A/N: This story is a little bit weird. It's set during "Know Thy Enemy" before Katharine is taken to Klaus and before Klaus possesses Alaric. The scene mentioned in the very beginning is really from the episode and then it changes from there with the time-line being drawn out. This chapter focuses on Katharine's reaction, but further ones will be Damon, Stefan, and Elena. OK, I think that makes sense. Read on and please review!

Katharine never liked secrets, or at least when she wasn't the one keeping them. And she didn't care if anyone accused the pot of calling the kettle black, because she was a 700 year old vampire, and she'd probably snap their neck before they finished talking about that household appliance. Although, a teakettle of vervain would have been nice to have when Damon gave her that little smirk of his, eyes dancing in that arrogant way, being so unlike the 1864 Damon she tricked into loving her. Turning sure made people think they were bad asses. Again, she ignored that kettle saying; the cliché was almost as dead as she was.

But, she guessed she wasn't exactly all dead, because she was alive-ish after all. She had all of her five senses, and her sight was extra cautious after that silence in the parlor of the boarding house when she asked Damon, Stefan, and Elena if they knew anything she didn't. They'd given her silence, and Damon had smiled with that stupid eye thing.

So, she was kind of stalking the house that night, tuning her ears to pick up anything that sounded even remotely suspicious. Nothing. She tried the next night only to get the same. It wasn't that they weren't talking, because they were, all three of them, together. And it made her wonder what 1864 could have been like if she had played nice with both brothers in a more Elena-fashion. It sounded more boring than that whole being trapped in a cave thing. But, it didn't prevent the queasiness in her gut when she saw the three of them getting along so well. Katharine didn't dwell on it, because she didn't really have a gut, and she didn't really care what the hell Elena liked to do with her time or with whom. Or at least she thought she didn't.

A whole week passed with no out of the ordinary mentions of witches, vampires, werewolves, lions, tigers, or bears. Oh my, she was getting as grumpy as the Wicked Witch of the West. She tried feeding on more of those blood bags in the cellar, but it wasn't helping, and Stefan and Damon were continuously insinuating that they wanted her gone. She thought they should have known her better than to rely on subtle things like insinuating. To get rid of Katerina Petrova, you needed more than a nudge. You needed a stake.

It was a Thursday night when she reached the two week mark, and she was more than pissed as she finished off her third blood bag down in the cellar. With her canines encased in plastic, she wondered how dinner had gone for Stefan, Elena, and Damon. During her shower earlier that afternoon, she'd heard snippets of "letting loose," "having fun," and "The Grill." Katharine was pretty sure they'd gotten home a few hours ago, but wasn't sure where exactly they were in the manor. She left the drained containers on the floor, walking up the stairs at a slow human speed. She was four steps from the top when she heard Damon laughing. It was coming from the parlor.

"Damon," Stefan said.

She could hear hesitance in his voice, almost fear. It sounded like a lead.

"Stefan." It was Damon, confident as usual. There was a strong smell of alcohol, probably scotch.

"Stefan?" Elena seemed almost as hesitant. "I think…."

"Shh," Damon whispered.

She could hear him walk across the room. In a flash she was silently at the top of the stairs, far enough to not be noticed but close enough to see. The three of them were sitting on one of the couches with Elena in the middle. A book was on her lap, and she wearing a black, knee-length skirt. Elena's blouse looked dressier than normal. Apparently dinner had gone well. And the after-dinner drinks looked to be in full swing. She was holding an empty shot glass. Stefan was holding one too, except his was full. Damon was sitting with his back to Katharine and the armrest, looking at the two of them intently. Or as intently as he could in the state he appeared to be in, must be in. There was an empty bottle of liquor on the floor, and another halfway gone. Elena was swaying back and forth a little, and Stefan's brooding forehead lines didn't seem so pronounced.

"Damon?" Elena said. She hesitated, hiccupped.

It made Damon laugh, and Katharine could have sworn she saw Stefan smiling. Then Stefan knocked back his drink.

Elena ran a hand through the entire length of her hair, cleared her throat, and lifted her glass to Damon. "I like it," she said. Her voice was confident, definite, almost as if she were talking about something more serious than scotch.

Stefan was downing a refill. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, staring at the rug. "I can tolerate it."

"Hell…yeah," Damon drawled out. Katharine knew he was smirking, even from the back of his head.

Then there was silence. Katharine could see Stefan's eyes shift between Damon and Elena.

Damon thrummed the fingers of his right hand against the arm rest. He lifted his face, chin out. "Stefan, after you."

