Well, if any of you still had doubts, yes, I am the worst.


Obviously, to be continued.

In something like... one or two months. 'cause I have exams in less than a month, and I still need to think how the next part will play out exactly. Bye ~~~


Or, obviously not.


Adjusting to our reality, part 32: It wasn't his wish

Slow, way too slow.

He was going way too slowly.

Damon might have considered it funny, how a vampire who was supposed to be able to run miles in a heartbeat, wasn't able to walk straight after a tiny werewolf bite. He might have, if only Alaric hadn't said he would leave town soon. If only their relationship wasn't coming to an end right after it had begun, because he had been dying, but was no more. If only his time to get to his newly acquire boyfriend wasn't running out as he was wasting time trying to put one foot in the right direction, then doing it again with the other foot.

The cure.

It was real.

Sure, Damon was still feeling dizzy.

Hell, the world was even spinning around him.

But he was alive, and getting better by the minute.

He and Alaric could be together. Both of them were alive, both of them wanted the other one to be with him, both of them loved the other one. They could spend their life together.

Maybe more than one, actually.

Damon shook his head. This talk would have to wait.

What mattered, for now, was to stop Alaric from leaving.

The vampire tripped down, and felt the ground against his nose and cheeks without being able to get back on his feet. The concrete was cold, the road was hard, and he was certain a car could come any moment and crush his head.

Head crushed, no more Damon.

Would be ironic, to die from dizziness and a car accident after surviving the werewolf's poison.

And no fun at all.

The vampire crawled as he could to the pavement, and finally managed to sit up. But he still couldn't walk, and was aware of it. So he waited.

As his mind was becoming clearer, he remembered what Katherine had told him, that he hadn't understood at first. Stefan had sold himself to Klaus to get the cure. And had gone back to his ripper state. Which wasn't a good new.

How came his little brother was always doing what he shouldn't in order to save Damon's life?

Why was everyone hating him, and still doing so that he'd stay around and screw someone's life?

He had to get Stefan back. If not for him, at least for Elena.

And for that, he needed to get Ric back.

Everything would be alright, if Alaric was with him. He would be alright, Stefan would be alright, the kids would be alright. Damon only needed the teacher back, and it would do.

It wasn't easy, but Damon stood up again, and walked to the Mystic Grill. He could do it. He could be in time to stop Ric from leaving everything behind. Or...

...Or he could call him.

Right. Why hadn't he had the idea before? Being dizzy was making him stupid, apparently.

The vampire messily searched for his cellphone, hoping he hadn't left it at home.

There it was. Now, Ric's number. Right here. Calling...

Sitting at the Grill, a suitcase waiting next to him, not much, really, because he could get someone to go and ask for his belongings later, Alaric was drinking his last glass of the town's rotgut, since he was in no mood to have anything nice, when his cellphone buzzed.

He considered ignoring it, but still took a look.

The hunter gnashed his teeth when he saw who was the caller.

It wasn't fun. At all.

And even if it wasn't a prank call, what good would it do if he picked it up?

Hello, Alaric, it's Stefan / Elena / anybody-else-he-really-couldn't-care-much. Just wanted to tell you that... Well, you guessed already, I suppose, but Damon's dead. Sorry to ruin your life once more, and bye, I hope to see you in class next week.

Or maybe this:

Ric, I'm so sorry, but Jeremy died too.

The teacher winced so hard it hurt. Never before a wince had hurt. He hadn't even known it could.

So he left the phone to ring as much as it wanted, and gulped the last sip of terrible alcohol.

A moment before he stood up and left, someone sat down on the bar stool next to him.

The hunter tensed.

"Alaric."

A tear fell from his left eye directly in his glass.

How could he have even though it would be him?

Damon was dead, dead, or as good as dead. As everyone else. As Jenna. As Isobel. And as a lot of other people he had forgotten, and as a lot of other people he didn't want to think about right now.

When he turned to face the woman who had called his name, the woman he certainly knew, he still had the trail of the tear on his face, but that was all. Maybe he looked a bit tired. But he didn't look sad, grieving or anything.

"Cassandre had warned me you would come for me, Landyn. But I didn't believe you would be here in person."

His aunt was as incredible as ever.

She wasn't exactly beautiful. She wasn't wearing anything flashy. She wasn't tall, she wasn't short either. You could have said she was average. But she clearly wasn't.

Landyn Saltzman wasn't a dashing woman. Still, she was beautiful. Every single thing, in its rightful place. Nose. Eyes. Forehead. Lips. Jaw. Neck. In fact, there was nothing beautiful about her, except her whole being. Just what was needed not to be noticed so much as to fail an assassination. Freaking Saltzmans.

As always, she was wearing clothes that surely cost an arm and a leg, but weren't so eye-catching.

It wasn't surprising. They were all this way, at the main house.

Alaric frowned. She wasn't alone. He glanced behind her, and sighed.

"And you took Andrea and Othaniel with you. Worried I might not want to go home?"

