Pairing: Jenna/Alaric Saltzman
Fic Title: So Put Another Dime in the Jukebox, Baby
Rating/Warning(s): PG-13 to mild R; violence, strong language
Why This Must Be Read: Jenna finds out about vampires. There is really only one way to handle that. Not to be confused with the recent episode entitled "Klaus," which deals with the same issue. This is a great one shot that deals with the aftermath of "Masquerade" where Jenna stabs herself under the compulsion of Katherine, and how that eventually unravels the mystery of vampires to her. Wonderful Alaric/Jenna moments, with awesome interaction with Damon. And honestly, Alaric, Jenna and Damon together? Could legitimately rule the world with their awesome potential.
"Okay," Alaric said, putting his hands up against the window. "He's gone. Jenna, come on, talk to me."
"What is he?" Jenna asked, pointing in the direction that Damon had gone, though she thought that she already had her answer. One plus one equals two; that didn't mean that she wanted to know.
"He's a vampire," Alaric said, reasonably calmly. "Not, uh, one of the bad ones." He hesitated just a bit too much over the words for Jenna's liking. "Anymore. Usually."
There were vampires in the first place, let alone "good ones" and "bad ones." Jenna considered for a few seconds with her body half-slid into the passenger seat, her hand on the keys, and her foot angled over enough that she could at least reach the gas pedal. She had ill-advisedly stayed with a boyfriend for a full three weeks after he told her that he only did a little coke now and then during her sophomore year at college, but this was…this was just a little beyond that. She thought that there ought to be a clause covering "associating with the undead" way before a ring touched anyone's finger.
Jenna took the key out of the ignition, and Alaric visibly breathed a sigh of relief as Jenna finished wiggling the rest of the way into his seat so that she could exit out the driver's door. If he noticed that she slid his keys into her pocket rather than handing them back over, he chose not to say anything. "How long?" she asked softly.
"I came to Mystic Falls hunting one of them," Alaric said, though his eyes were hooded. "The one who tu—who killed Isobel." Jenna noted the stumble, and she counted herself as a connoisseur of lying men at this point, but the heart of it was true in his face, and it made sense with the way that he had been so—oddly focused for a grieving husband when they had first met. She wondered at the details.
"So for as long as you've known me," Jenna said.