The Reaping

by 12301980

Book 4 - Two years after Stefan and Elena are reunited and the vampire bloodlines have been broken, the group tries to learn to have a life together as Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline had always wanted. Will their pasts come back to haunt them?

25. Chapter 25

SIDENOTE – I am volunteering abroad for a couple of week and will most likely be out of the loop for awhile. Thanks to a wonderful gift I received, I will be able to work on the fic, I just don't know so much about posting (WIFI access and whatnot.) Therefore, I combined two chapters and here you have the new and improved (and incredibly long) chapter 25 of The Reaping.

CHAPTER 25 – THE REAPING

-Katherine-

When I answer Damon's third call – yes, third… can he not tell I'm ignoring him! - I do my very best put-on as I'm out of breath. I'm happy to blame it on the hours of dancing, the fact that I've cleaned the entire first floor of The Salvatore Boarding House, and of course, because of the extra pounds I'm carrying around my mid-section. At just over twelve weeks, my usually thin waist has this little bulge – a baby bump; isn't that what those grocery store glossies call it when a celebrity is pregnant.

I, Katherine Pierce (-Salvatore? …eh, I dunno), have a sweet little baby bump.

I guess I have a bit of a rounded face now too, and no matter how hard I try to deny it, I'm eating way too much and my arms feel thicker than usual. My arms and my legs. I always thought I'd be one those girls that gets pregnant and looks sexy anyway – Heidi Klum pregnant or Victoria Beckham sexy, not so much Jessica Simpson plump, which seems to be the way I'm headed. Way back when, my first pregnancy, there was no such thing as crunchy Hot Cheetos or Cherry Garcia Ice Cream – getting fat wasn't even an option!

When Elena was pregnant with Allie – yes, so what, I checked in on her since I thought Stefan was dead (fooled again.) – she barely put on any weight. I know I gave her some grief about her weight when we visited in Thailand, but really, she looked pretty damn good after baby number two! I'm not one to believe in karma, but my out-of-breath self can't help but think the bitch is haunting me with some extra weight for heckling Elena like I did.

"Hell-o?" I sound high-pitched, both annoyed and cheery at the same time, when really I'm just trying to inhale without panting into the receiver.

"Where have you been, Katherine?" When Damon is worried he's angry. Come to think of it, when Damon is anything other than horny, he's angry – and sometimes then too.

I just huff because the timing of his question doesn't line up with my deep breathing – in through my nose, out through my mouth.

"I've called you three times, I've been texting you for an hour!" I think I hear a bird squawk outside as Damon gives me a run-down of how many times he's caused me to have to stop dancing and hit the silence button on my phone – it's too dark for birds, so I start over to the window to take a peek. "I've got to work. We're understaffed and I can't get out of here, not for atleast three or four hours and-" I'm about to tell him that being a cop is stupid and he should just quit and live off the huge – uncashed – check from his brother, but peeling back the curtain reveals a sleek, charcoal grey SUV sitting out front and a little girl in pink thermal pajamas, purple fuzzy slippers, and a neon green tutu running up to the house. "I promised Stefan and Elena we'd watch Allie and Grayson while they go out to dinner with some friends from out of town."

"You did what!?" I shriek in a whisper, hiding to the side of the window just as Stefan, carrying Grayson (also in pajamas) and what looks like enough luggage for a round the world trip, struts around the front of the SUV.

I'm frozen for a moment – Allie's high pitched laughs getting closer! I snap through a hundred memories of Stefan and I, from the first time I ever laid eyes on him to the last time I had my hands on him… Never, not once in our very – very – long history has Stefan seen me looking anything less than gorgeous. Looking down at the ragged tee shirt and shorts, my ankles swollen and toenails painted red, but chipping – I'm reminded once more of how Karma may be conducting my life from the shadows.

The door bell dings at the very same time that Damon's voice is telling me that he'll be home to help as soon as he can and Stefan's voice is telling Allie about the actual door bell instead of the push-button kind. I can't believe how this feels as it's been hundreds of years since I've felt it, but my fingers and toes are nearly numb, the pit of my stomach is tied into an aching knot, and I'm flushed – hot and red -terribly embarrassed of how I look, maybe even how I smell! Mortified!

Ending the call with Damon without speaking, I take a few deep breaths as I wipe my rounded face a few times with my pinesol-scented hands incase I have smudges – untie my hair and run my fingers through the knotted curls to try and tame them into an actual up-do instead of a maid-like bun. All the while taking slow steps towards the front door. By the time I place my hand on the door knob and take in a deep breath, I've beat my embarrassment down enough that I can atleast appear confident.

"If it isn't my favorite Salvatore." I tease, one hand on my hip.

Green eyes – green like a Christmas tree, or maybe darker, like Jade – two sets look back at me, both on unhappy faces.

"Where's Uncle Damon?" Allie whines, disappointment in her nasal tone. Stefan's large hand quickly finds her shoulder, enveloping it whole and giving a gentle squeeze like a reminder as he says her name in a soft, fatherly reprimand.

I can't stop the smirk on my face – kind of a 'ha, you got in trouble' look. Allie and I spend a moment staring one another down before Stefan says, "You don't have to do this, Katherine. To be honest," I look up at him and bring my smile back to my mouth, "I'd rather you not keep my children."

And that smile fades. For a man who's words alone have made my mouth water to taste him, I'm not surprised that he can be just as mean as he can elegant, sensual.

With 'his children' present, I know I probably shouldn't, but I can't help myself as I quickly return with, "I don't know why you'd be concerned seeing as how I'll I've been carrying your child for thirteen weeks with no problems."

He presses his lips together and glares at me as I look at him like I am unscathed by his angry face. I can see him playing all the worst case scenarios in his head, reluctant to enter the house at all, then finally stepping in and guiding Allie with his hand still on her shoulder.

Like a pro, Stefan sets up a porta-crib for the already sleepy Grayson, shows Allie the bathroom, helps her unroll her sleeping bag and gives me a verbal list of instructions.

- Grayson needs a bottle in half an hour.
- Allie has already ate but will probably want a snack around 8:30 and might be ready for bed soon after.
- Don't let them watch anything scary. (Darn, I'd planned a night of horror movies and tequila shots… really, Stefan? Do I seem that ignorant?)
- He's meeting Elena and their friends at The Grille and should be back by ten, ten thirty at the latest.
- Call if there are any problems.
- Don't give them candy.
- Allie's koala is in her bag.

He finishes talking to me like I'm a thirteen year old that he's hired off a bulletin board at the grocery store and not the person he's known the second longest in his life and when I don't give a 'yes, sir' or clap at his wonderful rendition of a capable father, he turns his palms up and shrugs a "well?"

"Well, what?" I ask, breaking the intense stare at picking beneath my fingernails – a distraction from how delicious Stefan looks in dark jeans, a cloudy-blue button up, and dark grey blazer.

"Did you get all of that? Did you even listen, Katherine?" I don't know why this is hurting my feelings – I mean, come on, he's threatened to kill me plenty of times, called me bad names, wished me out of his life forever, but hearing Stefan basically telling me that he's fearful for Allie and Grayson's well-being when staying with me, it hurts. "Forget it, I'll just take them home and Elena can go alo-"

"Jesus, Stefan…" I sigh with a roll of my eyes as I move hastily to the door. "Get over yourself. Do whatever you want, take'em - leave'em. I really don't care. You think I wanted to keep a couple of kids for the night? I might look disgusting right now, but believe it or not I had plans," Huge lie. "so either pack up the ton of crap you brought over here, take your kids and go, or shut up and leave. Take your child-bride out for dinner before she screws up this thin-ice reconciliation you two have made."

