Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of LJ Smith and the CW.

Author's Note: First, I would like to apologize to everyone. To say this chapter is ridiculously late would be an understatement. I really am very sorry it took so long. Thank you all for being patient. With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. (I rewrote it a couple of times just in case lol.)

Songs for this chapter: 'Missing You' by 2NE1 & 'We Loved It' by John Legend featuring Seal.

Chapter 12 – Absence …

"Qetsiyah." Klaus tested the name on his lips. "Doesn't quite roll off the tongue. I prefer Bonnie. Where is she?"

She heard the steel in his voice. His posture also promised violence. "You know what else rolls off the tongue?"

He waited 'patiently' to be enlightened.

"Semen."

His eyes widened.

"I could …" She let her words trail off with a smile as her fingertips crawled down the front of his shirt. "I mean"—she un-zipped his slacks—"if it will help? That erection must be painful after all these months."

Is she offering to service me?

She was the very picture of concern. "You felt like you could use some release."

He was as hard as a rock and they both knew it. He took a rigid, uncomfortable step back.

"No?" She began to pout, shaking her head. "What if I promise to let you come in these hands and mouth that you love so much?" The question had barely left her lips and she was already laughing.

She's fucking with me. And he would have gone straight for her jugular if Bonnie's likeness weren't preventing him. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you. I don't play well with others."

Her giggles died down to become a deep smile. "Oh such devotion. I'm jealous." Hunter green eyes narrowed on him. "You're pretty tame for a beast. I'm disappointed, Mikaelson. You've been housebroken.

"Have I?" His eyes flashed gold.

"Are you going to transform and maul me? Or will you just hump my leg like a horny little dog?"

He snarled, baring his fangs. It wasn't the wolf she needed to fear and something told him that Qetsiyah had just come to that realization. Her smile began to crack as she slowly backed away from him. She crossed the room, putting as much distance between them as she could. There was something off kilter in her stride, something unnatural. She reached the couch and sank down. He appeared in front of her before her rear hit the cushion. It was time to draw his beloved out forcibly. Her eyes rose to meet his and he saw—it wasn't fear. Her eyes had become darker, her smile gone.

"I've grown bored of toying with you. Sit."

So seduction was never her intention. "You do not command me, wench."

"That may be true, boy, but you will obey nevertheless."

He sat.

Interestingly enough, he remained seated even though he'd been dead set against complying with her wishes. Noting the irony, he smiled, but what he really wanted to do was laugh because it didn't make any sense. He wasn't glued to the sofa. He could move, stand; do a bloody Irish jig if he damn well pleased, so why didn't he? Why the devil was he still seated?

"Your hand please." She batted her eyelashes prettily.

Does she think me one to be played? Who does she think she's dealing with? He reached out and grabbed her wrist instead, squeezing until … he realized his insurrection was only taking place in his mind. In reality, he had already placed his hand in hers.

He stared at their clasped hands in amazement. He was absolutely gobsmacked. This was not compulsion because he was fully conscious and suddenly very aware of the fact that she was controlling him. Not that compulsion would have worked on him; he was immune to it. He, however, had no defense against this. He didn't even know what 'this' was, but he did know a formidable foe when he saw one.

The child was clearly shocked that something greater than compulsion existed although he hid it well. How stoic? She smiled down at their entwined hands. "At this point it should be obvious that my gifts surpass your own."

"I can assure you that whatever I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm."

"So 'enthusiasm' will help you conquer me and save 'true' love?" She took a deep breath. "Ah Niklaus, ever the hero … Its just as well. Blood never lies. Your ancestor, Lycaon,was the same way. He refused to accept that I didn't need a hero. I only needed Silas. But he refused to take no for an answer. His lust for me and his jealousy for Silas resulted in the creation of your race. Yet another thing the witches blame me for." She shook her head. "It's not like I said 'hey, sacrifice your child for power'." She gave him an annoyed 'I mean, who does that?' look. "As if power would tempt me to accept his suit. He should have known he'd be punished for his crimes. I was."

Next thing Klaus knew, he was awash in bitterness, drowning so deep in anger and resentment that he felt nauseous enough to retch. And then she exhaled in a nonchalant 'well that's life, what can you do?' sort of way and the turbulent sensations were gone.

