A/N: And here is chapter twenty-two. Only one more left before the sacrifice…

To all my readers, hello, and thank you for all of your patience and support. I adore your comments and I love you greatly for it! As it is, I will get back to all your lovely comments. To those of you whom I can't comment to (mostly guest commenters), thank you for your words of kindness, support, enjoyment, or feedback. I'm very happy with them

As it is, again, I love to hear what you all think of this chapter.

I tried really hard.

Lots of Love,

Anna

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-Two, A Sea of Secrets

My fourth night in Klaus' care was a bad one. I'd woken up in the middle of the night still in the throws of a nightmare. A nightmare of Klaus going for my neck and dragging every little secret I had out of me. I tried kicking out, but I was chained to my bed by my twisted beddings and as I bolted upright, I toppled right off the bed with a dull chunk.

I lay there, winded, my hair sticky with sweat and my T-shirt clinging to my chest. My heart was beating so fast, the tips of my fingers throbbed with the pulse of it. For several moments I lay there, on the rugged floor, breathing hard, until I realized all of that had been just a dream.

Klaus hadn't come back to the house in a whirlwind of anger and possible betrayal and he hadn't forced me to the floor, throttling me with only one hand. I hadn't been clawing at his arm, kicking my blankets off and rolling to my stomach, I came to the conclusion I had clawed at my self.

Blinking up until the stars cleared from my vision, I looked around warily. The pitch black of the room made it hard to get my bearings and for a moment I could only stare at the dark slope of my headboard.

Finally, after what felt like hours but could not have been more than few minutes, I veered to my knees and reached out, sliding my fingers along the wall in search of the light-switch. When the warm lamplight replaced the grey darkness, I winced. Thin, angry red welts rose up my forearms and disappeared beneath the sleeves of my pajama shirt.

Pushing them up, more tender skin was revealed. Several bruises, fresh and blue, blossomed up my arms and I belatedly realized I must have really tried fighting my imaginary demons off. Must have hit the lamp on the nightstand too. It lay beside me, the bulb shattered and tiny shards digging into the side of one bare foot. I didn't even feel the sting and slowly got up.

I had forgotten to close the curtains and outside several stars glimmered out of the inky wash above the house. A thin layer of frost had accumulated on the glass of the window and the branches of the trees fluttered in the breeze. I caught my reflection in the glass next, caught the skinned red cheek from where I must have quaffed it against the headboard and averted my eyes.

Sleep far from my mind, I dressed quickly in something warmer (and more appropriate) before venturing out of my borrowed bedroom. Winter had settled into the very walls of the house and my white sneakers squeaked noisily on the linoleum floor. I made my way in to the kitchen, making a strong cup of tea and leant my elbows heavily on the counter.

I still had no idea how to reveal everything to Klaus, without being carded along the country as a living, breathing blood bag…

I sat there until the sky outside turned an unvarying steel-grey, swirling in from the East and I was feeling slightly better. I was until the kitchen door opened.

"Elena," Klaus greeted and I whirled around so violently, I knocked over my tea cup.

"Klaus," I breathed out.

"You're awake early," he told me easily. He was freshly showered, blond hair a shade darker, and the water still clung to the strands by his ears.

"Hm," I agreed noncommittally and crouched down, starting to collect the shards. My hair fell around my face, hiding it from his prying eyes. It didn't matter, of course. I heard his footsteps coming closer. Watched his knees come in line of sight and then his hands when he crouched down in front of me.

I met his eyes briefly, very brief, but that was all it took. Something sharp sliced into the delicate flesh of my palm and with a hiss I snatched the limb away. The broken china clattered back to the kitchen floor and my hand became wet and sticky. I scrambled to my feet, worrying uncharacteristically of the blood dripping on the wood paneled floor and held it above the sink.

It was the darkest red, welling up from a circular gash on the center of my hand. Streaking down my flesh, it dripped softly into the sink, creating intricate patterns, mingling with little drops of water. Klaus stood beside me clucking like an irritated cat finding out someone had caught the canary before he could strike.

"How careless," he admonished me lightly and his fingers curled around my wrist. One finger drawing along the cut, swooping up that dark red blood, and slowly he brought it to his mouth. Somehow I couldn't look away when his pink, wet tongue flicked out, drawing over his index finger. I realize belatedly I was staring and warm stained my cheeks.

The heat spreading out over my face, blotting my neck in red when he caught me doing it too. There was a shadow of a dimple in the corner of his mouth, his teeth flashing, dark pink from the bit of blood he caught and he reached past me, turning on the tap.

"You shouldn't spill something so special."

"It's only special because of the properties you need for your sacrifice," I told him.

"Hm, you have a face to fight wars for, Elena Gilbert," he told me.

"If you hadn't needed me, you wouldn't have looked twice at me," I replied. I doubted he would have even glanced at me, had I been in my original body. I wasn't ugly per se, but I had just one of those faces. Nothing memorial about it.