I stand there for a moment – door wide open, Allie looking at me like she can't believe anyone would speak to her grandiose father in such a way – and for a second, I think Stefan might call my bluff. I mean, he doesn't move a muscle for a long moment, only his brow gets lower and his jaw sets tighter.

I don't know why I want to prove to him that I can do it, but in order to reinforce his confidence in me, I add in a lighter tone, "I'm not an idiot, Stefan. I've taken care of myself, all alone, since I was a child, I think I can take care of these two long enough for you to eat a blooming onion and have a beer." Another couple of seconds of four green eyes looking at me in my ill-fitting cleaning clothes and messy hair, then he finally says a sweet goodbye to Allie and I'm shutting the door behind him – leaving me with Stefan and Elena's most prized possessions.

It's eerie quiet – awkward – with Stefan gone and Allie looking at me with that look she always has… like she wants to say something. She's six years old. What could she have to say?

Weird little girl.

-Stefan-

Robert drinks bourbon, neat. He does it in a way that makes me want to drink it too – I don't know if it's the way the glass looks in his hand – both the cut of the tumbler and the amber liquid sparkling in the warm lighting - or how the simple act of sipping the burning alcohol gives him the appearance of sophistication, but each time he orders one, so do I. A hundred and seventy some-odd years ago, I can recall this same type of emulation with my father.

I've never had trouble holding my liquor, I'm just not the type of guy that enjoys being drunk, yet here I am getting that buzzed feeling from a third glass of room temperature bourbon and the closeness of my wife's body to mine. My free hand has been moving closer and closer to her, possessed by its own selfish desire to hold her, to feel that static-spark of my skin on her skin – when she laughs at something Pepper says about one of the manuscripts they had worked on, I lose all control with the ringing chime of Elena's laugh in my ears.

This hunger - an inclination towards a less slow, less sweet - this taste for something more… passionate? No, that's the wrong word. More risqué, salacious… my vocabulary is failing me here. Wanton? Lewd? Naughty?

The most fitting word I can find that might explain my suppressed penchant is most simply rough.

Whatever you want to call it, I can't pretend that it's not a side-effect of Katherine - brought to the light in 1864 and rarely been seen since. A part of myself that, to be honest, I've only shared with her no matter how many times I've wanted to give in to the tormenting pleas from the darker, meaner, dirtier hollows of myself. Two, maybe three times, I've toyed with the idea of being with Elena in the same ways that I have been with Katherine – once at the Lakehouse, years ago, but stumbling upon a hollowed out part of her parents closet stole away my attention.

There was a night, back when I was nothing more than a mindless ripper, my humanity compelled away by Klaus, when Elena and Alaric had set up an elaborate plan to vervain me. Elena, drunk and incredibly cute… that easy smile on her face, the one that sets fire to an ache deep inside of my chest – she purposely fell from the bleachers and when I caught her, the feather-light weight of her in my arms, those clear, dark, endless brown eyes so close to mine and her body trembling with adrenaline – but, my iniquitous thoughts were quickly dampened by the burning pain of vervain flowing through my body.

Then in Miami. I was so angry with her, with Damon, with myself – just hours after reconciling with the keeper of my soul, only to find out she'd promised to marry my brother. When she joined me in the shower… the things that I wanted to do to her, that I would have done to her, if only my damn loyalty to Damon wouldn't have clouded my head.

And now, for thirteen weeks, night after night – call it nightmares, dreams, whatever… no matter how guilty and disgusted I feel about what happened between Katherine and me – I can't deny that once again, Katherine has ignited that darker side of me. I close my eyes and my mind is riddled with both memories and fantasies, x-rated hallucinations of Elena, of us.

…and right now, I can't escape myself. There is a part of me – a large portion – that wants to have her right now.

Here.

At this table.

My fingers slip against the bare skin of her thigh first – a testing touch that starts at the hem of her dress, mid-thigh with her legs crossed like this, then trailing down to her knee. I've been without my wife for more than three months, that's my predetermined excuse for the indecent ideas fighting for the surface of my consciousness should I be called out for it. Through an appetizer, salads, and the main meal, I've been waging this war against myself, against the scent of her hair when she'd move the length of it from her shoulders, or lean towards me when telling a story.

I'm tired of fighting it. Of fighting against our gravity.

After we decided to end the separation, I wanted to go with her… but I will not go back to Jeremy and Bonnie's and Caroline still needed someone to stay with her and Matt. So, other than being able to touch her again, hold her against me, and a few kisses, our reconciliation has only been verbal.

The want I have for her is tenfold anything I've ever felt before. The bourbon, the gravity, her laugh, and the way she looks in the grey-blue dress she's wearing – I'm about to break.

The lighting at The Grille is low this time of night, but it, along with the candle in the center of our table keeps a glistening sheen on her wine-stained lips and keeps my mouth hungry for hers. Cutting her eyes towards me, her lips curved into a delicious looking smile, her wet lips reinforce my craving to feel her on my fingertips and my hand moves back up her leg, palm on her thigh, fingers curved with the shape, slipping between her legs.

She looks away from me as she responds to Robert, but I can't take my eyes off her. Her beautiful face – her slender neck and the feminine shape of her shoulders. Squeezing my fingers between her thighs, I feel hungry – starved – losing my fight to stay away from her and anxious to see her beautiful face reacting to my touch. I want to watch her mouth as she sighs my name and see the way her chin trembles as I move faster, harder. But at this moment, I want to see how she does at playing it off. It's obscene – I know – but it's all I can think of as I imagine what it would be like to slip my fingers inside of her right here at this table with no one any the wiser.

"Stefan," Pepper says my name and I almost ignore her, intently focused on the images in my mindseye, but Elena's hand takes mine from her leg and I watch as my chance is held captive in her lap. I don't feel too crushed… I mean, let's be honest, Elena would have never gone for such a thing. "Have you been writing too?"

Have I been writing, too? – Did I miss something? I don't know how long I've been absent from the table conversation, lost in my lewd desire for her.

"I was telling them about my fictional, non-fiction, semi-biographical, slash-self help thing I've been working on." Elena explains with a laugh, the hold on my hand not quite as tight now that I'm not looking at her like I want to devour her. "It's been a kind of therapy – writing everything out…" Something about the way she's speaking – low and quiet, her eyes focused on our hands, then looking into mine – it feels like she's talking only to me. Maybe she is. "With all of the fear and the danger, all of the unknowns from when we first met, then the years that I was compelled – all the things that I was told versus reality – it's been very helpful to get everything out. Write it down as if I was telling someone 'this is what happened and this is why and this is how I felt and this is what I wish I'd done."

I nod. I can't tell you how well I understand exactly what she means. It's the reason I started keeping a journal so many years ago. It clears the fog – gives you perfect vision of your memories. Releasing her hand, I brush her hair from her shoulders and graze my thumb against her neck as she adds, "…especially with what's happened recently."

I've gone from wanting to seduce her beneath the table in this busy restaurant to wanting to confess my undying love to her in less than five seconds.

This girl – this woman – she owns me.

"Robert and I," Pepper is using her motherly tone and it catches Elena and I both, turning our heads in unison – breaking our gaze at one another to look at our impromptu parents. "Elena, when you called me that day – to tell me about, well, about what happened with the girl –" I think I might be ill at airing of what I've done so publicly, like a town square trial. "I can't tell you how heartbroken I was, we were, about what you two were going through. Again!" Robert places his arm around her small shoulders, telling me that when Pepper says she was very upset, she's not exaggerating. "We can't imagine how difficult things have been for you both, all along… and to tell you the truth, we were worried about what we'd find during this visit."

"We were prepared for the worst." Robert adds, and I notice how they continually use the word "we"… I like that. How it's their default to discuss their thoughts as their shared thoughts. Their fears are their shared fears… shared concerns. The entire dinner – from handling issues with Kennedy and Carter, to affairs at the office – it's always a 'we decided'. "I have to say, we're pleased at how well you seem to be getting along."

