The Interview

He wanted to kill her.

Or at the very least, drink until he had had his fill. If she lived or died after that, perhaps that didn't matter.

But it should have.

It should matter.

She was not food. She was a human being.

The battle against his vampire urges waged inside of Alaric as he had his interviewer pinned against the wall in her office, his stubbly face inches from the side of her neck.

It was only a half an hour before that he had walked into the Whitmore College faculty rep's office for an interview. The interviewer, a brunette woman that seemed to be around his age—late 30's or early 40's— shook his hand and welcomed him rather coldly into the room, snapped a photo of him for administrative purposes as part of the interview, and then offered him a seat to discuss Alaric's application for the vacant Occult Studies professor's position.

With the sudden and unexplained disappearances of Professor Atticus Shane, Dr. Wes Maxwell, Campus Security Head Ms. Diane Freeman, as well as the reported unexpected death of former Occult Studies professor Sheila Bennett, faculty positions at Whitmore were beginning to gain some notoriety amongst the campus staff, students and the academic community as being cursed. Occult Studies was a highly popular course with the students. But given the subject matter as well as the fates of its two previous professors, it seemed like the professor's job for Occult Studies at Whitmore was like being involved in the 1976 film production of The Omen—the position was somehow hexed.

So it was with some degree of both relief and desperation that the Whitmore faculty committee accepted Alaric's application for the job, even waiving certain requirements that they would otherwise normally adhere to. On Elena's recommendation, Alaric applied for the job since he had no form of income and his teaching job at Mystic Falls was completely out of the question. And, according to Elena, what better candidate for the job of professor of Occult Studies than a former vampire hunter turned immortal vampire who once existed on the Other Side? Though his previous stint as a history teacher at Mystic Falls High School and his degree from Duke University lent credence to his application, the interviewer didn't seem as anxious as the college to hire Alaric for the position.

"—and you left your teaching job at Mystic Falls because?" asked the interviewer.

"Initially, it was a because of a family emergency. But then I decided I needed some time away so I went to study abroad," Alaric responded instantly, having rehearsed his answers before the interview.

"Family emergency? Can you be more specific?"

"Uh—well—that's a bit of a private matter. I hope you understand."

"Of course, Mr. Saltzman. I didn't mean to pry or make you uncomfortable."

"Oh, no, no. It's okay. I understand your need to know. And please, call me Ric," Alaric offered.

The interviewer's face didn't soften or change in the least. She merely scribbled down some notes and continued with the interview.

"Now Mr. Saltzman, can you explain to me how your educational background lends itself to the Occult Studies subject matter? Though I know you taught history in Mystic Falls, that doesn't necessarily equate to intimate knowledge of the occult and the paranormal. At least not enough to teach a college course on it. Professor Shane was no amateur when it came to studying and teaching on the occult and its impact on modern society, so there are some big shoes to fill. I mean…I don't think it's a great or relevant course myself, but it's a popular course and it makes the college money, so we need professors who have academic knowledge of the subject, not someone who's going to tell glorified campfire stories about ghosts and goblins."

Alaric dreaded going down this path of questioning. It was bad enough that he had to alter certain details in his curriculum vitae to make it seem like he was qualified for the position. It was bad enough that he had to compel various people to even get this far in the hiring process. But now he had to lie even further to get past this interview. He didn't want to resort to more compulsion to get the job.

"I've been involved with the occult and paranormal research for a long time. My wife was a paranormal researcher—before she died. I also studied with a professor in the occult in Budapest," Alaric replied. He figured adding a fictional education with a fictional European professor as a reference would give a sort of Old World panache to his credentials. Complete with a fake letter of reference from said Hungarian professor, Alaric had hoped that such a testimonial would be sufficient.

The interviewer's eyes lit up as a broad smile appeared on her face. "Yes, I've noticed on your CV that you studied abroad in Hungary. At the Eötvös Loránd University in Budapest. Wonderful institution! I love their botanical garden. Especially the Japanese cherry blossoms. Do they still host the cherry blossom festival in July?"

