Disclaimer! I do not own the lovely cast characters of Vampire Diaries. I do however, claim Alex and her story as mine. Please do not borrow her.
Present
Alex
Tyler very much reminded me of George. The same sharp features, the same piercing eyes, handsome and tall, definitely a Lockwood. It was creepy. I had spoken to him at the party for an instant, and had been blocking any and all memories of Mystic Falls in my prior life. Sadly, and I blame Damon for every single second of it, my brain has taken to repeatedly smashing memories of the past into my face. Tyler's presence was not helping. He looked at me in the door expectantly. Perfect. Sighing, I stepped back and held the door open for him. "Come on in." I resisted adding a 'Master Lockwood' to that. It would have made for awkward conversation. As if I wanted to explain that mess.
"Nice place. I've always wanted to see inside here." Tyler said absently, his gaze quickly going through the main hallway as I shut the door.
"It's nothing special." I shrugged, running a hand through my hair and realizing I was still in loose pajamas. "I uh...need a second. The kitchen's down the hall on the left. There's coffee and oxygen." Ignoring his half smirk, I made my way from the front hall to my room, thoroughly annoyed with myself. I should have known someone was coming. My magic should have warned me. Did I have too much to drink last night? Judging by the red eyes and the thick buzz in my head, yes. Sighing, I tugged the brush through my hair, tying it back. Forgoing make up, like I cared what a wolf thought I looked like just now, especially as I'd be having PTSD issues the entire time, so no amount of makeup would save me from the embarrassment of ridiculously gaping at Tyler on occasion, I threw on jeans and a t-shirt before heading downstairs.
Why was it that all the small towns had the worst sort of hells waiting there? I sighed when Tyler was not found in the kitchen. Damned dog needed a leash. Glowering, I sought him out, following the smell of wet dog and the tingle of a powerful air. He was in the old side of the house. Damnit. I hated this part of the house. There were so many memories, some good, some bad, all of them tied to a life I despised. I kept my eyes glued ahead, refusing to look into the rooms that fell to the sides, down any halls or out any windows. I didn't need to see anything here. I knew it all by heart anyways.
The presence grew closer even as my heart steadily dropped. He was upstairs, up the Eastern staircase that led to the private living quarters of the Civil War era family. Why did he have to be up here? Swearing, I stared at the sweeping white stairs, their steep steps gleaming as brightly as if Richard had shined them yesterday. My hand shook as I touched the railing. I didn't want to go up here...
I did it anyways. Each step felt like a thousand, my feet falling heavily as I made my way to the second floor. My breathing escalated, until finally my eyes settled on the grand hallway, thick burgundy Victorian curtains holding back the sunlight, leaving the soft cream walls and glittering mirrors, the old oil paintings of Antebellum South and Ireland in shadow. It was almost a punch to the gut, this place. My fingertips brushed an old tapestry, the only one grandmother had allowed in the house. Dark green, standing out starkly against the deep red curtains, it depicted the O'Conner crest, Conchobhair written in spidery writing beneath the roots of an ancient tree, stitched in gold. "Ó Dhia Gach Cabhair", my fingertips traced the old Gaelic. From God, every help. I frowned, turning from the tapestry. If God, or any god cared to help, Damon would have been dead, and I would not have lived through the decades.
Whoever had made this town, or cursed it, or decided it was a play place for Fate and her crazed antics, deserved a special little place in the afterlife. Werewolves and vampires in one town, and a witch to boot. Whoever was making money off this soap opera life of mine better be giving me damned perks up in the afterlife sometime. "Hey Alex!"
I'll admit the second Tyler popped his head out of a doorway, I nearly hexed him. He really shouldn't have done that. I nearly jumped a foot in the air, my expression stony. "I thought I said go to the kitchen."
"You did." He shrugged, looking indifferent. "I didn't listen."
"No shit." I rolled my eyes. "What are you doing up here anyways?" I asked, crossing my arms. Besides being a pain in my ass, of course. He must have guessed at my mood, because Tyler glanced guiltily into the room behind him and ran a hand through his hair.
"Just looking." He lifted his arms in a half hearted shrug. If he was trying to be innocent, he was failing.
"Well. We're looking in the attic, not the old sleeping quarters. So, if you'll follow me and keep your hands to yourself-" I turned away from him, stalking down the hallway to the old servant's stairs that led to nearly every part of the house. These stairs showed their age, weathered and steeper, the air thick and musty. I doubted anyone knew about them besides myself, really. Who would use them? Judging by the dust on the stairs, not many people.