Elena and I both smile – almost shyly – stealing a quick glance at one another, her hand resting on my leg, my fingers curling and uncurling in a slow rhythm against her shoulder with my arm on the back of her chair.

"Cautiously pleased!" Pepper hold up her hands.

"Yes, cautiously…" Robert adds, then sips his bourbon. I follow suit.

"We're going to be okay. " Elena tries, and honestly, she sounds completely committed.

I can't say that I'm in need of any convincing myself – after I told her about Meredith helping with the DNA testing on Wednesday, about our forty-five minute conversation at the hospital and then another half hour on the phone discussing a plan, Elena seemed okay. Don't get me wrong, I could tell she was still fuming about the text from Caroline about setting me up with the Doctor, but she let it go, she moved on and she's on board. 'We're going to be okay' sounds like it could be true… if only those words weren't loaded with what seems to be a curse.

Giving our waitress a moment to pick up the dishes and refill Elena and Pepper's wine glasses, Robert continues when we are alone once more. "It's not that we don't believe that you know what you're doing,"

This time Pepper interrupts, "We do. We trust that you know what works the best for you as a couple."

"But we don't want you to feel as though you have to put on a show for us…" Robert's words hang heavy as Elena and I register what he's insinuating – that maybe our happy-couple image is for dinner with them alone. I laugh. I can't help it. I laugh out of frustration with this goddamn subject and how it infiltrates every aspect of my life, and I laugh because it's all I can do… why can't we go on pretending that Elena has forgiven me and that I am as sure of her love for me as I am the stars in the sky!? As he continues, giving me the same kind of look that I dish out for Allie when she's being rude. "We would like to be of any help that we can – really. But we can't assist in any way at all if you're not going to be honest with us."

"Robert," Elena says in a much more sweet chuckle that my attitude riddled laugh, "Stefan and I would never be anything less than honest with you both. We love you like… well, like you're our very own parents and it's true that we don't want you to worry, but at the same time we wouldn't try to deceive you."

Pepper seems to glow at Elena's confession of how well we think of the pair of them, but she continues on, "Then tell us, how did you go from discussing divorce to this? We just talked yesterday, Elena, and when I asked you how things were you said there had been 'minimal improvements'."

-Damon-

Every cops dream, pulling over a BMW m6 full of gorgeous women.

Filling in for James – his kid was sick and his wife is out of town – I've been sitting out here for two hours and I get one car speeding. It's a jackpot! Well, it would be, if only Meredith Fell wasn't here I'd be able to play up the whole 'sexy cop' routine. Something about her knowing me from back when I was chasing my brothers girl and drinking bottles of whiskey with Ric as a hobby just kills the fantasy, even if the driver – a beautiful blond, ex cheerleader type – is smiling up at me like she'd do anything to not get a ticket.

"You aren't going to give me a ticket, are you, Officer Salvatore?" The blond driver flirts in a Marilyn Monroe whisper of a voice as I come back to her window with her drivers license and registration. Using my name tells me that while I was running her information back in the squad car, Dr. Psycho-Fell must have told them she knew me. "It's my bachelorette party!" She adds with a pout and I see an image of Rebekah Mikaelson in my head that makes me want to bang my head against the hood of this very nice, souped up car.

"Hey Damon." Meredith waves from the small backseat that she's sharing with three other women.

I nod, "Dr. Fell." Then get back to business. Ever since I became human, I don't like to run into people who knew me back-when. Liz, Carol – that's different. "Where are you ladies headed?" I ask the driver.

"We had plans to go to DeSoto – over to that male strip club, ya know?" Says an obviously drunk girl from the passenger seat, holding a cardboard box full of hot pink gift bags in her lap and leaning over the console to look up at me. "Wow, you sir, are one hot po-po." And they all giggle… all but Meredith.

I have a strange need to prove to Meredith – and everyone really – that I'm not a failure. I'm not just a has-been, used-to-be-bad ass. I can actually be a good guy, responsible. "I see your passenger has been drinking, ma'am."

"Oh no, sir!" The blonde driver shakes her head, "I mean, yes, she has, but I haven't. I haven't I swear!"

I hear Meredith vouch for her – saying that she and the driver are not drinking tonight and that they are now headed for a late dinner in town.

"Yea…" The drunk passenger sighs, "nothing says bachelorette party like a burger and fries at the Mystic Grille."

Sounds low key enough and I didn't pull anything back when I ran her information, so I give her ID and documents back with a warning about speeding and that they will need a designated driver if they plan on having drinks at The Grille. I make a quick 'have a good night' exit and head back to my car, checking my watch and wishing I could've been able to hang out with my niece and nephew… I wonder how Katherine is doing.

-Elena-

I think we both knew this was going to happen – the blunt questions and the need for explanation. The last time we had an actual face-to-face with Pepper and Robert was the day that Jennifer found the video of Stefan proposing to me in Italy. A surprise to everyone at that meeting… with me compelled and everyone else believing that he and I had only dated a bit in high school. Between Stefan's cliff-notes run-down of what he was and how his blood could save her, and my teary confession in his empty office after seeing the video of the happiest moment of my life that I couldn't remember, Pepper and Robert understand just enough to be confused.

"I came into the office and nearly fell over from the smell of bleach!" Robert chuckles, the bourbon loosening him up and giving a warm glow to his cheeks and the end of his nose. "Then there's a note, scribbled on an envelope from 'Stefan's brother', and a blank check for a 'professional cleaning'!"

Without taking his hand from my body, Stefan sits up, leans his weight onto the table a bit in order to speak quitter – I hope no one notices the shiver run down me from the way his finger tips graze over me, from my right shoulder, just below my neck, against my left shoulder, then down my arm until they finally lace with my own. "I know I've apologized about this before, but Robert, I can't tell you how ashamed of –"

Stefan, always conscious-stricken by his past, doesn't see the disbelief on Robert's face.

"Wait right there, Stef." Robert mirrors Stefan's position, leaning in towards the table as they discuss the mess of blood that Stefan left in my office after he fought Kol, one of the Original's. "They had Allie. That bastard tried to force himself on Elena. If you hadn't have done it, I sure as hell would have! There is no reason, absolutely no reason why you should feel sorry for what you did to that –"

"Robert." Pepper tucks her arm beneath his as she says his name, never liking to hear curse words.

Flustered, visibly upset, Robert apologizes under his breath, shaking his head as if to realign his thoughts. "And you're sure that that-ones brother has nothing to do with what happened in Thailand?" Robert asks in a graveled voice from downing the rest of his drink.

Klaus and Katherine working together, never.

Stefan and I share a quick look as if to verify that we are thinking the same thing, "We're sure." He turns back to them, but not before I see his eyes glance down at my mouth. "They are enemies, from years back. Hundreds of years… there is no way."

Pepper sits back, looks away. I don't know why I feel this way, but I swear she's trying not to say something. Backing away from us and looking towards the bar as if to remove herself as much as she can without actually standing up and walking away.

When he notices Pepper's body language, Stefan asks, "Pepper, what is it?"

Back in Wilmington, when I thought I barely knew him and had been compelled to forget the thousands of memories I had with Stefan, even without knowing him the way I truly did and do now, the way he spoke of Pepper, even back then, I knew that she meant a lot to him. I could sense how much he cared for her, how he had her high on a pedestal and thought highly of this woman I'd never met. Four years later, her opinion of him means more to Stefan than you could imagine.