I wondered if that was why I was switched with Elena Gilbert. A grey mouse for a popular cheerleader. Klaus was looking at me. Really looking at me and for a sliver of a moment I wondered if he actually was seeing past the face of Tatia and Katerina Petrova. Then it was gone and he let go of my hand. It fell limply in the sink, still dowsing in water and Klaus took a step back.

His mouth was a firm line of resignation. "You don't really know what weapons you hold, do you?"

"Not everyone with this face is a two-faced bitch you know?"

"Hm," he hummed noncommittal.

"You don't know me, not really. And I doubt you'll really get to know me in such a short time."

"But I do know you, Elena," he told me, looking as if he'd recovered from something.

"No, you don't." I denied. "And perhaps, I can't blame you. Perhaps I shouldn't expect you to try, but you see my face and you judge me."

"Aren't you doing just that with me, Sweetheart?"

"I'm not judging you," I told him, "I know some things about you, which is why I'm uncomfortable around you. I'm sure you could understand why?"

His gaze roamed my face. His mouth had curled into a lopsided grimace. Almost as if he couldn't quite reconcile it with the passive, soft-spoken teenage girl he'd been assuming was me, instead of the one standing in front of him. My jaw had jutted forward, my eyes alive. I supposed it made me look braver than I was and I slowly moved my hand to turn the tap off.

"Perhaps we should remedy that?" He grinned, expression morphing into a smile so fast, it hurt my head. Almost felt as a whiplash, and he leaned in close, boxing me in against the counter. Warm breath fanned over my face as one hand settled on my hip. "Get more acquainted with each other."

"Is that how you normally get to know people?" I asked, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

"It is a very healthy way."

"Sex is not a really sound way to get to know someone, Klaus," I retorted stiffly, ignoring the flush of blood spreading beneath the collar of my shirt. "You don't get to know someone by— fucking them against a kitchen counter."

"I don't agree, Elena," he drawled out, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Than let's agree to disagree," I mumbled, wondering what I should say to turn the tables in my favor again. I knew Klaus was unpredictable. Knew it stemmed from that horrifying childhood he'd most probably had had. He didn't look for stability and comfort. He didn't want to be challenged and when he thought you were out to hurt him, he would strike first and hurt you worse. There was a part of me that felt bad for him.

Just as I'd felt bad for Damon or for several other fictional characters of books or shows. However, that didn't mean I was going to gloss over their faults. Swallowing, I pressed my hand against his shoulder trying to keep him at a distance. I doubted it would change anything, but I was not Katherine. I didn't think sex was a weapon. Or perhaps I did, but I wasn't going to use it as my weapon to the very least.

"No, hm?"

"Did all my predecessors take you up on your invitation?" I asked, struggling for words.

"Some did,"

"Katherine did, you mean?" I said and averted my eyes, he took a step back, but he was still playing.

"She did."

I knew she did and I sucked my lower lip between my blunt front teeth. Sometimes I felt so lost in this world, it was like I'd lost my sense of touch and I bit. Hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but still hard enough to sting.

"What happened to your face?"

"Nightmare," I answered earnestly.

"Hm," he muttered and leant back against the kitchen counter, "one of your all seeing dreams?"

My lips quirked, because in a way it was close enough to be true. Shrugging mindlessly, I averted my eyes to the window and watched the roiling sky outside. It was lighter, darkness having receded into an unvarying steel-grey and spots of rain spattered against the window.

A flash of light forking through the clouds washed over my face and Elena's pair of wide, chocolate brown eyes set in her pale, heart-shaped face, stared back at me. The blood was still slowly welling up from the gash and I yanked the dishcloth from the hook.

"What did you see about me?"

I was rather surprised it took so long before he finally asked. It was probably a fucking miracle he hadn't demanded to tell me everything about his future. Or at least the future I knew about. I knew some, but not all. I'd never gotten to watching 'the Originals' and therefore I had no idea what the fuck happened after Klaus had gone to New Orleans.

"I know about your past," I mumbled, thinking I should say something.

"My past— ah yes, Katerina," he agreed.

"Yeah, Katherine too," I mumbled. The look and crinkle of his eyes made my fingers curl into fists and I shook my head. "It would only upset you if we take this road any further."

"You're an odd Doppelgänger," he told me drolly.

"Doppelgängers are always odd." I told him seriously, because well they were.

"True, well, more mature than your predecessors were at this age, luv," he clarified, his smile gone. I got the feeling he knew what I'd been referring to when I'd said he would get upset if I told him more. The things I felt comfortable in letting him know would have been his father. The psychotic vampire who'd come to Mystic Falls for Elena when she was only a toddler and had shaped Klaus in the man he had become.

That unpredictable and sometimes horrifying childhood Klaus had had, I'd think he would have been craving stability and comfort but instead he alienated anyone who tried to come close. Or he did that to his siblings at least once a decade. Daggering them when he thought they would betray and leave him.