Her change of attitude was disarming. Alaric had been on edge ever since her cold reception of him at the beginning of the interview. But her sudden smile and relaxed demeanor began to put him at ease as well. He beamed a smile at her, hoping to add to the sudden jovial atmosphere by playing along with her line of questioning.

"Uh, from what I remember, yeah, they still do that in July," Alaric confirmed.

"Interesting," said the interviewer, "interesting! Because cherry blossom festivals generally happen in April. So I'm curious to know what botanical garden in Budapest you visited!"

Both of their smiles disappeared almost simultaneously. Alaric knew that he had fallen for the trap the interviewer had set.

"Okay, what's going on?" he asked, leaning over and staring intently at the woman. "You've been giving me the cold-shoulder treatment ever since I first stepped into the office. Why are you being so antagonistic towards me?"

The interviewer leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Well, I guess I don't appreciate people trying to pass themselves off as someone else, trying to land a professor's job that they don't deserve."

"Excuse me?"

"You are not Alaric Saltzman."

"What?!" Alaric scoffed. "I'm pretty sure I am."

"Well then, either you've miraculously come back from the dead or I'm sitting here talking to a ghost. Because according to my good friend, Meredith Fell, Alaric Saltzman died in Mystic Falls roughly a year and a half ago!"

Alaric's face became smooth and lost colour. He had actually inquired at the Mystic Falls Hospital about the whereabouts of Meredith, only to find that she had moved away a few months after his death. Nobody knew where she had gone.

"Wait…you know Meredith?"

"She and I were friends at Mystic Falls High. We've kept in touch ever since. She told me about meeting a guy named Alaric Saltzman. Not a very common name so it was rather easy to remember. When she later told me that he had died, sending a photo of his tombstone and everything, imagine my surprise when reading how an 'Alaric Saltzman' was applying for the professor's job here at Whitmore!"

"You went to Mystic Falls High?! Are you…are you a member of one of the Founding Families? Do you know about…ya know—?"

"No. I'm afraid I don't."

"Meredith never told you anything unusual about Mystic Falls?"

"Oh, you mean all that crap about hauntings and vampires and witches and all of that? Please, Mr. Saltzman, or whatever your name is! Only the most gullible person ever fell for that nonsense. Mere was a good friend but she sometimes shocked me with her naiveté for believing in such things."

"Where is she now?"

"Do you think I'm going to tell you?" the interviewer asked in disbelief. "No. What I'm going to do is report you to the authorities and make sure that no other institution falls for the scam that you're trying to pedal! I have your picture now, and so I'll leave it up to the police to deal with you."

The interviewer reached over to pick up her phone when Alaric reached over her desk and pressed his hand on hers, keeping the phone down.

"Wait! You don't understand," Alaric pleaded.

"What's there to understand? You're some lunatic trying to pass himself off as Alaric Saltzman. Or maybe you're the real Alaric Saltzman who faked his own death. Either way, you're scum and I'm not going to let you get away with it!"

She pulled her hand from underneath Alaric's and bolted for the door, about to scream for help to her co-workers. Alaric vamp sped to her and pushed her up against the wall, putting his hand over her mouth and compelling her to remain quiet. He turned his head, trying to pick up the sounds of anyone approaching from the outside. While he didn't hear anyone coming, he did hear the interviewer's heartbeat, pulsing rapidly as his body pressed against hers.

Alaric's own breathing became hefty and deep, increasing her sense of panic. Not since he fed on Bonnie had Alaric fed on another human being. There was a stark difference between then and now though. Back then, his "vampire hating alter ego," as Damon would call him, was fully in control. Because he was, Alaric's desire to feed on human blood was simply that—a desire, not a necessity. His dark self could control his vampire impulses because the act of feeding on a human otherwise disgusted him. Alaric's alter ego had fully intended to be like the Original family patriarch, Mikael—to feed on the blood of vampires instead of on humans.

