2x20 and 2x21
Jenna... If I could have saved her life, I'd have done it. But it simply doesn't fit. I believe in her and Alaric as much as I believe in Dalaric. I don't want to break her heart.
One day, I'll find a way to make it work. One day, I'll write something where she stays alive.
But for now, I have no idea about how I can do that.
Rest in peace, Jenna.
Adjusting to our reality, part 28: Does he know?
Alaric was observing Damon, but his mind was occupied by something else. That is, he was thinking about the vampire, alright, but he wasn't noticing his stare was intriguing the said vampire.
"Ric, may you stop staring at me like that? It's making me feel uncomfortable."
The teacher blinked, obviously not aware he had been staring.
"Sorry, man. I was thinking about... stuff."
Such as, the fact that the vampire was keeping a bloodied coat in his bed. Ric's bloodied coat. His coat, with his blood on it.
It was ridiculous.
The only explanation Ric could think of was ridiculous.
And yet it explained many things. Damon's demeanor had been slightly off, lately, but not so much, so the hunter hadn't noticed. Damon avoiding him. Damon opening his heart to him. The tears on his face when Alaric had died. Damon's sudden honesty. Damon forcing Elena to drink his blood in a fit of anger after Jenna had accepted the teacher as he was.
Still, it was ridiculous. Alaric wouldn't have thought he was so self-centered as to think his best friend could possibly be... be... to think his best friend could be in love with him.
Yet the thought wouldn't leave him alone.
And it was disturbing him to the point that he felt guilty, even though he most likely was imagining things. Guilty, sad, even.
If Damon really loved him – which was pretty certainly a stupid and unfounded hypothesis – Alaric would never be able to respond to the vampire's feelings.
It wasn't about Damon being a vampire. It wasn't about Damon being the one he had come to Mystic Falls to kill in the first place. It wasn't about him not loving Damon back.
It was simply... not it.
Ric asked for a drink to the bartender, taking his eyes off Damon.
Whatever the feelings the vampire could or couldn't have for him, the hunter loved Jenna.
Her accepting him as he was had been such a relief. He seriously hoped it wasn't only the tension of the last events that had led her to be more receptive. Maybe once everything would be finished, she'd think about it again. Maybe Jenna wouldn't want to live with a freaking natural born killer.
With Damon, at least, it would never be a problem.
Alaric took a sip of bourbon. He loved Jenna, that he was sure of.
But he wasn't certain that he didn't love Damon too.
Ric had never been interested in men. He wasn't against it, but he simply had never thought about a man the way he was currently thinking about his best friend. You love who you love, was what he had always believed. It being a man or a woman, you being a man or a woman, didn't matter. For now, Alaric had only loved women. Damon wasn't a woman. And here he was, thinking about him.
That was unexpected.
Once Gal had told him he was kind of incredible when it came to loving someone. That he was something of a love-extremist. He had laughed. But he knew she was right. He could do just about anything for the sake of love. He had become a freaking vampire hunter for Isobel, he had given up on his promise not to kill ever again, for her. And, as long as he loved someone, he would never consider switching to somebody else.
The women he had loved weren't many. Maybe because he wasn't able to ever be unfaithful unless he didn't love them anymore, or they were dead. For now, he loved Jenna, and she was alive. He could never truly think about his friend this way as long as things stayed as they were.
And, to be honest, the thought of Damon loving him was so ridiculous he must have been delirious when it had come to his mind.
He'd better stop thinking about it.
Damon said something about how much of an idiot he had been, for doing what he had done. And a voice Ric would recognize anywhere, anytime, was heard behind them.
The hunter stiffened, listening to the voice of the man who had been reading a book in his loft this very morning. He understood threats were being made, but really couldn't grasp what was said.
When the Original who had stolen his body left, he clenched his hand so hard the glass he was holding broke into pieces. Glass splinters broke through his skin, others fell on the bar counter with a crystalline sound, and blood was jumbled with alcohol.
Damon looked at his wound with something like fear in his eyes, and hurried him to open his hand, as Ric wasn't moving at all despite the pain. The vampire winced when he saw glass sticking out of his palm and fingers, and tried to get them out.
"It will hurt a bit."
It was all he could say.
Because right now, the only thing Damon wanted to do was to get those splinters out of the teacher's flesh, and then, to lick the blood until there would be no more. He wanted to put his lips on Alaric's skin, to kiss it dry, to drink every drop of blood that could be stolen from the wound. He was eager to have his tongue running on the fingers, to soothe the pain with his mouth, to show the world how much he loved this man.
How much he desired Alaric, and not only his blood.
If he could kiss him until his lips were unable to sense anything else, Damon would be content. But he knew he couldn't.
When the hunter's hand was freed from the splinters, although not from the wound, the vampire couldn't resist taking his own – now bloody – fingers to his lips, thinking Ric wasn't looking at him.
The face the vampire made when he tasted his blood – discreetly, truth be told, but not discreetly enough for Alaric not to see – was enough of a giveaway.
