Bonnie opens her mouth.
Jack chuckles, and presses it against her chest. "For you. No, you must."
He has to stop doing that. Still Bonnie thanks him, and tucks the book in her bag.
She silently follows him out to the back of the store and up the stairway that leads to his living quarters.
Jack has nothing like Bonnie's power. No one Bonnie knows has as much power as she does. It sets her apart, makes it difficult to befriend other witches; when Bonnie had approached a coven only six months ago, she had joined them for a corner-calling ritual and been asked never to come back.
"It all went perfectly," she had said.
"You make my teeth ache," the coven leader had said flatly, and Bonnie had just nodded, and walked away.
Perhaps it was because he had relatively little power of his own, perhaps it was for other reasons; but Jack worked hard and researched and was a font of knowledge. He could describe in precise detail every step in a ritual to banish enemies from a home, he just couldn't do the spell himself.
Also: He could look at Bonnie almost every day for five years with desire – no, with love in his eyes and never ask her to join him for so much as a coffee, outside his own home.
Jack had a world map on the main wall of his living room – enormous, five feet high and almost eight feet long. And ancient. So old, in fact, that sections of the coastline of certain countries are inaccurate, and there are countries in Europe which haven't existed since the nineteenth century.
Still, if Damon and Alaric have run off for a holiday in Paris without telling anyone, Bonnie will be able to tell.
She closes her eyes, and holds the needle between her thumb and forefinger.
"Shit." She drops her hand.
From behind her, Jack speaks. "What is it?"
"If the needle had hit me an inch higher this morning I could be blind in one eye."
Jack places a hand over Bonnie's shoulder. It doesn't lend power, but it lends strength.
Bonnie takes several deep breaths, and extends the needle out in front of her. She begins to chant, and feels the needle warm between her fingers.
It hovers in midair, and wilts like a wet noodle, and falls to the ground.
When Bonnie picks the needle up, it is quite cold. It looks like a wire knot. Hard again now, though.
Jacks slips silently to a bookshelf, and retrieves a small sewing kit. He produces a needle of his own. "Do us," he says.
When Bonnie has repeated the chant again, the needle immediately plants itself in Philadelphia. Bonnie crosses her arms.
"What could do that?"
Jack crosses to the tiny kitchen. "Tea?" he asks. Jack makes wonderful coffee, but Bonnie can't drink a lot of it; it makes her nerves jangle.
"Please," she says, studying the map.
They have to be somewhere heavily warded, that much is clear. Funny thing about Mystic Falls, though, so much supernatural energy racing around the place, that effective wards are hard to apply. Too many witch spirits; they don't like dark magic, and warding for the purposes of concealment is pretty dicey.
"What could do this?"
"Warding," Jack says. "Powerful warding. Or…" He bites his lip, and Bonnie realizes quickly she is missing his chuckle. "Are you certain the spell works on vampires?"
The fact Jack has not said a word about the fact Bonnie is trying to help vampires speaks volumes. He is so trusting.
From the sewing kit, Bonnie chooses another needle. Moments later the needle embeds itself in the appropriate place. Stefan and Caroline are definitely in Seattle. Probably, Caroline had one of her famous New Year's parties last night, with half the Seattle music scene. "I do now."
"Do it for someone you know to be dead."
Bonnie doesn't know a lot of people who have died; not permanently. A few dead vampires, she supposes, and if…
She banishes the thought.
Bonnie never met Lexie in life but she has spoken to her, enough, through Caroline's friend Darcy, that she supposes it might work. The needle hesitates in her hand, and then lodges itself in Mystic Falls, where Lexie's body lies.
"A warding, then." Bonnie sighs.
"These vampires are your friends."
Bonnie hesitates.
There was a time when she hated Damon, deliberately and specifically. But like anyone who grows up with knowledge of these things, she has learned to take a broader view: what you've done matters less than what you do now. Damon is… perhaps not good per se, but certainly, with Alaric at his side, he has… protected them. Even saved Bonnie's life, more than once. Certainly Elena would be long dead without them both.
"I was at their wedding," she admits. "Yes. They're friends. Alaric especially. You know… he's been a vampire, I don't know, nearly ten years? And he's never killed anyone."
Bonnie sighs, and accepts the proffered mug of tea. "If he was human, that would sound strange, right? But even when he was human, he laid down his life for us all. And… he's an unusual vampire. And he's tamed Damon, which is both cool and hilarious." Her voice is dry. The tea is strong and sweet, and has a citric edge; Earl Grey, then.
"Miss Bonnie." Jack is drinking tea as well; a way of solidifying the bond, for now, she suspects. "What will you do?"
There's no real choice. "I go back to Mystic Falls," she says.
Jack chuckles, and pushes Bonnie's hair behind her ears.
"I will come with you."
Bonnie laughs. "No, Jack. You have a business to run." She smiles. It is sweet he has even offered.
"I will come with you." Jack chuckles again, and presses his hand to Bonnie's arm, and heads to his bedroom. He is packing a bag when Bonnie reaches the door.
"Why?"
Jack chuckles, and shrugs. "Perhaps I think it is funny," he says, in an inimitable accent, part France and part Africa and all Jack, "that you have friends who are vampires. I have never met one. Perhaps I do not have enough adventures," he admits.
"I'm going to have to drive," Bonnie starts. It is intended to be a protest. Jack raises a hand.
"Then you need someone to 'elp."
Bonnie doesn't even really want to argue.
Alaric wakes, but only partially, and when he does, he immediately wishes he hadn't.
There are a lot of things you quickly learn to take for granted, as a vampire. Speed, strength. The ability to drink two bottles of bourbon and wake with a smile on your face. The sex, for fuck's sake, there's almost no refractory period. It's point, shoot, reload, and stopping only when too physically exhausted to go another second longer.
The simplest thing to take for granted is the feeling of absolute physical wellbeing. Wounds heal almost instantly. There are almost no aches and pains, though that depends on a few things; they are healthier drinking from the source, and healthier on human blood.
Alaric wants to kick himself.