"How generous." There was a combination of a wince and a sneer in Stefan's expression. He shifted closer to Elena.

Elena's swaying had morphed into more of a shaking motion, but she didn't move when Stefan touched her cheek. They were like that for a few seconds, just staring at each other while Damon cocked his head to the side, probably rolling his eyes.

Then Stefan leaned forward, kissing Elena on the mouth. She didn't seem too responsive initially, but Katharine knew from personal experience that it wouldn't last long. It was Stefan after all, the man with lips to lie for. And Elena soon had her fingers in his hair, as his were unfastening the first few buttons of her top, gently pushing some of the material aside.

The second her shoulder was bare, Damon was coming closer. Damon undid another button. He seemed to be breathing on her ear, because Katharine was sure she would have heard if he was saying anything. Dipping down, he pecked her shoulder. He hovered. Then Elena reached out with her other arm to pull his face forward. It appeared to be what he was waiting for, because he immediately kissed her open-lipped on the neck. And even with the tip of her tongue in Stefan's mouth, Katharine could hear her try for more air. Damon widened his mouth, kissing deeper. Elena moaned.

Katharine gritted her teeth. She wished she could have claimed something like this, but having both brothers had been enough. Elena was enjoying the Salvatores in the most delicious, gut agitating, plural sense. That…little…bitch.

The fist Katharine was making almost had her nails breaking the skin of her palm. Watching the two of them maneuver Elena out of her shirt without really looking, lips still engaged, didn't exactly help. Her white bra seemed to scream at Katharine. The lace was so clean-looking against the tanner shade of her skin, which Damon appeared to be devouring. He was making a trail down to her stomach before kissing his way back up to her cheek. While Elena's left hand was still entwined in Damon's thick head of hair, her right leg was wrapped around Stefan with her bare calf pressed into jeans.

Damon skimmed his mouth along Elena's jaw and nudged Stefan with his elbow. Stefan didn't appear to notice, moving only to slide his hand down Elena's back. Damon nudged him again, this time in the ribs. When there was no response, Katharine could see Damon pondering, his gaze on the ceiling. His eyes narrowed, he paused, he shrugged, he smirked. Clearing his throat, he lowered his head to be level with Stefan and Elena. He leaned closer to them, slowly, until he was inches from where their lips met. Without hesitation, Damon latched on to Stefan's neck using just the tip of his human teeth.

Katharine stifled a gasp, cupping her face. She told herself her lugs felt weak because this was weird, not because she was chocking on some sort of sick, twisted jealousy.

Stefan yanked back, breathing as hard as Katharine wanted to. "Damon, what are you doing?"

Damon grinned. "Closing the last chain in the three way, of course."

"What?" Stefan's forehead wrinkle crinkled on his forehead. Damon raised his eyebrows slightly, and Stefan shook his head, almost hiding a smile. "I would need more to drink…a lot more to drink."

Damon looked offended. "What? I'm not handsome enough yet?"

Elena giggled. She hiccupped, then giggled again.

Damon chuckled. "Look at that, got her to laugh."

"Not that hard right now," Stefan said, barely smiling.

"Stefan," Elena whispered. "Stefan, I want to tell you something." She sounded giddy…and really drunk.

The Salvatores seemed to exchange wary glances. Stefan appeared to be signaling something to his brother with those brooding eyebrows of his.

"Fine, I won't listen," Damon said. He covered his ears, muttering to himself. "You guys suck at three ways, keeping secrets, whispering, hogging the girl…."

Katherine was so wrapped up in listening to Damon, she didn't even think of her mistake until she noticed Stefan hesitantly nodding. Elena pecked his forehead.

Damon dropped his hands, his face looking sour. "How romantic…and gross, and…"

Elena placed her finger on his mouth. Damon was quiet. Elena moved her hand to trace the neckline of his t-shirt before gliding her palms down his chest. Damon's eyes looked like they were melting. Elena grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled up. Damon helped her with the rest, tugging it off completely shutting his eyes when she kissed his collarbone.

Katharine closed her eyes, just for a second, and when she opened them again, Damon and Elena were kissing. She didn't know why, but it was too much. Katharine looked to read Stefan's expression, but he was too hunched, face shadowed, hand creeping up Elena's outer thigh.

She walked straight into the living room with heavy human footsteps. The three of them froze, shocked to see her, and she tried to think of something spiteful to say. There had to be something blood curdling, foreboding, hell, she would settle for bitchy. But, all that came out was a sharp, frustrated shout.

It was her way of saying goodbye.