Notes: Hello, my lovely friends. I made a promise to myself two weeks ago; that I was going to write something-anything-before my birthday, come hell or high water (or the inevitable writers block) and I was watching the hockey game earlier tonight when the realization hit me that I was about to break that promise. So I whipped out my computer, stared at a picture of Nina Dobrev and Ian Somerhalder for about ten minutes, and (paired with a song I was listening to on Spotify), suddenly this entire story came into focus, layer after layer after layer until I'm pretty sure I was buried in ideas. (That's never happened to me before, so needless to say I was super stoked.) I've worked for the past five hours on this and while it's not the new D&R chapter I wanted to come out of my fingertips, it's something. Please let me know if you enjoyed it. It'll determine what I do with it. :)
Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries, its characters, plot lines and premise belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, The CW, Warner Brothers and their affiliates. I do not own anything detailed in this story, and I make no monetary profit by these writings. The song lyrics depicted in this chapter and the title come from the song 'Dust and Bones' and belong to the band 'Night Terrors of 1927', the writers of the song itself, and 2013 Atlantic Records. All rights reserved to respective parties.
Dust and Bones
oh my darling, we have fallen;
stuck at the crossroads of skull and crossbones.
October 12th, 2014
New Orleans, LA
Two twin pillars, sewn together with tarnished, tattered thread, withered from age and branded with hostility; both beady-eyed, stern and resolute looking men—the elder of whom with an impressive stature, the younger with an unmatched brutality. In his 84 years in the business, he had never met either of them until now. His dealings had always been handled by the sister—a young woman of utmost class, cattiness and contempt; an unabashedly self-assured woman, with a sharp ferocity and vicious claws.
"Damon Salvatore," the man who had spoken drew forward, a twisted smirk upon his plump, pink lips—"We've heard so much about you, it's a pleasure to meet our most esteemed employee."
He struggled against the leather straps at his hands and feet, hissing in pain as his skin boiled hot under the effects of the vervain. "Are the chains and bounds really necessary, boss?" He tossed his head back in a roguish laugh, a depraved half-smile on the corners of his lips; "Kinky," he snarled, his arms falling limp at his sides.
A low, amused rumble of laughter emitted from the shadows—"Do not take us for fools, Mr. Salvatore. We know who we're dealing with, we're not willing to take any chances."
"I see my reputation precedes me," Damon joked with a sneer.
"Not yours, insipid boy," the voice reprimanded harshly. "Hers."
"As you undoubtedly know," the visible figure began, "My name is Niklaus Mikaelson, and I am the founder and leader of the organization you know to be called 'The Sector'. You, for the time being, may call me Klaus. He," Klaus waved a flippant hand towards the darkness, "is my brother, Elijah." With a toothy grin, he prodded, "Come greet our guest, 'Lij."
The brothers were, in appearance at least, a stark contrast—day and night, sun and clouds, a deep bass and a light tenor. Opposites, undoubtedly, but complimentary still in a transcendent sort of way that penetrated far beyond the depths of skin.
The darker of the two-Elijah, as it were-greeted him without any pretense of intimidation. He surveyed Damon with a peculiar interest, and, kneeling down in front of him, his lips pursed into a thin line, jeered, "Katerina must've scraped the very bottom of the barrel for this scum, Niklaus… I daresay we have little to fear."
A loud, boisterous roar escaped the blonde. "Come now, 'Lij… I thought you were long over your infatuation with Katerina. Aren't you enjoying that little brunette pet copy I got for you, what's her name—"
Elijah had pinned Klaus to the wall faster than Damon could comprehend that their eye-contact had broken. "Do not breathe her name in my presence, Niklaus, we had an agreement."
Klaus scoffed, grabbed his brother's hand gripped around his neck and twisted until it cracked. "You're far too sentimental, 'Lij. The girl was a present—a birthday present, if I remember correctly. I let you turn the bitch; hell, I let you marry the bitch—idiotic human customs—do not forget your place in this organization, brother," Klaus' voice was a low, dangerous threat—as acidic, potent and poisonous as the vervain that burned the nerve endings in Damon's legs.
"I gave you that pet as a distraction from your erratic crusades of morality, and when she no longer serves her purpose, I'll just as swiftly take her away."