Rolling her eyes, she continued. "Then your mother comes along and makes vampires by botching a perfectly good immortality spell. And who gets the credit? Poor little old me for creating the spell." She frowned. "And now here you are: the original hybrid, proof that two wrongs don't make a right. My kin must hate you as much as they hate me."

"I sincerely doubt that," he said calmly even though his composure threatened to was putting it ago, she'd nearly crushed him under the weight of her anger and disappointment after telling him she was the reason his ancestor, a king, had been cursed only to follow up with the coup de grâce: she created the immortality spell! Clearly, he was the one who had no idea who he was dealing with. So it was a bloody shame things were about to get worse because he had no intention of surrendering to whoever or whatever she was. Her powers, impressive as they were, were only a factor—he sat back casually, exuding arrogant confidence as he draped his free arm over the back of the couch—if one planned to fight fair, which of course he didn't. He would fight guerrilla style, as in: cheat.

Qetsiyah had to give it to him. Niklaus managed to present a comfortable, unfazed picture under the circumstances. "I can see why she loves you so much."

"I'll assume you're referring to Bonnie since it's her body you've commandeered," he said matter-of-factly then remarked somewhat pensively, "I wonder what the penalty was for stealing in your time … Dark days I've been told. Positively savage … but fear not, I shall endeavor to make you feel right at home."

Ooh. A creative threat; thinly veiled with just the right amount of insult. Way to dig your heels in kid. "Thank you, but don't you think it's a little premature to be waiving the victory banner. The witches may hate me but we all agree you're an abomination. And to accuse me of theft? This from the kid who wants my reincarnation the same way his ancestor wanted me? I think the looking glass would portray us differently. You would be the thief who stole his predecessor's feelings, and me: a woman simply trying to reclaim what's hers. Basically, you're Lycaon without the bells, whistles and begging, making you the less attractive model to be sure, but still a walking reminder of his annoying obsession and my kin's betrayal." Her face bespoke a summer's day while her voice frosted over like the winter sea. "I would have forgone my anger towards the witches to help them kill you had you not been linked to this body. But no matter how many times I tried to severe your bond, she fought me, her love for you choking me. Your presence alone clashed with my efforts to overtake her. Before I knew it, we were redirecting everything in sight. The silly twit! If not for me, we would have perished when you transformed into a wolf. This body could not have survived the process. But do you think she considered this? No, all she could do was cry and wonder why she couldn't feel you." Green irises blackened like the nighttime sky. "You, a creature that should not exist, have been at the forefront of our internal war for far too long and now I can finally remedy that. And I would advise you to think carefully before you act because any kind of rebellion on your part would be unwise as well as unwelcome when she's already made unlinking us more difficult than it needed to be."

Each sentence was a revelation!

Bonnie's love had kept them bound?

Lies.

Bonnie would never endanger herself for—

All thought stopped. Then …

She loves me that much?

If this were truly the case, he doubted Bonnie was aware of it. Even so, the information affected him. So much so he had difficulty focusing on the other important information Qetsiyah had given him. Think. The wench said something about … He blinked. There was also a reference to ... he had no bloody clue, which he realized belatedly had been the purpose of her speech: to leave him stunned, dazed and confused. He tried to concentrate, but his mind continued to wander … for me, Bonnie was willing to—no. For that particular answer, he'd confront the source: Bonnie herself. Right now, he wanted …

He wanted … to know how long she and Bonnie had been engaged in a war?

He got his answer. Qetsiyah began chanting over their locked hands, making it clear she wasn't going to elaborate on any of the statements she'd made. He would have to make her talk.

He flinched.

Did she just stab me with her pinky finger? When his palm actually began to bleed, he blinked in disbelief.

She bent and collected the small drop of blood with her tongue.

"What sorcery is this?"

Ignoring the question, Qetsiyah opened her mouth to inhale.

Whatever color he possessed drained from his face along with his blood.

She drew another long breath.

Klaus trembled, his vision nearly failing as he felt his blood evaporate. She was literally sucking the life out of him.

"That's better." She stood, surveying the room.

Shaken, he stared at her blankly, weakly.

"The bond is broken. I drew it out. Cease being dramatic. You won't die." She spotted what she was looking for. Why are the knives so far away? Annoyed, she headed for the kitchen.

