One world apart, part 20: Echoes
When the two finally decided it was more than an emergency to stop playing around, and go in search of Silas, Damon still had some difficulties standing. Or, more accurately, he could stand just fine, but the world was still a bit wibbly wobbly around him, and it impeded his capacity to defend himself. It didn't prevent him from standing on his own feet, though. It wasn't all that bad...
If someone asked, it was totally because of the vervain, and certainly not because of some previous, erm, amorous activities. Nothing of the sort could make Damon feel weak in the knees. Nothing!
Of course, the vervain was a big part of the problem. But let it not be said that it wasn't the only reason to the problem. The vampire forbade it, and his boyfriend simply rolled his eyes. Sometimes, not bothering to argue with Damon was just the easiest choice.
Though, against a guy who couldn't die and could make perfect illusions out of his magic, being able to defend oneself or not might not matter so much.
They were screwed anyway.
But, on the bright side, it wasn't the first time the residents of Mystic Falls thought they were screwed, and look at them! They were still here! Alive!
...Well, mostly alive.
"Alright, buddy, let's go and hunt an Immortal!"
Damon staggered a bit, but bravely decided to ignore his passing weakness. Damon Salvatore was never weak, and that was it. Even when he was, he wasn't. Why? Because he had decided so, duh!
Alaric watched the vampire with vague amusement. When it became obvious that no matter what the idiot said, there was definitely something weakening him, possibly the residual vervain from that previous shot, the ghost decided there was no point waiting for his boyfriend to stop his denial.
Ric bit directly into his own wrist, and joined Damon with two long strides.
The vampire was about to ask why it smelled of blood, all of a sudden, but he was yanked backwards before the words could leave his mouth. His ice-colored eyes grew wide for an instant.
But he didn't fall on the floor. Instead, the back of his head bumped lightly against something – no, someone's chest. Also, an arm kind of... slithered? – to his own chest, before pulling him into some sort of strange... hug?
And then he felt the warm feeling of blood on his lips.
Damon wasn't sure as to what was happening exactly, but he found that he didn't care right now. Weakened as he was – that is, not so much, but just enough for him to feel it nonetheless – even a few drops of blood could make him feel better. His lips moved on their own, and before he knew it, his tongue was licking the already-closing wound dry, searching for the smallest amount of blood.
Warm, warm blood.
Blood that he knew. Blood that he had already tasted in the past. Blood that he had already savoured once upon a time.
And still, not exactly the same blood as that first time. Not as... human, as before. Different. Warm, but colder yet, than before. Pleasant, nonetheless.
When he was certain there was nothing left for him to suck – or, at least, nothing of that particular nature for him to suck – the vampire tilted his head backwards, just a little, just enough.
Enough to see the blue of Alaric's eyes looking back at him. Enough to see a soft, yet amused, smile on the ghost's lips. Enough to say the hunter had appreciated it at least as much as he himself had.
"You're feeling better?"
Well, now that Ric mentioned it...
Damon squinted at the ghost, taking in the found-again neatness of the world. He certainly had no issue staring at the few and pale lashes of his lover.
"Totally. But, won't you sharing your blood just now worsen your own thirst? I don't think you took the time to feed on the way, and you certainly didn't take anything since the day you... You know."
"Still a ghost, Damon. I don't have needs, even if I can eat or drink again, now that I am corporeal. So it's in everyone's interest that I give you some of my blood. Because I wouldn't appreciate it if you got yourself killed by Silas."
An awkward silence succeeded that statement. There was no need to point out that Damon could still be killed, that at some point the Veil would be back in place and Ric would disappear off this realm once again, and that they were going after a very powerful monster. There was no need, as always, to point out their respective weaknesses. They knew them too well as it was. They had been confronted to these weaknesses too many times. Taunted with them. Hurt by them.
And sometimes, killed by them.
They weren't going to forget them anytime soon.
When they reached the caves under the high school, the ghost thought of splitting up, but Damon snatched his left arm, not keen on letting Alaric out of his sight.
"Damon, I don't think this will be the most efficient way to..."
"'Don't care. Besides, that way you can protect me from the Wicked Witch of the West. You are kind of indestructible, and you can't die as you're already deader than dead. It's not my case, if you'll remember, so stick with me."
Ric didn't find it in him to protest much more, only letting out a weak "But..." which didn't get him anywhere, in the end.
So instead of splitting up, the two stayed together as they walked in the dimly lit caves. Alaric still wasn't sure why they hadn't been sealed off, at least on the side of the school, because, really, who knew what could happen down here to an adventurous teenager who didn't know better than to explore the possibly-secret-awesome-bat-cave under their high school? But well, here they were, and here they shall remain – though hopefully not for too long – until they found the Immortal Bastard. And hopefully too, they wouldn't only "find" him, but also "deal" with him. Like, definitely. For real. And... Well, you know, it was all hope, but still.
Bonnie surely had a plan, when she had decided to get rid of the Veil. She certainly hadn't done it only for the fun of the thing, right? Nor was she likely to have done it to please Silas, either. So it only let two options: the young witch had a plan... or she was desperate.
And they were all screwed.
Why did that thought seem disturbingly familiar, again?
Eventually the two vampires – even if, once again, one was technically both ghost and vampire at the moment, wait, did that make him an hybrid of some sort, at least for the time he was corporeal? – anyway, the two heard the echoes of voices.