But now, his alter ego was not in control and Alaric found himself succumbing to the turbulent, carnal, passionate lusts that came with being a vampire. He felt the warmth of her body against his, the scent of her perfume mixed with her own natural musk, the sensation of her heavy breathing as she remained motionless, too terrified to move. Alaric instinctively lowered his head to the side of her neck. He scraped his lips against the warm, soft surface of her white skin, able to feel even the smallest of sensations—the tiny hairs standing up, the quivering produced by the rest of her entire body, the alternating sensations of hot and cold sweat that her fear produced. He could feel the increased blood flow coursing through her jugular vein—like a balloon filled with water, all that was needed was a small puncture to let all that exquisite liquid to gush out, to allow him to have his fill.

Alaric was unprepared for the sensations that came with the actual hunting of a human being for sustenance. The sense of absolute domination and superiority over his victim was exhilarating. The sense that he could do whatever he wanted and with a simple look into his eyes, she would remember nothing, if he had allowed her to live. Even the terror she was experiencing only added to the thrill of it, as the rapid beating of her heart and intense breathing added an almost sexual mimicry to the encounter. He was beginning to understand why his wife, Isobel, left him all those years ago to become a vampire. He understood why Damon was as unrepentant as he was for embracing the vampire life as much as he did.

Alaric's vampire eyes emerged as his fangs protruded from his mouth. He pulled his head back and repositioned her head to better expose her neck. He was about to lunge forward and pierce her jugular when he happened to pass a glance at her face. He noticed her cheeks were wet from the tears flowing down from her horror-filled eyes. She kept looking up at him, and even though she was following his command to remain quiet, she nonetheless was sobbing as her body continued to quiver from the sheer terror of the experience. He also noticed that she kept glancing at something behind him. He turned his head to see what she kept looking at and noticed some photos propped up on her desk—photos of her husband and her two children, who looked to be younger than five years old. He looked back at her and the look in her eyes slightly changed. She kept blinking, attempting the clear the tears from her eyes. She eventually shut them tight, seemingly resigned to the awareness that she was about to die.

This is not what Alaric wanted. This isn't what he wanted at all. After Isobel left him, he dedicated his life to eliminating the monsters who made innocent people—people like this woman—feel and experience the things that he was making her feel and experience at that moment. Alaric clamped his eyes shut and breathed in deeply—slowly—attempting to get his urges under control. When he opened his eyes again, they were back to normal. With his hand, he wiped the woman's cheek dry of her tears and peered into her eyes.

"Stop being afraid. I will not hurt you. I was never here. Your interview didn't show up. You fell asleep waiting for him to show up but he never did. You will sit down at your desk and lay your head down and sleep for 10 minutes. When you awake, you will remember nothing of me or this encounter. Your interview's name was Alan Schwartzman, He was the one applying for the job but he didn't show up. If anybody asks, it was Alan Schwartzman who was applying. You never heard of Alaric Saltzman other than from Meredith. Now go to your desk and go to sleep."

The woman obeyed his compulsion and fell asleep at her desk. Alaric grabbed her phone and searched for the pictures that she took of him and promptly deleted them. He grabbed his file with all the details about himself and his application and vanished from the room in an instant.

Alaric raced to his car and began rummaging through a knapsack in the backseat. He found a flask filled with blood and frantically chugged it down. He leaned against his car, his bloodlust abated for the moment. Releasing a sigh of relief and of momentary satisfaction, Alaric felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He opened up a text message from Elena, asking him to meet her and Jeremy near the cemetery just outside of Mystic Falls the next day.

They needed to talk about Jeremy's attitude.

The Dark Experiment

Todd and Lindsey jubilantly walked out of the restaurant where they had had their first date, having extended the closing time to just before midnight. Lindsey cuddled up to her new fiancé. He had just proposed to her in the restaurant a couple of hours beforehand, giving her a beautiful diamond engagement ring that he had travelled all the way to Los Angeles to buy. Lindsey wept at the sight of the ring, touched that Todd had even remembered her off-hand comment on the beauty of the ring when she saw it in a shop on Rodeo Drive during their vacation to California last summer.

