Damon lay across the bed, a mini bottle of vodka three quarters empty between his deft fingers. He was genuinely drunk now…and not alone. Across from him lay Buffy – nodding with both interest and concern. A gin bottle clutched to her chest.

I don't mean to brag or anything, he hiccupped. But of the two of us I am the better looking Brother. Stefan is just so…boring. I'm the fun one! He was growing more and more passionate, liquor spilling all over the quilt cover.

But she doesn't want me. She's stuck on Stefan. Boring ol' Stefan. I can be nice you know. I'm nice. You think I'm nice, don't you?

Of course I do! Buffy extended a hand to him, patting his knee. The gin bottle poured out all over the floor, dispelling the serious nature of the conversation and making them both laugh. Where were we? Oh, You are sweetness itself, Damon. She gave him a watery grin and hugged him.

Do you think Elena will come around?

Yes I do, you just have to show her how sweet you are, like now.

Damon rolled over to place his head in the Slayer's lap. She began to stroke his raven locks, they were as soft as they looked. His eyes locked with hers.

No-one gets me, He sighed.

They just don't know you yet.

Did any of those boyfriends figure you out? Your vampire harem.

She smiled fondly at him now, he was so playful.

They each got a piece.

But never the whole pie?

Not so far.

He sat up, drawing his face just inches from hers.

How long before there are no pieces left to give?

I…I believe our drunken banter has reached that inevitable crossroads. We can either sleep together now or drink some more.

Do I get the whole pie?

She caressed a hand down his cheek. You wouldn't want it, she smiled.

Damon found himself leaning into her hand.

Is this what your brother had in mind when he asked you to keep an eye on me tonight?

He shrugged. There's no pleasing Stefan. But I think I got everything I need.

Always in your own way?

Always.

Buffy crawled up the bed. Kicking off the sodden quilt she curled herself under the relatively dry sheets. You remind me of someone, she said dreamily. Damon climbed in beside her, relaxing her into his arms.

One of the three?

Mmm, she murmured. Always doing as you please but somehow remaining unselfish…A champion.

He shifted Buffy so that he could look into her eyes. A champion? Have you been listening at all?

Yes. Goodnight, Damon. She kissed his cheek and settled into his arms.

Goodnight, Slayer.

Stefan stood outside the hotel where he knew Buffy Summers to be staying. He lurked up and down the alleyways and street but all was peaceful. Damon still hadn't returned to the mansion nor checked in with himself or Alaric. But if he knew Damon, which he did, he was probably occupied. This did nothing to contribute to the negative portrait his mind had already painted of the Slayer...but Damon's reputation could take it. He buried his hands in his jacket pockets but he couldn't really feel the early morning cold. Elena's panicked tone echoed his mind...

If you don't go, I will! A chilling look of determination and anger in her eyes. She would get herself killed trying to be a 'slayer'.

The Originals couldn't be more disinterested, Elena. They laughed in our faces. You can ask Alaric, it's the truth.

Why would you go to them in the first place? You should have come to me.

You weren't going to tell me a thing, I knew that.

He could still see the way her lips had firmed into a hard line.

You obviously don't care that this is important to me, so you can stay but I'm going.

No. Of course he would go. He would hold vigil on the street until he knew that there was no danger to the Slayer and funnily enough to the Originals. He drew a deep breath and gave a hearty and dry laugh. Suddenly he was a protector of this diabolical family, his enemies. He couldn't bear it, it was so disgustingly ridiculous. As if they needed his help? Who was this Buffy, that Elena somehow thought her a danger to the oldest and most powerful supernatural family, possibly in the world?

As he fought to regain his composure, the sound of footsteps had him whirling around.

I do love a good chuckle, would you mind letting me in on the joke? Klaus approached Stefan, no, he slunk towards him in the same way a jungle cat stalks its prey. His hands were clasped behind his back good-naturedly but Stefan stopped laughing immediately.

I don't know that you'd find it all that amusing, Klaus.

Try me. His lips curled up into a challenging smile.

Stefan imagined that if his heart were beating it might have run away but luckily for him, he wasn't so mortally inclined. The pair began to circle one another, Klaus' smile plastered tightly in place – the challenge forgotten.

Is this the new "teen vampire" hang out? I hadn't been informed.

What are you doing here, Klaus? You're not worried about a certain Slayer recently blown into town?

Klaus raised an eyebrow at the Salvatore's audacity. He should tear his head off, but they had been friends once. It just wouldn't do.

So Elena has the Salvatore brother's playing watchdog. It seems Damon got the better end of the bargain.

Stefan heard the bitter way in which Klaus bit off the words and frowned internally.

You'll not find me jealous, Stefan smiled now. I am somewhat confused though. You and your brothers made the Slayer sound like a joke. Are you here to play watch dog too or are you vying to play humble host? Stefan examined his nails arrogantly. If so, I think Damon may have beat you to it.

