"So," Alaric plopped a lime and two guavas in the blender and added half a litre of blood, "I get that you're in a bad mood…" he poured in the remnant of a beer he'd been drinking, He wasn't quite show how the flavours would come together, but he was operating by the golden law of alcohol – Ever so much, never too much. You can add too much salt to an egg, and you can have too much milk in your coffee, but you could never have too much alcohol in your blood.

Maybe he should right a handbook for newbie vampires. A How-to-survive guide full of helpful tips…

"You disappear for a month and change, and then show up naked in the middle of my place… Is this not a situation that warrants an explanation?" A little milk to bring it all together… And half a peach. A dollop of bourbon… "I mean, dude, I have a jar on the mantelpiece with your ashes in it. Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what the fuck?"

Damon didn't respond, so he hit the button and watched his breakfast come together as one.

Well, isn't this something.

His old pal Damon was back from the dead. Again.

He'd woken up to the sound of cawing to find a bare-assed Damon, and a shitload of crows squatting in his already shoddy abode. The last time he'd seen Damon that out of it was… Okay, he'd never seen Damon that out of it. He'd get down in a funk from time to time – Elena funks – but this… This was just flat out sad.

He'd missed the guy, truth be told. Getting killed by Klaus and then waking up as a vampire had been… traumatic… but as pissed as he was at Damon, he'd been just the teeniest bit psyched about it.

I'm not going to die.

I'm not going to have to check my prostate ever.

No need to worry about having zero groceries in my cupboard…

I'll never go bald.

I'm a fucking vampire.

And the sad fact was that Damon was his best friend.

Only friend.

Whatever had happened to him, it had something to do with Bonnie. Crazy, firestarter Bonnie. Gone were the days when she'd been just another innocent piece of jailbait in the third row of his history class. Overnight, literally, she'd turned into a femme fatale. Which was hot in theory but not so good in practise. The last he'd heard before his death she'd been teleporting across the Atlantic with Damon and Elijah.

Since his death, he'd stopped giving much of a fuck. Most likely, she was still unconscious. The day after he'd died, some Brit or the other had dropped her off at Caroline's unconscious. Caroline, being the daughter of a sheriff, you'd think would have an eye for detail, but she didn't. Brits… Not a lot of them in Mystic Falls. Not a lot of them outside of Britain, generally. She hadn't remembered a single specific detail about his face, what he wore, his height, not a fucking thing at all… So with nothing to actually work on, he'd decided to say 'Fuck it, whatever. Bonnie's back, yay. Let's toast with some blood.'

Then Elijah had popped up and chloroformed the girl. He'd given some longwinded explanation as to why and Alaric hadn't been paying attention because, fuck it, he was a vampire.

Elijah had set up something like a shift system between himself and Caroline on who'd take turns to stay at her house and keep chloroforming her. It's imperative, was what he'd said.

Why? Alaric didn't give a flying fuck. He was a vampire. Bonnie wasn't big on vampires. Fuck it, chloroform the bitch, what was he supposed to care?

I'm a vampire!

He was itching to use some of his undead strength to capsize the couch, the crows and the semiconscious Damon. Wake up you fucker, I'm a vampire!

"What's with the slump, D-man? Bonnie again, or are we back to Elena?" He sipped his concoction out of the blender, tasting for that sobering alcoholic afterburn. Perfection. "Talk to me, man. Why are you naked? I don't want your junk on my couch like that." One of the crows landed on the counter and picked at an unused overripe guava. "And what's with the birds?" They'd get bird shit everywhere…

No response.

"Bonnie related, or Elena?"

"Bonnie."

It lives! Alaric poured a champagne glass full of brew for himself then another one for the squatter and set it down on the coffee table as he sank into the loveseat. He'd been a vampire for just a little bit over a month and he was starting to realise that any problem could be solved with enough blood and enough alcohol. "What about Bonnie? Last I heard, she was still out of it, Sleeping Beauty style. She's back at her dads, so at least you know she's safe. Nobody's… going to… rape her or anything…" Except probably Elijah. The original was a case in point for why you should trust a person based on appearances.

A vampire in a suit – trustworthy, right? A vampire in a suit with a handkerchief in his pocket along with a half empty bottle of chloroform?

Damon rolled over onto his back. The crows squawked in protest for half a minute, then re-perched themselves. "Thanks for clearing that up."

"Well," Alaric shrugged. Don't expect me to understand your lovesick, puppy dog shit. I'm a vampire hunter who got turned into a vampire. The prey became the predator and the predator the prey simultaneously. The snake is biting the tail. If you care to notice, I'm pretty fucked up myself. "I don't get your problem really. Bonnie's young, even if she spends a year or two in a coma, when she gets out, she's what, twenty? I mean, it's not seventeen, but it's still good."

