Damon, you're so cute... erm, sexy, I meant.


Each a monster, part 3: Slightly sorry smile

The blue Camaro stopped on the side of the road, in front of a suburban house with light brown walls and neatly trimmed lawn. The street was silent, a bit too silent, even, but it wasn't all that surprising. It was early in the morning, so most children were surely sleeping, and adults didn't make so much noise in this kind of neighborhoods.

Damon smirked as he got out of his car. Everything here screamed of blatant normality and boring lives. He'd never have guessed a man with abnormal abilities in killing would live in such a place.

For a second, he wondered if he hadn't got the address wrong.

But no, the name on the mailbox was really Saltzman.

Edward and Diane Saltzman.

The vampire went for the front door, but when he saw the doorbell button, he froze.

Was he really going to meet Alaric's parents? Like, right now? Alaric's parents? The two very people in the whole world who could say something about his yet non-existent relationship with Ric and who were pretty likely not to approve of them if they knew what he really was?

Damon forced himself to stop fidgetting and reached for the doorbell.

The doomed sound of his own judgment day gave him the chills. It was like he couldn't hear anything else in the world than what was going on in Alaric's childhood home at that exact time.

Nothing, really, nothing else mattered.

A woman, probably Ric's mother, said something, and the vampire heard footsteps coming.

The door opened, and Damon stiffened.

The woman was definitely charming, if not downright beautiful. In her early fifties, she seemed really nice, and Ric's hair was definitely hers. Her large brown eyes were dotted with what looked like orange sparkles, and a lot of sweetness. Her smile widened when her gaze met his, though Damon had no idea why.

"Are you looking for someone who lives around here, young man?"

The vampire didn't answer, too mesmerized with the sound of her voice, feminine, soft, peaceful, yet a lot like the hunter's, calming, confident, protective. When he heard that voice, so close and yet so different from Alaric's, his heart missed a beat. Every single one of his certitudes collapsed. Not that he had so many certitudes, but... He had been so sure he could hold on until he would find Ric.

Now... he couldn't even speak properly.

"Erm... I'm... for Ric. He said he... home."

Diane Saltzman frowned, but she didn't seem bothered by his uncalled for stuttering.

"Alaric is coming home? Funny, that, no one told me anything. I guess he's not here yet."

"Then, maybe I should come back later. Thank you, Mrs. Sal..."

"Oh, no, come in, come in. You came all the way here to see my son, and he's not even here to greet you. I shall at least offer you something to drink. And please, call me Diane."

Damon hesitated, but decided to do so.

It hadn't been his intention to be invited in, but since he had been, he couldn't change anything about that. He figured it would be a bit rude to bluntly reject the invitation when Ric' mother was being so nice and he had already disturbed her morning, so...

And it wasn't as if he would ever dare to think to drain Alaric Saltzman's mother, so coming in wasn't dangerous for anyone.

Damon tried to imagine what the hunter would do to him if he ended up killing his mother. The ideas that which to his mind were definitely not made for him to try. What reasons would he have to do that, anyway?

"What do you want to drink? Or..."

Diane looked at him. The poor young lad seemed really tired. Had he been driving all night?

"Maybe I could get you something to eat. After what, you'd get some sleep in the guest room. You seem exhausted."

Damon wasn't going to say it was due to a werewolf bite, but yes, he wasn't feeling as well as he should have. Maybe Elena was right, maybe it hadn't ended yet.

But he was right too. Even if there were side effects, none of them could do anything about it, so he might as well search for Ric. The only thing was that he hoped he wasn't going to go rabid once more and try to murder Alaric's parents.

It wouldn't be the best first meeting ever if he did, and the hunter would surely hunt him down up till the end of his life. Or the end of Damon's life, for the two of them were tremendously dangerous, if not in the same way.

"A glass of water, then. But I might take your offer to sleep a moment."

"A glass of water it is. My husband will surely return before noon, maybe he will be able to tell us something about Alaric. Most of the Saltzmans have been called by the head of the family, in fact."

"The head of the family?"

So the Saltzmans were this kind of powerful family.

Yes, it made sense, with what Ric had told him.

Diane came back with a glass of water, and gave it to him before answering.

"I guess Ric didn't say anything about his father's family?"

Damon shrugged, swallowing his drink cautiously.

Everything about this place was making him feel more aware of himself, as if he was seeing a part of Ric that he wasn't supposed to see. Not yet, at least. The pictures on the walls, the silence in the house, Diane's slightly sorry smile, it all had a hint of Alaric, though he hadn't lived here for years.

"He talked little about them, but he actually said one or two things to me."

As he said that, he realized how big a new it was.

Alaric had actually talked about his little family problem with someone else. He hadn't even told Isobel. And even if Diane couldn't know what he had told him exactly, even if she had no idea that the hunter had given away his true nature to Damon, it was obvious she would figure out Alaric had been strangely honest with him.