This wench dares to give me her back? She was underestimating him again. The insult brought him out of his seat. He raced toward her. She's going to need more than my blood supply to incapacitate me, which she seems to—

Qetsiyah turned to face him.

—know.

Klaus stopped dead in his tracks while she simultaneously commanded "Stop."

Expecting violence to accompany the single imperative statement, he moved to counteract it … that is, if 'moving' could be defined as 'doing nothing at all' because once again he was 'moving' only in theory. He cursed.

"When will you realize it's pointless to fight Suggestion. That's what this is called incidentally. You see, I propose an idea, which I'll admit serves my interest more than yours, and you listen … even if you'd rather not." She smiled. "For example, I say 'stay away from Bonnie' and you: do."

I'd rather be staked.

She did stab him; with a knife she called from the kitchen counter using her mind.

"This is for your own good," she said soothingly as she plunged the blade deep into his heart. "You couldn't have made love to her anyway. Unless you want to witness Armageddon?"

Klaus shut his eyes … Ignore her. Don't give in to her words or the pain.

"If only it were that easy to get rid of me," she said with empathy because it wasn't that easy. And now to put the final nail in his coffin. She tiptoed to whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

No! The ground dropped out from beneath him. She's lying! He fell to his knees, the pain and the graphic images created from her words blended together, distorting his sense of reality.

Suddenly his eyes flew open!This wasn't a normal knife wound. She was enchanting it. She was driving him insane physically and mentally on purpose. He looked at her with pure malice. "You better hope this kills me, witch."

"Kill you?"

The bitch had the audacity to look offended.

"How could you say such a thing? I thought we crossed that bridge when you stressed your precious Bonnie to the point where she could no longer maintain her defenses against me. You set me free. So I thought to return the favor by telling you the part of your love story the ancient manuscripts conveniently left out, kind of like 'you scratch my back, I scratch yours' and what do you do? Lash out; beg me to kill you." She arched one eyebrow. "Well I guess it's understandable. It's not everyday one hears that his love will destroy the world as he knows it, so let's just chalk your outburst up to shock, shall we?" He opened his mouth, struggling to speak but she placed a finger over his lips. "No. Don't thank me just yet; let me finish displaying my gratitude first. Now as I was saying … I'm so touched by your efforts to release me that I've decided to upgrade you from savior to decoy. Just think: with you running around, my kin will be less interested in my plans. Don't you see child, you deserve a reward not a punishment. But," she suddenly frowned, "you'll have to debate that with him"—she motioned to Damon's unconscious form—"since I'm on my way out. Who knows, maybe he'll see things my way and reward you for your actions. He did seem perfectly reasonable before you broke his neck so it should be an interesting discussion." She straightened, leaving the knife to fester in his wound.

Damon Salvatore 'reasonable'? That was right up there with her 'scratching his back' and her 'doing this for his own good'! He'd had enough of this sarcastic bitch's mind games! Did she think she could manipulate him into believing such drivel or was she just amusing herself? A knife to the chest, a reward? Bollocks! And now she meant to leave him wounded in the hands of that bastard? She was downright vicious and he would see her unconscious before he let that happen. He grabbed the hilt of the knife and began to pull it out.

"Oh no! You can't do that!"

Did he detect nervousness? He smiled murderously while tugging on the handle.

And she …

… Well, she … she gave up the act. "No, seriously you can't do that because I've spelled it so only a vampire can remove the blade and"—she shook her head in mock sympathy—"since you're part wolf that poses a bit of a problem. It's just that … well … I can't have you following me." She bent and cupped his chin. "You'll stay put. You won't pursue me, will you, boy?

Hands fisted at his sides, he promised to leave her be, to 'stay put' as she so eloquently put it. It was the only thing he could do. He couldn't pursue her because he was bleeding in agony and his hybrid nature prevented him from removing the source of his pain. And moments from now when he compelled Damon to remove the blade, he still wouldn't be able to pursue her because she'd made him promise not to and they both knew he couldn't refuse. Her constraints were airtight. Houdini himself couldn't get out of them.

"That's a good boy. Who knew a small knife wound would be enough to make you give her up? Looks like you won't need any more motivation. Oops! Had I known it would be this simple, I wouldn't have—nevermind. Hopefully your friend over there will be kind enough to yank the blade out before it does its work. Hmmm, I wonder …"

The bitch cocked her head to the side as if she were studying his features for signs. What does she expect to see? What is she waiting f—his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Tell me wench, what will the knife do?"

