Finally getting somewhere... because yes, I intend to write a story with plot, or more likely plots, and as everything is always about Elena in the show, here it'll be all about Alaric or Damon, even though I might use the actual story here and there. Just, not the parts that I don't like...
And I'm so sorry, but I can't help misreading what I wrote, which is pretty abnormal, and I keep seeing wordswith double meanings, and it kind of leaked in the chapter.


Adjusting to our reality, part 4: Deep beneath the surface

Alaric's hand went up to his own lips, and the hunter made the sign to stay quiet some more time while letting go of Damon's mouth.

The vampire had bloody handprints all over his face, and for once, he was not the one responsible for that. Ric actually saw him change, but still said nothing. Red eyes and dark capillaries were all the more reason not to attract attention. Because, well, there were already four shoes that could be seen from outside the booth, and that was odd enough. If anyone saw them, things could go somewhat astray. Because it definitely looked like they were making out. Using red paint. Very fluid red paint.

Hell, he could think it, if he couldn't get himself to say it, for various reasons.

Blood.

And all that while trying to remain silent.

So, no matter what conclusion would be reached, they were being pretty suspicious.

A_ They would be categorized as a gay couple. Could be way worse than that.

B_ One of them would be accused of assaulting the other one. It began to feel uncomfortable.

C_ Alaric would be arrested for attempted murder. And with no wound to prove anything...

D_ Maybe they would be considered a couple of gay serial killers?

E_ Let's stop the stupid listing right away before it gets even more messy and problematic. Besides, Damon the compulsion maniac could still do compulsion maniacs' stuff.

The thing was, Damon was really thirsty, it could be seen in the way he frequently stopped himself from simply attacking his friend.

Who said vampirism was the same as a drinking problem? You didn't die from lack of alcohol, or at least you shouldn't. A normal, sober human being could just look away from alcohol, but he couldn't stop drinking water or eating food just because he wanted to. Here it was. Blood was vital for a vampire. Or else they would desiccate. And as forcing yourself on a hunger-strike was against survival instincts, any vampire would just go on a rampage if they lacked blood.

Damon wasn't there yet, hopefully, but damn, he could feel it coming.

And Ric was here, within a meter, blood pumping from his heart, healthy human – liver apart, but well, didn't matter with bloodsucking, so everything was good – living blood bag, warm, appealing blood running through his veins and arteries, the never ending rhythm of warm blood invading every capillaries and then going back to the heart, red and oxygenated blood, the delicious scent of warm blood, the music of blood flow alluring the vampire, the strong, fierce fragrance of the much desired blood, mesmeric warm blood asking to be drunk...

But no.

That was just him craving for blood, nothing else. Damon could handle craving. Most of the time he didn't, in any other circumstances he'd just find an unknow woman to drink from. But he could handle it if needed, and this time it was needed.

And if Alaric had a knife in his pant leg, who knew what else he had with him? Surely one or two portative stakes, hidden in his jacket, which was within easy reach.

And also, there was that: Damon wouldn't have bet that the man, if he didn't kill him on the spur of the moment, would ever forgive him for drinking from him.

Damon would never admit it, but he needed a friend.

He wasn't asking for much.

The vampire only wanted one friend. Not two, five, eight or twenty-three. Just one.

He had had friends back in the day. Not so many, for a hundred and seventy years old guy. But he had known people he cared about, besides his brother and Katherine, over the years. All of them died at some point. Killed.

Sunlight. Stupid accidents.

Stake. Stupid hunters.

Fire. Stupid scientists.

From time to time he had also noticed that he cared for some human, out of the blue. Usually, when that happened, he'd run away in a blur and never come back. Humans were weak, humans were delicate. Humans would die at some point, either killed or because of a disease or from great age. Humans wouldn't always accept him for what he was if they weren't compelled. Some tried to kill him, even though they were supposed to be friends. Some outed him, which was worst most of the time. Either for him, almost staked or burned or whatever, or for them, put in an asylum right away.

Alaric tried to kill him too, but that was before they became friends.

With Ric, everything seemed to go backwards.

Relationships.

Time.

Even Damon.

Because Damon could feel it. He was becoming a better man. Or vampire, for what it mattered. As he had been once.

It was certainly not Stefan's influence, since his brother hadn't managed to get him out of his hatred for more than a century. It might have been Elena's, like, Elena surely had something to do with this, but she wasn't the only one to influence him.

Alaric had his say in the matter.

Maybe the hunter wasn't even aware of it.

Damon gulped. At some point, the teacher would go grey, then white, then dead. They always did that, those filthy humans. Just when you began to care about them, they died.

But at least, he was protected by the ring. He wouldn't die because Damon had pissed off the wrong vampire or werewolf or witch. Not permanently, anyway.

It was something.

What would come out of this friendship, he didn't know.

What would happen as time would go on, he didn't want to think about it.

What would he do once Alaric would no longer be, he didn't even consider it.

He needed a friend. One such as the hunter, as hilarious as it could sound.

The teacher looked him in the eyes.

Damon shuddered.

There was something with those eyes of his...

