Immortals [Klaus Mikaelson]

12

Just as Damon is about to tell the punchline of a story, the front door opens to reveal a tattered Stefan, who is carrying Elena, and an unscathed Alaric trailing behind them.

Damon disappears from his seat in front of me and reappears in front of Stefan. They barely make it through the door before Elena reaches for him.

"Damon," she sighs in relief.

I jump up from my seat and follow Damon's path at a much slower pace. By the time I get there, he has Elena stood up and leaning against his shoulder.

"Come on, I have a First Aid kit upstairs." Damon's eyes flicker to mine to make sure it's alright that he ends the party early, but I wave a hand instantly to let him know that he doesn't have to worry about anything other than Elena right now.

Stefan follows them when they start walking toward the staircase. I hear him explaining that there was an explosion, but I don't catch much more than that.

With the Salvatore's distracted by the same girl, Alaric gets himself stuck with the slightly intoxicated version of me.

"Would you like a drink?" I offer, moving to the dry bar.

He nods, following me in, "Yes, please, anything to distract me from such a sucky day."

Alaric sits on the opposite side of the couch I had been occupying just before he arrived. I hand him his own glass of bourbon and sit in my spot near the fire.

"We can talk about it, if you'd like to." I say softly.

He swirls the liquid in the glass with his wrist, thinking. The alcohol is having its own little party inside of me, but I try to ignore it and pay attention to the man before me. I guess it doesn't help that I have yet another full glass in my hand.

"Actually," he begins, after a moment of silence, "can we talk about you?"

I furrow my brows, "What is it you would like to know?"

He takes a sip of his drink quickly, switching his position so that his arm is resting across the length of the sofa and his body is turned towards me. I also notice that he doesn't react to the burn of the whiskey, which is something strange we have in common.

"You told me the other night that you are probably two thousand years old." He pauses. "How is that possible?"

"I don't even have the answer to that, Ric, just theories that I have come up with over the centuries."

"Okay. Why are you unsure that you are that... old?"

I feel myself smile, "I don't remember much before a thousand years ago. I sometimes get glimpses, and I've heard stories about myself of things that I have no recollection of, but I really can't remember a thing."

"So, you're a mystery." It's not a question, but I think it's meant to be asked as one.

"Pretty much. My body hasn't changed, much like the vampires you surround yourself with."

He shakes his head, "It's not intentional. I just can't leave Elena and Jeremy to fend for themselves after what happened to their family."

There is a lot of information new to me in what he just said. Jeremy must be the younger brother of Elena's that I saw in her family pictures. Also, with her family gone, it explains their untouched bedroom at the end of the hall that I had noticed when I stayed there.

Alaric hangs his head, realizing why I have fallen silent, "I hadn't realized you weren't filled in on what happened to Elena's family."

His expression is pained, impacted. I cover the hand he has draped over the back of the couch with one of my own to provide him some comfort. He pauses and I worry that I may have overstepped, but he doesn't pull away.