His body was broken, bloody. Lexi had once described pain as a dagger; if he were awake he would have equated it to more of an acid, seemingly all-consuming and total in its embrace. Unconsciousness was a mercy that Stefan gratefully accepted, allowing his mind to cart him away from his slowly-healing body and into the solace of a calm memory.

Stefan wandered down the stairs, making his gait measured and leisurely, letting the warm bottle of human blood to slosh around in its container as he did so. Even now, he couldn't help but taunt Katherine, as she stared hungrily from inside the shadowed confines of the tomb.

He arrived at the bottom, and then walked forward, stopping just before he reached the invisible barrier, sitting down and flipping the bottle between his hands. He looked up innocently at Katherine, dark pleasure stirring inside him as he took in her withered features and gaunt cheeks.

She licked her chapped lips, eyeing the blood with unreserved lust, and then pulled her gaze away to stare at him. Even sunken and black with thirst, they were mesmerizing and somehow still beautiful, great vats of darkness that tempted him to go and lose himself in their depths forever. "Come to gloat?" she asked hoarsely, and as always, there was a ring of amusement that edged her words.

"Maybe," Stefan smirked, uncapping the bottle, its seductive scent wafting towards her. Her eyes briefly closed, the veins around them more apparent than ever.

Her control had been perfected over the centuries, and she only needed a brief moment before the physical signs of her thirst melted away. "Be nice, Stefan," she cooed, "Tell me what you want, and I'll see if I can help." She tilted her head and her dirty hair spilled across her face; for a brief second she looked like nothing more than a helpless, injured girl, and in that instant, all Stefan saw was Elena, hurting and desperate.

His composure slipped, as it always did on these secret trips to Katherine's prison-lair, and without a word he handed over the blood.

She abandoned her control, and grabbed the bottle in her hands, shoving her mouth down around the opening and leaning back her head, squeezing the contents into her waiting mouth and moaning at her first taste, savage joy and animal need glowing in the recesses of her eyes before they closed again- this time in ecstasy. Color returned to her cheeks, and the appearance of vitality and health replaced the sickened sight she had become. Finished, she opened her eyes threw the bottle towards Stefan, who snatched it out of the air and placed it on the ground.

"What do you want?" she asked him again, her voice smoother now, her teasing lips full and red.

He shrugged, making up the question as he opened his mouth. "Tell me about the first doppelganger," he said, and she smiled.

"I'm the first doppelganger," Katherine replied, and he cursed himself for the mistake.

"Tell me about the woman you're identical, too, then," he corrected, and she grinned again.

"Can't help you."

"Does that mean you don't know or you won't tell me?" he snapped, suddenly frustrated.

Her grin expanded. "Does it matter?" she asked rhetorically, and then continued, "I've lived a very long time, Stefan. I have many interesting stories to share. I could tell you about the people I've killed, or the ways they've killed each other, methods evolving over the centuries. Or perhaps the killer's I've met, hm?"

"I'm not interested."

"Of course not," she purred, and then leaned forward slightly, her body nearly pressing against the barrier. "You know," she said after a short pause, "There was a man once, a vampire, obviously, who reminds me a tiny bit of you. A murderer, like yourself, but the way he killed was fantastic. I think the ripper would have learned a thing or two from him. He was almost elegant in the manner of which he slaughtered- pay attention now, Stefan- and he was quite fond of rearranging the bodies after their demise. Sound familiar?"

He said nothing, and she laughed, waving him away, his cue to go, to return to the daylight world where he could pretend Katherine held no sway, and imagine her words had no power over him.

"Personally, I found the habit a bit repulsive, but I don't doubt you would have enjoyed his company, back when you were dangerous and mean." She smiled sarcastically, and he rose, turning away to leave. "Angelus," she shouted to him, "Because he had the face of an angel." And as Stefan went up the stairs, he heard her laughter floating up behind him.

His eyes snapped open, and for a second he thought Katherine was with him, still laughing, but this laugh was decidedly male, and he turned, taking in his surroundings, and finding Klaus.

Klaus watched him with undisguised amusement. In his hands were a deck of cards, which he shuffled expertly. "I thought you'd never awake," Klaus joked, and Stefan rose from the floor with a grunt. He was healed, but it had taken a toll on his strength, and his limbs felt tired and weak, his chest sore. His shirt was crusted in blood, as was a section of his skin.

"You know," Klaus began, "when I suggested our little game, I never thought it would get this out of hand. The woman you picked- was she secretly a vampire hunter?" His lips curved into a teasing grin.

Stefan forced a humorless smile.

"Seriously," Klaus said, offering a playing card, "maybe a different sort of game. Cards, for instance. Much lower… stakes. Pardon the pun."

