You Again, You Forever

Chapter Four

This here now is just a short chapter, the introduction to the final part of Spike's and Damon's odyssey through the years. We've arrived in Mystic Fall's, it's 2011, and this is where the tricky part begins. I had to abandon canon in favour of a happy ending for the boys. And I don't do that lightly. But it couldn't be helped, so: Damon isn't really all that much in love with Elena, he's maybe a bit smitten. But nothing more. And Elena is happy with Stefan.

Also, the last chapters were set in Spike's territory (in the Angel/Buffy verse) and I threw Damon into the setting, writing mostly from his POV. So since we're now on Damon's home turf and Spike is thrown into an unfamiliar setting, this starts with his POV for a change. And it's completely AU after… uh, I don't really know. We're definitely still in Season Two, no Klaus yet, but Elijah made a big impression. So I guess this goes AU somewhere around 2x15 "The Dinner Party".

Mystic Falls 2011

The bright summer sun was just setting behind the endless trees lining the road when Spike reached the end of the woods. He rolled down the tinted window of his black car, no Desoto but a classic nevertheless, and watched the first stray buildings of the town come into view.

Then he passed something on his right that put an almost nostalgic smile onto his face. A big wooden sign reading "Enjoy your stay in Mystic Falls, founded in 1863" had been placed next to the road to announce the town's beginning. Wouldn't it be nice to simply run down the sign with his car, for old time's sake?

But then again… this wasn't Sunnydale, and besides, Spike hadn't come here with the same intentions he'd had when entering that particular town. Back then, in 1997, he'd come to Sunnydale to bag his third Slayer and to cause as much mayhem as possible.

Now things lay a bit differently.

This was Mystic Falls, very much your typical American small town, and not home of the Hellmouth hosting thousands of demons.

'Though of course I hope,' Spike thought with a smirk, 'that I'll find some vamps here after all. One in particular.'

Spike had no idea though how this particular vampire would react to seeing him again after seven years. If he were honest Spike had to admit to being a bit apprehensive. Damon had always been an unpredictable kind of guy and so Spike wasn't sure what to expect now that he was showing up on his doorstep.

Stunned shock? Furious anger? Thrilled happiness that, against all odds, he'd survived the battle in L.A.?

Not bloody likely.

Okay, maybe Damon would be the tiniest bit happy that Spike wasn't dead after all (even if he wouldn't show it). But when the first surprise had passed he'd most likely be raving mad about the fact that Spike had waited seven bloody years to let him know.

So, given the circumstances, Spike could expect a fist in his face followed by Damon's trademark sarcasm (and, worst case, a stake through his heart), right?

Damon would try to kill him on sight.

"Well, I can't blame him, can I?" Spike mused while steering his car through the streets. "That's what I would do as well if he'd suddenly show up, seven years after saying goodbye to it all with the most pathetic and not to mention hopelessly sappy letter that's ever been written. God, I hope he burned that sodding piece of crap on sight!"

Spike thought with shame back to the sentimental things he'd put into the letter. But, well, he'd been convinced he'd die that night and that these moments he'd had with Damon were to be his last. Ever. So, he'd had the right to feel a little bit sentimental back then, hadn't he? Anyone in his position would have felt the same.

Anyone but Damon, that is.

Spike couldn't imagine the self-assured vampire ever admitting anything like the things he'd voiced in his letter. Even if Damon had felt the same… and Spike couldn't even be sure about that, could he? All they'd ever shared had been sex – and blood. Feelings of any kind had never come into the mix.

Spike pulled out of his thoughts when the increasing traffic demanded all his attention. He'd entered the town's inner circle and had already passed several shops, cafes, two gas stations and even a movie theatre.

Those things hadn't been there before, back when he'd visited Mystic Falls for the first time. Of course they hadn't. In 1909 the town's centre had held only a handful of buildings scattered around a postal station and the city hall. The families had lived on large estates outside of town.

None of those impressive homes were standing still, Spike had already noticed that the woods seemed to have long since reclaimed their ground.

But Mystic Falls had grown significantly and Spike guessed that it wouldn't be as easy to locate one particular person as it had been a century ago. Back then the Salvatores had been one of the most important families in town and Spike hadn't had much trouble asking his way through to them.

He had no clue where the family lived nowadays, or even if there was still some family left at all. And Spike had never gotten the impression that Damon was a family kind of guy anyway. He'd never talked much about his relatives in Mystic Falls (apart from his brother but since he was a vampire as well he could be about anywhere now), so why should he have kept contact with them at all?

No, Spike deduced and pulled over at a parking lot, asking around for the Salvatore's home wouldn't likely get him anywhere. He'd have to search for Damon specifically.

And where to better start looking than at the nearest bar?

Spike got out of his car and made his way over to the 'Mystic Grill'. It looked as good as any other small town place for the locals to meet over a pint or a game of pool.

It was Friday and therefore the inside of the bar was buzzing with young folk occupying almost every booth there was. Spike shoved his way through laughing and chatting teenagers till he reached the sturdy bar. He took one of only a few spare seats at the right end and nodded briefly to the bloke next to him.