"She's not in a coma. She's up…" the vampire drawled. The other vampire because they were both vampires now. Thanks to him. "She's up. But… I'm too ashamed to show my face."

Damon? Ashamed? That was possible?

"I went crazy and killed her grandmother. Again. I killed her grandmother twice."

Alaric swirled his glass to keep the blood from settling at the bottom."Both her grandmothers? Why would–"

"The same grandmother, twice."

I don't fucking care! I'm a fucking vampire! I'm dead! Undead! Can we talk about how you turned me into a vampire? "How?"

"Long story?"

"Zombie?" No one ever sounds intelligent saying the word zombie, but Alaric didn't give a shit. He was a vampire. Fuck it.

"she was not a zombie, Alaric."

"Well, what then, because I don't understand." He finished off his drink and refilled his glass. Next time he'd add whiskey to the mix. Make the blood bags stretch a little longer. At a rate of five bags a day he'd be out by… 3.15 pm.

"You'd understand if it were zombies?"

He wouldn't care even if there were a thousand zombies running loose. "I don't know. Maybe. Was she a zombie, Bonnie's grandmother? Because I think everyonewould understand if you killed a zombie. I mean, you were defending yourself. Self-defence holds up against zombies."

"She wasn't a zombie." Damon pulled himself upright. "Abridged version – I died and went to witch heaven. And Bonnie was there and her grandmother–"

"Sheila?" The one from the tomb story?

"Yeah. The one from the tomb story."

"Right."

Damon raked the hair back from his face.

He had a beard now. Some stubble. Weird.

His skin looked whiter. His eyes, bluer. His hair, blacker. His teeth, sharper.

Is the difference in my eyes? Or in him?

Him.

Definitely him.

"So I get to witch heaven, and it's fucking insane, "Damon started, with a flurry of hand gestures. A whole lot of hand gestures. And head shaking. And general agitation. "I'm talking about monkeys-in-dresses, cat-in-a-rocking-chair, ten-moons-in-the-sky insane. And all the witches that die get to go to witch heaven. This includes all the witches that I've killed. But before I get to that, there're some unicorns on a ranch and a half-man half-sheep cowboys–"

"Like a satyr?" Alaric's ears perked up. In all his time hunting down things that went bump in the night, he'd never allowed for unicorns and satyrs. If werewolves and witches and vampire exist, there should at least be unicorns. A stupid grin broke out on his face. Unicorns…

"More or less, but woollier. So I find out from him where Bonnie is. All I wanted to do at that point is find Bonnie. It was like if I'd been brainwashed or something. Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie. Then check this – I get hungry and start feeding on the unicorns."

Alaric nodded, paying attention. Of course Damon would feed on a unicorn. It's not like they're rare magical creatures. "Yeah…"

"So I kill about thirty, forty unicorns, and then when there's only one more remaining, I realise – holy shit, I'll need a ride. So I end up riding the last unicorn, until I come up to this… All along the way there's all kinds of crazy shit – dwarves, hobbits, talking squirrels – and I'm binge drinking on all this magic blood… I come up to this place. It a cemetery and it's filled with flowers and all the flowers represent life and death. In charge of the cemetery are these gargoyles who are really hot, but stupid as shit – they make Caroline look like a genius – And they lead me to a magic tree that grants wishes."

Alaric nodded his head and grinned in a way that he hoped translated into – I'm totally following this story. Magic tree, wishes… Go on. Back when he was in college and had just gotten his first inhalation of marijuana, he'd met a magic tree too.

"So I wish for Magwyr to die. And then I wish for Bonnie to be the most badass witch in existence. Then I go find Bonnie… Meanwhile I kill, or re-killed in some cases, about a hundred witches. At one point I actually took a bath in their blood. Literally. There was a dry stream and I built up a dam with some stones and killed some witches to help fill it up. But anyhow I meet up with Bonnie, and somehow or the other I convince her to have sex with me. And it's crazy, in the middle of a forest, leaves in her hair, she's clawing the dirt. Ultra erotic, right?"