Stefan didn't take the card, and Klaus set the deck on the floor, rising as well. "What the hell happened? Not often do you see a centuries old vampire such as yourself bested by a human girl."

Stefan scowled. "It wasn't her. There was... interference. Others came. They knew what I was. And one of them…." He stopped and looked at Klaus, who looked back, still obviously amused. "Klaus," he said, "Do you know of… another type of vampire? A different species?"

Klaus' expression hardened immediately, and he backed up a step, folding his arms over his chest. "Now where would you get such a mad idea?" he asked icily.

Stefan examined him, debating whether to push the issue. He decided to do so- his confusion and curiosity were momentarily overriding his fear of Klaus. He took a step forward. "The creature I fought told me as much. His name was Angelus, and I remember now Katherine once mentioning him. He seemed to know her as well. The story fits."

"Does it?" Klaus murmured darkly, and then gave a tight smile. "Angelus? I've heard that name before. One of my siblings knew his sire. I've heard his body count nearly matches yours, dear ripper."

A flash of regret, quick but piercing drove through Stefan, a sudden flood of images racing through his mind- people butchered and bodies torn apart and put back together, a the memories of an ocean of blood washing like a scarlet shadow over his vision and the echoes of screams ringing distantly in his ears. The emotion passed, blissfully, but Stefan saw Klaus' eyes narrow in cold anger and something akin to disappointment. These, too, were fleeting, replaced by taunting calculation.

Stefan ignored it, forcing back the growing unease that always came when Klaus was displeased. "So you do know about these vampires," he said. "Tell me about them. I need to know."

"And why should I tell you anything?" Klaus asked flatly, and Stefan closed his eyes briefly, wondering how to convince him.

He opened them, "They've made any enemy out of me. I need to know their weaknesses so I can destroy them." He looked pleadingly at Klaus, "You can't expect me to go without further information, now that I have proof of their existence."

Klaus examined him, and Stefan thought Klaus would refuse to tell him anything, to warn Stefan from ever being so bold again. The words that came out of the hybrid's mouth were not the ones he was expecting. "Alright, Stefan," he said, "I'll tell you."

Stefan fought back to sudden urge to gape.

Klaus appeared almost offended, but an unnerving emotion, one Stefan couldn't quite identify, sparkled coldly in his eyes. "Don't mistake my motives for being anything other than self-serving, mate," he said, "If you die before the agreed upon ten years are up, then our bargain is null and void. I might have to… rectify… the situation."

The threat was less than subtle, and Stefan instantly understood the message being conveyed between the lines. If he left, for any reason, if he ran, if he died… Damon's life was forfeit. He allowed nothing to show on his face, for his humanity was a weakness that he could not let Klaus see. "How rude of me," he instead said drily, "To even considering dying on you."

"Yes, indeed," Klaus responded swiftly, and then continued, "What can I tell you about these vampires? Hm. They're much like us- unnatural, vicious killers. They require blood to survive, as we do, and cannot enter a home uninvited. The sunlight is their enemy, and a wooden stake through the heart their demise." He glanced up at Stefan. "Unlike us, however, they have no aversion to vervain, their poison is holy water, and a cross will burn them."

Though unbelievable, Stefan tried to force himself to accept what Klaus was saying as the truth. "Can they compel?" he asked, steadying his voice.

"They cannot. But they are immune to our own compulsion, and a rare few can hypnotize their prey before they strike. A useful talent." Klaus' gaze seemed to suddenly bore into Stefan's soul. "We are stronger than they are," Klaus began, his voice deliberately measured and purposeful, "And though many of their species are nothing- easily defeated and effortlessly dispatched, some of them are not to be underestimated. A select few have honed their abilities to beyond even your level, and are not to be trifled with. This Angelus, for instance. My sister was fond of his sire, Darla, and those of her bloodline have no parallel in their race. The Master's children are not easy prey."

"The Master?"

Klaus shrugged, waving the question away. "Dead. Irrelevant." His lips twisted into the parody of a fond smile. "I knew a girl, once. One of Angelus' finest accomplishments. She had an incredible gift- she had an affinity for the world, she knew the past and the future, what was to come and what had already passed. A complete lunatic, but one with amazing instincts." His smile fell. "Be careful, Stefan," he warned, "Angelus has had many enemies over the centuries, but none have yet defeated him. All that have tried are now dust or ashes."

Stefan nodded, remembering the trained eye of the vampire on the roof, and the experienced, confident way he had welded the axe. His gut clenched as he recalled the violent, animal snarl that had emerged from Angelus' throat, and the way his face had shifted into a demonic mask. Stefan banished these thoughts from his mind, and returned to what Klaus had said, part of him still trying to process the new information that another part of him still refused to believe. He paused, a disturbing thought occurring to him. "Klaus," he said slowly, "Are there anymore creatures out there? Any more supernatural beings that I don't currently know about?" he stressed the word intentionally, glaring intensely at Klaus.