"My dear Mr. Mikaelson, I thought you'd never ask. Now, I could say something like 'you'll find out' to give a little mystery but I'd rather give you something to look forward to." Her gaze drifted downward to view the knife hilt protruding from his bloodstained shirt then slowly back up to stare into his blue eyes. "Thinking of her will amplify the pain."

Bonnie. At once, his pupils dilated and his heart felt as though it had just been cut open.

"Its look as though its finally beginning to sink in." She cupped his chin and brought it closer to her face. "The information, not the blade, so we're clear."

He wanted to retort 'crystal' but the pain was jarring.

"One thought and you'll feel as though two blades are embedded in your heart. Dare to do think of her again and you shall feel the steel of four blades. A third time: six blades, and so on and so forth until her name and pain become one and the same. Then you will be forced to expel her from your mind and heart to preserve yourself. However, should you turn out to be a romantic who places love before himself … just hope your pal wakes up … soon."

He did hope—desperately! The pain was dulling his senses and it would only get worse. He couldn't forget was his soul. As the wench promised, the pain doubled. He wanted Damon Salvatore conscious—now!In fact, he wished for it, a feat he never thought he'd accomplish for multiple reasons.

Pleased with the sight before her, Qetsiyah released his chin and proceeded to Matt's front door.

"Bon-Bonn-ie."

It was pained, barely audible, but …

Klaus.

Foot poised over the threshold, Bonnie paused … while Qetsiyah fought to walk out the door.

So the little wench can hear him, can she? Qetsiyah shut her eyes to ward off the bothersome specter of her descendent. She couldn't believe it was taking everything in her power to hold onto this body. The kids were stronger than she thought. So was their love …

For now.

Her eyelids flew open. She was in control. "Consider this purging of Bonnie Bennett my gift to you, Niklaus, because your liaison can never be. Or you can choose to believe that I've done this because I fear you may somehow escape and seek revenge on me. In any case, think what you will while you still can. But if I were you, I'd focus on what I might say to get in young Salvatore's good graces. You should probably start with an apology since he'll be in a position of power." As she stepped outside into the cool breeze, she whispered, knowing that in his current state, he would have to strain to hear, which would cause his body additional pain. "Did I mention you'll be at his mercy and under his control?"

Klaus eyes would have widened in horror if he weren't choking on blood.

"Oh, I didn't, did I? How remiss of me. Well since we're on the subject, be a good dog and listen to Damon Salvatore, will you?" She took the gurgling sound for a yes and started walking away.

Wait. Why not destroy their love and cause trouble in the werewolf world at the same time? You're already here and they do deserve it … "Ask yourself Niklaus, is she worth all the pain you will experience? Trust me, living as my decoy is better than succumbing to this wound?" She turned to face him. "Of course you'll have to shame yourself by pleading earnestly for your life, but at least this way you'll be spared further heartbreak" or add more, she smiled. "Mull it over. And while you're at it; think Hayley."

The renegade original lycan plus an already betrothed purebred princess equals doggy war. She took a deep breath. Ah, the joys of multitasking.

— 12 —

"Jeremy," Qetsiyah called in a panicked shout. Just the person I wanted to see.

"Bonnie, are you all right?" He flew to her side. "What happened?"

She crumpled in his arms, crying and muttering inarticulate sounds. A couple of stammered 'I's, sniffled 'Klaus did's and sighs did the trick.

"Okay, shhh. Everything's going to be fine," Jeremy crooned as he hugged her tightly to him.

The men here were practically putty in her hands. Bonnie Bennett was beloved by all while she hadn't been able to stir the passions of the one man she adored. A wave of jealousy passed through her. That was then. She kissed young Gilbert's neck and felt him stiffen, love for his former flame evident in his rippling embrace. She hid her deep smile in the crook of his neck.

"Bonnie, we—"

"Don't," she lifted her head, her expression a mixture of anguish and longing. "Whatever it is," she said all whispery and breathy-like as she peered into his face, "we can discuss it later, Jer. Right now," her fingers trailed up his arms and clutched his sleeves tightly. "Right now we have to go after the cure before Klaus … before Klaus …" she broke down on cue.

"Don't worry, we'll get it. I'll call Shane."