He hasn't admitted it to Damon, but he has been drinking a hell of a lot of animal blood. Not that it would matter, right now. He's been kept weak for – what, days? Weeks?
He's never been this conscious, in however long he's been here for.
Alaric raises his head, and immediately regrets that, too.
He is chained to a wall. Part of him thinks he might have known that. When he lifts his head, and opens his eyes, he discovers that directly opposite him, Damon is also chained to a wall. The main difference between them is that Damon is also staked. In many places. Wooden stakes pierce both thighs, a lung, his gut.
Alaric starts to struggle.
"Oh, don't bother with that," comes a feminine voice. "If you're nice to me, I'll even give you some blood."
Rebekah. "What are you doing?"
"I want to know where my brother is."
Alaric shakes his head. "Be more specific. I've got Elijah on speed dial, unless he's changed his number," Alaric says.
"You can't be this stupid," Rebekah says. "I want Nik back."
Alaric struggles, for a long moment, ignoring Rebekah's giggle. And then he calls out. "Damon. Damon?" He struggles more, and feels exhausted almost immediately. "Damon!"
Damon doesn't so much as twitch an eyebrow, and his skin is almost grey.
"You want me to wake him up?" Rebekah stands in front of Alaric. She smiles, bright and sweet. "I'll try, if you like."
"Don't hurt him."
It sounds pathetic, to Alaric's ears; Rebekah has no reason to do anything he asks.
"I won't hurt him. You think he needs some blood?"
Sounds too good to be true.
Rebekah produces a blood bag, and tears the corner off with her teeth. She tips Damon's head back, and begins to pour it into his mouth. After a few moments, Damon, still mostly unconscious, begins to drink, the muscles in his throat moving rapidly, unconsciously.
"Damon." Alaric almost doesn't want to say the name out loud, but Damon's eyes flutter open. They meet Alaric's across the space.
Alaric doesn't know what to say. 'Are you alright?' comes to mind but under the circumstances, it is also the most ridiculous fucking thing it has ever occurred to him to say. Damon winces, but he keeps his eyes on Alaric's.
He doesn't speak. Can't, Alaric thinks. He's too weak.
"Shall I unstake him?" Rebekah looks like she might just as easily have asked, 'would you like a cupcake?' Alaric can't bring himself to answer. Rebekah rolls her eyes. "Pick a stake, and I'll take it out," she promises.
"The one in his lung."
There is almost a look of regret in Damon's eyes when he hears this; Damon is used to the sort of tricky thinking Rebekah usually employs.
"Okay," Rebekah says, and removes the stake.
And then she plunges it straight back in. Alaric shouts, syllables, something, he doesn't know what, and Damon's eyes fall closed again.
"You should ask to see the fine print," Rebekah says, examining her fingernails. Apparently the enamel is flaking off. "Before you sign a contract. Now." She takes a step closer, and Alaric is sure he sees a little flare in her pupil. "Tell me. Where is Nik?"
"I don't know." This is the most fucked thing ever and also true: in the end it was Elijah and Damon who had dealt with the… disposal? Containment? Of Klaus's body. Alaric honestly has no idea. Alaric wants to tell Rebekah that Damon is the only one who can help but Damon deserves unconsciousness right now. Awake, he'd be in unimaginable pain, even before Rebekah started trying to inflict it.
"You're on vervain."
Alaric shakes his head. "I'm not. And even if I was – you've been draining us for how long, here?"
"Not long enough," she says.
"No one's taken vervain since… you guys left," Alaric says, and this is true.
There is something about the way her perfect blonde hair is matted with blood that makes all of this that much harder to take. It splashes down the front of her pretty white sun dress, making her look like something out of a horror movie.
"I don't believe you. But I have all the time in the world to find out if you're telling the truth. You? Have less time. And your… boyfriend," and Rebekah spits the word, "has even less time. So think hard, Mr. Saltzman."
Husband, Alaric wants to spit back, but Rebekah splashes what he can only assume is vervain tea over Alaric's body, so he screams, instead. Vervain burns. Fuck. Damon touched him with it once, just so he'd understand. It was like lye against the skin. But this? This is like being splashed with agent orange.
Rebekah leaves the room, and lets the door shut behind her. There is a sound of gears turning, and Damon and Alaric are alone again.
Alaric shouts Damon's name for long minutes, until he cannot keep his eyes open a second longer.
Elena answers the phone on the first ring. She is so tense that even Jenna can't calm down; they are feeding each other stress and frustration, and Jenna cries and cries.
"They're in Europe. Somewhere in France. Guess they don't have roaming on their phones."
"France?"
"You know them, Elena. Impulsive."
Elena collapses back into the couch. "I'll kill them. They should have said."
"Chill out, Elena. Call me in a few days." Bonnie ends the call, and Elena breathes a sigh of relief.
There's the old Witch House, obviously, though there's a lot of residual magic there. Hard to control, unless you really know what you're doing. Worth a try, though Bonnie suspects she would know, if anyone tried to manipulate the power in that house.
The old dungeon on the Lockwood family property. That's worth checking. The caves nearby – they seem a likely spot, though parts can't be penetrated by a vampire, so perhaps not. They are hard to find and even harder to navigate. No one has ever mapped them out, past the first big cavern and the paintings there that date back a thousand years.
Which of course means that if anyone knows their way around the caves, it will be the Originals.
Jack smiles serenely in the driver's seat while Bonnie flips through a book about Place Magic.
"I'm going to look like a total idiot when it turns out all of this is nothing," Bonnie mutters.
"It is not nothing," Jack disagrees, and once again Bonnie finds herself wishing he would chuckle.
"Do you think I should have told the truth?"
Jack is silent. "You 'ave your reasons not to."
She does; it would have turned into a reunion. Matt and Elena would have come back, would have brought Jeremy and Tyler with them. Stefan and Caroline would have found a way to get involved. If Bonnie can't find anything in a day or two, she'll call back and confess.
There is, of course, the boarding house. A veritable hive of basements, down there, and not exactly holy ground. The dungeon is one of the few places you could actually hold a vampire and expect them to stay held.
The tomb. If someone put them down there, it would be near fucking impossible to get them back.
