Try {One | Alaric Saltzman}

Bringing Out the Dead

"Good morning."

He turned away from the medicine cabinet, shielding his eyes from the light that flooded into the room. "I thought there was aspirin somewhere in here."

"Top shelf." She glanced at the nearly empty bottle of bourbon on the counter. "Hungover?"

"Well, it was a bit of a weird night." Scratching the scruff on his chin, he closed what little distance remained between them. "How'd it go?"

"It was..." She let out a shaky breath. "I don't hate it, Ric. I hate that I don't hate it."

With his hands on her hips, he whispered, "You're learning to control it. You're learning to control it so you don't have to learn what happens when you can't."

"I know what happens when I can't..."

"Doing this with Damon, it's a good thing, Bea. It's..." He tucked a piece of windswept hair behind her ear. "It is going to be a good thing."

She kissed his cheek, a silent thank you for the support he offered her despite his reservations. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as he caught her lips with his. And just liked the night he forgave her, she felt everything fall back into place.

"Morning..."

They pulled apart, but even as she spun around, his arms were wrapped around her. "Sorry."

"I told you guys; you don't have to feel guilty about being here."

"Oh, I know," he sighed. "And thank you for that, but after last night, I do."

Abigail tilted her head back, meeting Alaric's chest. "It's kind of hard not to when, well, you know..."

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Elena said.

Alaric kissed the top of Abigail's head before walking to the coffee pot. "So, I know you're busy today. But tonight, I was thinking we could-"

She did not accept the mug he held out to her. "It's the sheriff."

She took leftover pastries out of the pantry, switched on the television in the den, and was in her usual seat at the table before Alaric even realized it, giving him just enough time to pour two more cups of coffee and pull on the sweatshirt that had been hanging on the laundry room door since Jeremy left for Denver.

Elena led Liz into the house. "Alaric came to check on us. He's been great since Jenna and John..."

Still in his place behind the island, he held up another ivory mug. "Yeah, you know, it's the least I can do. Coffee?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm afraid there isn't time for coffee." She looked around at them. "It's probably a good thing you're here because this is an unconventional conversation we're about to have. I hope you'll protect me on it."

He nodded once. "Of course."

Abigail stood up. "What's going on?"

"I assume you've heard our medical examiner was murdered the night of the Wickery Bridge fundraiser."

"Yeah. Brian Walters." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Why?"

"We've been investigating." Liz held up a plastic evidence bag, revealing a wooden stake. "Someone drove this through his heart."

"That's one of ours." Abigail furrowed her eyebrows. "I mean, it is one of a set from our lake house."

"That's why I'm here. I haven't told anyone, but forensics ran it for prints and found only one clean set." Her face was twisted up in the way only someone who had delivered bad news time and time again could as she looked at Elena. "Yours."