"You don't seem to like it here." Tyler said absently, following behind me. "Most of the town would be jealous. No one's been inside here since the last person who lived here. Wasn't that-"
"About a hundred years ago." I said quietly, not looking at him. "And I liked Ireland. America's dull." Not really. America was just a personal hell hole at the moment.
"You don't sound Irish." Tyler noted.
"You're a freaking Einstein." I muttered, taking the narrow hallway, lined with tiny windows towards the attic. "I went to boarding school in England. My mother was American. I guess when you have that many accents around you, you pick the one you like best. I can have an Irish one if I want it." I glanced back at him, "I just prefer to sound like everyone else when I'm around them." It was easy to pick up accents to blend in these days. I could do an Irish, British, Southern Belle, anything. A perk of living in several places of the world.
"Huh." Was all Tyler said. Maybe he'd be quiet long enough for the aspirin to start working. My expression smoothed as he remained silent. I had enough issues with trying not to bolt as we neared the attic. There was some tension here, some magical presence. A ward, maybe? It made my head feel as if cotton was growing between my ears. The hallway ended, I opened the door and winced at the creek. A small room, devoid of any furniture, floors dusty, appeared.
"Come on." I stepped out, crossing the short space to the attic door. It was just as dusty here, but obviously taken care of on occasion, judging by the footsteps in the thin layer of dust. I stifled a sneeze. "Hope you're not afraid of dust." I said quietly, taking the stairs. My legs would be killing me if I kept having to go up these damn things.
"Dust is my greatest fear."
I glanced back at Tyler and caught his half smirk, and his mildly playful tone. I rolled my eyes. As if I needed some other paranormal monster trying to get involved with my life. "Get a feather duster." I said, reaching the landing, thank God, and stopping at the door that waited. The cotton feeling expanded into a headache. What was this thing? I touched the door handle and nearly tripped backwards into Tyler. Wards, heavy wards. Wards that would knock someone on their ass if they planned on invading the space uninvited. They held the distinctive feel of grandmother's energy. She had locked this place up. But I sensed nothing malicious behind it. I sensed nothing that said to take Tyler downstairs. There was no magic behind this place. Taking a shuddering breath, I turned the knob. What was hidden here?
"Wow." The doorknob turned smoothly, the door swung back without a sound, revealing an immaculate room, free of dust, neat boxes stored, everything pristine as if packed the day before. The pressure disappeared as we stepped into the attic. "Does someone clean up here regularly?" Tyler asked, arching a brow.
I shrugged. "I'm not a part of the grounds staff, clearly." Ignoring his own eye roll, I made my way into the room, eyes on the boxes. In the corner I could see a bundle of herbs. Ah, magic. Even if someone was cleaning this place on the weekends with the maid service, those herbs would keep this room clean with the right charm. "I suppose you can go through anything not locked." I said finally, glancing at Tyler. "But you're wearing gloves." I added.
Damon
"I'm just saying, we should talk to her."
"For the last time Bonnie, no." I scowled, giving the witch a death glare even as she glared right back. "I am not asking Alexandria Conner for help. Ever." Not even if I was dying again, or if the world was about to end. "It's just a rumor. Carol always freaks about the nests. There isn't one here, I would have known." Leaning against the witch's kitchen counter, I watched her frown. That frown always meant an argument. I was not in the mood for arguing.
"How do you know for sure Damon?" Bonnie demanded. "At least talk to Stefan."
"Stefan is visiting Elena. And it's nothing. A joke, a rumor, Carol spazzing out on brandy, but not an actual nest. We'd have noticed stolen blood or dead people, wouldn't we?" A good dozen people, if there was a nest. And as there were no new corpses around or a robbed blood bank, it wasn't a nest.
"You're not even going to check?" She scowled.
"I don't need to."
Bonnie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Look Damon, even if we don't need her right now, we also don't need her trying to kill you. How many times has she zapped you? You should be a bumbling idiot by now. Or," she paused arching a brow. "More of a bumbling idiot." My expression must have said it all, because she threw her hands to her side and swore. "Look, I could use another witch, especially one as powerful as what you say Alex is turning out to be. And you could use one less enemy. Have you even tried talking peace with her? I'm going to guess not, since you are a thick headed pain in the ass."
"She's dangerous, whether on our side or not!" I snapped. And I doubted peace talks would work with her right now, or ever. "She's volatile. And, personally, I'd rather her be trying to kill me than me have to sit there and work with another ex. Remember how that worked last time?!"