Bonnie sighs. It's not a short list and the more she thinks about it, the more she hopes this has been blown completely out of proportion.
When Bonnie and Jack arrive at the boarding house, Alaric's truck is parked on the driveway. Nothing to see there. The locked door to the boarding house poses no difficulty. With a push of intention and no ill will, Bonnie opens it easily and she and Jack slip through.
On the ground in the foyer is a box. A little blood leaks from the bottom corner.
"What is it?"
Bonnie lifts the box, and removes the lid. Jack crosses his arms.
Damon and Alaric's day rings. Their wedding rings. And about a dozen fingernails.
Actually, Bonnie thinks, fighting the urge to vomit, it's all useful. With blood, with personal items, she can choose another spell. One more likely to work.
"Is there a note?"
From the ground, Jack picks up a slip of pink paper, which smells faintly like fake strawberries. The handwriting is loopy, with little circles over the 'I's.
Hello! It says.
I have your friends. I'm going to kill Damon, and the history teacher, in that order, unless one of them tells me where my brother is. Feel free to make it easier on them, if you like, by spilling the beans yourselves.
Do hurry,
Bek xoxo
There is a phone number beneath that.
"You should check to see if their phones are 'ere. Try to call?"
Bonnie dials their numbers, and when there is no answer, she calls the phone company, to see if she can get the GPS traced. Their phones are off and the batteries are out.
"So we look," Bonnie says, and sets up to do a blood locator spell in the library.
Alaric wakes to find Rebekah squirting him with a water pistol. A water pistol full of vervain.
Alaric shouts, pulls against the chains.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," Rebekah sings. "Sorry about the fingernails. Does it hurt?"
Yes, it fucking hurts, and Alaric isn't healing fast enough. He needs blood. He's not going to ask for it. Damon is still unconscious, across from him, his heart beating sluggishly.
"Elijah," Alaric moans.
"He's not talking. And Damon can't, right now. So that leaves you." Squirt, squirt. Alaric screams, and struggles, until he can't.
"Don't. Know. Where he is."
"I don't believe you," Rebekah sings. "Everything he knows, you know. So stop being such a bore. I'm starting to think torturing you with vervain might be making it harder to compel you. Still. You'll talk, and soon. Won't you?"
Alaric racks his brain but there was never even a clue. He never even asked Damon what he and Elijah were doing with Klaus's body. He'd just been happy Klaus was out of the way. He knows there was a deal of some kind. He hadn't cared, much, at the time, what the deal was. He was just grateful Mystic Falls was safe.
"They buried him."
"You are a really terrible liar, Mr. Saltzman," Rebekah insists. "Elijah would have wanted to know he could get him back quickly, if he wanted him."
"Give him some blood," Alaric begs. "Please. He'll tell you."
Rebekah rolls her eyes, leaves the room, and returns with a human. Alaric knows some vampires like to keep human companions around. Rebekah bites into his wrist, and then presses it up to Damon's mouth. The human flinches, a little, but not much.
"They're not even compelled?"
"Compelled humans can't improvise." Rebekah strokes the man's hair behind his ear. "They're my friends. Aren't you, dear?"
After a long moment, Damon starts to drink; his eyes fly open, and he drinks hard, but after a moment, Rebekah sends the human away again.
"Dear? You don't even know their names, do you?"
"Well they all look alike. You know how it is. They all want to turn, so they all do just as I ask." Rebekah slaps Damon's face; only gently. Rousing him. It works, though his eyes are still dull, and he's not healing. A wide gash on his chest tries to knit shut from the ends; Alaric can almost hear it. But he needs a hell of a lot more blood to heal.
"Your boyfriend here wants to see you hurt, Damon. He's pretending he doesn't know where my brother is."
Damon breathes a moment, and his heart rate increases. "He doesn't. And." His head drops an inch. "Neither do I. Elijah has Klaus."
"Liar." Rebekah shoots the water pistol at Damon, who groans, and flinches.
"Believe me, honey, I have no interest in… sacrificing myself for the greater good."
He sounds healthier, the blood working its way through his tissues, but it's not enough, it's really not.
"Call Elijah," Alaric says. "Do it."
"You two must think I'm stupid."
"Call Elijah and tell him what you're doing." This is a gamble. Truthfully, Alaric has no idea whether Elijah has any sense of loyalty to them. Probably not. Elijah is all about family. Doesn't matter. It's the only card they have to play. "He'll tell you the truth."
"I think you just need some time to chat amongst yourselves and see if you can remember. Do think hard. Perhaps you popped him in the hall cupboard? Or left him in the garage? Anyway," she says, all throaty whisper, "I have a plan B."
For a bit of variety, perhaps, Rebekah stakes Alaric in the gut, on her way out the door.
"Do you know?" Alaric says, when he can speak at all.
Damon shakes his head. "We thought it would be. You know. Safer." He laughs, sort of. "My guess is Elijah has him in one of his houses, somewhere."
"The deal…?"
"Elijah doesn't get the spell lifted until after Elena's dead. However long that takes. That's the whole deal."
Alaric coughs, and is deeply unsettled to see how much blood he coughs up; somehow, he doubts he has much to spare.
"Hey, Ric," Damon says, minutes later. "You think she still has a thing for me?"
Laughing feels better than the other thing.
"She's going to kill us," Alaric says dully. "Isn't she?"
"Maybe. Not soon."
"Think anyone's looking for us?"
"Who would even know we're missing?" Damon looks sad. He has a point. Matt and Elena are, presumably, still in New York. They won't know anything's gone wrong until no one arrives to pick them up from the airport. Or maybe they're already late. That's a cheering thought.
Alaric doesn't want to close his eyes, but with blood still seeping from the wound in his gut, he can't keep them open a minute longer.
Although, really, it seems like a bad idea, Bonnie calls Rebekah.
"Where are they?" she asks. "If you've hurt them -"
"You'll what? March in here and offer me your neck? Still, it's nice to know someone's looking for them. Do you know where my brother is?"
