Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

~ X ~

Year 2062

He sat in a cold, damp, stone mausoleum next to the elaborate mahogany coffin. The brown metal folding chair he had carried with him quickly picked up the chill permeating the room transferring it to his body through his pants and jacket. A large cooler, filled with blood bags, rested next to his foot. Head bowed, elbows resting on his knees, he contemplated his tightly clasped hands, the white knuckles revealing his tension.

The chamber was underground, reached through an entrance guarded by black iron gates; the locked chains now hanging broken. The family name on the crypt was Lupinas. The surname had, against his will, forced a quick harsh laugh out of Stefan when he read it. Leave it to his brother to hide the most feared hybrid in the world, and then use a name like that.

He lifted his head again to study the coffin wondering for the thousandth time if he was doing the right thing. "I owe him." he thought one more time.

A deep, unnecessary breath and Stefan stiffened his resolve, flipping open the top half of the split cover. It was an expensive, well made coffin, and even after all these years the hinges moved easily and soundlessly.

Stefan gazed at him, remembering the marble gray, black veined face from the day he desiccated him, fingers thrust into the chest, feeling the thrum of the heart slow against his palm.

"He looks peaceful." The idea of a peaceful Klaus surprised Stefan. It was an expression he didn't ever remembering seeing on the hybrid's face.

Stefan reached down and flipped the cooler open, grabbing the closest blood bag. He took it out, easily ripping off the plug, idly looking at the bag. He gave a little snort as he noted it was O negative. He wondered if Klaus would be offended that he was being revived with the universal blood type. Shouldn't he, the one who had called Klaus a king, offer him something rare, like AB negative?

"Nerves," Stefan thought. "That's why I'm thinking these things."

He started to lean forward, and then stopped, holding the bag between his knees, and cradling his face in his hands. "Please God, I know you have nothing to do with my kind, but please let me do the right thing," he prayed out loud like he remembered doing as a child. The only difference was that he wasn't on his knees. As he expected, there was only silence in the tomb.

He steadied himself and leaned forward over the coffin, half rising from his seat to pry open the thin stiff lips and pour blood into the open mouth. Those lips bothered Stefan more than anything else about the body. Klaus's lips had always been so plump and red. Stefan poured until the blood threatened to spill over, and then closed the jaw, while massaging the throat to force it down. He repeated the process, at first noticing no reaction, and then on the third fill there was one quick convulsive swallow. It was easier now for Stefan to open the mouth as if the hinges of the jaw had been oiled. He no longer had to massage the throat. The swallowing motions were jerky and uncoordinated, but the body was remembering how to function.

Stefan thought the gray skin was a little lighter. He continued until the bag was empty and by then the dark vein streaks were gray. He opened the bottom half of the lid and watched the tips of the fingers twitch.

He reached down fumbling in the cooler for another blood bag. He popped the plug and brought the tubing to Klaus's mouth. The lips were now a pale, pale pink, and they made tiny sucking motions like a newborn animal seeking its mother's teat. When Stefan put the tubing between his lips, they latched on, and the cheeks went concave with the strong sucking motion.

Stefan inhaled sharply when the eyes opened. The formerly beautiful blue eyes were milky white causing Stefan to wonder if Klaus was blind. Stefan held the bag, rolling it up from the end to squeeze out every last drop into the demanding mouth. When he tried to take it away, feeble hands flew up to grasp his. Stefan carefully detached them, fearful of breaking the brittle limbs.

As Stefan sat back on the chair, the milky white eyes tracked him, confirming that the hybrid could see. Stefan took out the third of the twelve blood bags. This time when he brought it to Klaus, the hands grabbed it, and the head rose ever so slightly. As the bag emptied, the skin paled to the lightest gray, and the veins disappeared completely. The fourth bag restored the skin to its normal color, and the fifth bag plumped up the desiccated flesh.

The blue eyes were bright and the lips lush and red as Klaus polished off the eight bag. Klaus handed the empty bag back to Stefan and requested, "One for the road."

Stefan's lips twisted as he reached down for another bag.

Klaus grasped the sides of the coffin, using his arms to lift the upper half of his body, before pushing back to brace himself against the silk padded coffin so he was sitting up. Klaus took the bag from Stefan's hands before he could twist off the plug. "I can do that." Klaus challenged Stefan with his eyes, but the vampire just sat back in the folding chair watching him.