They walked under the cloudless, starry night. The supple breeze alleviated the warm atmosphere of the fading summer. The streets were barren and the town was quiet. The happy couple turned a corner, passing by the Grill that was under renovations thanks to the explosion it suffered during the summer. Both Todd and Lindsey thought of that explosion, thinking back to the strange events that led up to that moment. For a while, all seemed normal in Mystic Falls, until one day various residents, some who had been living there for years, suddenly appeared to change personalities. Todd and Lindsey even knew a couple of these people. These citizens abruptly left their homes and families and jobs and all congregated in the town square in the middle of the afternoon. They all began chanting gibberish in unison, with each citizen eventually falling dead from unknown causes. Sheriff Forbes explained that there was a major gas leak in the town square and that it affected some citizens, requiring the whole town to be evacuated to avoid any more deaths. Despite the town being empty, everyone heard reports about some madman and his girlfriend driving a car into the Grill during the night, causing an explosion that seemed to kill a bunch of out-of-towners who spontaneously showed up in Mystic Falls.

Both Todd and Lindsey knew they should have felt more shock and dismay about the events. Such happenings should have made headlines around the state, if not the country. Yet nothing was mentioned, not even in the town's local newspaper. The lifeless bodies in the town's square were mysteriously taken away with no explanations as to what they died from or what caused their sudden change in behaviour, other than the excuse of the gas leak, which hardly explained anything. No funerals were held for the deceased. No inquiries were made as to what possessed all those people to meet in the town's square and start chanting nonsense and then collapsing almost in unison. No investigations were made as to who was driving the car that ran into the Grill, or who those strange people were that came into Mystic Falls from out of nowhere and seemed to die in the explosion. It was as though a blanket of apathy was laid over Mystic Falls and everyone felt no need to question any of the bizarre events that had occurred in their sleepy little town.

It was that thought that kept swirling around in their minds when they bumped into Bonnie while turning the corner.

"Oh, sorry there, Miss. Didn't mean to bump into you," Todd apologized.

"Todd?" Bonnie asked.

"Yes."

"TODD! Todd, Todd, Toddy, Todd, Todd! How are you doing, you sexy son of a bitch?" Bonnie asked, jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a child at a carnival.

"Excuse me?!"

"Oh, don't tell me that you forgot all about me. How could you forget me? After all, you said you were tired of tasting vanilla and wanted to try some chocolate for a change. And I thought I gave you a really good sampling the other night. What's the matter, Toddy?" Bonnie ran her finger down the middle of Todd's chest. "Was I too sweet for ya?"

Bonnie took a step back and began running her hands seductively over her own body while gyrating and tracing a circle with her hips. "Was I too much for ya? Oh, you loved it, didn't you? When I did all the dirty things that this skinny, white bread chick never did for you!"

"Todd, who the hell is this woman?!" Lindsey asked, incredulously.

"I have no idea! I've never met her before in my life!"

Lindsey wedged herself in between Bonnie and Todd while Bonnie was still writhing around like a lizard. She came face to face with her, attempting to stare Bonnie down.

"Look, you whacked out crackhead skank! I don't know who the hell you are or how it is you think you know Todd, but why don't you go and crawl back under the cardboard box from which you slept under last night, or this skinny white bread chick is going to utterly toast you!"

Bonnie stopped dancing. Expressionless, she tilted her head to the side as her eyes widened. She kept blinking incessantly as she looked through Lindsey. Finally, a devilish grin flashed onto her face.

"Crackhead skank?! Do I look like a crackhead skank? Well…maybe a crackhead. But a skank? Oh, my dear Lindsey—such hypocrisy on your part!"

"Wha—how…how do you know my name?"

"Oh, we know so much about you, Lindsey!" Bonnie grabbed Lindsey's hands and held it within hers, petting them as though she were about to talk Lindsey through a traumatic ordeal. Bonnie eyes softened to match the tone of her voice. "I know that you and Todd just got engaged. Congratulations, by the way! But we do worry about your relationship with Scott now."