You do that. Now I have the map and Silas' flunky in my grasp.

— 12 —

"Fido." Damon shook his head. "Today is just not your day."

A grinning face came into focus. Salvatore? The blinding pain was addling his brain, leaving him barely cognizant of anyone or anything. "Re-m-move the," he tried to speak but failed miserably. He tried again. "Remov-ve …"

"What's that? Speak up," Damon commanded jovially, knowing full well that the mutt wanted the dagger to be plucked from his chest. He would help after Klaus produced Bonnie. Okay no, who was he kidding? He wouldn't help. He was simply going to enjoy this wonderful moment. It wasn't everyday one awoke to see his prayers answered. The 'I-am-that-I-am' super conceited hybrid lying in a pool of his own blood was the stuff dreams were made of. The only thing that could have made this any better would be Klaus less chatty. In other words: dead. He sighed contentedly … "Judgy's usually more of a chanter. I've never seen her resort to manmade weapons. I wonder what you did to get her all violent. Did you mistake her leg for a tree?"

Damon Salvatore. I should have known. The overwhelming urge to stomp the wanker into the ground should have tipped him off. Only this prat could annoy him so thoroughly. If not for the mind-numbing pain, he would have already killed him. Fortunately anger gave him enough strength to shout, "The blad-de—now!"

"Because that'll make me listen." Damon rolled his eyes. "Perhaps some begging is in order." Why not milk the occasion for all that it was worth? It would serve Mr. 'higher than thou' right.

"When this blood-dy knife is remov-ved, I'm g-oing to …"

Damon wasn't too convinced. "Still slurring your words? Bonnie really neutered yo—" Klaus roared to the rafters and curled into a fetal position, interrupting his statement. It was a marvelous site but very shocking. Weirded out, he continued speaking. "As I was saying; you might want to save those threats for your rescuer because the pain doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon. So if you'll just excuse me, I'll be on my merry way."

"Hayley." Klaus sputtered, still wanting Bonnie—the knife twisted in his flesh. "Who is she t-to me?"

Trust him to bring up something canine at a time like this. Must be a dog thing. "You mean your girlfriend, the love of your life, the Tota to your Toto," Damon answered sarcastically before returning to the business at hand. "Just tell me where preachy went and I'll let you get back to dying or whatever it is you're doing?"

Girlfriend? Klaus dragged himself to his knees, needing—with everything in him—to confirm this because his feelings for Bonnie … he grunted in agony. "Releassse me-e now! I hav-ve to see her!"

"Who? Hayley?" Is he serious?

Apparently he was. What had Bonnie done to him? And second, did it matter? Of course not but it was entertaining. And to think, I almost left him like this. Damon froze. Maybe, just maybe I can … it's a long shot but … he pulled the blade from Klaus' chest. "You know Hayley was looking for you," he said purposefully. "Something about sex on a hot beach. Anyway, just go find her. Kiss and make-up or 'lick' and make-up—whichever pets prefer, search for flees, bury a bone and start a family."

Klaus zipped out of there or rather 'limped' out of there like a crippled dog on a mission. Shit, he actually bought that? Well go, Old Yeller go!

"Damn," he suddenly cursed aloud. Hayley? What was I thinking? I should have said Tyler … but on the bright side, now Judgy and I can spend some quality time together.

— 12 —

What the hell was she still doing in Mystic Falls? She'd done everything Shane had required of her. All that could be done anyway … I need a drink.

Conveniently there was a bottle, already open and half empty. She brought it to her lips. Here's to exterminating hybrids. Cheers! She could barely get near Klaus and yet she was expected to get him to kill his hybrids?

Okay fine, Shane never said: "Get Klaus to kill his hybrids," he just strongly implied it (emphasis on the word 'strongly') because they both knew she couldn't do it alone. The mixed breeds were way too strong. Even the small task of helping Tyler remove his sire's bond had proven difficult, but this … this took the cake—gad I could really go for some cake right now … but not before I finish my beer.

Disclaimer: I'm not drunk. (It was only her eighth beer. Nine, counting this bottle.)