"I…" Pepper stops, sips her wine before continuing. The tone of her voice is one I recognize from my past – from the few times that I had really let my parents down – disappointment. "Stefan, I just can't see how you let this happen. How in the world could you have confused another woman for your wife?" I feel the frequency between Stefan and I change, I can truly feel the heavy guilt hitting him – a crushing weight. And as much as I hate it for him – as much as I want to not feel the ping of happiness in my heart that finally someone else has the same thought about what happened with him and Katherine, I do. I'm thrilled that I'm not the only person who found it shocking – completely unbelievable – that Stefan couldn't tell the difference! I'm no longer doubtful about it – Bonnie spelled him to tell the truth and his story did not change at all. But still, it's a relief to know that I wasn't completely out of line for being hesitant to believe it at first. "You're so careful, with everything you do. And from the first time we saw you with Elena we could tell how deeply in love with her you are…" Stefan's eyes are on the table now, he even tried to pull his hand away from mine, but I resisted, holding his hand tight with both of mine. "I'm sorry to bring this up at all. I mean, I had no plans of speaking these thoughts aloud – especially not with Elena present – but Stefan, son, I just…"

I don't know if it's the sadness in his voice or the barely there volume in which he's speaking, but my heart hurts for Stefan as he responds with his only excuse – one that I've heard over and over, "She looks just like her…"

"Even the most identical of identical twins have differences, Stefan." Pepper responds in reprimanding, yet gentle, way.

I'll never, ever admit it, but it feels good to have someone on my side for once.

"It's different –" He's talking about our appearances, but those two words remind me of how he answered my question at Bonnie's – when I crossed that line and pushed our relationship to the brink – it's different are the same words he used to answer if he liked being with her more than me. It's not better, it's different. And I'm suddenly feeling much less sorry for him. "They are mirror images of one another."

-Pepper-

I never should have opened my darn mouth about this subject.

They were trying so hard to act as if everything was okay between the two of them. With the sweet touches and the sharing of those loving glances. I wish I would have just left well enough alone. Because that's what it was, wasn't it. Well-enough. Good enough to pass as okay.

It's just that I love these two kids like they are my own. Like I love Carter and Kennedy. Seeing as how I was cursed with an early case of ovarian cancer that led to a hysterectomy by the time I was twenty-six, I have no actual children of my own and taking young ones under my wing has been a saving grace. Stefan, Elena, and Caroline too – they are a blessing to have in my life and honestly, I wouldn't change a thing if it meant I'd lose any of them or their children.

So I guess that's why I couldn't let good enough pass as right.

There is nothing more that Robert and I want than for Elena and Stefan to make it through this – and not just get through it but be stronger and more resilient from having to face such a horrid obstacle in their marriage! Being older doesn't make you wiser – so Stefan's being more than twice my age doesn't sway my belief at all that they are going about this all wrong! I've been married twice – my sweet Robert is my second husband – and if I can claim anything that has made me qualified to give advice, it's experience. It's living a real life. With real human problems… like where to live, how to compromise, and how to make it through adultery.

Yes. Yes, I do hear Stefan and I believe him… I swear it I do. Stefan's kind and ethical soul won me over long before he saved my life with his supernatural blood. It didn't take much time spent with him to learn that he is a good man with a kind heart and a warm soul… but Elena and Stefan cannot simply bury this. They have to talk about it! They have to work through it with a fine tooth comb and make sure every tiny little speck of doubt is accounted for and demolished before moving on.

Take it from someone who knows, even the smallest unanswered fear, when left alone – ignored and unattended to – it can grow from a passing shadow of doubt to a looming storm of destruction without you even realizing it. But once it finally rears its ugly head, it's too late. It's too big and it's too strong and it's been growing and growing for weeks or months or years and it'll take over. It will ruin everything.

I love Stefan and I love Elena and Robert and I cherish their children with all of our hearts – so much so that we cannot let them make this monumental error. So, as much it breaks my heart to see Stefan look so crestfallen, and to watch the thin veil fall from Elena's guise of happiness, they have to discuss this and I'll take the blame for opening the wound once more if it means that in the long run, they'll have a real chance.

Over the music playing from the jukebox near the pool table, I can just barely catch Stefan's response, "It's different… they are mirror images of one another." But Elena's soft gaze transforms almost instantly – it's more harsh, her shoulders more square.

"Well, Stefan," Elena's voice is airy, too light and out of place, giving way to her fuming resentment. Her voice alone tells me I was right about this reunion coming too soon, too quickly, and too easily. "I mean, we aren't exactly alike. There are differences." He turns to look at her with a shocked expression that Elena either doesn't see or ignores, as she turns to speak to me and Robert. "She has naturally curly hair, so it's thicker even when straightened with a flat iron. And it's course, like curly hair is, you know?"

Robert's hand on my leg squeezes gently – an 'uh-oh' and 'you were right' that does not make me happy in the least, when in any other situation a wife loves to prove her husband wrong.

"Her hair is thicker?" Stefan frowns, leaning back in his seat. I think this might be the first time all night that he hasn't had some kind of physical contact with her.

"Yea, because it's naturally curly." Elena tries to play it off, taking a cold roll from the basket of bread still sitting in the middle of our table, pulling it in half and adding, "And, like you said, with her, it's different, than with me."

There. That's it. That's Elena's shadow of doubt… that he wants this other woman more than he wants her.

"Elena," Stefan's eyes cut to Robert and I, obviously not wanting to discuss this in front of us and maybe even getting irritated with her. I can't say I blame him for either. It's a very private matter for one, and she shouldn't have led him to believe she was accepting of it all if the truth is that she's not even able to keep her cool about it for more than a few seconds.

Honesty –verbal, emotional, and physical – it's the truth of long lasting relationships.

When you're mad – you've got to show it.

When you're hiding something – you've got to expose it.

When you need something more, different, in the bedroom – you've got to be brave enough to ask for it.

No lies, no hiding. Not if you want to live your life holding the same hand for all of your years.

"Elena, can we discuss this later?"

"And then our gravity, Stefan." Elena sits both halves of the roll back on the table, turning towards Stefan a bit and resting her hands in her lap. "I totally get that you didn't notice her hair, but how did you not feel that this was missing?" Elena gestures between their chests, leaving Robert and I to share a confused look.

Their gravity… and what exactly is this?

Stefan suddenly looks exhausted, just completely beat down, and I want to put a reign on Elena for the time being. My point has been made – they need to really talk about these things, but not here and not after multiple glasses of wine and a few tumblers of bourbon. "Please, Elena," Stefan shakes his head, looking up at her with his brow low and head tilted slightly down. "Not here."

Ignoring his gentle request, Elena turns to Robert and I, "At first, when we first met, I thought that I was just nervous around him, or that I felt intimidated by how good looking and mysterious the new boy was, then when I found out he was a vam– when I learned that he was different, I thought that the strange feeling I got when he was around was because we weren't the same…" She still seems upset, but recalling memories of their past has softened her a bit and she places her hand on his leg as she continues with a soft smile on her face. "When it really hit me, when I realized that I only felt this vibration, like a static frequency, that I only felt it when I was with him – no others like him – was when he found me in Miami. I'd noticed it soon after he and Klaus came back to Mystic Falls, but he was different and I was kind of scared of what he could do. When I got back from Spain, I thought I was feeling guilt or shame… but then, in Miami…" Stefan's jaw is tight, locked as stiffly as his stare on the table. Recalling these memories may be softening Elena again, but Stefan seems to be getting more wound up. "He was human and I wasn't scared and I was too happy to see him alive to be guilty about anything… that's when I realized that it wasn't the circumstance or the context, it was Stefan. It was Stefan and me."

I ask him a question in hopes of breaking his stone-demeanor, "And you feel this 'frequency' too?"

He nods, licks his lips, "From the first time I saw her."

The table is quiet for a moment – Robert and I are processing what we've just heard and Stefan and Elena seem to be lost in their own heads until Elena breaks the silence.

