Set in 2x15 and 2x16
Consider that I'm going to separate 2x16 this way: the Martins' death is in this chapter, but the part where Jenna argues with Ric will be later, with one or two days in the middle.


Now I'm about to mess with the timeline for real. Feel free to warn me if I'm not precise enough about it. It doesn't mean that what I don't talk about didn't happen as in the show.

I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter's writing... I'll try to read it again tomorrow, maybe I'll like it better.


Adjusting to our reality, part 17: Merciless, relentless, remorseless

When Alaric daggered the Original through the back of his chair, he wasn't thinking about it.

He was more worried about Jenna who was in the kitchen, and could come back any time soon. Worried about the way she was acting as if nothing was wrong, and yet it was obvious there was something. Worried that he would never be able to be honest with her, not only about the whole supernatural bullshit everyone was in except her, but also about what was wrong with him.

Let's be realistic. No one would want to share their life with a perfect assassin, aside from Isobel, but she was kind of nuts too, and in the end, she had left him nonetheless.

The blade had made a hole in the chair.

Damon'd have to deal with it. After all, he was the one who had lured Elijah in a murderous trap. And as dangerous as being a Saltzman made him, the hunter was still human. Surprise would never have been enough to deal with the thousand-years-old vampire, and since Ric only had to bother with Jenna not seeing Elijah "Smith" getting murdered, he had the possiblity to be creative.

The Original went stone gray, with bulging veins under his skin.

Alaric withdrew the dagger from Elijah's back and from the chair, and cleaned it with a napkin.

When he looked up, John Gilbert, Andie Star and Damon were motionless, shocked and apparently a bit terrified – not Damon, for the last one. The vampire was only motionless and shocked.

No time to stay still, they had a body to hide in the basement. Jenna wasn't done with the dessert yet, but she would be at some point, and that wasn't something she needed to see.

Damon closed the door of the basement cell behind him.

He actually had seen it, when Ric had daggered the Original.

The emptiness the book was talking about. The emptiness he had witnessed many times already, but never while the hunter had been killing someone in cold blood. The absence of everything that made a human being in Alaric's eyes. The stillness of his face. His way of moving, perfectly efficient and unhesitant. The teacher was right. A Saltzman simply killed, and then it was done.

Damon wasn't the only one who had been startled by what had just happened.

Andie had recovered fast, still compelled, and had gone to the kitchen to keep Jenna busy.

John was the one who had been fun to observe. The vampire didn't know what the man had in mind, and that was certainly something someone would be sorry for in the near futur, but his face... A man swallowing, shock, panic and triumph painted on his face at the same time was something you didn't get to see very often. He had looked like he had succeeded in making a point about Alaric, though. That wasn't good news, but... John Gilbert terrified by a fellow human being, that was something Damon would never forget.

As he would never forget how much it hurt when the hunter reminded him that he was his only friend. Only his friend was actually worst, but no way he'd say it out loud.

They went back upstairs.

The dinner finished strangely, Jenna wondering why exactly Elijah had left, and no one un-deceiving her. Everybody left. Damon had to thanks Stefan for preventing him from dying tonight. He was almost deploring he hadn't told his brother he had been planning to kill the Original the very night the info on how the dagger would kill him if he went after Elijah was discovered.

No vampire could kill an Original with the dagger without dying themselves. Thank you very much for the tips, Johnathan Gilbert, even if you didn't intend to help.

John Gilbert, on the other hand, would pay for this, one way or another.

Speaking of the Gilbert father / uncle / whatever, the man was so full of bad ideas he was provoking a disaster at the Gilbert's, between Alaric and Jenna. And Alaric really wasn't appreciating it.

Jenna was in her room, Elena was at the lake house with Stefan, Jeremy was nowhere to be seen, and the teacher was fed up with his life being wasted once again because of John. Last time was when the man had led Isobel to a vampire, and then, no more wife, gone with the wind.

John Gilbert, pouring himself a glass of red wine in the kitchen, as if he hadn't heard about enough red fluid during the last hour.

The hunter caressed the Gilbert ring that had saved his life twice already. He took it off, and wished he could wipe out the conceited smile of the man's face.

"Your ring."

Elena's father, really?

Knowing that Isobel was her mother, and this man her father, Alaric might have stopped to believe in heredity. Yes, the teenager looked quite alike Isobel, but she was destined to be a much better person than her parents...

Ric grimaced.

Isobel too had seemed to be someone decent, even if a bit strange, back then.

He was going to leave the ring to John, but not yet.

Anger. Resentment. Rage.

He had a better idea. John Gilbert would need the ring after what he had done to Damon.

Didn't mean it would protect the man from just anything, did it? Furthermore, if the man wasn't wearing it, whack, no more pain in the ass.

Alaric dropped the ring seven to eight inches above the glass of wine. John didn't react, dumbfouded when reddish liquid splaterred his shirt.

Ric seized him by the collar, and pinned him against the wall easily. The man didn't react, frightened, when his glass met with the floor and shattered with a disturbing sound.

"I wonder... How much did Isobel tell you about me?"

The teacher was in no mood to be a good man. There was this much a man could withstand.