Alaric nodded. She's clawing the dirt…

"Then her grandmother comes out of the jungle with her "get the hence" attitude and blatant vampire discrimination, and this pisses me off. I just… trip. I fucking lose it, right in front of Bonnie. I'm laughing like some fucking Ted Bundy psycho and ripping peoples' throats out. Bonnie joins in with the rest of the witch mob chanting at this point to cast me out of witch heaven, but I don't want to go because I don't want to leave Bonnie for a second. That's all I have in my head: kill witches, Bonnie, kill witches, Bonnie. And I'm just killing and killing and killing. I'm ripping hearts out and ripping peoples' heads off. One girl - I rip her hands off and her feet off before actually killing her. I'm snarling like some fucking dangerous dog with rabies… then it comes down to me and Bonnie, and I just… I just give up and let her cast me out. And she's crying and… And… And… And I just want to stay here and die…"

Not on my couch… Alaric finished off his third glass of History's Strongest Homemade Brew and the one he'd poured for Damon as well. What had he expected? He'd hoped for some salient information as to where things stood with Klaus, the hybrid who had killed him and Jeremy, and strung up Caroline to bleed out and locked Tyler in a freezer, but oh well. Damon.

"Well," he got up and stretched. He supposed it wouldn't derail his totally to stop by Bonnie's place and check the scene out. If she was up, which according to Damon, she was (Elijah must have run out of chloroform), she'd have some answers as to what in hell was going on…

Unless she was still getting her kicks by setting things on fire.

Funny, but as a human, he'd never been much concerned with being set on fire.

Investigate? Let sleeping vampires and sleeping witches and sleeping hybrids lie?

Honestly, he couldn't give a fuck, but he'd investigate. On last Scooby treat for the old boy. "I'll go check on Bonnie."

Damon flopped back down. One of his hands dropped and dangled off the edge of the couch. Five or six crows cawed, flapped and shifted to settle in his open hand, talons closing around his fingers. "There's no point… I can't look her in the eye after what I did. How I – She could barely tolerate me after the first time I killed her grandmother, and that hadn't even been my fault. That was Stefan's fault but I took the heat for it. This time though, it was all me. Nobody loves serial killers, Alaric," he groaned. The fucking crows made more noise. "I'm damned. Dead and undead. I can live without my life. I can live without my soul. But I need this girl…"

Alaric pulled on his boots.

"Why do I need this girl?"

Alaric shrugged. "Okay, I'm just gonna…" leave you here.

"Tell her I said I love her, and I'm sorry, and I love her, and I didn't mean to kill anybody. Tell her to keep in mind that they were already dead to begin with."

"Will do." Alaric locked the door behind him.

He'd done his very best to avoid Elena's House of Horrors, where a petite witch woman had kicked his ass six way to Sunday and made him cry like a baby. And now… Fuck it. He knocked quickly, impatiently and waited.

The door swung open and he was met with a very pale, very grungy, very unkempt version of Stefan.

"Alaric?" There was a scent of rot coming from the house, from the vampire, from the lawn… old blood.

He knew what old blood smelt like now. "Hey, Stefan." Can this be any more awkward? "How ya doing?" And there, it's more awkward.

There was a hint of shock on the man's face, but it lasted only a fraction of a moment. "You're a vampire?"

"Yeah…"

"How?"

"Remember when Lucy killed me? Or Klaus via Lucy?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I work up in the morgue, except when I say woke up I mean became a vampire."

"How?"

"Damon. He spiked my refrigerator with his blood… long story really."

"What's happening with Damon?"

"Ehhhh…" He'd never quite gotten around to breaking the bad news to Stefan about his brother's death. Which was just as well. Dead just doesn't mean what it used to. "Yeah… He came back this morning." Came back… from the dead!

"How is he? What's happening with Klaus? Where's Elena? And Bonnie? What happened to…"

Alaric stretched on the porch adjusting to how weird it was to need an invitation to get into a house where he'd spent months of his life. He'd left some important stuff in Elena's house. Like his car keys.

Funny thing about being a vampire though is that he didn't really need a car. It was strange… Damon never went anywhere on foot, he was always pulling some beast or the other out of his garage for a tune up and a drive around the block. Alaric couldn't fathom why.

He could outrun a car.

It would save him gas money.

A crow landed on the banister and cawed.

Why am I here?

He'd been intending to head over to Bonnie's and check out the situation. Hopefully run into Elijah and get some sensible details (details not including unicorns and talking trees) about what the fuck was going on and somehow, making a pit stop to the House of Horrors had worked its way into the agenda…

Why?

Come to think on it, he didn't particularly care for Stefan, even though Stefan was technically the good one.

Alaric didn't see it. Stefan was good at pretending to be the good one, but there was nothing so very good about him. He looked like a good guy, but that was only because he put highlights in his hair and went around pretending to be a high school student. There was nothing catholic about his relationship with Elena. Sure, he was the good one, but hadn't anybody noticed that the guy had moved to Mystic Falls for the sole reason of tapping the girl's ass? True love? Really?

How does a guy nicknamed the Ripper instantly have an entire town hanging on his every word. He had Elena, Bonnie and Caroline dangling on a string just itching to be at his beck and call, and for that matter anything in a skirt. How? Not to be gay but he didn't see the attraction. Stefan with his Machiavellian puppy dog eyes, was a master manipulator and that was about it.