"So that's what I mean," Elena is using that too light, too high pitched tone again, "So many times before Katherine had pretended to be me and trust me, she's really great at it! She's tricked my own family, my best friends, even Damon," She and Stefan meet each other's eyes – a hard, green glare matched against Elena's wide-eyed, cavalier smirk - when she adds after a slight hesitation for punctuation, "but never Stefan. Well, until now."

Robert's squeeze on my leg is much less gentle and I get what he's saying – that thought I may have been right with my suspicions, he was right when he said this dinner was not the time nor the place to bring it up. Taking his cue to put a stop to what looks to be the start of an extensive argument, I make a scene about needing to use the rest room and suggest Elena come with me.

It takes a moment – an awkward, heavy second or two for Elena to look away from Stefan and break their combative stare – but when she finally stands, I swear Robert and I release a simultaneous sigh of relief.

-Stefan-

I feel like such an asshole… a fool!

I can't look at Robert. I'm a sorry excuse for the good man that I know he believed me to be. He loves Elena – he and Pepper are the closest thing to in-laws that I will ever have and here I am, sitting like an apprehended criminal under the frowning gaze of a man I respect in more ways that I can verbalize.

She looks just like her…

I wasn't on guard…

When I saw her, standing in the doorway in that silky dress in the dead silence of that dark night, my walls-down, intoxicated state-of-mind just wanted her – my wife. So much that I wasn't paying attention to anything else…

And that's how I missed it. That's how I missed the emptiness. That's how I missed the lack of our frequency.

Lost in my thoughts, I give a few well-placed nods and 'yes', 'okay', and 'umhmm's as Robert does the best he can to make small talk. The weather. The dark wood bar. A few reading suggestions.

"How are you doing, Stefan?" His large hand on my shoulder, reaching across the table, it pulls be back into the present. I try a half shrug/nod – a wordless 'I'm okay', but he doesn't buy it. "This can't be easy on you either, son."

Laying my head back, I inhale deeply through my nose and crack my knuckles in my lap. I've done so many terrible things in my life, but this may be the one thing that will gut me. In the end, I'm going to lose everything. Looking at him again, I sigh, "I've ruined my entire life, Dex… how do you think I'm doing?"

If the test on Wednesday proves Katherine right, I'll be a void, cavernous existence.

"Stef, now listen to me, you aren't guilty. You were hood-winked!" Even with his very enthusiastic tone, I know that's not true. I enjoyed being with Katherine far too much to be blameless… without the gravity, without the apparent difference in the hair, I should have known that it was not Elena in my arms by the way being with her felt.

Please do not misunderstand me… making love with Elena is amazing. It's beautiful and passionate and I lose myself when I'm with her. It's the closest I've ever been to anything heavenly… but being with Katherine is the complete opposite. And as I said, it's not better – it's different… and very good. Being with Katherine is provocative, tempting… like fire.

"Stefan" Fingernails scratch just at the hairline above the collar of my shirt – sending that same kind of heat down my spine and pooling in my flexed thigh muscles, pushing me into a standing position as Meredith's hand moves down my arm. "Hey! How are you?" I don't see it coming – the quick kiss on my jaw line, right below my ear, but I damn sure feel it.

Like fire.

I step back, leaving Meredith and I flanking the chair I'd been sitting in. There is nothing particularly special about her – she's a very attractive woman, kind, intelligent, and funny… but I'm not deluded to think that the response of my body has anything to do with her.

My unanswered want for Elena and haunting memories of Katherine are ruining me.

Missing her question – or ignoring it for the sole need of turning this two person conversation into three – I introduce Robert. "He and his wife, Pepper, are friends of ours – mine and Elena's – from Wilmington."

"Oh hello!" Robert stands to meet Meredith's handshake, "I'm Meredith Fell."

"Doctor Fell!" I throw in – hoping that Robert will run with the topic and give me a minute to regroup. "She's an old friend of my brothers."

He starts to – I can see the sparke of interest in his alcohol glassed eyes – but Meredith shuts him off with, "Not tonight," nodding towards a table of four other women, younger than Meredith… closer to Elena's age. With the pink and black gift bags and the few girls scantily clad, it looks like they are setting up a party. "Tonight I'm one of the girls." Her flat tone tells us that she'd rather be elsewhere and she gives us details without either of us asking. "I think it's a pity-invite, or maybe they just needed a designated driver, but one of the nurses is getting married and I got roped into coming to her bachelorette party."

-Elena-

Repeating Pepper's advice in my head, I step out of the bathroom and right into another person trying to come in. Preoccupied by the hurtful way I left Stefan at the table and Pepper's advice that she and Robert get the kids from Damon to give Stefan and I chance to talk, I give a quick apology and start on my way.

"Elena?" The girl almost shrieks, "Oh my gawd, Elena friggin' Gilbert!" Only one person in my entire life has called me Elena friggin' Gilbert.

The high pitch of her voice and the silly middle name makes me smile as I remember the many study sessions that Rory and I spent together at the University of Virginia.

"Rory!" I hug her back just as tightly as she hugs me, inhaling the scent of those cheap cigarette's that she was always sucking on. All the Victorias Secret models smoke, Elena! That's what she used to say to me when I'd complain about the smoke or try to talk her out of the habit all together. Moving back to look at each other, I've got to admit the girl hasn't put on a pound… but her lips seem less plumb and her skin just a bit dimmer than I recall it being.

"Elena Friggin' Gilbert, I can't believe I'm running into you in this tiny little town! What are you doing here?" She giggles as Pepper gives me a small nod as she exits the restroom and moves past us to go back to the table. "I mean, I remember you saying you were from one of these little hick towns but what are the odds!"

Little hick town. Ugh.

Rory – I love her. But she honestly believes Charolettesville is some kind of metro-supernova and the rest of the state drinks well-water and chews on stalks of wheat while we rock in wooden chairs on our front porches.

"This is my town!" I laugh half-heartedly. "I grew up here."

"Here?" She gives a drunk sqwak, like I've suggested we eat dinner off of the bathroom floor.

To keep myself from rolling my eyes or pushing her down, I change the subject, "What are you doing here? Of all places!"

"Oh gawd, Elena…" She groans and rolls her head around dramatically. "My little sister, she's a nurse here ya know, she's getting married to the mayor's son, and like all of her girlfriends totally bailed on her tonight. Can you believe that?"

"Tyler Lockwood?" I gasp.

Why my first thought is oh Caroline… I don't know. I mean, come on, she's married to Klaus and they've just had a baby, but Tyler was Caroline's first love. I can't imagine losing Stefan to someone else, no matter what split us apart.

It's crazy, probably way too possessive, but in my head, I'll always be his and he'll always be mine.

"Yea, yea, you know him? He's kind of a dick, right?" I laugh – he is kind of a dick. "So yea, it's just her and some co-workers and me and like fifteen giftbags that I guess we're going to toss in the trash!"

I get the feeling that this conversation could go on all night seeing as how Rory is drunk and she's always had a difficult time knowing when and how to end what should be a quick 'hey there!' - she once made me so late for class that by the time I'd got there the door was locked and I missed a test.

Thankfully, Damon was still a vampire back then and he compelled my professor to let me re-take the test.

"Hey, listen Rory, it was so good to see you," I pull her into another hug, this one quicker. "but my husband is waiting for me –"

"Oh my gawd, Elena Friggin' Gilbert, you're married?" Another drunk shriek. "Like what in the hell!" I try to start in again, but she calls over my shoulder, "Riley! Riley!" Explaining, "Riley is my little sister." Calling again, "Riley, come here! And bring a gift bag!"