"Are you suggesting I'm keeping secrets from you, Stefan?" Klaus asked playfully, but did not make a move to answer the question, and his icy gaze prevented Stefan from pressing the matter further. With a frustrated sigh, Stefan resigned himself to the fact that he'd get no more from the hybrid, aggravating as it was.

A short few miles away, at an old hotel, nestled in the busy streets of sunny Los Angeles, a different and decidedly more benevolent group of individuals were plotting against the two unsuspecting vampires. Their own resident vampire was currently in talks with a rather pretentious former watcher. Both were on the task of discovering about their enemy, Stefan Salvatore, and finding a way to end his life- permanently.

"Tell me what you've found, Wesley," Angel told the self-stylized 'rogue demon hunter'.

Wesley rubbed his eyes, looking at the vampire blearily. "I've been looking all night, Angel," he returned crossly, irritation tightening the line of his mouth. "And although I pride myself on having extensive notes, I've only found one scrap of information that even mentions the possibility of another species of vampire."

"And?"

Wesley looked up, a scowl materializing over his face, a tart retort forming in his mouth, but he calmed himself, instead coolly reminding the vampire that he had relinquished his command. Angel ignored him, and with a loud, obvious sigh, Wesley went on, "It's part of a watcher's diary from… well before even your time, Angel. When you told me… about this… Stefan Salvatore, I remembered reading about this there."

"Why haven't you told us about this before?" Angel asked, exasperated.

Wesley glared. "Because," he replied tensely, "The watcher is question had a habit of being… eccentric."

"And by eccentric you mean-?"

"Insane," Wesley finished, nodding. "Yes. So you can see the dilemma. I'm hesitant to share what he wrote- which wasn't much, regardless- because this may very well be nonsense that could end up hurting us."

"We have to risk it," Angel said, his face still grave, but his tone suddenly serene. He had made his decision, and now expected Wesley to abide by it, boss or not. "Darla and the vampire Katherine told me very little about the nature of these creatures."

"Refresh my memory, then."

Angel indulged the man. "They were created a thousand years ago by a witch. The vampires of their race can all trace their lineage back to only a few ancestors. These are the Originals. I only know the name of the one Darla knew- Rebekah. By Darla's account, she is supposed to be as deadly as she is beautiful. And she is very, very beautiful." He shrugged. "They're faces are different from my type of vampire, but aside from that, I know nothing else."

Wesley licked at his lips, considering, and then said, "That corresponds with what the watcher wrote." He opened a desk drawer and gingerly pulled out a thin, yellowed paper, which he handed to Angel, who took it.

The ink was faded but the subject matter would have been immediately obvious, even to the random observer. Next to rows of nearly indecipherable text, there was a carefully drawn sketch of a blonde girl, eyes dark red and teeth bared to reveal long fangs, dripping with blood. Below her lay a picture of a purple flower, and beside that a detailed drawing of some type of necklace, perhaps a locket- silver, with raised metal encircling the surface in a strange pattern, and a gemstone near one end.

"A vampire," Angel said, pointing the girl. His finger moved to trace the flower and then the necklace. "But what are those?"

Wesley took the paper back. "The flower is an herb called vervain, which from the watcher's notes, I've determined is harmful to these vampires, much in the same way holy water is for you. I've called a friend who's sending some over. It should arrive in a few days. The watcher details the ways the herb can be used against these creatures. Flesh contact with it will burn them, and putting it in food or drink will make your blood poisonous, as long as it remains in your system. Even its presence will prevent you from succumbing to their compulsion." Wesley looked up. "Which is a form of hypnotism. However, I doubt you would be vulnerable anyway, Angel."

"And the necklace?" Angel prompted.

Wesley shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. This is all I have, and this says nothing about the necklace."

"What else is there?" Angel urged.

"Very little. Aside from the references to vervain and compulsion, and the Originals- which he seems to know little about- all the watcher says is that these vampires are," Wesley coughed, squinting at the paper, "and these here are his exact words, 'a dangerous new threat, one that rivals even that of those creatures of the night the Slayer battles against'. Unquote. But that it. Nothing more, I'm sorry to say."

"That's fine," Angel said, "Stefan Salvatore bled just as we do. He's hardly invincible. I know you think it's futile, but keep looking for new information- and see if you can find out anything about him. He's old, but I don't know how old."

"Alright. And then?"

"And then," Angel said simply, "I kill him."