"No one does," Bonnie says. "Except Elijah, and presumably Damon – though if Damon knew, he would have told you by now. I assume you've compelled them. So for god's sake, Rebekah, call Elijah."
"But I have a very powerful witch working for me, now," Rebekah says. Her voice is sparkling, gleeful. On anyone else that same voice would sound innocent, too.
Bonnie stills. "Who?"
"You, sweetheart. Do a spell. You'll find Nik that way. You helped put him down, didn't you?"
"Sure. Masked. So no one could find him." Bonnie sighs. "You really don't get it, do you? This isn't a game. And we didn't just do it for Elena. Klaus was talking about building an army. With no Doppelganger line to make hybrids he'll never be able to. We took the whole thing pretty seriously, Rebekah."
After a pause, during which Bonnie hopes she is thinking, and not painting her nails, Rebekah speaks. "You forget, Bonnie, my mother was a witch. I know there's always a loophole." Rebekah hangs up and somehow, Bonnie doesn't throw her own phone across the room.
It takes hours. Bonnie starts by trying to find Klaus. This results in her nearly burning down the library, and she can't even detect a whiff of the energy of the original spell. Jack applies a tincture of aloe vera to Bonnie's hand and wraps it carefully.
"I wish I could 'elp," he says sadly. "'eal this, perhaps."
"I'll heal it myself, once this is done. Don't want my energies unfocussed."
It is easy, if grizzly, distinguishing Alaric's blunt, square fingernails from Damon's, which are longer on the nail bed. Unnecessary, since they are together, but easier to find one person at a time. Bonnie understands Alaric better, knows him better, so she focuses on him. The squarish fingernails, the newer-looking ring (as old as Damon's, she knows, but less worn) and his slightly larger wedding ring, she puts in a small silver bowl.
"It was one thing to lie when we weren't sure if they were okay or not, Jack, but don't you think I should call them now?"
"Could they 'elp? Or would they 'over about?"
Fair point.
Bonnie spreads a map of Mystic Falls over the large desk in the library, and begins to chant. Almost immediately, it is painful. Like being on a plane with a middle ear infection, the pressurization all wrong. Her nose begins to bleed in moments, and the smudge of Alaric's blood on the map is frustratingly still.
Trying a second time, to find Damon, is no more successful.
"Spell's not working," Bonnie says. "We're going to have to do this the hard way." Holding a great wad of Kleenex to her nose.
"'ard way?"
"Go looking."
Still, one last thing worth a try before they start careening around town. Bonnie paws through the drawers in the library desk, until she finds a battered phone book. It's old, and she knows it belongs to Alaric. Alaric tends to trust paper copies more than the cloud or any computer backups.
So 2012.
Sure enough, Elijah's phone number is in there; hilariously listed under 'O', for 'Original', she supposes. It's a miracle Bonnie can read it at all. Alaric's handwriting is terrible. Elijah doesn't answer the phone, but Bonnie leaves a message. No details. Just a request for an urgent callback.
The Witch House is a bust. Bonnie knew it would be. The witches like Jack, though; he is unsettled by their whispers, but seems almost right away to enjoy the sense of interest he feels, their curiosity in him. Jack's magic is of a different flavor, and perhaps the witches recognize the long-forgotten call of the dark continent. He lived more than half his life in Africa and perhaps carries some of its scent.
Bonnie lights candles and asks for help. She isn't sure they will help; is almost sure they won't, truthfully, as her relationship with these witches has been complicated at best and they have cut her off in the past.
Plus they like vampires little, and Damon less.
Still, they seem to be lonely. No one with any sort of power has visited them in a long time, she supposes. Rather than argue, they seem to indicate they can't see Damon or Alaric anywhere, and leave it at that. Bonnie asks if they will help her search.
They roll away like the dust eddies that catch in the candlelight.
"Fuck," Bonnie says, and extinguishes the candles.
They are about to give up for the night – it is close to two in the morning. The drive had taken them all the previous night, sharing driving shifts and sleeping shifts. They'd spent all day gathering spell ingredients and attempting to find Damon and Alaric, and Bonnie's nose is still bleeding sporadically.
In short: they are exhausted and no use to anyone right now, including themselves. Jack drives back to the boarding house.
Bonnie leads Jack to a spare room and settles herself into Stefan's bed (why this doesn't feel more weird, she isn't sure – perhaps because she can sort of think of it as Caroline's bed as well). She is about to nod off, when the phone rings. Elijah. Bonnie is reassured, that he would call so late. Means he's taking this seriously.
"Miss Bennett. It has been some time."
For the thousandth time, Bonnie wonders what combination of locales produced that indistinct accent. "Your crazy fucking bitch sister kidnapped Damon and Alaric," she says, by way of hello. "All I have is rings. And fingernails."
Elijah is silent a long moment, and then he sighs. "I see."
"She has a cloaking spell on them. It's powerful. I can't find them. But since she left the souvenirs at the boarding house, I assume they're nearby."
"Indeed."
"Will you help?" There is a command in her voice, but Bonnie isn't too worried; Elijah has respect for power, and respect for witches.
"I'll be in Mystic Falls by noon tomorrow. I ask you don't look any further afield until I get there."
"Does that mean you -"
"I can make a reasonable guess. Goodnight, Miss Bennett."
It's then that Bonnie realizes – stupid, stupid – that the only place in the whole of Mystic Falls where Rebekah could reasonably conceal herself, the witches she has to have with her, and Damon and Alaric is, of course, the Mikaelsen house.
"I'm not talking anymore. We've said the same thing over and over. I think you're just enjoying yourself, now." Alaric coughs, again, and watches helplessly as Rebekah slices a fresh cut across the plane of Damon's chest. "Just stop. Please. We'll help. We'll talk to Elijah."
"I don't think you know what it means, to be lonely," Rebekah says. Alaric can barely hear Damon's heart beat. "You've got him. And all those temporary humans. I have no one. I haven't seen Kol in nine years. My mother has Finn holed up in the mountains, teaching him to speak English and use cutlery. Elijah has no patience for me."
"We'll help. I swear. We'll get Klaus back to you. Just stop."
Damon hasn't lifted his head in far too long.