They shared a worried glance, and hurried on.
What they found when they reached the two voices was totally not unsettling... Right, who were they kidding? It was so perturbing Damon almost lost it for a second and didn't realize right away who the handsome devil – no, wait – the fake Alaric strangling his brother before Elena and Bonnie's eyes was.
Ric, on the other, didn't falter at all. Being a Falkenbach had its perks, once in a while. Those simply didn't balance out the drawbacks for them to even be considered, most of the time.
But here, right now, it was a good thing.
The hunter was simply cool-headed, despite the scene he was now witnessing.
Stefan's head finally snapped, and the vampire's body collapsed to the ground. Fake-Alaric's eyes turned away from Elena as he spotted the shocked expression on the two girls' faces. Identical blue eyes met each others, but the two Rics didn't react in the same way at all.
If anything, Alaric stood more stiffly and his face looked sterner than ever, but he was still cool-headed. Preparing himself to move anytime, perhaps.
Fake-Alaric, on the other hand, seemed to reveal in the others' shock. He didn't grin or smirk as Klaus would have, but the lazy smile on his lips felt more sinister than before, and without really moving his borrowed features or anything, he still managed to look more dangerous...
To look more like Ric's alter-ego, the hunter realized.
So that was what Silas had been up to, these last minutes.
Impersonating him in his darkest hours, in the hope of making the girls believe that, perhaps, it wasn't Silas, but truly Evilaric, released by the dropping of the Veil, and ready to go back to his task. That there was no hope of any sort left, since in spite of dealing with the Immortal, they'd have to deal with the deranged Original too.
"Well, look who's joining this little party! Damon Salvatore and Alaric Saltzman! Only Caroline Forbes is missing at this point, but I suggest we don't wait for her. Especially since dear and sweet Caroline is currently busy cutting her hands off. We wouldn't want to disturb the girl, right?"
Immediately after that little speech, the Immortal made both Bonnie and Damon choke on nothing, just because he could. Just because he liked to prove his power over other people, especially those opposing him so fiercely.
Silas didn't target Elena, though, for a reason that was obvious to him only, and also because the young vampire seemed a bit worse off her fight with her doppelganger, and wouldn't be much help anyway.
And Silas didn't target Alaric, because he assumed, wrongly as it was, but he assumed nonetheless, that seeing himself hurting his friends after all that had happened with his psychopathic alter-ego would disturb the ghost enough as it was.
How wrong he was!
Certainly, Ric didn't like the fact that his friends were hurting, right now. It angered him, even.
But it being done with his face? He couldn't care less. He was a cursed man, and this little illusion was far from enough to make him lose view of the reality under the illusion. There was no way he could relate to what was happening, no way it could affect him as Silas thought it would, because he was a Falkenbach. Killing was his nature, his purpose, his truth in life. And fighting was the way to achieve killing, in this case. Nothing could impede his too-rational mind less than someone pretending to be him and more or less reneacting even something he felt truly guilty about.
That thing, right before him, that monster who had gone after those he cared for too many times, it wasn't him. It was Silas. It was the enemy. The appearance he had chosen to sport held no deeper meaning to the ghost's subconscious, and he could easily shut down the part of his concious that he usually used to ensure he was at least pretending to be normal – to react as a normal person would.
Silas was the Enemy, and that was enough. Him having Ric's looks at the moment would not hinder the hunter's capability to judge the situation.
It meant nothing to the cursed man.
Damon and Bonnie choking on the ground, on the other hand...
The ghost walked slowly, calmly to his fake-self, and stopped only a foot away from Silas. You could say that they were looking eye to eye, if not seeing so, on that matter.
As expressionless as usual, Ric's empty gaze drilled right into Silas'.
There was a moment of silence, before the ghost spoke, very matter-of-factly.
"Impressive. The inhumanity in the eyes, the dull emptiness of my soul is very convincing."
The Immortal was a bit taken aback by the words, but he couldn't manage to say anything at this point, because Alaric had gripped his throat so forcefully the ghost's fingers were now digging through the skin. Before Silas knew it, half his neck was being thrown away, against a wall, leaving him with only a gaping hole in his throat.
"But this inhumanity which is mine... It cannot be convinced of anything. It isn't humane enough to be convinced. Your trick is not enough."
Bonnie and Damon were back on their feet, shaking a bit. Silas' hold upon them had slipped away in the Immortal's surprise. Elena had grabbed Stefan's unmoving body, and taken her boyfriend out of physical harm's reach, if not magical. They watched and listened to Alaric's voice, to the coldness in his tone, and once again they were reminded of how dangerous he had been as a human, of how dangerous he had become as an enhanced Original vampire.
Maybe Silas was worse, but it wasn't him they feared at the moment.
Soon enough, the Immortal's throat was whole once again.
"Even so, you cannot kill me for all your strength, abomination."
And the form of Alaric Saltzman wavered into that of a slightly smaller person with black hair and ice-blue eyes. Damon felt himself tense at the sight, too vividly reminded of another time when...
Then Ric smiled a bit. A freezing smile, perhaps, but a smile nonetheless.
"Maybe I cannot. But Bonnie sure can incapacitate you, if I keep you occupied long enough."
Silas only managed to hide his face as he turned back into stone.