Damon was a simple minded fellow. He'd do shit from time to time, but he had an innocent way of doing it. Very childlike.

Like for instance, Alaric had not wanted to be turned into a vampire, and Damon had broken a thousand and one laws by tricking him into drinking his blood, but he'd acted from a good place. Buddies looked out for one another.

Damon never turned into a Ripper.

He'd kill people, sure. But he had heart.

Sucks to be compelled though…and that was the only sympathy he could muster. Alaric could only imagine what that could be like. He'd tired it out on a handful of people – the teller at the bank, at a KFC joint, his landlord… It must suck to be compelled. "How are you doing, though?"

Stefan shrugged. "Let's see. Starving, trapped in here, compelled to wait for my girlfriend to come home so I can torture her… I'm doing okay. Elena's got cable, so it's not as bad you'd think. HBO. True Blood's pretty decent."

Another crow landed, then another. "Caw."

"You should really start taking some vervain," he really should.

Stefan gave a weak laugh. "Klaus wants to compel you, consider yourself compelled."

"Yeah…" Alaric stretched again. He liked that, stretching. Feeling his muscles stretch and contract on command… It made him feel powerful. Nice. "I just stopped to say hey. I hear Bonnie's back… so I'll ask her to see if there's anything she can do to help you out. De-compel you, or whatever."

"I'd appreciate it. How's Elena?"

"Safe."

"Where is she?"

"Like I'd tell you," he turned to leave.

"Wait!"

I don't want to. Looking at Stefan cooped up in Elena's did as much for him as plucking eyelashes. In fact, he'd rather get waxed than stay a single minute longer in the stiflingly morbid languor of the place. "Yeah?"

"Talk to me," Stefan drew himself up to the doorframe, as far as Klaus' compulsion would allow. "What about Jeremy?"

"Vampire too. He's staying with Matt. He still needs a ring."

"And Caroline? Tyler? They're okay?"

Geez, the guy really hadn't had a visitor, had he? He could understand why Elena would lay low… But Caroline at least could have swung by with a blood bag for the dude. "Everybody's fine." He'd always known a thing or two about hunger, but now that he was a vampire, he was a master of the topic. "What can I pick up for you? A couple chickens? Rabbit?"

"Deer?"

Where the fuck does one find live deer in Mystic Falls? "How 'bout a Rottweiler?" The guy across the road from his apartment kept a Rottweiler. Bred for show competitions, as big as a small bear… it should hold Stefan, he figured, for at least a couple of days until Bonnie and/or Damon figured out a way to undo the compulsion. "I have to give it to you though, it's been a month and a half, you're holding out pretty well. You kept strong."

Stefan shrugged. "Actually, Klaus stopped by some weeks ago. He brought some people and we had something of a dinner party."

Alaric nodded. He'd heard about that from Caroline. Bodies on the lawn, strung up on the electricity wires… "Anyway… I'm a vampire. Can't judge you. I've killed at least nineteen people already. Totally by accident, but what–"

"–were you supposed to do?" Damon finished the sentence, appearing out of nowhere in the doorway. At least he wasn't naked; Alaric had had enough with Damon popping out of the air without clothes on. This version was wearing one of his jeans (black) and one of his tees (black). Not that he enjoyed other people wearing his clothes, but he was grateful. He could deal with a whole lot of the crazy inherent in living in Mystic Falls, but he shouldn't have to deal with naked people. Unless it was naked female people. He'd allow for Caroline or Bonnie to run about naked, pop up in his apartment naked whenever they liked, parade through the streets naked if that was what they were into… but Damon should wear clothes. Always.

The two brothers stared each other down for a long moment before Damon smirked and resumed his natural asshole-ish attitude. "Hello, brother."

"How'd you make it without a ring?" Alaric asked, burning with curiosity on the inside, but playing it cool. Klaus had been ever so kind and left one for him, and he'd been looking forward to flaunting it a bit.

Damon pointed to the crows. "Figure it out. Run along, Al. I've got some catching up to do with my baby bro."

Did he care? Alaric nodded. "Klaus compelled him to stay in the house and kill Elena."

"Eh?" he could hear the smirk. It would be something to look inside Damon's brain and see exactly how it worked. How he could go from "crying wimp" to "badass" so easily…

"That's new," Damon continued to his brother. "How'd you feel about taking in a guest? There used to be a boarding house around here but some witch burnt it to the ground… I'm good for the rent." Damon pushed pass Stefan and entered the Horror House.

Once upon a time, Alaric would have cared. Two months ago, he would have cared. "I'm going go to hit up a blood bank. I'll check in on you guys… at some point."