"I don't believe you," Rebekah says, and buries a knife into the side of Damon's throat.
Turns out, it's actually enough; the knife itself, or the fact that Damon doesn't flinch when it goes in. Despite the fact that he's been fighting the chains for days, Alaric pulls them straight out of the wall and throws himself at Rebekah, wrapping the heavy links around her neck. He can't kill her, obviously, but if he can snap her neck, give himself a temporary reprieve, he'll do that instead.
Somehow the combination of the shock of seeing Alaric tear himself from the wall and the fact she has both hands full torturing Damon means Alaric does, indeed, manage; Rebekah's head rolls uselessly. Alaric piles the chains on top of her and turns to Damon.
A moment later – and it's been no longer than five seconds since he took himself off the wall – two humans race in with stakes and those stupid fucking water pistols and attack.
It's really too much. Alaric sinks his fangs into the carotid artery of one, even as the other is trying to stake him. That one, he throws across the room, hard, but he doesn't stop drinking until the man he is drinking from is dead. Drained.
Gone, completely gone.
Alaric rears back.
Maybe he's got vampire blood in him. Maybe Rebekah keeps them strung out. Maybe he'll be okay.
"Ric."
Damon's eyes are barely open.
"Want to. Get me down?"
Alaric feels physically so much better already, blood working through his cells, healing the cuts on his chest and arms, that he can't yet think about the fact that he's just killed someone. Pulling the stakes out of Damon's legs, stomach, and lung makes them both wince. Tearing the chains off Damon's arms isn't easy, but it's not hard, really, either. Damon slumps against Alaric, and Alaric helps him to the ground.
"Need blood."
Alaric flinches. "I… finished that one."
"His friend?"
Alaric reaches to where the human is broken, crumpled on the ground. He checks for a pulse.
No pulse. Shit.
"Dead."
"Only just."
Alaric pulls him to Damon's side. Damon drains him, quickly and efficiently. "You think this dungeon locks from the outside?"
Alaric can't tear his eyes from the bodies.
"She's going to wake up, Ric. And soon. We have to leave."
Rebekah's hand has begun to twitch. Alaric helps Damon to his feet.
Alaric can't quite breathe evenly; still healing, he supposes, but he knows that's not it. "I killed them. Both."
"Yeah, well, they're the bad guys. Fuck, I wish we had a dagger. Or an Elijah. Or an Elijah with a dagger."
The door has a wide bolt which does, indeed, lock it from the outside; not enough to hold Rebekah but enough to keep her there a while.
From above them, at the top of the stairs, light seeps in. "Can't tell if that's artificial, or daylight," Damon groans, and leans against the wall. "Where do you think she put our rings?" Alaric leans as well.
There is a blur of movement, and another pair of humans wielding stakes and those fucking water pistols appear at the entry to the basement corridor. Damon and Alaric are doused, and it's so fucking painful; and the next thing he knows, Alaric has one of them on the ground. The man has staked him, but missed his heart by miles, and his blood is the best thing Alaric has ever tasted. His slowing heart rate brings Alaric a strange peace.
He could stop; the guy's not getting up any time soon. He has time to call an ambulance, something.
He doesn't; he drinks until the man is dead.
Alaric reels back, and sits with his back flush against the wall. Damon searches through the pockets of the guy he's just eaten. "No cell."
Alaric does the same. "Not -"
Suddenly, Rebecca throws herself against the door. "I'll kill you both!" She calls. "I will!"
Damon pulls on Alaric's arm, but Alaric has begun seriously debating just staying here, now, and letting the first person to find him kill him and have it over with.
"C'mon, Ric," Damon says, and his face is twisted. "Bad guys. Doesn't count."
It does, though.
Still Alaric follows him, and they are halfway up the steps that will lead them to – Alaric isn't sure, but out of the basement – when the door opens, and miraculously, there is Elijah. With a dagger.
"Is she – apparently so. Wait here. Bonnie will be along with your rings, in a moment. It's broad daylight, you don't want to go up any further."
Elijah doesn't spare a look for the dead men on the ground, as he blurs to the door. Alaric wishes he would.
In the cell there is a sound like rocks crashing together, and Rebekah screams like someone pulled her hair. "Where is he? Where's Nik? You can't keep -"
And then nothing.
Elijah steps out, rubbing dust from his hands.
"Are you both alright?"
Alaric doesn't even know how to answer. He is still healing, but quickly; the frustrating itch across his chest is fading to a mild irritation.
Damon shakes his head. "This is… Klaus's place?" He grunts. "The decorating down here isn't as tasteless as it is up there. Didn't realize."
Elijah raises an eyebrow. "Torture dungeon? That's a look you enjoy?"
"Better than Motel Six art and Pottery Barn crap everywhere."
Alaric is about to explode. "I just killed three people." They can't have realized this. Or they wouldn't be talking about the décor. "Do you – I just killed three people."
"People that were coming at us with stakes, Ric." There is a warning in Damon's voice. "Doesn't. Count."
Bonnie peeks in, with someone they don't know behind her. A witch, Alaric thinks, but one without a lot of power. "Is she down?"
Elijah nods. "I'll need you to spell me a coffin, and then I'll take her and put her with Niklaus."
Bonnie holds out the rings, and Damon takes them.
Alaric almost can't bear to put his on – they feel like a symbol for what he was before, fifteen minutes – an hour – ten years ago. He manages, anyway.
"The witches got away, Elijah," Bonnie says.
Elijah nods. "I thought they might. I will catch up to them. Eventually."
Bonnie turns to Damon and Alaric. "I've brought blood," she says.
"We're okay," Damon answers, and they walk up into the mansion.
Back at the boarding house, Damon and Alaric shower, separately, rooms apart. Wash days of filth from their bodies, and blood from underneath fingernails and where it is matted through hair. They change their clothes. Place the ruined garments in a trash bag.
Damon is cautious. But Alaric's rules – his words, years ago – if he killed anyone who wasn't trying to kill them, or one of their people, he'd take his ring off and march into the sunrise.
There is no way this counts. Right?