My parents. Hayley took another swig. Guess I'll never see them again. Shane was pretty clear on the terms of their agreement and she had yet to deliver twelve slain hybrids. She might as well kiss the thought of seeing her parents again—goodbye! Mwah! And why not? She kissed the ring of the bottle. Bottoms up! Its not like Klaus will pop out of thin air to give me a hand …

"Ow." She'd meant to open the door not bump into it. So maybe I'm a little bit really drunk. Fine. At least, she'd been right about the bells ringing. It was the doorbell; thank God, and not something slightly more mental. Whew, close call!

She swung the door open. "Klaus?" Next she'd be seeing the jolly green giant. That's enough Budweiser for me—

He kissed her before she could invite him in.

His lips were persuasive as fuck! Who the hell was he trying to convince? There were no complaints on her end! She was inebriated, available and he happened to be the one she needed at the moment. "Come … hmm … in." Good thing she wasn't in the mood to demand answers to questions like 'what the hell are you doing here all horny and bleeding?' If he didn't care, neither did she. Cheers!

They stumbled backward into her home.

Klaus knew what he was doing here. He did. He had to be here.

… Lips smacked together in an endless, desperate routine …

It hurt—he hurt, and not just physically. His heart was … breaking.

You want Hayley. Yes. He wanted … Hayley? No. He wanted to feel … caramel hands placed over his heart, heeling him, taking away his pain as they did that day on the field—something terrible pierced the beautiful memory then slashed it to bits.

The knife.

That knife was now a part of him: a blockade to his true feelings. He wanted nothing more than to hear her voice—see her… his eyes lost focus. He couldn't see, couldn't reach out and touch her on what felt like pain of death. He was alone; bereft, needing to fill the hole the knife had created when it dug her out of his soul.

Ill at ease.

Pained.

Hollow.

He needed to feel something, damn it! Anything was preferable to this heartache, to this … this … He ripped open Hayley's shirt in a haze of restless whatever this was—

And froze.

His right hand rose to grip his chest tightly. To the blue eyes sitting in the back of his skull, the movement happened slowly as if it were occurring in slow motion. They watched his fingers slowly fist in his torn shirt … It doesn't beat, this heart … It didn't move—wasn't moved by this girl. His passion, this fire, was not for …

His gaze lifted to view Hayley. Tendrils of hair brushed against the bra straps on her shoulders. A bra … yes, she was wearing one, panties too, but all he saw was brown. Shoulder length brown hair. An average shade. Nothing special. It just hung lifelessly … unlike a voluminous, darker shade that whipped back and forth like the storm as she moved like the wind, her body one with the music … He remembered the dance on the bar counter as if it were yesterday. He had kissed her immediately afterward. Really kissed her, despite his threats and hers …

Kisses rained down the side of his neck, moist skin tapping stiff, cold skin.

It didn't feel like …

Doesn't feel like …

His chest constricted and he closed his eyes. There in his mind, he could finally see her facing him, her back impaled on a wooden door, her lips saying "I felt it" before pleading with him to wear a shirt. He saw his head thrown back as her tongue massaged his collarbone … Bonnie. Oh how he longed to retreat into his mind and stay with her, but he removed Hayley's bra and kissed …

And touched …

And rubbed …

He wanted this.

He was supposed to want this.

He was told to want this.

His eyes opened slowly and gazed down into Hayley face. He saw …

Hazel, not green.

He didn't want this color; he wanted that color!

He didn't want her; he wanted her!

Her!

Bonnie Bennett. Four 'n's, two 't's!

Something broke … and he was free.

Now he wanted to kill—no, he would kill…

"Oh Klaus, oh," Hayley moaned.

And he yelled, "DAMON SALVATORE!"

— 12 —

Damon examined the footprint once more then stood.

Definitely Bonnie's.

He smiled. "I'll admit that took longer than I expected." He turned to greet Klaus, making a huge display of covering his nose as he did so. He'd smelled him from a mile away, and he did mean 'smelled'. Motioning to Klaus' unzipped fly, he asked "That good, huh?" and watched the mutt scramble to zip it while he laughed. "And here I was feeling guilty when you had a"—he imitated the British accent—"'smashing' good time."

The rear uppercut to his face nearly disconnected his head from his neck. He didn't even have the time to curse. Retaliation hurt like a b****! But it had been expected and now: over … until a mean lead hook caught his chin. Now that was a surprise! And the following head-butt, which sent him flying into the grass on his back: pure genius. Wow, three attacks in rapid succession. Sparky must be proud. Wiping his bloody mouth, Damon viewed his assailant with a knowing grin. "She'll never forgive you."