Lindsey aggressively pulled her hand away from Bonnie's. Todd stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he tried to makes sense of Bonnie mentioning his older brother's name.

"What did you just say? About my brother?"

"Oops! Was that supposed to be a secret, Lindsey? Oh, me and our big crackhead mouth! Well, the cat's out of the bag now, huh? I mean, you were so enthusiastic to see him last weekend, when poor Toddy here was busy spending all that time and money to go to L.A. to buy you this gaudy diamond ring, all the while you were busy gettin' busy with Scotty the Hottie!"

Bonnie again began gyrating her hips and rubbing her hands over herself. Lindsey's hands were quivering as she raised them to cover her mouth. Todd's mouth gaped open as he kept glancing from Lindsey to Bonnie and back again.

Abruptly, Bonnie began talking again—in Lindsey's voice.

"Oh, Scott. SCOTT! I swear I'll leave Todd…I SWEAR…when he gets home, I'll leave him. He and I are SO done! Oh, Scott. Keep going. Keep going! SCOTT!"

Bonnie mimicked Lindsey's voice perfectly, so much so that Todd momentarily thought someone had recorded Lindsey and played it back with Bonnie merely mouthing the words. Lindsey took several steps back, as though Bonnie's imitation was projecting some kind of unknown force that was repelling her. She kept shaking her head as she stared at Todd, her vision becoming hazy from the tears blocking her sight and from the blood rushing away from her head.

Todd grimaced as he grabbed Lindsey's arm and pushed passed Bonnie. "Alright! I've heard enough! We're getting out of here and I think you and I have some talking to do!"

He briefly looked back at Bonnie and immediately stopped walking, startled by what he saw. Lindsey turned around too, halting and gasping in fear at Bonnie's shimmering golden eyes. The center of her eyes was a dark slit halloed by a circle of blood red. Both her eyes were framed in a mask of black veins.

Todd gripped Lindsey and backed them both away from a grinning Bonnie, who was slowly walking towards them. Todd turned around and ran into a grinning Damon, whose demon eyes were shining bright like Bonnie's. The difference with Damon though—he had razor sharp fangs jutting from his mouth.

"Oh, Todd! Listen! If anyone around here knows a thing or two about bangin' his brother's girlfriend, it's me! So trust us when we say—it probably wasn't your fault. The girls, they always go for the bad brother. We're just so much more exciting than the good brother. Am I right, Lindsey?"

Damon lunged at Todd and stabbed his teeth into Todd's neck. A stream of blood spewed out into Damon's open mouth. Damon clamped his lips over the gushing wound, and then made more puncture wounds to increase the blood flow. Todd's bewildered eyes were soon blinking rapidly as the tears of pain filled them. He slowly fell to the ground with Damon still clamped onto his neck.

Lindsey began shrieking when Bonnie's index and middle fingers touched her forehead.

"Shhhhh," commanded Bonnie. Lindsey immediately fell unconscious to the ground.

Bonnie looked over at Damon feeding on Todd.

"Hey—Hey!—HEY!" Bonnie hollered. When Damon didn't respond and continued feeding, Bonnie pointed her hand at him and telekinetically lifted him off of Todd and sent him hurdling against a light post across the street.

Damon's back and head slammed against the post, almost knocking him unconscious. He got up, with copious amounts of Todd's blood dripping from his mouth, snarling at Bonnie who stood between him and Todd.

"We're supposed to keep them both alive, remember? Now let's get this over with. We don't have a lot of time."

Damon walked over and hoisted Lindsey over his shoulder and then grabbed Todd's leg. He and Bonnie walked over to the alley behind the Grill where a large power generator was still running that was being used to power various equipment, while a massive dumpster had been set up to place all the refuse from the Grill's reconstruction.