Klaus sipped slowly, eyes closed, rolling the blood around in his mouth, savoring the taste before swallowing. Suddenly the lids snapped open, the blue eyes skewering Stefan. "How long?"

"Fifty two years." Stefan kept eye contact as he answered.

Klaus raised an eyebrow at that and then pondered for a moment, playing with the tubing. He looked Stefan up and down and in a rather obvious attempt to delay more serious issues said, "Did you dress for the occasion? Reviving the dead party? Jacket, nice pants?"

Stefan smiled, looking away and then back, aware of what Klaus was doing and humoring him. "There was a backlash about ten years ago against the sloppiness. People dress nice now. Take care of their bodies. Jeans are for manual labor only. Tuxedos are back big time for evenings."

Klaus looked more closely at Stefan's well cut jacket, embellished with tabs and ivory buttons, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. The open jacket showed a crisp white shirt open at the neck, the sleeves rolled back over the jacket cuffs. He wore a chino type pant molded to his body. Klaus leaned over to see polished leather boots. Stefan's hair was longer, styled similar to the way he wore it in the twenties, the hair falling over his forehead. For some reason it brought a sharp pang to Klaus's heart.

"Do you like the current style?" Klaus asked still procrastinating.

Stefan smiled. "I liked jeans, hoodies, and Henleys, but you can't wear them anymore."

Klaus looked down at himself to see a Henley and jeans.

Stefan self-consciously pointed with his chin to the back of the mausoleum where a plastic suit bag hung on an electric light styled to look like a gas lamp. There was a gym bag beneath it. "I brought you some clothes."

Klaus gave a bark of laughter. "I guess my murderer owes me that."

Green eyes met blue and Stefan nodded. "I guess I do since it was me that brought you down."

Klaus didn't respond, just nervously tapped the side of the coffin with one hand. He sucked in a deep breath and eyes wary, took the plunge. "So where's Alaric?"

"Dead. We took him down. Damon, Caroline, and myself with Bonnie to do the spell." Stefan waited for the next question.

This provoked an angry scowl since he knew that it was Bonnie's intervention that allowed Stefan to desiccate him. "And the Bennett witch?"

Stefan made a face. "She died three years ago. Cancer."

"Don't expect any expressions of sympathy from me!" Klaus spat out.

Stefan shrugged. "I don't."

Next Klaus frowned and asked, "My hybrids?"

"Between Alaric and us none of them survived." Klaus didn't appear surprised or too upset by Stefan's response.

Finally Klaus got around to what was dearest to his heart. He stiffly asked, "Kol?"

"Alaric got him," Stefan admitted.

Klaus was silent, seeming to come to terms with and accepting his brother's demise. Finally he reluctantly asked, "Rebekah?"

Stefan just silently shook his head, face sad.

Klaus clamped his lips tight to stop the trembling, blinking hard several times, his eyes shiny. Finally he shaded his eyes with one hand. Stefan watched as he convulsively swallowed and with only a slight quaver asked, "Did she ever get to go to a dance?"

Stefan almost lied but decided not to. He softly replied, "No." Then compelled to somehow soften the blow he added, "She died quick. Didn't know what happened."

There was silence between them for a long time before Klaus shook himself and listlessly apoke. "Then I can assume that Elijah met the same fate?

Stefan shrugged again. "I don't know."

"What?" Klaus's head whipped up to stare at Stefan, afraid to hope.

Stefan opened his arms wide, hands palms up in a helpless gesture. "We never saw him after he left Mystic Falls . You know before Finn died."

News that one of his siblings might be alive seemed to perk Klaus up. He jeered at Stefan. "Have you reverted to ripper?"

"I've been in control." Stefan's reply was firm.

Klaus maliciously goaded him. "But the problem is when you clamp down on your urges to maintain control you have to dampen everything. You can't really allow yourself to feel all your emotions. And that is the joy of being a vampire. All your senses are amplified." He sneered at Stefan. "You live your life swaddled in cotton like a baby in a bunting, everything muffled by your need to maintain control."

Stefan opened his mouth and then closed it. Denial was useless. He marveled once again at how well Klaus knew him. He didn't know whether to be angry or relieved that someone understood what he had gone through.

Klaus looked at him knowingly, leaning back feeling he had scored a minor victory. He thought a moment and then asked, "Elena?"

"She died six months ago."

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "So the Salvatore brothers didn't turn her?"

Stefan met the hybrid's eyes and said simply, "She never, ever wanted it."

"Did she have children?" Klaus casually asked.

"No," Stefan replied.