They sit in the library, sit close. Bonnie's friend Jack is friendly, but quiet. Damon makes little effort to draw him into conversation. Alaric warms a glass of bourbon in his hand.
Damon wants to ask him, are you alright? Tell him, promise him, everything is okay. He hasn't done anything wrong. Those guys wanted them dead and would have succeeded, if they were any weaker, if they were still chained to the walls of the dungeon.
"Ric…"
Alaric throws back the bourbon. "I just need some time," he says, and heads up the stairs.
Damon knows better than to chase him.
"'e 'as taken lives, your 'usband. 'e needs to become used to that."
"What do you know about it?" Damon narrows his eyes.
"Far less than you," Jack agrees, and falls silent.
Bonnie and Elijah return to the house, eventually. "I told Elena you were in Europe. Didn't want her to come back to Mystic. You work it out between you, what you want to say. It's not my business."
Damon nods. "I don't take this lightly, Bonnie."
She nods. "We'll stay here another night, drive back in the morning."
Damon agrees. After a brief silence, Elijah clears his throat.
"I shall remove Rebekah's dagger when I wake Niklaus. When Elena's life is over, and she cannot be used to make more hybrids." Elijah stands neatly, with his hands tucked in his pockets. "I am having her collected by a removals company tomorrow. I shall spend the night at Niklaus's house, tonight. Damon. A word?"
Damon follows Elijah out to the porch.
"He won't recover from this easily."
Damon shrugs. "He'll be fine."
It should be said, Damon doesn't believe this. At all. Fuck the storm; this is like skipping the storm and going straight for the tsunami. He's going to have to watch Alaric like a hawk.
Elijah is just standing there.
"Got something else you want to say?"
"I haven't seen you in a very long time. I would have hoped for better circumstances."
Damon shrugs. "Maybe you can keep Kol away from us. That should make circumstances better for next time."
"I have no concerns about him. He has no interest in our brother." Elijah tugs on the cuffs of his shirt, and runs a hand through his hair. "Call me if Alaric is struggling. I've know precisely three vampires, in a thousand years, who determined they would never kill anyone." He sighs. "It is a very difficult road."
"Any of them make it?"
Elijah shrugs. "No."
He claps Damon high on the shoulder, and takes off at a blur.
One week later
Damon explains what happened to Elena and Matt on the way back to Mystic Falls from the airport in Charlottesville, while Jenna sleeps in the car seat.
"Bonnie said -"
"Bonnie lied." Damon sighs. "Didn't want you coming back."
"So why isn't Alaric here now?"
"Because," Damon starts, "he's sitting in the attic. Staring out the window. Which is what he does now. When he's not out hunting for fucking squirrels."
Elena pales. "He's drinking animal blood?"
Damon puts his face in his hand. "Yep. Not even interested in bagged blood."
"But Damon, doesn't that mean…"
Matt is less cool. "He can't be alone with Jenna." He shakes his head. "Not until he's under control."
Damon doesn't even argue. "Still. Bring her to the house? Come on. She makes him feel alive."
Matt and Elena share a look, in the rear view mirror.
"Tomorrow," Elena says.
Six weeks later
Damon doesn't knock on the attic trap door, and he doesn't speak, either. He crosses the room, with its low ceiling and large window to sit alongside Alaric. He doesn't touch Alaric, or try to talk to him, not yet. He just sits.
For six weeks, Damon has told himself every day that if he sticks with this long enough, Alaric will speak eventually. Today, he's going to make him.
"They left."
Alaric nods.
"We have to talk about this eventually."
Alaric shrugs.
"They were coming to kill us."
"I know."
"So what's the fucking problem, Ric? You going to stay up here forever?"
"No."
"So, how much longer?"
"I don't know."
Out the window, it's a cold day, even for February. The air is still and there was frost on the ground this morning, and fuck, why can't Damon find the right fucking thing to say? "Hiding from the world isn't going to make this go away."
"'m not. Hiding."
"No?"
"'m thinking."
Thinking. Right. Thinking and randomly disappearing into the fucking woods to eat Stefan's little buddies. "You need to be around people. Humans."
"Great. And when I kill Elena? Or Jenna?"
Damon sighs. "You won't."
Alaric shakes his head.
Damon gives it another half an hour, and then slips downstairs to drink and brood and think up a plan E. When he hears the front door open, a little later, he sends up a prayer for the squirrels and calls Elena.
Elena swings the attic door open and climbs inside. Alaric is immediately defensive.
"You shouldn't be here, Elena." He shakes his head. "I'll be fine. I just need some time."
"Well, you're running out of it. My daughter – your goddaughter – is throwing tantrums and screaming your name. You're breaking her heart."
Elena crosses her arms.
Alaric turns. "She's saying my name?"
Elena wants to cry. Won't, though. She stands with her arms crossed, instead. "She won't even go to Damon. She's confused. She misses you."
Alaric turns away again. "I'll be fine. Soon. I just… can't, not yet."
"You're scared you're going to turn into Stefan." Alaric says nothing. "It never occurred to you that trying to stay off human blood is what made him lose control in the first place? You need a normal diet."
"Please, just go. You have no idea what you're talking about."
Elena takes a step forward, and tries not to react to the fact Alaric takes a step back, hitting his head on a low strut. "They were going to kill you, Ric. If you were human, it would be a clear cut case of self-defense."
"But I'm not and they were. There's nothing clear-cut about it. Please, Elena. Just go. I'll be fine."
"Ric…"
"I mean it. Please. I can smell you from here."
Elena stills, and shakes her head. "Of course you can. You always can. You've never snapped and bitten me before. What makes you think you would now?"
"I said go."
For a moment, his features flash, but Elena is certain he's posturing. He's not going to lose control. He wouldn't have then, either, if not for… fuck. Elena has no idea what to say.
Alaric was her guardian, and her mentor, and now he is her friend, and her daughter's godfather, and she has absolutely no idea what to say.
"Are you still here?"
Elena has barely climbed down onto the stairway when something heavy is dropped on top of the trap door. She pauses, and sighs, and descends the stairwell.