"You'd rather her be trying to kill her?" Bonnie echoed and shook her head. "I wonder what you did, to make her so angry. It must have been bad, because you obviously don't think you can fix it, or deal with what you did." Her green eyes held a sense of knowing. "You always run away from confrontation. It'd be easier not to have to see her and live up to what you did, wouldn't it?"
Yes, it would. I only rolled my eyes and brushed past her. "Stay away from Alex, Bonnie." I said over my shoulder. For some reason, I doubted she would.
The Camaro roared as I took to the streets, heading home. It was easier to stay away from Alex, but it also hurt. Part of me wanted to be there for her. Obviously, that wasn't an option, and obviously, that part of me was either insane or a masochist, because going anywhere near Alexandria would mean pain and possible death. And I didn't want to deal with what I had done. Who would ever want to deal with murder? I sighed and pulled into the driveway. Alexandria was dredging up all sort of memories I had long since buried. Many of them hurt because I was happy in them, and so was she. But there were a few that felt like a dagger in my skull. My eyes flashed as I poured a decanter of blood.
Mystic Falls, 1864
"Damon!" She ran to me, and I could hear her pulse pumping, sense her heart as it raced. "Damon, what is it!?" Alexandria appeared on the rise, and she ran ever faster as her gaze found mine. "Damon! Are you well?!" she demanded, colliding with me.
I caught her in my arms. She smelled of blood and sweat, of worry. It was delicious. "I am well, now." I smiled softly, the predator within me saying to placate her first, to slow the blood. It would taste all the better when it pumped to a frantic beat from fear. "You came to me." I whispered, touching her cheek with gentle fingertips.
"Always." Alexandria half smiled, her eyes drifting shut.
"Thank you." I whispered. My gums ached, telling me to take her now, take her and turn the switch. I did not, I held her for a moment. The compulsion was gone, I knew now what Katherine had done. I knew that Alexandria still loved me. It was strange, knowing that some small part of me still loved her too, but it was buried, beneath hunger and predator want. "Alexandria," I turned her gaze to mine, my lips dropping to her throat. "I love you." I whispered against her soft skin, before a sharp pain speared my mouth and a low groan left her lips as soft flesh tore beneath fangs. The taste of iron and wine danced on my tongue, the sound of her singing pulse driving me on.
"Damon!" she struggled for a moment, the wounds ripped open wider as her hands attempted to pull me away. The thirst fueled my actions, my hands pinning her to me, hard as iron as I stole away every ounce of her life. "D-Damo-" she whispered, body becoming cold in my hands as her pulse slowed. "P-please..."
Alexandria fell limp in my arms. A rushing filled my head, the thirst sated, and in an instant panic and disbelief set in. "Alexandria!?" My knees gave out, dropping us both to the ground. "Alexandria!?" There was no pulse, no sign of life, her green eyes dead and skin pale. "No...No no no no no..." I shook her, I held her to my chest. "Please, do not go." I whispered against her cheek.
There was no answer. "Isn't it marvelous?" Stefan asked quietly from where he had watched. "You'll forget her Damon. We have ages to spend, and she would only live this life time. Now we are immortal. She was worth nothing, an easy price to be paid, and all the better that she was your entrance away from a life we need to leave. Forget her and this place. It has forsaken us, we must forsake it."
The taste of blood was still thick on my tongue. The predator within me agreed with Stefan. He spoke the truth. It was poetic, really, to kill the one thing that might tie me to this place after all of this. Yet grief still filled me. I knew this to be wrong, and I knew, somehow, I would never forgive myself, or Stefan. I turned my eyes to him, the rage silent. I had no fear of becoming a monster from this. I already was one.
Present
The decanter in my hand burned as if on fire when the memory faded. I set it aside, suddenly feeling sick. I blocked out that memory, I had learned to hide it so well. Now it burned in my mind. Stefan had brought her to me. I touched my brow, feeling cold, even though that obviously wasn't possible. Stefan had brought her to me, and I had killed Alexandria, whispering sweet words to her before taking her life.
No wonder she hated me, and small wonder I wanted to remain in denial.
And, that concludes this chapter! It's good to be writing again. As always, constructive criticism is always accepted, and I LOVE reviews :)
Theme Songs:
"Unfamiliar"- The Birthday Massacre
"It's Been Awhile" - Stained
"Not Strong Enough" - Apocalyptica