-Bonnie-

I can't find my phone anywhere – as in, I wouldn't be surprised if Lola or Liam some how ingested the dang thing and I find it in their diapers in the morning! I've looked in every cushion crevice, beneath ever piece of furniture, tossed up the covers of my bed, the lap blanket on the couch in the living room, dumped out my purse, and scavenged beneath the seats of my car… nothing.

Let's call it a civic duty – but it's nearly ten fifteen and if Damon is working the midnight shift, he's going to be online and, hey, I wanna stay sharp on my Words with Friends skills!

"Hey, Jer?" He takes way too hot of showers and the steam does a number on my hair, so I just barely crack the door to the bathroom and talk loudly enough to be heard over the water. "Where is your phone?"

"Huh?"

I open the door a bit further – rushed for time and maybe a little anxious to talk to Damon… he's become my secret pick-me up. I laugh when we talk. I flirt a little… (or a lot, whatever.), and it's just a really nice break after a full to the brim kind of day. "Where is your phone?"

"Um, what?" The shrill sound of metal curtain hooks on metal curtain rod sends a shiver down my skin like nails on a chalk board. "Why do you want my phone?"

Maybe he has water in his ears… that's why he sounds odd.

And he probably has that strange look on his face because of the water droplets running down from his messy hair…

But I get a really uneasy feeling for a moment.

"I mean, what's wrong, Bon?"

"Um," Something that Caroline said to Elena when we were in Thailand springs mind. At the time, it meant nothing to me. But after this morning, last night, him joining me in the shower – being very 'attentive', which is actually very un-Jeremy like – and now this odd tone of voice and an unrecognizable expression on his face, all I can hear is Caroline saying It's one of the many pluses of being with a guy who has an eternally guilty conscience… they live to please. "Uh, I… my phone." I try to shake this empty-pit feeling in my stomach, "I can't find my iPhone. I was going to call it from yours."

"Oh yea, right." Jeremy smile – he has a really great smile, sweet and honest. Pulling the curtain to with much less haste, I think he's going to tell me where his phone is and simultaneously ease this burning hot panic rising in the back of my throat when he says, "Good idea." Water off. "I'm finished, so I'll help you look for it."

Swallowing a bit of stomach bile that is trying desperately to escape my mouth, I try to sound normal, blinking away watery eyes, "It's okay, I'll just call it from your ph-"

Jeremy opens the curtain, towel around his waist and his wonderfully thick body sparkling with drops of water – he sure spends a lot of time working on his appearance… "Babe, I don't mind at all." Another winning smile as he pushes his hair off of his forehead, then takes his cell from the pocket of the jeans he'd been wearing. I smile - or give my best impersonation of one – as he adds in a chuckle, "I live to please."

-Stefan-

I sense her before I hear her.

I hear her before I see her.

I see the look in her eyes before I feel her fingers lace with mine.

If I thought the pin-prickling anger was painful when she started over to the table with Robert, Pepper, Meredith, and I, the electric-shock that her hand sends into my skin is honest-to-God vervain-burning painful! I even flinch a bit – Elena is more angry than I've ever seen.

"Elena," I start to try and bring her into the conversation, hopefully show her that though Meredith was standing somewhat close to me, and yes I was laughing along with Robert and Pepper at an ER story she'd told, it was purely innocent. "Mere-"

"Meredith, hi. How are you?" Elena asks, choppy. As if there were a period after each word.

I feel bad for Meredith instantly.

I know she had some kind of hopes that she and I may hit it off, maybe I'd take her out of for a drink, and the sight of Elena's hand in mine and my obviously angry wife has caused her to blush like a child. Can you imagine being in her shoes – giving her number to Elena's friend to give to her husband. I don't know, maybe I made our separation out to be something more than it was. Really, I've known all along that I wouldn't be able to keep away from Elena for long. Two months only passed by successfully because Klaus has kept me busy researching the history of Demi-Gods and other supernatural beings. But how would Meredith have known that… she can't possibly understand Elena and I – we're endless.

"Um" Meredith steals a quick look at me, at my hand holding Elena's, then to Elena's face. "Yea, hey, Elena, I'm good." A nervous laugh, another very quick look at me – her caramel brown eyes rimmed with a reddening face. "How is uh, um baby Matt? And uh…"

"Caroline." Elena smirks, her neck whipping side to side in a teenager-attitude kind of way. Meredith laughs again, more nervous that the one prior. "You can't even remember her name but you use her to pass along a message to her married friend?"

I tug on Elena's hand – Meredith is obviously embarrassed enough as it is – there is no need in making it any worse.

Covering her face with her hand, Meredith shakes her head gently, speaking through her fingers, "Elena, I cannot apologize enough, I don't know what I was thinking…"

"It's fine." I try, causing Elena to tug roughly on my arm in return, cutting her eyes up at me. I frown, mouth a 'what?' that's met with a rolling of her eyes.

"No, Stefan, it's not." Meredith groans, pressing a breath through tight lips. "Elena, he gave me absolutely no reason to think that he was… um, single, I guess. I'm so embarrassed I can't even put this into words."

Again, I try to put an end to this. Meredith made an honest mistake – no lines were crossed. And most importantly, I need this woman to break about fifty laws to help me steal the amniotic fluid that will be removed from Katherine for her test. I have zero plans of ever dating her, or taking her out for a drink, or anything else really… but the least I can do is keep my wife from pouring salt on her wound.

"There is no reason for you to be embarrassed, Meredith. Really." Releasing Elena's hand, I put my arm around her small shoulders and pull her body against mine, praying that she understands why I'm trying to defuse this situation.

"Ugh," Meredith smiles, nervously pushing in the chair that I'd been sitting in and then used as a barricade. "Stefan, you're much too kind…" Looking down at the floor for a long second, then up at me…

I see it. I don't want to… I want to think that maybe she's looking up at me through her lashes like that – in that way – for some other reason. Maybe I'm mis-reading it. Maybe she's got a crick in her neck and cant lift her head back to the neutral position.

Again, I sense Elena – a rage beaming off of her and against me like steel wool gnawing into my skin.

Then I hear her – a quick, shocked inhale.

When Elena steps forward, I feel her body swipe against mine, my arm falling from her shoulder – everything is happening so quickly and it seems so unreal that I hardly believe what I'm seeing.

I hear the clink of glass against a bread dish, see the goblet in Elena's hand, and just before everything actually registers, Dr. Meredith Fell gets a face full of red wine just as I reach out to stop Elena – a second to short – and the woman I need to help me put an end to all of this. Either good or bad – an end nonetheless – gives a near-silent shriek, a mix of tears and wine running in black mascara streaks down her face, and then takes off in a run towards the door.

-Elena-

I fought back.

You can't stand there and apologize – play the damsel in distress act right in front of me – and then give my husband a flirty, sexy look as you compliment him.

So I fought back!

Stefan is staring at me like I've lost my mind – Pepper and Robert are silent, as is the rest of the restaurant, everyone looking at me in disbelief.

I want to yell 'That's right! Elena Friggin' Salvatore just stood up for herself!' I want to stand on the chair and do a little victory dance and maybe a fist pump because you know what? I'm sick of being the girl that gets stepped on! I'm sick of being the girl that needs a helping hand or a posse of people at her back.

Maybe it's the wine, hell, I don't know, but I feel like a million dollars! Like I'm made out of diamonds! Like a new me… or the old me!

I'm smiling and a little out of breath from the adrenaline when my eyes move over Pepper and Robert – she's biting at her fingernail, he's looking at the wine splashed on the table, staining the white cloth napkins. Then I feel the frequency – the push pull – the vibration that we share, that supernatural connection that my soul has with Stefan.

It's like a warm shower – the way it washes over me as my adrenaline starts to ease up – but it's getting softer, weaker. Turning to him, my smile fades, my strong-girl persona even cracks a little as I watch my husband jogging towards the door, following Meredith.