In the library, Jenna fusses in Damon's lap. She squirms and fights and will not settle. "Ric," she insists, and starts to cry again.
"We should film that and send it to his phone," Elena says, taking Jenna back. "Who could resist?"
Damon rubs his eyes. "If I have to go to bed with blue balls one more time I'm going to start killing bunnies myself. And not for food. Just for the bliss of it."
"Too much information, Damon," Elena sing-songs, while Jenna gnaws aggressively on her bear. "He's sleeping up there, too?"
Damon doesn't answer. He just grunts.
"What's your plan… 'F'?"
"What's the process for divorce after a hand-binding?"
Elena shakes her head. "You're an ass," she says, but she studies his face a long time.
Eventually, Damon rolls his eyes. "Relax. It was a joke. Ninety percent a joke."
Damon lies alone in the bed he should be sharing, one hand behind his head, and listens to Alaric roll his empty glass over the floor boards above his head. Over and over, while Damon stares at the ceiling, old cracks telling tales. The bed is so big, alone. He doesn't know how he handled it before.
He climbs out from the sheets, collects pillows and a blanket, and pads across the floor to the door. Holds his hand on the doorknob for a long moment. The glass continues its slow roll.
Fuck it.
Damon walks to the stairwell and up the million stairs and pushes through the trap door.
"Jesus Christ," Alaric says. "You scared the shit out of me."
Damon nods, crossing the small space. "Of course I did. You're drinking animal blood. Your sense are dulled. You're weak. And scared generally."
"Don't start."
"Not here to fight," Damon says, arranging the pillows and blanket on the floor. "When was the last time you slept longer than a couple of hours?"
Alaric shakes his head, but shuffles over to lie back against the pillows anyway.
It's been weeks since he even kissed Alaric. Damon does this now. Leans on one elbow and takes Alaric's face in his other hand, and presses one long, firm, determined kiss to his mouth.
Alaric kisses back. It's not an invitation, or an affirmation. It tastes like an apology.
"You can't stay up here forever," Damon says, in a low, toneless voice.
"I won't," Alaric promises. "I just need…"
"Time. I get it."
Damon settles back, shapes his body around Alaric's; and resists the urge to say I have needs, too. Incredibly impressive and grown up, he thinks, as he settles his arm across Alaric's chest.
Mid-March
Damon and Elena sit at the Grill, outside, in the sun. Jenna slurps contentedly at a cup of foamed milk. Damon can't prevent himself from separating the strands of her hair with his fingers.
"Elijah?" Elena suggests.
"He's like an alien being," Damon argues. "He's just too different."
Plan G is, there has to be someone in the wide world who Alaric will listen to.
"I've been thinking Stefan. Because -"
"You're joking, right?" Damon rubs his forehead. Alaric and Stefan get along okay, these days – but that would be like sending Jeffrey Dahmer to cheer up a guy that ran over someone who stepped out into the street at the wrong time. It's cool! I've killed loads more people than you.
"Caroline?"
Caroline killed her first day out, with no real idea of what was happening to her; killed a couple of her mom's deputies, too, but not since. Although…
No.
"She forgave Stefan. It won't mean a thing to Ric that she's cool with him. Elena…"
Elena breaks off a piece of her cake and moves to put it into Jenna's waiting hand. Jenna, however, has lost interest in the cake, and her eyes are bright on Elena's.
"Ric?"
Damon's shoulders drop. "We have to get that on video," he says. He pulls out his camera phone, too, but only in time for Jenna to be entirely focused on the cake. She mashes it against her mouth. Damon puts the phone down.
"Such a pretty day," Elena says.
"Fucked for the squirrels," Damon says. Elena shoots him a look, and he winces. No swearing in front of Jenna, fuckety fuck, etc. Not now she has started repeating words, anyway. And what kid will repeat 'flower' or 'kitty' when 'fuck' has such a nice ring to it?
Elena wipes Jenna's mouth. "We need someone who… is zero tolerance, you know? Judgmental. Harsh, even. But understands?"
"Liz?" Damon actually likes this idea.
"Not zero tolerance enough," Elena says, and it sounds like a contradiction. "Because of Caroline. Plus I know you three drink together. Or drank together."
"You know much about Care's friend? Darcy? Lexie's meat puppet?"
But Elena has her phone in her hand, scrolling through the contacts.
"Who are you calling?" Damon asks.
Elena smiles.
A week later, Damon paces, impatient, at the arrivals gate, for almost an hour. Bonnie's plane is late. He's characteristically impatient. Wants this to work.
Bonnie is unbelievably fucking perfect. She saw the state they were in. And fuck, beyond any reasonable expectation, she'd shown up to help them in the first place. She hated Damon. Well, she used to hate Damon. He is pleased to imagine that now, they have a grudging mutual respect.
Maybe.
She arrives, eventually.
"For the record," she says, "I still don't like you, much. And I don't have a clue why you think this is going to work. But I care about Alaric."
"Love the total lack of ambiguity. And I am very glad to see you." Damon takes her case, when it arrives, and they drive back to Mystic Falls.
When Bonnie tries to push the trap door up, there is something heavy on top of it. She rolls her eyes, and sends it away with her mind. Enjoys the low, muttered curses Alaric utters.
"Hi, Ric," she says, as she pushes her way into the attic.
"Bonnie…"
"Oh, don't Bonnie me." She lets the door shut with a thud and settle into place. "This is not a good look for you," she adds. "Why are you doing this?"
"You know what I did."
"I know you killed people who were coming to kill you," she says, as she crosses the room. Perhaps no one has approached him so fearlessly before. "And I know Elena – and others – would be dead, if not for you. So I wish you'd try to be a bit reasonable about all this." She stands at the window. "Pretty view. Still, you have to be getting sick of it."
"I'm not a shut-in. I leave."
"You leave to hunt squirrels, dude. Same view from a different angle."
Alaric's shoulders collapse, a little.
"This is getting ridiculous. You must know that."
Alaric shrugs. "Define ridiculous. As a witch to a vampire. Go on. I dare you."