The vampire couldn't tell what. But there was something off with them. How could they be so calm, and yet so determined? So intidimidating, yet so laughing? So caring, yet so terrifying? Maybe Damon was just being delusional. Because sometimes he felt as if there was nothing in those eyes.

Emptiness, deep beneath the surface. A lot of things here and there, on the first, the second, the third layer. Nothing beyond.

The blue-yet-not-quite eyes of the teacher were definitely trying to say something to him.

Damon made his "what?" face.

Alaric cocked his head, eyes wide open, but the vampire still had no idea of what he meant.

Still silent because, hell, the guy that had come in sure took his time washing his hands, the hunter pointed at his own neck. This time it was Damon's turn to make eyes as big as saucers.

Ric couldn't really mean it.

But blood had rained down from his wound as long as the hunter had kept it open, and the vampire was really diminished. Habitually, he just took out whatever had been pushed into his flesh and then he healed. Habitually, he didn't have to deal with such massive blood loss.

Alaric could see that his friend was hesitating. In other circumstances, he would have been quite pleased with this. But right now was not the time, and he'd rather be a blood donor than letting Damon free on an university site when he was running out of blood.

He also trusted the vampire not to drain him, and if he did, he still had the ring. He wouldn't dare to say the same if the victim was a ramdom student with no ties to his friend.

So be it, he would be the martyr of the day.

Ric knew exactly when Damon made his mind, and stiffened a little. He might be a volunteer, but he didn't feel confortable with the act nonetheless.

The vampire leaned closer to him, stopped a moment, took a deep breath, certainly restraining himself from simply biting down and tearing half of his best friend's neck off at the same time.

Then Alaric felt two sharp fangs break through the skin of his neck.

It was a bit painful, but not as much as he had thought it would be, when investigating his wife's notes and belongings. As a vampire hunter, the question was legitimate, as it was. It was a highly risky line of work, and the odds of being bitten by a vampire were much higher than average.

Then again, if this had happened the first time the hunter had gone after the vampire, Damon would certainly have been rougher on him than he was at the moment.

The weird part of the act was certainly the fact that a vampire was actually sucking up his blood. The whole aspiration thing was strange, and he began to feel dizzy.

Damon, him, slowly started to feel better.

Ric's blood was highly nutritive, and he could almost sense an aftertaste of bourbon, which wasn't exactly a surprise. Obviously, competiting with vampires on a daily basis could only be done by having balanced meals. And obviously, living the hellish life of Alaric Saltzman on a daily basis required a lot of alcohol, in order to leave the day's shit behind when he went to bed.

The vampire eventually noticed Alaric was losing vigor and stopped drinking.

Damon didn't move away. The least he could do was to keep him from falling on the floor.

"You're okay?"

He was speaking low, in case the bloody nuisance was still there, just outside of the booth.

"I'll survive."

The teacher's voice was pretty low too, but Damon suspected he couldn't have talked any louder if he wished to.

Alaric took a deep breath, rolled his eyes as the world went back to spinning, and managed to get on his feet without his friend's help.

When they got out of the booth, someone was there, staring at them, but it was only Elena. How she had figured out they would be there, Damon and Ric had no idea, but what was done was done.

Elena frowned. She clearly hadn't expected to see what she was seeing.

"Which one of you killed the other this time?"

"Neither of us. I was just giving my jacket to Damon. He can't run around with a bloody T-shirt, can he? So now, if you'll excuse us..."

And Alaric pushed Elena out of the public whashroom, gently but firmly.

What he told her wasn't exactly false.

"Put this on, and close it, please. I don't want to see campus girls fainting as we go back to the car"

Alaric washed his arm cautiously, put his shirt on, and stayed behind to thank Vanessa Monroe and give her some advices about her non-involvement with the supernatural side of the world. Better safe than sorry – or, in her case, he'd at least feel better knowing he'd told her to stay away.

They had barely left the university that Vanessa Monroe went back in, wondering how all this could be real and why no one had told her anything about it sooner. Sitting down at the desk of Isobel's office, the young women took some time to think, then looked around some more.

She had exactly seven books underneath her arm when she finally thought about leaving for the day. Closing the door while holding onto the books revealed itself to be a challenge that she didn't exactly fulfill, and as she leaned over to retrieve a very old book about witches, she saw it.

There was a piece of paper sticking out of the desk drawer. A white, tiny piece of paper.

Vanessa drew the door once again, put down the books, and tried to open the drawer. Getting no result, she decided that it was pretty suspicious and she would pick the lock if she had to. Shaking the drawer until it came loose revealed itself to be enough, and Vanessa searched vigorously the inside, until she finaly found an old photo stuck between two piece of wood.

She immediately recognised the man as Isobel's husband, Alaric Saltzman. He seemed to be so much younger, a bright smile on his lips, yet the photo was nothing more than four years old. The man must really have had it rough after his wife's supposed death...

She was going to close the drawer and leave, feeling a bit guilty about having snuck into their privacy, when her eyes fell upon a book called Family Curses and Cursed Families. Wondering why it wasn't on the shelves, but hidden in a drawer, she flipped through it.

Or at least attempted to.

Right in the middle, there was a bunch of missing pages, probably hand-pulled.