Elijah nursed his swollen hand and pushed it back into place, but not before Klaus bent down, nose-to-nose with Damon, his piercing blue eyes narrowed in contemplation. He gripped the nape of Damon's neck, pulling his head back by scraggly black hair, "Where is she, Salvatore?"
"They'll ask about me."
Damon looked up from the book set in his lap, a wry smile twisting on his lips. "You think I'll give you up that easily, Kat?" He took a sip of brandy and closed the book. "You picked the wrong Clyde to your Bonnie if you think that lowly of me, love."
Swinging her legs around and plopping herself in his lap, she gingerly swiped the book from his hands and placed it closed on the coffee table next to them. "I'm not worried about your ability to withstand their questioning, darling. I wouldn't waste my time with you if you weren't able to handle the pressure."
Damon spat in Klaus' face, defiance and determination etched in his stone cold features. "Barcelona, Montenegro… Granada, perhaps. Kat has a weakness for Spanish men," Damon enunciated, looking straight at Elijah with a self-satisfied smirk.
The vervain-soaked binds twisted tighter, wringing Damon's skin between them like a pair of dirty old socks. He bit his lip from screaming out, but little beads of sweat trickled down his forehead into his eyes. "Is my lover a sore subject for you blokes? Lord knows she causes havoc everywhere she goes, but then again, we both do…" he grinned, "Isn't that why I'm here, boys?"
Elijah's jaw ticked. "If you and your whore want to remain in business with us, you'd better watch your manners, boy."
Katherine's salacious smirk as she began steadily undoing the zipper of his jeans made all the blood in his body run south, a steady stream of hot anticipation. "They'll threaten you, of course," she added off-handedly, as though an afterthought, "The usual drivel—respect your elders, watch your tongue—nothing you can't handle." Her hand hovered over his burgeoning erection, cupping his balls with just the right amount of pressure so a comforting wave of warmth caused him to shiver in delight. "It's all empty," she declared as she locked eyes with him. "All of it, every single word—"
His voice was hoarse when he responded, "How can you be sure?"
"How can I be-?" she repeated, and burst into laughter. "Half of their missions only exist because of us. The other half only get finished because of us. Hell, we took down Marcel in one swift shot—they, and their entire fucking organization, owe us their lives—quite literally."
"And if—" he cut off, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the insides of his thighs, magical feather-light touches that caused his brain to spin in and out of consciousness, "If you've underestimated them?"
"Don't worry, love," she soothed softly, "I have my very own contingency plan."
"Enough," Elijah called from behind Klaus, his exasperation evident in the tone of his voice; "He won't give us a lick of information on Katerina. Not surprising, she trained him herself. Even if we used more extreme methods of torture, he could withstand days of it, and we simply don't have that kind of time. Besides, our top priority right now is not Katerina."
"Of course," Klaus agreed, his grin taking on a wolfish quality. "After all, a hundred and fifty years of being Katerina's lap dog is enough to drive any man immune to torture."
Neither man laughed, neither man even budged.
"Sage Emmanuelson," Elijah declared, throwing a manila folder into Damon's lap. "She's a threat to our security, and needs to be dealt with. All the details on her last whereabouts and weak points will be found in her file—make no mistake, Mr. Salvatore," he leaned in and whispered, cold, flat, monotone—"Despite your allegiances, you proved yourself quite capable to this organization when you dealt with Marcel. Because of your allegiances, we do not trust you."
"No," Damon spat out with venom in his tone, "You do not trust me because your whole family is a bunch of raging psychopaths."
Elijah's smile was bordering on predatory as he asserted, "Psychopaths? Be that as it may, let it be known to anyone who dares cross us that the one thing we will never be is ambiguous. Lose this mission, Mr. Salvatore, and lose your head. It's very simple."
"Contingency plan?" Damon echoed, his breathing short and shallow.
"Oh yes," Katherine asserted, kneading her knuckles into his skin—firm yet yielding pressure angled perfectly to shock his nerves fried, smiling back at him in satisfaction at the hiss of pleasure that escaped his throat. "Don't you worry about a thing, darling—go get our next assignment from the Evil Overlords, and we'll discuss it more at length when you return."
"Oh, and Salvatore?"