Breathless, through a falling smile, I call his name, "Stefan?".

X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X

I wait by his car, wrapping the fabric of my cashmere Pashmina tightly around my body, my arms folding the light grey scarf into a wad of material against my chest – something like a shield. Needless to say by this point in our story, you know that I can already feel that Stefan is angry – our frequency is jagged and razor-sharp – but the few times that he's looked over at me from beneath the street lamp where he's finishing up what is sure to be a grand apology for my wine tossing, his evergreen eyes nearly cut me.

I wish I could tell you that I feel terrible for my 'immature actions' as Robert titled it – or how I reacted like a 'girl from the sticks of Virginia' – Thanks, Pepper – but I don't. Not even the toothy gnaw of Stefan's stolen glances at me will make me feel bad for what I did. How many years have I been the girl that needs saved? Caroline flirts with my boyfriends – oh yea, even back when I was dating Matt and Stefan had yet to steal me away from reality, Caroline was like an ever-present competitor. But I never even flustered! Not once did I give her attitude or stake claim on what was mine. If it hadn't been for Stefan's very firm turn down of Caroline's persistence back at the bonfire the night we first talked, I probably would have had to deal with the same kind of gnat-like presence of my best frenemy.

Oh, Damon Salvatore has tried to murder Matt's sister... no problem, you can handle that Stefan. He broke my brothers neck... eh, it's okay I guess. He's got the Gilbert ring and I'd hate to rock the boat!

Writing my fiction/non-fiction memoir has not only helped me see my mistakes with Stefan, but it's also made me pretty darn aware of what a whipping that we've taken – not just me and Stefan, but everyone involved with me. Damon, Caroline, Jeremy, and my gosh, Bonnie! I've been a weight on everyone for so long... I can't believe anyone was happy in the least when I told them we were moving back to Virginia! You think they would have hung there head in defeat... if from nothing else than knowing what a pain in the ass always having to hold my hand is!

My mini-pep talk comes to a full halt when the sound of a car door shutting flinches me back into the present and my eyes focus on Stefan watching Meredith's cab pull away from the curb, then turn to me – Why? Why do I always react this way... I want him so badly. I should be trying to think of a way to explain my point of view and my feelings regarding the new me, Elena 2.0. Elena Salvatore. I even sneak a peek into the backseat of his SUV, trying to figure out if there is enough room with Allie's booster seat for us to fit comfortably. A bundle of yellow daisy's sits in the middle of the backseat, between Allie's seat and where Grayson's carrier would go, and I wonder if he's going to give me the flowers now that he's mad at me.

As the car drives away, there's nothing between us anymore – maybe fifty feet of street and sidewalk – and the space feels alive with electricity sparked by his anger. I can see it in this way he's standing, looking at me with those damn green eyes of his, his hands on his hips, pushing the fabric of his blazer back to reveal the indecent way his pants hang on his hips and I can only think of one thing…

How I wish his big hands were on my hips instead.

Doing that slight turn of his head thing, pushing out his chin a bit and popping his neck, Stefan gives a soundless exhale, then starts towards me – lips pressed together, brow low, eyes locked on me. I have to look down at my feet to keep myself still. Like so many times before, Angry Stefan is an aphrodisiac for me and I feel my skin tingle as he gets closer.

"Elena." The saying of my name in his rough, quiet voice sounds like the start of a lecture – a reprimand for standing up for myself and to be honest, it pisses me off so badly that I forget how badly I want to climb in the back seat and make up with my husband.

"Stefan." I say his name louder than he said mine, but not in a yell – when I look up from my silver flats to see his beautiful Roman face, shadowed from the street lamp above us, my mind nearly loses its hold over my body… his strength, the way that he's always seemed so dangerous. Even now, human, just the way he carries himself and the athletic build of his body – I know he'd never hurt me, but there is a certain kind of attraction to his dark side that I've never really admitted to. Stefan's got this way about him, like he's barely containing himself, dancing so perfectly on that invisible line between being a man of perfection and all the best kinds of bad. But he bites at his upper lip like he does when he's upset or angry, and I'm reminded that I'm through letting people like Meredith Fell walk all over me. Stefan Salvatore is my husband until he's not and no one is going to take him from me again. Not a needy ER doctor, not some crazy spell, no hybrid Original, and damn sure not my crazy doppelganger ancestor. "Look, I get that your mad at me and that you're afraid that I may have just ruined you big plan with her to get the DNA test done early," I watch his teeth release his upper lip, his burning green eyes set on the small diamond pendant hanging from my necklace. "but it doesn't matter." Looking up to my face, he pulls his bottom lip in and bites down. "The test," I clarify because something about his expression doesn't fit, like he's confused or maybe not listening. "Stefan, I don't care about the DNA test or Katherine and the baby. I swear I don't so if Meredith isn't willing to help us then fine, we don't need her." I've been threatened, tormented, kidnapped, slapped, stabbed, chased, imprisoned, fed from, drained of blood, toyed with, mentally and emotionally tortured, watched Stefan die... TWICE, compelled, lied to, tricked, spelled and fooled.

No more.

"I need to go." He turns away from me, looking down the sidewalk and running his hand through his hair with a pained expression on his face. "I told Katherine I'd be by to get the kids."

"Katherine?" I'm sorry. What?

"Damon had to work, Elena." His frown grows deeper. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have told me." I say through a shrug and raised eyebrows.

I keep swaying back and forth between being Elena 2.0 and a severely under-sexed woman standing mere inches from the Greek God that is Stefan Salvatore. I say something about how we could have just had dinner at his apartment instead of letting her keep our children, but I don't think it comes across as hard as I hoped it would because I can see beneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt from this angle – I want to lick his collar bone.

With a sneering huff, Stefan says, "And tell Damon what?" After examining nearly everything on Main Street other than me, he finally faces me again – hands in his pockets, eyes dark and caustic. "And what happened to you not caring about her, Elena?"

I start to respond with something like 'I care that you left our babies with a psycho!' but Stefan continues, his voice a bit louder and lifting his hand, gesturing towards The Grill. "What was that in there? You tell me we're okay and you've got past what happened - it takes less than a minute and," The snapping of his fingers makes me jump a little, "just like that we're back to you questioning me."

Okay. Right. I forgot that I did that… "What do you mean?" I ask to buy myself some time to think of a better response.

"She has thicker hair?" Stefan shrugs, reminding my how ridiculous mention that was. "Bringing up what I said about Katherine…" He looks away. I hate it when he looks away. There is so much meaning in that tiny gesture. "…about being with her."

Honestly, I have no excuse that sounds at all understandable but my vocal chords bypass my brain filters and I start speaking without knowing what I'm going to say. "How can you be mad at me for being jealous of the way she says you are with her?" Less angry, more regretful, he presses his lips together and rubs his face with his hand. "Can you blame me, Stefan? Am I really at fault for wanting to be that person for you instead of her?"

There's a long silence before Stefan finally responds with, "You don't know what you're talking about, Elena. You know you can't believe anything she says…" but I can hear it in his voice – his delusive way of not denying it is weak.

Maybe it's Elena 2.0 or that I'm tired of him looking away from me, but I take a step to close the space between us and take his face in my hands – the soft, recently shaved skin warm against my palms. His eyes dart away, over my shoulder, for just a moment before our push/pull gravity wins over and his eyes meet mine at the same time that I feel his hands take hold of my hips.

"Am I wrong?" I see worry in his eyes, some kind of tormented uncertainty that I've seen before but could never really explain. Both curious about that untitled emotion that I see and determined that he finally admit that Katherine truly does own a part of him, I push on. "It's different with her because you're different, right?" His silence is all the answer I need, but the tightening of his grip on my body and ramping up of our frequency corroborates my suspicions. I've thought these words a million times – probably more than that just since I found out about his night with Katherine – but I never, ever planned on saying it aloud, "I want you to be like that with me."