Careful, Stefan or I'll have Elena awaiting your safe return until she's dead and buried.

Oh I'm not here to get in your way. Whatever it is that you came here to do, go right ahead. They had stopped moving by this time and stood regarding each other with a hostility as potent as it was primordial.

You wouldn't be up to something, would you Stefan?

No more than yourself.

They had been good friends. The best of friends. Brothers. The memories might have been hidden inside Stefan's mind and revealed once more, but he knew Klaus - beyond what any of the others could understand. He saw the flicker of anguish in his expression.

Did she break your heart?

For a fraction of a second. Perhaps even less. So fleeting was the moment - an incredible pain was evident. No human eye could have hoped to notice it, nor any vampire have known that Klaus was capable of feeling.

Good.

Stefan turned on his heel and walked slowly but confidently away from the hotel. He wouldn't go to Elena, he would go home. Stefan chanced a look over his shoulder where he caught sight of Klaus' figure. Disappearing into the night from which he'd come.

Elena writhed across the bed. The sheets twisted around her body, drenched in the sweat of a never-ending nightmare. She moaned. Panic trapped her inside the vision. There were men, black cloaked men. She didn't just see the swing of their arced swords but heard the whistle of metal and felt the burning sensation in her own stomach. She saw the faces of women she didn't know cringe in the same searing agony that consumed her. They flashed faster and faster through her vision until they became a blur. She awoke, screaming, with the lasting image of the Bringer's carved and unseeing eyes laughing into hers.

Alaric heard the screams and came rushing into the bedroom.

Elena? Seeing that she was unharmed he exhaled a sigh of relief.

I can feel them Ric. She ran her hands over her stomach where she was sure she had been stabbed. The tears came long and hot. I can feel their suffering, it's my suffering now too. I can feel all of it. The sobs made it impossible for her to explain further and so she let herself fall apart while he looked on helplessly.

Elena passed the rest of the early morning hours at her window seat. She watched the horizon glow with the sun's rays and she watched the faces of the murdered slayers flicker past her again and again. They had been young and powerful women, her sisters. Each of them had died before their time, before they could fully grasp the importance of their existence. They had had a mission, a purpose. Buffy had talked about the First Evil, the battle that embroiled her hometown and the attempt to destroy the Slayer line. A quiet anger was beginning to hum on the fringes of her heart. Numerous attempts had been made on her life in the past few years, she had survived the car accident that claimed her parent's lives. Looking back, it seemed the world had laid down a great many obstacles that she wasn't supposed to survive. But she had. Slayers had perished in the struggle for good but they continued to fight and lay down their lives. She felt the pride in her heart – the great power that she now belonged to was...breathtaking. She had been waiting for it all along. How would she explain to her friends and her brother, this connection that had slept within her, how would she let them go?

There had been a text message waiting for her when she had so unceremoniously awoken. It was Stefan giving her the 'all-clear'. The message was short. Clipped. It stung with his hurt. She never intended to hurt anybody but in spite of this, there were only rare instances that her loved ones enjoyed happiness and security. She felt the responsibility for this bear down on her. They suffered because she couldn't be without the Salvatore Brothers. Either of them. Perhaps if she had not succumbed to her passions, if she had not been so selfish. She hadn't the courage to acknowledge the consequences of her actions – but if she had, then maybe things would be different. Infinitely changed. But would they be better?

She would still be a Petrova Doppelganger. Her blood would still be the key ingredient in the production of Klaus' hybrid army – she would have been long dead by now...

Elena snapped to attention, her macabre thoughts pushed the back of her mind with a knock at her bedroom door. Bonnie walked in cautiously, reading her best friends mood. She smiled her most understanding Bonnie smile.

What's going on, Elena?

The hum-drum of the night club was other-worldly. The bass instilled in each eager human an energy more mystical than they would ever know. Women danced, teasing their partners and with a tantilising amount of soft, exposed flesh. Was it strange that of all places, he could feel his humanity here? Even his empty, unbeating heart was touched by the rhythm. The electricity. And the heat...All of it radiated from her. She ran her warm hands down his arms and back up them again to his face. Then she kissed him. Her lips were so soft, her taste filling him with a different kind of hunger. A feeling that began as a gentle burning flame. When the kiss ended, he could see in her forest green eyes that the same fire banked within her.

She loved him.

His strong arm came up to pirouette her gracefully across the dance floor. The people may have been bumper to bumper – the music loud and fast but her elegance was effortless and her enthusiasm wonderfully infectious. She swayed and pressed her back against his chest. He stood much taller than her, but he knew what power coursed those veins. It was like wildfire. He breathed in the scent of her golden locks as she tossed them to the beat. She was smiling, he could sense it. She spun back around to face him, leather pants clinging to her lithe frame, halter top keeping the same pace as the music. Her skin coloured the most delicious honey-brown from the Roman sun. She was smiling at him. It was because of him that she smiled.