"Liar." Klaus accused without heat. "Your voice changes when you lie, always has. So, was it a touching deathbed scene? The loved one surrounded by her adoring vampires?" Klaus made no attempt to suppress his sarcasm.

"She died in a car accident and I hadn't seen her in years and didn't go to the funeral."

Klaus's eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline. "What happened?' He actually seemed shocked.

Stefan wouldn't or couldn't meet Klaus's eyes, a fact that didn't escape the hybrid. He spoke haltingly. "She . . she didn't realize that when she picked one of us the other would leave."

Klaus rolled his eyes upward at Stefan's mournful voice. "May I assume that she chose Damon?"

Stefan, head still hanging, nodded. "She did, so I left."

Klaus snickered. "Stefan, Stefan, Stefan . . always so noble."

Stefan remained silent.

Klaus impatiently spoke. "So she picked Damon. I can't imagine that you spent the last fifty two years as St. Stefan the Pure. Don't tell me you lacked female companionship. You've always been chased."

Stefan smiled shyly and admitted, "No, when someone offered I took them up on it, but I could never put my heart into it."

Klaus mocked. "So they couldn't match the lovely Elena's looks?"

Stefan shrugged. "Some were prettier. It was me."

Klaus's eye's narrowed as he mulled it over, idly chewing on the blood tubing. "You're not telling me everything," he finally decided.

Now Stefan's voice got even quieter and he looked away. "She called me, told me I had to come back . . it was urgent. I came back." He shrugged. "Naturally." He swallowed. "She told me she chose Damon because he needed her; couldn't make it without her. She thought I loved her enough that I would stay and be there for her. She didn't think I would leave."

Stefan noticed that Klaus was staring at his hand, and he looked down to see that his right hand was unconsciously clenching and unclenching. He picked up one of the discarded tubing plugs from the floor and played with it to stop himself. Concentrating on the plug he continued, "She wanted me back. I said I couldn't do that to my brother." He stopped and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. "Damon saw us and accused me of trying to cut him out. Called me a backstabber. He wouldn't listen."

Klaus snorted softly. "Elena didn't defend you."

Stefan put his hands down, resting them on the edge of the metal chair, between his legs, and rocked back and forth nervously. "I don't blame her. She was so . so damaged by everything . . . so afraid of being alone. She knew I wouldn't betray Damon, and she knew Damon would leave her if she said she wanted me too, so,"—he paused and sighed—"she said nothing."

Klaus laughed. "So hot headed Damon disowned you, correct?"

"Yup."

"So, no brother, no girl. Great fifty some odd years you've had there Stefan," Klaus taunted. "Might even be worse than mine and that's saying something."

Stefan, head bowed, shoulders hunched in defeat, murmured to himself. "What's wrong with me th—"

Klaus was a blur as he back handed Stefan so hard he flew off the chair, hitting the hard stone floor and cracking his head. Stunned, Stefan flailed helplessly for a few seconds before attempting to rise. He finally made it to his hands and knees but swayed like a drunk on a week long binge.

Klaus smiled broadly and dimples hidden for over fifty years popped out. He looked at his hand and smirked. "I still got it."

Stefan finally dropped to his knees, raising his upper body by resting his hands on his thighs. He shook his head gingerly, trying to clear the dizziness, but mindful of his cracked spine.

Klaus slung his knees over the side of the coffin and hopped out, strolling over to the hanging suit holder. He unzipped it peering inside, lips pursed in approval at what he saw. He stripped off his Henley, rolling it into a ball and tossing it backhanded into the coffin, speaking as he did so. "The trouble with us, Stefan, is that we always blame ourselves. But it's not us. It's them. Starting with Tatia, the doppelgangers were selfish bitches stringing men along, pretending they couldn't make a choice, so they could have everyone. Never caring what they did to their victims."

Klaus pulled out a white shirt and put it on, loving the feel of the soft fabric on his skin. It fit his shoulders and torso perfectly. He continued his tirade while buttoning the shirt. "They loved being loved. Loved the sense of power it gave them to keep everyone dancing attendance on them all the while pulling the poor little me act; this is so hard on poor helpless me while everyone around them suffered for them."

Klaus unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them and his underwear down to the floor, stepping out of them, using his foot to kick them up to his hands. They quickly followed his Henley into the open coffin. He smiled when he pulled out a pair of silk briefs from the gym bag, before inquisitively fingering an appliance he wasn't familiar with. He shrugged and held up the briefs before putting them on. "You remembered I preferred briefs to boxers."