The vampire finished his drink, and stood up.

"I might need a few hours of sleep, actually. Your offer still stands?"

He tried to ignore the calculating look that had invaded the woman's features as she walked him upstairs. He really ought to be a bit more careful with his words.

"It's Alaric's old room. The window in the guest room has been broken with a rock, surely some teenagers, yesterday, and we're waiting for someone to fix it. Sorry for that."

Damon gulped as soon as Diane was back in the kitchen, downstairs, where she couldn't see him.

Had she decided to let him sleep in Ric's room on purpose? Was the window in the other room really broken? Diane had no reason to test him that way, but still, Damon was freaked out. Maybe she had her suspicions. Maybe she knew there was something between her son and the stranger that hadn't been told. Maybe she...

As if.

The vampire was definitely growing paranoid, if he seriously thought that someone as kind as Diane Saltzman would deceive him and lead him into some kind of trap because she might have a doubt about him. And, really, what kind of trap could you come up with in a bedroom?

Damon eyed the grey lampshade hanging from the ceiling, upon the bed, as if it was going to fall on him during his sleep.

Then he sat, alone, on the bed.

Alaric's bedroom.

The room had been cleared of almost any personal belongings when Alaric had moved out of town, but there were three boxes left on the shelf next to the window, and a few books as well.

Damon wouldn't remember how it happened, but what he knew, was that he woke up nearly two hours later, snuggled into the sheets that weren't even Ric's, since the hunter had left the house years before.

He hastily got on his feet and made the bed, a little bit embarassed, hoping Diane hadn't come to see how he was doing while he was asleep.

And then he didn't know what to do anymore. Even if it seemed the right thing to do, he wouldn't go down and look for Ric's mother, too ashamed to face her. He wasn't going to sit back on the bed, only staring at it was already this awkward. So he stayed still, standing in the middle of the room.

After two or three minutes, however, his eyes wandered through the furnitures, and he found himself glaring at a cardboard box that wasn't correctly closed. Why was he glaring, he didn't know, but he felt like this was important. Maybe he had developed a sixth sense concerning any alaricish issue. Which was, obviously, the dumbest thing he had ever thought of.

It took him exactly twenty-two seconds to decide that he absolutely needed to see what was in the box. With some luck, it would be pictures of Ric as a child. Or even notes about some school classes written by Alaric, he didn't really care as long as it was something related to the hunter.

Here he was, acting like a stalker once again.

Maybe he was one, he thought as he listened to Diane's humming on the ground floor. No danger this way, he could stalk Alaric's shadow around without feeling guilty or fearing that his mother would walk in and see... Damon acting like a stalker of some sort.

So, no danger for now.

The vampire opened the box.

He was a bit disappointed to see it was full of letters, none of them with Ric's handwritting. Which was pretty logical, after all, the one who sent a letter was not likely to be the one who received it.

Damon had to give in and acknowledge it: love was making him stupid.

He took a letter at random and read it.

It wasn't quite what he had expected.

Not that he had expected anything in particular.

But still.

We know you did it.

Killer.

Why would you be hiding at your house if it wasn't you, Saltzman?

You sick killer.

Don't ever come to school again.

Damon stopped reading after the tenth one.

He guessed it was from the time after the killing at the bank.

Anger rose in his heart, a sharp feeling, similar to hatred and yet more visceral, something almost feral, actually, as he thought of everything Ric had had to go through. The vampire clenched his fists, the letter in his left hand rustled as he crushed it, and his knuckles went white.

He had this sudden urge to find out whoever had written these letters and tear them apart, one after another. They'd see what a real monster was.

Damon took a deep breath.

He couldn't do that.

The vampire was putting the letters back in order when he saw one that had never been opened. Curious, and at the same time afraid of what he would read in it, he decided it was worth it. At least, if it succeeded in making him angrier than ever, he would forget about his falling asleep and snuggling the bed sheets.

A sad smile took over his face. Why had Alaric never opened this letter?

It would make anyone feel better, and yet it was so simple. Earnest, too.

We understand that you won't tell us your name, but thank you. Thank you very much, for saving our child from that monster. Whatever people will say about you killing him, you know there are at least three people in this world who will never wish that you never did it. If you hadn't, our only child would be dead. We can only thank you this much.

The front door opened, and Damon heard the voice of a man coming in. He put the box back on the shelf, but kept the letter. Alaric needed to see this.

Diane called for him, so he rushed – at human speed – downstairs.

The man was definitely Ric's father. Tall enough, ash blond hair, bleu eyes, past fifty years old but in great health, totally able to fight against anyone who'd go after him, and they had the same jaw.

The vampire banished the thought that they also had the same neck from his mind.

"Edward Saltzman. I believe you're here for my son?"

There was something alarming in his gaze, as if he knew something that wouldn't make any of them happy.