"For this? Somehow I find that difficult to believe."

Pretending to be ignorant? Nice one mutt. "This isn't about me—a first, believe you me … but of course you already know that."

Klaus stepped on the whelp's chest, grinding him into the grass. I don't need to defend myself to this insect. "Speak of forgiveness when you've earned some."

Damon's dimples became more pronounced as his smile deepened.

"Get up." Klaus removed his foot.

"So you can hit me again? Well in that case … you missed a spot." Damon turned his head to offer the other cheek. After all, the bible encouraged such sportsmanship and since he was the victor, he could afford to be gracious … and pigs can fly. 'Gracious'? Hell no. He would gloat. "Losing has obviously made you sore, ergo 'Man With the Iron Fist' but please strive to remember, Joe, you're not the first shmuck to lose the girl. Just ask Tom, Dick or Harry."

"You wish to counsel me on loss? Am I to benefit from your lifetime of experience then?"

Dusting off his jeans, Damon paused.

Katherine.

The bastard was obviously referring to Katherine whom he'd lost to Stefan. The fucking douche. The past was best left where it was, in the past. Thinking of that slut instantly soured him. She was probably off screwing some punk that looked just like his brother in Disney World or some other place she thought would make her delusions a reality. That conniving bitc—he caught himself. He was getting too worked up. She was the past. And thanks to man's best friend over here, my future's looking brighter and brighter. He stood then stretched lazily. "My experience …" he flipped the script, "with Bonnie has taught me a few things I think you'd be interested in. Somewhere between the migraines, fearing for my life and being burned to a crisp—it's a long story—I learned she values loyalty … to Elena, that is. Some friend's forever bullshit, but's that's not the point. No, the point is, my … dear … stupid … mutt," he drew the words out to be really annoying, "is that loyalty is a big deal to her or I wouldn't be here today to rub it in your face. In other words: you fucked up. What is the British expression for that? Oh yes, I do believe it's 'cocked up'. Nailing Hayley was a major don't when you very spastically declared your undying love to someone else in the same town. Where's the loyalty to your so-called beloved?" Damon shook his head disapprovingly. "You do realize this isn't BC? You're only allowed one … at a time anyway. So I repeat: Bonnie will leave you."

"Like Katherine left you?"

"This isn't the same thing. I kept my eyes on the prize."

"And still she left? Poor, pathetic Damon Salvatore. Couldn't keep a woman so you attempt to throw stones to affirm your self worth. Unfortunately for you, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. I have no interest in this Hayley person you speak of," even though I kissed, caressed … I almost—Klaus blanched at the thought. This fucking prat was to blame!

"Ah, the face of guilt."

Klaus tried to remain calm. "Such a bloody shame … all your supernatural abilities used for petty gain. Tell me, what do you plan to accomplish by baiting me. Wouldn't your time be better spent waiting for the next Katherine to appear? It's unfortunate that Stefan got to the new model first. Now you'll have to wait another century for the next copy. I hear third times the charm although very unlikely in your case considering Ripper will be there to make history repeat itself. Of course he'll be there. He's always there to save you. Winning the girl must be his reward for having to continually disgrace himself to keep you alive. You must feel like an immortal failure. With a younger brother running behind you to wipe your arse, you had all the time in the world to make one woman love you and still you failed."

"Are you done, because I was this close to bringing you a stake. I hope that speech brought back whatever macho Fabio thing you lost while crying like a bitch in Matt's apartment. But next time, I'll take death for one hundred rather than sit through another one of your rants. They're getting a tad repetitive. So if the plan is to keep talking, pleassssssse kill me. Cut off my ears first though because I really don't think I can take another empty threat … Talk about being neutered …"

Klaus froze, anger seeping into his bones. Salvatore's words were of no consequence. He knew that. But the sentiment behind them pumped fire through his veins.

"What's that? Silence? Finally. FYI, you can shelve the whole 'Petrova' thing. You're right. They tend to go for the bleeding heart type. So like you, I'm moving on to greener pastures. Speaking of which, feel free to beast out and find Bonnie because I've got something to tell her."

Klaus nearly choked on his fury. "You're dare to—"

"Love her?" Shit. I really am in love with her.