The bartender, obviously a college boy or even a mere High School kid from the looks of it, came over, a dish rag slung over his shoulder.

"What can I get you, Sir?"

Sir? Spike hadn't been called that in a very long time. He raised an eyebrow at the kid, wondering if he really looked that old, and answered: "Bourbon, neat."

"Sure, coming right up," the kid bustled away and Spike had time to take a closer look around. No Damon Salvatore in sight. Well, Spike hadn't thought it to be that easy to locate him anyway. But he realized quickly that this place wasn't quite right for someone like Damon.

The crowd was too young. Apart from two or three blokes at the bar there were nothing but kids around.

"You looking for someone in particular or are you just seizing up my students in general?"

The off-hand remark from right next to him startled Spike and for a second he simply stared at the man that had addressed him, contemplating if it had been a rather lame pick-up line or if he was perhaps looking out for someone among the kids.

Wait, students? Was he a teacher or what?

The man was definitely of the right age for it, that's for sure. He was one of the few people in here that actually looked old enough to be allowed the drink in his hand, whiskey, judging by the colour.

Spike's eyes travelled from the tumbler he now set onto the bar back to the man's roguishly handsome face, he took in the tousled dark blond hair and the scuffed five o'clock shadow, and decided there and then that he might just as well start his search for Damon with this fellow now.

Perhaps he got a lucky break and this guy knew him. Small town teachers tended to know most people, right?

Spike opened his mouth to address him but before he got a word out something suddenly buzzed from the inside of the man's jacket. Spike watched him set aside his whiskey and pull out a small cell phone. After a quick look at the display, too quick for Spike to get a glimpse as well, the man let out a groan but answered the phone nevertheless.

"What now?"

Well, Spike thought amused, certainly not his most favourite person on the other end. Spike could hear a male voice but the connection was so bad that even with his vampire hearing he couldn't make out the words.

"I'm not drowning my sorrows! I'm having a simple drink at the start of the weekend, that's all. And even if I did drown my sorrows, the last time I checked it was none of your business!"

Oh-oh, Spike chuckled inwardly at the one-sided conversation. Seemed like someone had an angry wife waiting at home, huh?

"And besides," the man continued in a dry sarcastic way. "It's not like you haven't had your fair share of that. You're a master of drowning your sorrows in whiskey, aren't you, Damon? I remember a certain time last year…"

"Damon? Bloody hell!" Spike nearly choked on his own saliva. Damon? How many people were called that? Here, in Mystic Fall's? It couldn't be a simple coincidence now, could it?

The man beside him had stopped speaking and was giving Spike a funny look right now. "Is something wrong?"

Spike shook his head, no. "Don't tell me that's Damon bloody Salvatore on the phone?"

The man raised an eyebrow in clear surprise but before he could answer a voice Spike would have recognized anywhere suddenly barked through the phone: "You've got to be kidding me! Ric, who the hell is that with you?"

A devilish smirk crossed Spike's features and quick as a lightning he snatched the phone from Ric's hand.

"Damon, old mate! Well, surprise! Guess who isn't dead after all?"

"Spike?"

Ric suddenly grabbed his phone back from Spike and quickly pressed it to his ear. "Hey, Damon…"

No answer. The line was already dead.

For a second there Alaric stared at the dead phone in his hand. Damon had hung up without another word, probably to rush over here and meet this guy that had so unceremoniously cut into their talk.

Ric threw a glance at him. He quietly observed the bleach-blond hair, the startling blue eyes in a strikingly handsome face, the black clothes that gave off an air of danger, the indefinable age anywhere between twenty and thirty… and deduced correctly: he was sitting next to a vampire.

He should have known. In a town like Mystic Falls it seemed too much to ask for a quiet Friday night. Alaric took another swig of his drink and then, before he knew what he was doing, he addressed the guy: "So, how do you know Damon?"

"Oh, we go way back, Damon and I," Spike smirked and looked Ric over once again. "What about you?"

"He's my friend," Ric stated without a thought. That got him a curiously raised eyebrow in return. "What, surprised that he's friends with a human? Or that he has any at all?"

When Spike didn't answer immediately Ric chuckled: "Yeah, me too, most of the time. I know he's a dick but…"

"Let me guess, he's your dick, right?" Spike finished for him.

"What? No," Ric nearly choked on his Whiskey. "We're not… I'm not… dude, you got that all wrong."

"If you say so," Spike clearly didn't believe him. So, determined to set things straight (pun very much intended here), Ric shuddered for good measure and added: "Seriously, it's not like that. And I think that mental picture you just painted has scarred me for life now."

"You know, I think I should be offended," came Damon's voice suddenly from behind. "And you can't tell me you've never thought about us like that, Ric. Cause I know that's a lie."

Ric swirled around on his bar stool. Damon stood directly behind him, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes set firmly on something just by his side.

Oh right, that would be the other vampire. Spike.

Alaric leaned back and decided it would be best to simply watch the show.

And, boy, what a show he got!

TBC

More is on its way, I promise. Can't make any promises that it'll be up soon though. Sorry. Be patient with me, I'm trying the best I can.