Ric should have been angry that his best friend was using his wound as a means to take a snack, but he couldn't. Damon didn't seem happy at all while tasting his blood. He seemed lost, about to cry, hurt, desperate. He didn't seem content, pleased with himself, or amused.
The vampire's face was that of a man in love who could only try to touch what had been touched by his beloved, to breathe the air that had been breathed by the one he loves.
As ridiculous as it sounded, Damon Salvatore was enthralled by him.
Or if he wasn't, then someone should write a book about his ways of expressing feelings, because they were totally unheard of.
When Alaric turned his head to look openly at Damon, all evidences of love had disappeared.
The teacher paid for the broken glass and for his drink, and the bartender searched for band aids to give him. It wasn't the first time customers had trouble with shattered glass. Though, usually, it was someone breaking a bottle on someone else's head, or simply a glass falling to the ground, and not someone destroying their glass with sheer strength.
"Maybe we should pay a visit to your apartment."
Ric nodded.
He knew he couldn't talk about it when he wasn't able to give a positive answer to Damon. This, this love, this situation, this relationship, they couldn't talk about it. If they did, it'd destroy everything.
Not because they wouldn't be able to stay friends afterwards. Alaric and Damon weren't so selfish as to think the other had any choice in what he felt. But for a simple reason, that he didn't want to make his friend suffer more than he already did.
Ric didn't know which action was the best, telling or not telling, asking or not asking, talking or not talking. Maybe it was worse to stay silent. But for now, he couldn't find the courage to risk it.
They walked to his loft, not saying a word, too preoccupied with their mistakes, their errors, too busy searching for what they had done wrong, about them, about others, about the events, about their whole lives. The hunter invited Damon in, wondering how Klaus had been able to withstand the treshold barrier once he had been back in his own body. Maybe it had something to do with the witches he had brought with him.
Then he left Damon alone with Katherine. As his friend said, it was better for him not to know what he was planning.
As soon as the hunter was gone, the doppelganger switched the theme of the conversation to what was bothering her the most, aside from her future filled with torture.
"Does he know?"
Damon snorted. Of course, he knew what she was talking about.
"Does he know what?"
"Does he know that you confessed to Klaus thinking he was him?"
As hell he was going to say to his best friend that he loved him and had accidentaly confessed to the guy who had been hijacking his body.
"Shut your mouth."
She made a your-choice,-your-funeral face, and went back to the main topic.
Damon had things to do. Rescuing Blondie, not being chewed upon by a werewolf – this one didn't exactly work out – telling Klaus he had, erm, done what he had been warned not to do – and that one didn't go well either.
When he woke up and understood what the Original had done to Jenna, the vampire thought he could as well kill himself right now, instead of waiting for the fatal hour to come. Eitherway, he had been bitten by a werewolf. He was dying. And because of that, Jenna would die too.
In the end, he had destroyed everything for Ric.
At least, when he'd be dead, he wouldn't have to dwell upon it anymore.
Or he hoped so, because if he had to, death would be hell.
Time passed, and Damon arrived to the house where the witches had been slaughtered.
His eyes met Alaric's, and he thought about all he had already lost. All they had already lost. Hope was only one of those things. Love wouldn't be the last.
When he left with Elijah and Bonnie, he felt bad for forcing the hunter to stay still, but he knew it was better for everyone. Or he wanted to believe it, maybe. After all, Alaric was a dangerous man. He wasn't to be taken lightly, not even for a vampire or a witch. Still, what could he do during a sacrifice? Not much. It was better if he stayed behind.
Ric was watching them from the main door, not saying a word. He didn't even try to go out.
When the vampire looked at him, frowning, he leaned against the doorpost.
"Don't be surprised, Damon. Did you really think I wouldn't feel it?"
The teacher gave the magic barrier that was keeping him, Jeremy and John from getting out a light tap, and used his other hand to hold onto his left shoulder. These last days, he had been exposed to way too much magic, and the seal reacted to almost even the lightest spell affecting him with a low and constant pain. With any luck, it would go back to its original state with a bit of rest.
But not for now. Now, he couldn't have missed even a tracking spell.
Then he went back in, and waited.
Time went by.
Damon called.
Jenna was dead.
Dead-dead, this time.
Alaric stood up, and went to see Jeremy.
He told him.
The teenager cried, and Alaric stayed for some time.
The spell was lifted, and Ric searched for a motel. He clearly couldn't go home, and wasn't in the mood to stay at Damon's, as he had been invited to do.
He sat on the bed. He wasn't in the mood to sleep either.
Isobel was dead. Before that, she had left him to become a vampire, faking her death. Then she had been a bitch, trying to act as if she had no humanity left. The switch, right. The vampire switch was bullshit. If not, she wouldn't have been jealous of Jenna.
Jenna was dead. She had accepted him for what he was, a freaking cursed man, and then she had died. Twice in a few hours. Each time, he hadn't been there for her.
"Elena lives. It's better than nothing, I guess."
Better than nothing.
But maybe, if everybody died, it would be better. At least, there would be no more reason to be worried. Everyone, dead. The End.
He fell asleep.