The two youngsters were Landyn's children, and, unlike their elder sister, they had chosen to stay at the main house, even once responsible adults. As far as Ric was concerned, that made them the exact opposite of responsible adults.

"I know you don't want to come back, and, as much as I'm not pleased with your decision, I intended to respect it. But the police is suddenly interrested in us, and that is not safe for any of us."

"Surely there is a reason for them to dig into our darkest secrets?"

"Frederic is in jail."

Frederic? That was unexpected. He had always been one of the nicest Saltzmans. He would never have chosen to stay with the family. Alaric wasn't even aware that he had already killed someone.

"He was traveling, and was attacked by a mugger in Turkey. He fought back, and guess what happened..."

The teacher could very well imagine. A dead mugger, in a dangerous place. Story of their lifes.

"The seal?"

Landyn stiffened, and looked at him with wary eyes.

"I'm talking about the scar. You know, the thing that prevent us from becoming soulless killers?"

"We managed. But how do you know it's a seal?"

So she had known. For years, probably. And she didn't want the others to know, as she had talked very low – not that he cared. He surely didn't know half of the family secrets.

"Let's say I've met all kinds of people lately. And there's surely more to it than Frederic's arrest. I can't do anything about it, and I heard you've already sent people to take care of it."

The trip to Italy that his father and uncle had gone on lately was proof enough. Italy wasn't Turkey, but it was the country where Frederic's father, their cousin, lived since twenty years already.

Landyn lowered her voice while answering. Their family business wasn't exactly something you could talk about lightly at a bar counter.

"A copycat is using Theodoric's modus operandi all over the world."

"Which one?"

"Mobile Maker."

Great. The bloodiest one.

"I guess you want me to investigate?"

"And to erase him."

And to erase him. Of course. Erasing. If ever he decided to change his line of work to become a killer, he'd call himself the Eraser. It would be hilarious.

A door slammed. Ric didn't pay it any attention.

"I won't take 'no' as an answer."

Landyn. Always so imperious. Almost sixty. Still dangerous as hell.

Never mind. Alaric had no reason to stay in Mystic Falls. His life had already been shattered.

"And I will comply. The woman I love died yesterday, and the man I might be in love with will die before the morning. Maybe it is time for me to go."

Landyn said nothing about him loving a man. When you were part of a centuries-old family of killers, you didn't stop to bother about such details as sexual orientation. Nothing could be worse than killing without feelings. They all knew that. No one cared about who they loved, as long as the lover wasn't a threat to the family. Ric snorted. Damon, a threat upon a family of killers? Hilarious.

He stood up, paid for his drinks, and took his suitcase.

"Shall we go? I don't really care about anything right now, so you might as well want to take the opportunity to lecture me about my decision to stay away from our damned family..."

"You were one of the best, Alaric. You could have done so much. Yet you chose not to. How can I overlook that?"

The hunter rolled his eyes. Yes, he had been one of the best. He still was.

And she knew it. Not only his mind hadn't changed at all during those years he had been away, but he had obviously gone back to training. This much musculature, this much strength, couldn't be due to a daily, normal life. She said nothing. Both of them knew something had happened, when Isobel had gone missing. They knew he had gone back to the family legacy. She didn't know who he had been killing – or what exactly – but she knew he wasn't any different from the other Saltzmans.

A killer in a bunch of killers, basically.

When they finally left, Alaric met Galswinthe's eyes. Their ancestor had heard everything, sitting in a corner of the Mystic Grill. She was obviously sad.

Not long after, Damon entered the Grill, searching for Alaric.

Elena, Jeremy, the other kids were all here.

The girl looked at him with wide eyes, and even hugged him, which was unheard of. She was so glad he was alive. Even Caroline looked a bit relieved. But Ric wasn't here.

And he wasn't the only one to have noticed. Elena, when she let go of him, looked around.

"Somebody knows where Ric is?"

Damon tensed. A hand touched his shoulder.

He turned around. Saw Gal. Shooed the kids away.

The older vampire ordered them a drink. She wanted to talk to him, and asked him not to interrupt.

"I understand things have evolved between you two? It's good, really. A Falkenbach knows nothing about death, they're immune to it. It also means they can't mourn or grieve. He won't ever be all right if he's alone, now that his girlfriend is dead. It was already the same with Isobel. So, you only can help him. Alaric needs you. Now. But he believes you are dead. And he went back to Boston. He went back to the family. You have to get him back, if you really love him."

Damon understood what it meant. Ric was gone. And...

He tried to call the teacher once more. Grew pale when a cellphone buzzed next to them, on the bar counter. Left behind by a man who wanted to get rid of his life.

Somewhere else, Landyn, two of her children and Alaric were silently looking at a grave.

"It smells like burnt flesh."

"Isobel burned alive here, not long ago, that's why."

No one said anything.

Now that he had come here, the hunter could leave. It wasn't his wish. But he needed to.