Damon dropped Lindsey and then let go of Todd's leg. He bit into his own wrist and fed his blood to a barely conscious Todd, and then to Lindsey. When he was sure that she had ingested his blood, he snapped her neck, hoping that when she woke up a new vampire, she had a fully healed Todd to feed on. Bonnie jumped up onto a stair railing nearby. She balanced herself on the bar, observing Damon as he completed his tasks. Damon ripped off a piece of Todd's shirt, wiped his mouth and then eventually joined Bonnie on the railing. They sat perched on the narrow beam, looking like two birds sitting on a wire. Neither made any sound or any movement. Both looked forward, their eyes half open, as though they were in some kind of meditative state.

An hour passed before Damon's attention turned towards Todd's corpse. Damon descended from the railing and went over, bent down and peered into Todd's face. Damon's head moved in a staccato, bird-like motion rather than in a more fluid, human motion. When he was done looking at his face, Damon straightened up and then kicked Todd's lifeless corpse against the brick wall.

"He's dead," Bonnie droned.

"Why?! Why didn't the blood heal him?!"

Bonnie jumped down and went over to look at Lindsey's corpse, moving her head in the same manner that Damon did. She finally looked up and sighed.

"The Traveler spell," Bonnie lamented.

"It cancels witch magic."

"As soon as your vampire blood left Damon's body, the Traveler spell immediately made it ineffective. Poor Lindsey here will not be joining us, apparently."

Damon ran his fingers through his hair as he muttered indecipherable words under his breath.

"We need to bring the spell down now!" Bonnie cried.

"It would be foolish to reveal ourselves before our plan is in motion."

"The spell prevents vampirism from occurring. While the spell is up, the only way vampire blood will be effective is if—"

"—is if the body is already possessed and protected of us." Damon punched a hole in the brick wall. "That could take MONTHS! Even years! Even those of the Other Side are being more obstinate to yield control than we anticipated. We cannot possibly wait that long to possess a human body, let alone several!"

Bonnie extended her hand out, her palm facing downward. She closed her eyes and tried to feel for dark energy in the atmosphere. Her eyes flashed open as a leer appeared on her face.

"The Expression Triangle. That may be our—salvation!" Bonnie began wildly laughing and then instantaneously stopped and became stone faced, as though she hadn't been laughing at all mere seconds beforehand. "Grab these bodies and throw them away. We're done with them. We've got some investigating to do before sunrise."

Damon complied and effortlessly tossed both bodies into the dumpster. He grabbed some cardboard boxes and other trash laying around and threw them on top of the bodies.

"Let us hope that our next destination is quieter than this one. That generator's buzzing is rather annoying," Damon grumbled.

As they both began walking away, Damon stopped and swiftly turned around. He kept scanning the alley, trying to pick up the origins of the sound that he just heard. His eyes zeroed in on a rat emerging from one of the trash cans against the wall. The rat scurried over to the pool of Todd's blood that was left on the pavement.

"Heh, heh! A creature after our own heart!" Damon sneered.

He and Bonnie continued on their way out of the alley.

Matt waited another 15 minutes after he saw Damon and Bonnie disappear before opening the back door of the Grill that led into the alley. He was breathing heavily and his heartbeat was slowly returning to normal, his extremities tingling from going numb. He held his breath for a time after accidentally knocking down a plank of wood, certain that Damon was going to discover him spying on them. Thankfully, the rat's presence covered Matt's clumsiness. He walked out into the alley and knelt down to where Todd's body had lain. Matt waved away the rats that were congregating near the blood and picked up the ripped cloth that Damon had used to wipe his mouth. He turned his attention to his phone to see the pic that he took through the crack in the boarded up window from which he was peering through. His fingers kept hitting the wrong app—his hands were shaking so much—that it took some time. He was trying to do it as quickly as possible since the batteries on his phone were dying fast.

He finally saw the picture, and while it wasn't the clearest picture he'd ever taken, he hoped it would be enough to convince Elena and the others of what he had just seen. As he started to started text Elena, his phone finally died. He cursed out loud but was thankful that he snapped the photo in time. He'd have to recharge his phone before he could text anyone. It was just as well since no one was probably up at that hour. But he knew he had to report what he saw as quickly as possible.

There was something terribly wrong with Bonnie and Damon.