It was Klaus who had spoken now, as he released Damon from the vervain-ridden binds that dropped to the floor with a singe of burned off skin falling with them. "We do not take kindly to disappointment."
"That's it?" He asked, as the two men turned to leave the empty loft. "A couple of vague threats and a dash of vervain—those are all the toys you have at your disposal?" He laughed, throwing his head back at the absurdity of it all. "Forgive me for finding that a bit anti-climactic."
Elijah spoke first, holding a hand up to silence his brother. "Mr. Salvatore," he spoke slowly, tasting every word thick on his tongue as if it were fine wine, "If we wanted to torture you, we would've. You are not our enemy, you are a colleague—this is simply how we conduct business."
Damon was changing into a clean shirt when he turned to Katherine, perched on the edge of the bedframe, torn between looking at him and the newspaper in her hands. He hesitated, reluctant to look into her eyes as he asked this particular question.
"Did you ever love him?" His voice was so small he didn't recognize it as his own.
"Elijah?" she asked incredulously. "God, no," she scoffed, as though he'd insulted her. "He's a fool—a useful fool, granted, but a fool nonetheless."
"Do you love me?"
And there it was—the epicenter of their relationship, the unasked question that had hung perilously between them for over a century, the very fragile ground they walked on. She put the newspaper down, grabbed his hands and hoisted herself off the bed. With a light kiss to his lips, she quipped, "No, I don't."
His face was a pale sort of yellow, but she continued—"Remember this, Damon, as I will only say it once. Love is an emotion the weak-willed use to articulate an admiration they cannot describe any other way. They do not know why they love, only that they do. I admire you, Damon—for your intellect, your wit, your reliability, your tenacity… I do not love you, for that would be a disservice you did nothing to deserve."
The two men left the loft without a peek back at Damon's expression, only a casual "Rebekah will meet you in our London safehouse tomorrow at 900 hours to go over your details."
Damon returned to their apartment late that night, having gone out beforehand and snacked on a tasty, spirited redhead at a bar in the city. He opened the heavily locked door to the sound of screams. The apartment was soundproofed, of course, but he quickly shut the door behind him out of instinctual habit than anything else.
Katherine was leaning over a large iron cage set directly in the middle of their sitting room, and she smiled brightly as he entered. "Come here, Damon—there's someone I want you to meet."
He hastily stepped forward, his kneecaps sore and hands blistered, his head pounding with a ferocity even the most expensive whiskey hadn't been able to dull. As he came closer, he noticed a figure gripping the bars with blood-stained fingers, and although her entire being was beaten, bruised and bloodied, he could still make out some distinct features.
"Damon Salvatore, meet our contingency plan."
His mouth hung open, not in disbelief that Katherine would do such a thing, but in disbelief that such a woman could exist. How on earth?—
"This…" she waved her hand over the prisoner, beaming, "is our guest Elena Gilbert—"
"Mikaelson—" the woman coughed from the confines of the cage.
"Elijah's pet—"
"Wife," the woman protested again.
"22 years old, hails from Mystic Falls, VA, newly turned, one hell of a spitfire… we've been doing this for six hours and she hasn't told me a damn thing…"
"That's not true," the woman—Elena—corrected with a tenacity and steel not even Damon could rival, "I told you to fuck off several times, you sadistic, psychotic bitch."
"Ooh nicknames already, I love it," Katherine gushed with a sadistic glee.
"And for some very strange reason," she continued, a slender hand grazing Elena's cheek as she appraised her, "My exact physical double."
Damon's throat was tight when he responded, "I can see that."
Katherine glanced between the two of them, a thoughtful smile on her face; "Get settled, Elena—it's going to be a long night. We're going to have so much fun together."
Notes: Furthering this story, Elena & Katherine's relationship won't be as one-note as it appears in this beginning segment. (That's just not my style. I don't prefer to display the Kat/Elena relationship as an old friend once aptly put it, the 'unending bitch-fight' that the writers of TVD favor.) Neither will be the Delena relationship be one-note. Really, no relationship is going to be as simple as it appears. I'm not going to expand on the Elejah relationship at this point in time and how that came to fruition, 'cause really... that's what italicized flashbacks are for, guys. ;)
Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading. :)