What? No fire and brimstone, locus … nothing? Surely the world would come crashing down now. He, Damon Salvatore, was in love with Bonnie Bennett: self-righteousness in the flesh, and it felt good to finally admit it because he was suddenly very defensive of it. It was real. And now he would find a way into her arms and into her bed. AND there wasn't a damn thing Underdog could do to stop him. He had the looks, the charm and information about a certain tryst with Hayley. He had everything except gravity. No, gravity hadn't deserted him. Klaus had lifted him off the ground by the collar.

"I'll kill you!" Klaus was so angry his grip was shaky. Don't! You need him alive to thwart Qetsiyah. You'll make your move while she's targeting him.

"You'll have to if you want to keep her. In fact, why don't you?" Why was Cujo beating around the bush? Why not dispose of me like he does so willingly and so randomly with everyone of his acquaintance? "Quit the niceties, Klaus. What do you want from me?

So much smarter than he looks. "This."He broke Damon's arms and neck then dropped him. Without a second thought, he crushed his spinal cord with his foot. It was much quicker than humbling himself to explain the situation and ask for assistance. It also ensured cooperation since he knew Damon would never consent to being bait. When he comes to, he'll come charging blindly into the fray like the fool I know him to be and become food for the fodder.

… That is, if he wakes up in time.

Perhaps I went overboard with the arms.

— 12 —

"Bonnie, I don't understand. Why did you—"

"Don't you see?" She asked pleadingly. "He was working with Silas! He was about to stab you in the back and I just couldn't, I just," she touched her fingertips to her forehead and weaved where she stood for added effect. She was going for 'I'm-a-harmless-little-goody-goody-who-can't-believe-what-she's-just-done' but her performance needed something more like … like … frantic yelling, that's it! "I just couldn't let him hurt you! But I didn't mean to—I swear I didn't mean to kill …" she looked down at Shane's corpse and screamed.

And kept screaming.

She shut her eyes, blotting out the sight. Now if only this boy would move …

Jeremy dragged the body away from her and dumped it … precisely where she wanted it to be: near Silas' remains. Finally.

"Don't cry, Bon. You saved my—"

She didn't have to open her eyes to know why his voice dropped off so abruptly. Silas had obviously finished draining his lackey, Shane, and moved on to Jeremy.

Goodness gracious, the work of an actress is never done.

Her eyes flew open."Jerreemmmyyyy, NO!" She rushed over and tried to pry him from Silas' clutches with as much strength as she dared. It wouldn't do to really free him. She only had to look like she gave a damn. Not for the dying teen who looked at her with petrified eyes, but for the warlock rising to prominence behind them. She had to find out what he wanted from little Bonnie Bennett.

When the Gilbert child went cold in her arms, she rose slowly to her feet.

"What do you want from me?!" Tear tear. Sob sob. "WHAT?" This last word was said in a hysterical manner sure to induce a response.

"Get back, Preachy!"

Shit. That idiot whizzed past him into the cave. Leave it to a Salvatore to exceed expectations, Klaus lamented. The fool charged in blindly all right. And in doing so had alerted Qetsiyah and Silas to his presence, which had not been a part of his plan. Having arrived a few seconds before Damon, he had yet to position himself for attack and now it was too late. Bloody hell, the bastard was earlier than I anticipated. I should have broken his legs as well. That would've been best, he figured as he watched dislocated arms attempt to encircle the wench from behind. He's completely useless. Another vampire would have waited for the wounds to heal before making a move, but no, not Damon Salvatore. He insisted on cocking up the best-laid plans of others. What good was a target that got easily disposed of, which incidentally was the case? Qetsiyah flung the brat against the wall with ease, pretending she'd done so out of shock and fear at his touch.

So this was her impression of Bonnie: frightened, too demure to get her fingers dirty and unable to control her magic?

Laughable.

He'd seen enough. Why was she still impersonating Bonnie? Those who she'd deceived were dead, with the exception of Damon who was unconscious.

He stepped out of the shadows and onto the scene. "Nice try, wench, but I'll be taking Bonnie back with me."

Qetsiyah turned to face him.

A/N: Once again, I do apologize for the long wait. I REALLY HOPE you guys enjoyed the chapter. Please, pretty please, let me know what you think :-)! An excerpt from the next chapter entitled … Fonder will be posted to my profile soon. Now I'm off to work on 2 For the Price of 1!