Stefan made it up to one knee and then using the metal chair hoisted himself up, falling heavily into it.

Klaus reached for the trousers, looking at them closely, noting the tailoring and the fine work on the hem. He stepped into each leg, pulling them up his hips, stopping to adjust himself, before the final pull and zip. He looked down and then twisted to look at the back. They fit him like a glove, and he acknowledged it. "Perfect." Klaus looked over at Stefan, who was grimacing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You remembered my size."

The hybrid pulled out leather boots, black and soft as butter. He smiled broadly as he pulled them on. Next Klaus pulled out the jacket. "Help me into this."

Stefan slowly got up, still twisting his neck from side to side, and took the jacket from Klaus. He helped him on with one sleeve and then moved behind him to perfectly position the jacket so Klaus could slide in the other arm. Stefan pulled the jacket down, smoothing the fabric over the shoulders.

Klaus turned to face him. "What do I do with the sleeves?"

"Pushed up like mine." Stefan adjusted them up without being asked and then folded the shirt cuffs back over the jacket sleeve. He fidgeted with the shirt collar and straightened the jacket lapel before dropping his hands and saying, "Looks good."

They were close to each other but neither stepped back. Klaus said, "There's something in that bag that I don't recognize."

Stefan nodded. "It's new since you . . ah, since your time. It's a shave cleaner." Stefan's lips curled up in a lopsided smile. "There's no more grunge look. No five o'clock shadows. Men are either clean shaven or have beards. No more razors. This new gadget doesn't cause razor bumps."

Klaus smiled back. "Help me with it."

Stefan took the gadget out of the bag and explained while he used it. "You press this button and pass it over your face."

Klaus closed his eyes while Stefan gently ran it over his skin, breathing in a scent he couldn't identify. He was startled to find that it raised urges he hadn't felt in a long time. "What is that smell?" he asked.

"They've done wonders with scents now. A couple of years ago they isolated pheromones that affect humans, and they synthesized them. All products have them now. It's supposed to attract women to men and vice versa. Get's people excited." As Stefan spoke he had gently raised Klaus's chin and ran the appliance over his neck. "There." Stefan reached up and brushed Klaus's hair differently. "You'll need to grow your hair a little longer." He then stepped back and threw the cleaner in the gym bag.

Klaus ran his hand over his cheeks enjoying the clean feel of his skin.

When Stefan turned around Klaus was inches from him, blue eyes glittering. "Do I excite you Stefan?"

Stefan met his eyes for a moment and then looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

Klaus leaned his forehead against Stefan's and slowly reached a hand up to slide it inside the open neck of Stefan's shirt, feeling the hard knot of muscles in his shoulder, before working his hand down to the rock hard stomach. He pressed a quick kiss to Stefan's lips and then stepped back.

Stefan's lower belly muscles quivered and the tip of his tongue swiped over his lips as if tasting Klaus. The hybrid watched him, amused by his obvious confusion, giving him time to ponder his next move. He nearly laughed out loud when Stefan reached up to touch his fingers to his lips. The green eyes studied Klaus's face.

Klaus repeating words he had used over fifty years ago but were really from a previous era said, "I fancy you."

Stefan blinked, startled and even more confused. "You want to be my girlfriend?" he asked uncertainly.

Klaus mock chastised him. "Don't be ridiculous."

Stefan breathed a sigh of relief.

"I never bottom. I want you to be my girlfriend."

Stefan, thoroughly alarmed now, blushed, staring at him with wide eyes. "I never .. . I don't know how . . I ."

Klaus quieted him with a finger to his lips. "Stop worrying, Stefan. I do know. Just get the cooler and follow me."

Stefan lowered his brows protesting. "I'm not going with you. That was never my intention."

"Of course it was." Klaus put a finger against Stefan's chest and prodded him to emphasize his point. "It's why you woke me. You have no purpose in life. You're lonely and lost. You know I'll give you purpose and direction. All you need to do is follow me, and I'll take care of you."

Klaus confidently watched him as the emotions flitted across Stefan's face, his eyes looking inward. Stefan finally looked at him, green eyes worried.

Klaus, smiling slyly, turned to leave.

"Wait! Wait for me," Stefan blurted out, one hand outstretched.

Klaus turned back. "I'll always wait for you."

Stefan grabbed the cooler and hurried up to him. They walked out shoulder to shoulder

~ FIN ~