Alaric could deal with the supernatural. He could deal with his wife being an undead bitch, with his best friend being a vampire, with his step-daughter / whatever being an ingredient in an ancient ritual, but no one was allowed to add anything to the mixture.

John certainly wasn't allowed to blast his relationship with Jenna.

The teacher squeezed more fiercely at the man's throat, then released him just so he could catch his breath and answer.

"How wonderful you were, and you can't imagine how much I envied you. But guess what? You weren't so special, after all. Faking her death! That's one way to show how little she truly cared for you! But, I don't know, you seem to be a pretty violent man... Maybe that's why she left?"

Mister was going to be a douchebag? Really? Not that great. After all, Ric could do worse.

He didn't have to. As soon as he began reaffirming his grip, John let panic take over.

"Wait-wait-wait... She said nothing else, I promise!"

The hunter released John, and took a step back.

Gilbert-jackass brought his hands to his neck, breathless.

"You're crazy..."

Alaric let a pernicious, creepy smile invade his face.

"There is one more thing she didn't tell you about me, but she definitely knew, since she left me a clue in her office, at Duke."

He reached out for a kitchen knife that had caught John's eye.

"There isn't a soul in my father's family that has never taken a life."

Well, the kids hadn't, but they would one day, so, all the same.

"We're very gifted when it comes to killing, and, as much as I don't like it, I can assure you it's pretty useful sometimes. Ruthless vampires, conceited werewolves, problematic witches, it isn't simple to keep up with all that. Being merciless, relentless, remorseless helps a lot."

The hunter planted the knife in the wood of some kitchen furniture and walked away.

If that wasn't enough of a threat, he didn't know what to do next.

Well, for now, it was time to go and sleep.

Sleeping didn't exactly turn out to be relaxing. Alaric spend half of his night tossing and turning, his shoulder aching like hell to the point where he was seriously considering amputation, with a knife if he had to, or even a chainsaw for what it mattered. But around two a.m., the pain slowly became less unbearable, and when he woke up in the morning, everything was alright.

He was sore, sure, but it didn't hurt anymore. And the swollen skin around his scar was only a bit red. Ric wouldn't complain about that.

The day went by slowly.

In the evening, he met with Damon, who was upset as hell. The arrival of Elena a little later explained it all.

It was the-vampiric-version-of-Elena-that-wasn't-Elena. In other words, Katherine.

How she got out of the Tomb, why she was helping, what were her intentions, no idea, but his best friend could certainly explain that later. Because things got a little out of hand when an angry warlock walked into the Grill. Explosions, flashes, wounded people.

Nothing really out of the ordinary. Except that Damon was staring at him. Ric frowned.

"Do I have something on my face?"

The vampire chuckled.

"No you don't. But there are things we need to talk about."

And he handed the teacher the very book he had stolen from him.

Ric took it. He should have known the day would come.

A bookmark had been placed between the pages. As the hunter expected, Falkenbachs chapter.

He sighed.

"Not her..."

Damon interrupted him, an angry look on his face.

"Don't you dare add not now to what you've been saying."

"I won't. But we need to get out of here first. I don't want anyone to hear what has nothing to do with them. It's all about me, my family, my problem. And you're the only one I'll tell, you got it?"

The vampire snorted. The children had enough problems of their own, for sure.

"Great. So, let's go somewhere else, because I'm fed up with people never choosing me over anyone else."

What he meant by that was so obvious, the tone he used was so bitter, the way he looked at bystanders as if they were making fun of him, and heaven knew what happened when Damon was tense, that Alaric thought things were going to go wrong again if he didn't stop his friend from tearing into someone neck just because of one askance look. Frustation wasn't Damon's thing.

"Stop it already, Damon! You almost died yesterday. You should be angry at Katherine, not at your brother. The fact that she was confined in the Tomb is no excuse. The late ones can be blamed, the sick ones can be blamed, the punished ones can be blamed. The guilty ones must be blamed. You have every rights to feel murderous. You don't have to murder anyone, you can't murder anyone, you won't murder anyone. But you will be angry. You have to be angry, because that is what makes you human."

"You realize I'm a vampire, don't you, Ric?"

There was so much sarcasm in his voice that the teacher began to wonder if there wasn't something else bothering the vampire. He'd find out later.

"Every vampire is human, even if he isn't a human being anymore. Even your humanity switch is not enough to turn off your humanity. It only buries it deep in your heart. You solely refuse to listen to it, in a way that is way more efficient than any human trick. You still accept every negative feelings. No one can enjoy cruelty without humanity. Each monster that ever walked this Earth came from the darkest parts of the human heart."

"You seem to know a lot about that."

Alaric ignored him, and went on talking.

"You still have feelings, it's just that you don't care about them... until the day the door to your mind breaks from too much pounding."

But so much suffering could be seen ravaging his face that Damon knew what he had said was a mistake. The hunter was talking about vampires, and yet he wasn't.

"Ric..."

"Being truly inhumane can only be achieved by those that weren't really human to begin with."

Alaric was talking about himself. About his family. Those who knew no guilt in killing. Those who knew no feeling in killing. Not any kind of feeling. And many, many feelings about everything else.

Alaric stormed out of the Grill and Damon realized he had once again missed the opportunity for each of them to come clean, at least about some things. Damn.