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Part I: Ab Initio Usque In Finem (After The Beginning of the End)

"What are you drinking?" The man asked in a deep yet pleasant voice. I looked over. The man that was hitting on me was about my height and nicely built. His hair was blond, combed perfectly so that one lock fell over his forehead. His dark brown eyes raked over me, giving me a more thorough once over now that I was facing him. I returned the once over; it was only fair.

I sighed, looking to my empty glass, "Bourbon."

He raised his eyebrows a bit at my response and called, "Andy! Another bourbon and a scotch."

"Sure thing." The bartender responded, looking up from the pretty redheaded slut he was talking to at the other end of the bar.

The man turned to me, "What's your name?"

"Audrey."

"I'm Greg." Greg held out his hand for me to shake.

"I know." I didn't take it. The bartender replaced my empty glass with fresh bourbon and slid a glass of scotch in front of Greg. Just as Andy the bartender was leaving, I said, "Leave the bottle."

"You sure?" Andy asked hesitantly.

"Just leave the damn bottle." I growled, sliding a fifty-dollar bill across the bar. It had been too long. I wasn't in the mood to take this slowly. "Keep the change." Andy the bartender shook his head but put the half full bottle in front of me.

"So, are you from around here, Audrey?" Greg asked, trying to sound curious but he came across as creepy.

I turned so that I was completely facing him, "No, I'm not. Are you?"

"I—I, uh—"Greg looked straight into my eyes. I stared straight back, unflinching, tilting my head slightly to get a better look at him. Greg blinked a few times, "Sorry, um, no I'm not… from around here." I needed to tone it down; the poor guy was a bit overwhelmed.

The little voice inside of his head was screaming that I was the predator and he was the prey. I needed him to ignore that voice… I smiled a bit and took another drink, this time from the bottle, abandoning my glass; so far, so good. "Do you have any family, Greg?" I crossed my legs, making sure he watched when my shirt slid up just a bit.

"Family?" He took a huge gulp of scotch, downing it in one swallow, "No."

I leaned forward a bit, "You must be a very lonely man, Greg…"

He dragged his gaze from my chest up to my face, "Very."

"Would you like to leave?" I smiled a bit, trying to seem suggestive.

"Hell yes. Let's go." He grabbed my hand, all too enthused and pulled me off the barstool. I made sure to have the bottle of bourbon in hand before he practically dragged me out of the door.

I let Greg drive his flashy sports car five miles before I smiled seductively at him and unbuckled my seatbelt.

He laughed, half nervous, half anxious, "What're you doing?"

I winked at him and climbed into the back seat, "Why don't you pull over so you can find out?" I clenched my jaw while Greg pulled the car slowly to a stop near some trees at the shoulder of the road. I took a quick swig of the bourbon; I was going to need it.

Greg unbuckled with fumbling hands and climbed clumsily into the back seat. He kissed me. It only took a few moments for me to realize that Greg was not a very good kisser. Ugh. I could barely keep myself from gagging when he nearly shoved his tongue down my throat in a sorry attempt to French kiss me. I maneuvered his face down to my neck; I couldn't bear the sloppiness. His hands traveled down my back, reaching for the hem of my shirt. He stopped suddenly; his hands had found the lump just below my shirt.

I waited while Greg, confused, lifted my shirt just a bit and grabbed a hold of the metal handle of the dagger that was sticking out of my belt. There was a hiss as the blade slid free from its sheath. Greg stared at it in disbelief.

"What's this for?" He asked, a bit nervous.

I smiled as a mother would to a mischievous child; Greg had the handle of the knife facing me with the blade pointed straight at his chest. Idiot. "It's for you." I said seriously, grabbing his hand on the knife in an iron grip and shoved the knife into his chest. The stainless steel slid into his skin like butter; it was the chest plate that was tough.

Blood didn't gush out of the wound like it did in the movies. It came at a slow, steady pace, as the knife was still in Greg's chest. That was how I left him; slumped in the back seat of his car with a knife sticking out of his chest.

Stupid Rick. This was all his fault.

I heaved myself out of the car, easing down to sit down near the rear wheel. The future corpse in the back seat was still breathing; this was going to take a while… It usually did. The longer it takes for one of my victims to die, the more I gain from the feed.

Everything has energy; life and death. It's just that I'm a closer relation to the second. A descendant of Death Himself, with the power of the True Sight that all of his children are said to possess, both qualities make me a threat to almost every species on Earth; the Fae are especially aversive toward my kind.

I groaned and taking another drink. I turned back to the car and swung the door open. "You dead yet?" I could still hear wet, raspy breaths coming from Greg. "No? Here, let me help." His eyes widened when I grabbed a hold of him and dragged him out of the car. He thudded roughly onto the ground. I grabbed a hold of the knife, still stuck in his chest and shoved it in deeper, to the hilt. I twisted. Greg screamed when I pulled the knife out, a piercing scream of pure pain. This was taking too long… I crouched so that I was at the top of his head and swiped the blade across his neck, digging it into his flesh, flaying open his carotid artery and jugular in the same motion. Blood pulsed and sprayed out from the wound, creating a crimson necklace across his all too perfect skin. I leaned back to avoid the potential arterial spray and said, "Hurry up and die. I have better things to do than wait around on you all night." I kicked him in the side for good measure.

I watched the stars until there was silence. There was a pause after his heart beat for the final time, a futile attempt to keep Greg alive…And then I was flooded with raw energy, as if I'd just stuck my finger into a light socket.

I got to my feet, stretching as the energy sparked out to my limbs before giving the now-dead Greg a glance; I was going to have to get back to my car at Bree's somehow, and I had absolutely no intention of walking… "Mind if I borrow your car?" I knew he wouldn't answer, but at least I could say I asked. "I'll take that as a yes."

Seven hours later, I was standing on my former pupil's porch, having an odd feeling of Déjà vu while ringing the tiny doorbell for all it was worth, yelling, "Rick! I've decided after a long internal debate to grace you with my—" The door swung open to reveal a bedraggled Alaric Saltzman, looking the same as he had three years ago… "…presence."

He groaned, "It's too early for sarcasm. I need coffee."

I glanced around outside, brushing off the strange familiar feeling as I followed him into a quaint little kitchen that was decorated with simple granite counter-tops and oak furnishings, "Would you like to tell me why I'm here?"

"Dorian didn't say?" He sounded surprised as he switched on the coffee machine; the tiny clock read five oh-nine.

"All I got out of him was 'Mystic Falls. Vampires. Go. Or else…" I sighed leaning up against the island in the middle of the kitchen, "He was big on the cryptic. Speaking of, so were you in your message."

"Yeah." Rick took a breath, looking a bit green.

That got my attention. Standing before me was a man that could pummel a vampire's head in with a tire iron and crack a joke a few seconds later. I hadn't seem Alaric Saltzman look like this since he'd found out that everything his wife had been researching was real… "What aren't you telling me? I mean besides everything."

"Look—"

I took a menacing step toward him, "Rick, I'm not in the best of moods; apparently patience doesn't come with age." I grabbed him lightly by the throat, waiting for the excuse to crush his windpipe. "The last guy that pissed me off ended up in his own trunk, so I suggest you tell me everything. Now."

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