"Ridiculous is you spending months hiding up here. Ridiculous is you refusing to eat a proper diet, when you know full well it only makes things worse when you won't." She meets Alaric's eyes, but he can't hold her gaze long. "How am I doing so far?"
Alaric slumps to the ground. His back against the wall. Arms looped loosely over his knees.
"They were trying to kill you."
"I know."
"Then talk to me. Next up Damon's going to call Elijah, and I doubt you want to talk to him." Alaric winces. "I know it was terrible. But -"
"It wasn't terrible."
Bonnie does her best not to react. She sits down, back against the glass. "It wasn't terrible," she repeats.
"I… enjoyed it." Alaric crosses his arms over his chest. "It felt like the most natural thing in the world." He lets his eyes close. "So you should be scared, now. You should go."
Bonnie thinks for a long moment. And then laughs.
"You're a vampire, Ric."
"Starting to realize that." He sounds so sad.
"All sorts of things feel good. For me, god, I love to bring about a storm. Nothing makes me feel more alive. But I started one, once, that didn't stop for days. Trees were torn from their roots."
"Anyone die?"
"No. I was lucky." Bonnie stretches a little further. "When I'm in a bad mood, god, I just want to do it again. Feel the lashing rain… see people running. You know?" She shrugs. "I don't fuck with the weather any more. And Ric… people do all sorts of things that hurt them, or someone else, because they feel good in some way. Use drugs. Cut their arms. If you like doing something destructive you decide not to do it anymore and you find something else."
"You make it sound easy."
"It's not."
Alaric stares out the window.
Bonnie is good at quite a few things. She's a powerful witch, a passable cook. A very fast reader. But one of the things she does best is stay silent for so long that the person she is with eventually feels the desperate need to fill the silence up with sound.
"I decided before I turned that I'd never kill anyone."
"That's not a choice you can make once," Bonnie says. "It's a choice you have to make every day. Every time you drink."
Alaric's face drops into his hand.
Tears seem like progress, so Bonnie stares out the window. A man's tears should be private, she thinks.
The trees… God, Philadelphia is home, but she misses the trees in Mystic Falls. They go on for days. And this time of year. Already the leaves are starting to change, fire across the tops. One tree green and the next a brilliant gold. A part of Bonnie wants to come home more often but it is only the small, strange part of her that thinks of Mystic as home. The part that misses her Grams, and playing pool at the Grill, before there were witches and vampires and werewolves and all of that.
"You should go."
Bonnie shakes her head. "No. Not yet. You need to drink."
Alaric looks confused.
"I brought a blood bag and so help me if I have to hold you down with magic to make you drink it, you're going to drink it."
Confused gives way to pissed off and terrified. "Not gonna happen."
Bonnie snips the corner off the bag, and hands it over.
See, Elena has it wrong. She talks about blood – and more specifically, Stefan's problems with it – as if it was a drug. But it's not. This is more like an eating disorder. A person can survive without their substance of choice – a vampire can't survive without blood. Living off animal blood is like following some crazy raw-food salt-free vegan crap. You torture yourself without a diet that strong, sure you're gonna end up chowing down on a dozen Happy Meals in the heat of the moment, when you're starving or pissed off at the world.
Alaric is across the attic, trying to pull the trap door open, but Bonnie's magic is faster. The trap door won't open.
"You're going to drink this, Alaric. Step one."
"I can't."
"You can. And you will." She sighs. "And then you are going to go downstairs, and spend some time with Damon, who loves you. And who you seem to harbor some bizarre affection for as well, despite his innumerable flaws. And then you're going to spend the next few weeks getting used to being around Elena, and Matt, and Jenna, who calls your name, even though you're never there to hear it."
Alaric is still trying to pull the trap door open.
"Stop being such a baby." Bonnie holds out the blood. "And drink slowly."
"How is this your business?" Alaric makes no move to take the bag.
"Because if you end up an out-of-control ripper d-bag I will have to do everything in my power to kill you. And I don't like killing people."
Anger and resentment gives way to something a little sad, and Alaric takes the blood bag. He slips slowly, reluctantly. When it is half gone, he pauses.
"See?" says Bonnie. "Now do you want to tear my throat out?"
Alaric looks up. "Well, you are kind of self-righteous and annoying." He has a smile on his face, though. "What happens if I want to kill again, though? It's not -"
"You decide not to. Every time. The way Damon learned. The way Caroline did. Stefan still struggles every day but he hasn't… killed anyone since Care put him through rehab."
Alaric finishes the bag, and folds it up neatly so it won't dribble. He meets Bonnie's eyes, briefly. "Can you give me a minute?"
"A minute," she promises. "Or so help me god, I will give you an aneurysm. I'll keep them coming until Meredith Fell herself has to come and help."
And she opens the trap door easily, and trips lightly down the stairs.
Damon, in the library, looks concerned, but hopeful. "It's okay," Bonnie says. "He'll be down in a minute. I'm going to Matt and Elena's. Give you guys some space."
So it's five minutes; not too bad. Damon waits, standing by the fire, and eventually, Alaric enters the library. Once he is close, he meets Damon's eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"No need to be." Because it's true.
Alaric's hands twitch at his sides, and that's enough; vertical, they are not prone to hugging, but Damon takes Alaric in his arms, and they press fresh strength into each other. Damon feels Alaric start to relax against him, one arm over Damon's shoulder, the other around his hip.
"I'm not alright."
"I know." Damon takes Alaric's bottom lip between his teeth, and gives a gentle tug. "You don't have to be. You just have to be getting better." Fuck, it sounds so… mature. Damon is impressed with himself.
Storm's not past, yet, but it's passing.
Writing Alaric killing people - even bad guys - was harder than I thought it would be! But this absolutely had to happen.
More upheaval next episode and then let's have some smut, 'mkay?
Thanks to everyone who has tweeted me ideas and encouragement, DMd me or left reviews. Thank you!
Credit to Saltzatore: We talked for ages one night about who we thought might actually be able to get through to Alaric after this happened. Thanks doll, much paella :D
Credit to ellensmithee: Who made the point to me once that Stefan's problem was more akin to an eating disorder than a substance use problem.
See you guys next week!