As my words register in his ears that worry, whatever that was that I'd seen in his eyes just seconds before is stolen away by a look that I know so well. I can only explain it as the look of a hunter… alert, dark, cold, hungry – if I wasn't completely sure that Stefan was no longer a vampire, I might say this is what he looks like when he feeds. The look of Stefan the Ripper.

What does it say about me that the second I recognize this look on his face, my inhale is shaky through my parted lips and my body shivers against his?

Almost magnetically, when his lips move towards mine with the tilt of his head, my face lifts to meet his mouth – I'm so thirsty for the taste of his tongue that I feel my mouth water with anticipation. So close to kissing me that I feel the air he breathes in sweep cool across my sensitive lips, he hesitates and I nearly give a begging whimper - I would if I weren't paralyzed by the tension between us, our gravity squeezing me so tightly that I can't move. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you." His whisper is deep, the sound vibrating against me and his lips graze the tip of my nose when they from the word 'you'.

What do I say to that… the truth? That I kind of want him to hurt me… maybe just a little? That maybe I'm not as innocent and sweet as he thinks I am? That maybe that's what I found attractive in Damon so long ago… how do I tell my husband that though our sex life has always been amazing – sensual and exciting and beautiful – maybe I want to see what the other side of it would be like? Maybe I want to know what it would be like to have Stefan Salvatore have his way with me in most lustful, merciless way!

"There they are," The sound of Robert's voice pushes us away from each other and pushes down the fire-hot pulsation vibing between Stefan and I. "by the street lamp."

-Stefan-

I'm driving too fast. With the windows down so the 40 degree air can sober me up and some electronic remix of a White Stripes song plays at nearly full volume. The heavy beat hits so hard that my skin feels numb by the time I turn into the long gravel road that leads up to The Salvatore House and I hardly notice the back end of my SUV fishtail to the left.

She can't know what she's done to me – with a small, otherwise insignificant sentence, I want you to be like that with me. – I'm burning. The pressure inside of me has multiplied to a nearly unbearable rate and I feel this hostile greed deep in my gut that feels so wrong, and yet so good at the same time. When she kissed me goodnight, just a small kiss on the corner of my mouth as Robert and Pepper were standing with us, it took all I had not to press her up against the car and release all of this compression… stepping out of the SUV, my legs ache, the muscles in my arms and chest are involuntarily flexed.

I swear, Elena has no idea how tightly wound around her finger I am.

Standing at the door, I nearly ring the bell as my mind is clouded with eager anticipation of what could have happened, but I take a deep breath instead and open the heavy wooden door as quietly as I can. There are a few toys in the foyer, a couple metal stock pots and sauce pans just inside the kitchen doorway, and I have to carefully step over the mess to make it to the living room where I'd set up Allie and Grayson for the night.

Right where I'd left her sleeping bag, I find Allie curled into a ball and hugging her Koala close to her chest. Her long hair is a mess of braids and curls from what appears to be a game of dress up and it's covering most of her face – soft exhales flitter a strand of her dark brown hair in a rhythmic motion. Allie looks so much like her mother, classically beautiful and feminine features, I can't stop the small smile that comes to my face as I watch her sleep for a moment and try not to think about what her life as a possible demi-god may hold. Klaus and I have been researching across the globe with the help of his contacts and though nothing fits completely, it's obvious that Allie is not just my little girl… The creaking of the hardwood behind me finally breaking my stare.

"I thought I heard you come in." Katherine's voice is soft and quiet and when I turn to face her, my smile broadens from the sight of her. She's holding Grayson who's asleep on her chest, but her hair is styled much the same as Allie's, but pushed away from her face to reveal one of Allie's signature make up jobs. "This guy is heavy." She smiles, gently rubbing his back with her open hand.

"Yea, sorry I'm late… we, uh, got held up." When I lie, I stammer. She knows that. Katherine is the ruling queen of deceit. I think she's going to call me out on it by the slight narrowing of her almost shaped eyes, but she just nods and continues to rub Grayson.

I work quickly, packing up everything I'd brought and picking up the pots and pans as I know how anal Damon can be about a clean house. There's a spilled cup of applesauce on the kitchen tile and I laugh to myself as I think of how different life is going to be for Damon when Katherine has the baby – their baby. As a kid, Damon was a great big brother. He taught me to fish, how to clean a deer, helped me learn to play football and when needed, he was always there to protect me or help me get out of trouble. I don't know if I've said it to him, but I am confident that he's going to be an even better dad.

"Daddy," Allie's still asleep as I snap her into her carseat, "I'm sorry."

Confused, I ask, "What are you sorry for, Sweetie?"

As if it takes her sleeping brain a moment to respond, she frowns deeply – looking a lot like me when she does so – then finally says, "I'm sorry that I like Aunt Katherine."

I have to be more careful with my thoughts. And I have to tell Elena about what I know about our daughter. I didn't want Allie to know that I'm not particularly fond of her 'Aunt Katherine'… for this reason exactly. Allie likes everyone. She's six, she shouldn't have to pick a side or fight her parents battles.

I whisper a quiet, "it's okay, Allie. Go back to sleep." and kiss her forehead before closing the car door and going back in for Grayson.

"How'd everything go?" I ask for no other reason than to fill the awkward silence. By the looks of the place when I got here and Allie's change in opinion for Katherine, it must have went well.

"Allie took some time to warm up, but this little guy," Handing Grayson over to me, Katherine smiles at my sleeping son in a way that warms my heart – I don't know why. When I look back at her, for some reason I see her differently than before. I can see her being a mother. "I've always been a favorite of the Salvatore boys."

I laugh. I probably shouldn't because it's kind of crude given our history, but really, that's funny. "All but our father."

"Ah, old Giuseppe… he was a hard one to crack." She jokes, placing the tip of her index finger at the corner of her mouth as if she was pondering what she could have done different. Had Katherine not been a vampire, my father would have been groveling at her feet like the other two Salvatore boys in 1864.

"I know you had plans and I'm really sorry you got stuck with them, but I really appreciate you help." I try to make up for being rude earlier. Its obvious they had a good time together. "I didn't mean what I said about not wanting you to keep them."

Opening the door for me, Katherine just smiles softly – a very Elena-like smile. She's just barely showing, a small round bump pressing against the cotton of her tee-shirt, but I remember what she said about looking disgusting and for the life of me I can't shut myself up from saying as I move past her, "You look nice pregnant. It suits you."

Through a giggle she says, "Are you trying to pay me for watching them with compliments?"

Giving a shrug, I tease, "Is it working? I have a lot more of them than I have money."

"It's not the worst currency in the world." Katherine follows me out to the brick entry way, giving Grayson a quick kiss on his dark brown hair. "You'd better get out of here before one of them wakes up."

I nod. She's right. I need to go… and I start to take a step but something stops me. I feel obligated to correct her. Until I know if the baby is mine or not, and maybe not even that will change how I feel, I love the baby growing inside of Katherine. I feel an inheret need to take care of the baby's mother.

"Katherine." She's nearly inside, but stops and leans against the door, raising her eyebrows as if to say 'yes?' "You didn't look disgusting… earlier."

Another laugh – sweet and soft and carefree. The kind of laugh that makes me want to laugh too. "Um, yea I do." She smooths the fabric of her shirt over her tummy, twirls a strand of wild hair around her finger. Her perfect skin is slightly illuminated by the moonlight and I can still see the sight of her holding Grayson…

Even though it's not a lie, I regret it before it gets fully out of my mouth, "No. You've never been more beautiful."

***MORE TO COME***

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