"Why are you here anyway?" I tried, carefully peeling away the dishcloth. The wound had stopped bleeding and instead blood had started to cloth along the thin circular gash. I wondered absentmindedly if it would scar. "I thought I could entertain myself?"

When I looked up and caught his eyes I was surprised. Instead of the amusement, the need to play with his prey, I recognized his curiosity. As far as I knew Klaus cared little for humans. Cared little for Elena. But of course, I wasn't delusional enough to believe Klaus cared for me. He hadn't threatened me yet, hadn't tried and pushed me for answers.

I hadn't seen his monster's face yet nor had he lost his temper with me. Part of that, I was sure, had something to do with me walking on eggshells around him. Or perhaps it had something to do with me being in Elena's body. I had been twenty-one in my past life, but I had not been through the vast amount of death and butchering the way seventeen-year-old Elena had been before she'd met Klaus Before she met Stefan and Damon.

Besides, I wasn't as comfortable in this body, or my own for that matter, as Elena obviously had been. She'd been proud to flaunt around her perfect body. I— I had felt terribly self-conscious in that blue summer dress during the Founding Party or even in the cocktail dress I'd considered for myself when meeting Elijah for the first time. If I wasn't so worried to push his buttons or make him act out, I might have asked him what he found so curious about me.

If I wasn't so worried he could kill me with less effort than it would take me to kill a fly with a broken wing, I might have asked him. Might have called him out on his curiosity or would have asked about his father. I would have, if only to gauge his willingness to divulge into me.

"You're still so very afraid." He mentioned off-handedly, his face was unreadable again.

"I'm cautious," I corrected him, "that's different."

"Sweetheart, you might be cautious, you're far more afraid."

"Did you love Katherine?" I blurted out and wished I had stayed in my room. Honestly some master manipulator I was. I couldn't even keep a conversation with him going. It was a fucking miracle that I'd managed to keep him from invading my mind. However, I was curious— I'd always been curious if Klaus had loved the face or the girl. "Or was it always that other girl?"

His face closed off again. "That other girl," He smirked, hiding behind his mask again, "well, she too had a very pretty face—"

"Perhaps, but I want to be liked for myself, not just my face." I tried ineloquently.

"Odd girl," he grinned, tapping my cheek a tad bit condescendingly, "I do not do love, sweetheart. Love is a vampire's greatest weakness. It only destroys."

"That sounds horribly lonely." I said, apprehension chewing in my chest.

"Being lonely isn't so bad, luv."

He turned away from me and my breath snagged in my throat, relief curling in my stomach. The door made a soft click when he left the kitchen and I felt my knees buckle. How many hours, days, even weeks, how long would he remain only talking to me before those teeth sank into my throat?

I exhaled loudly. When would he come for me? I hadn't even managed to get him to promise to help me survive. Even if Greta was on my side, and I wasn't sure if she'd been a figment of my imagination last evening, or not, I still didn't have that mystical potion. Klaus seemed willingly enough not to go after the people I cared about, that still didn't mean he would help me survive.

And how was I going to start that particular conversation in the first place? I was probably going to die. And perhaps if I did, I would wake up in my own body. Perhaps if I did, things would go much better. The Petrova line would end and I was sure many plot lines would not lay waist to the world—

It should have frightened me. And it did. But, I didn't fear death per se. I feared where I would go. Would I see my dad? Would I see my parents one more time? Logically, I didn't think I would. And that was why I was afraid. Shameful tears burned in my eyes and it took all of my willpower to swallow them away. Crying over it wasn't going to spontaneously save me and I too left the kitchen.

Over the next few weeks, little changed in the routine that had been my life since I'd woken up in Klaus' old little house. I had no idea how much time had passed but a thin layer of snow had fallen and covered the grounds stretching out around the house with the peeling paint.

I was bundled up in a winter coat that wasn't mine and a size to big on me, sitting cross-legged on the porch swing. It creaked even worse than the Gilberts' porch swing and when I shifted it would whine so dangerously, I thought it was a miracle I hadn't brought part of the roof down on me.

Pushing the swing slowly with my toes, I inhaled deeply. The crisp and cold of the afternoon air felt deliciously against my face. I wetted my bottom lip and curled my fingers around my knees, staring at the undisturbed snow. It was a beautiful view.

"You are aware it's freezing, right?" Greta's voice greeted me from behind me and I looked up.

"Perhaps I'm hoping I freeze to death?" I asked mildly morose. "I've heard it's easy. A lot like falling to sleep but never waking up again?"

"Don't know about that, Elena," Greta grinned as she sat down on the swing next to me.

"Came to prep me for the sacrifice?" I asked. I hadn't actually spoken to Greta for a while now.

"Hm, it would be more adequate to say I am fattening you up Hansel and Gretel style."

"You're what now?"

Greta sniggered. "I just wanted to get some dinner and I'd like for you to join me."

"You want to have dinner with me?"

"Yes, Elena, I'd love to have dinner with you." She drolly responded and I followed her hand disappear in her coat pocket, retrieving her cellphone. For a moment she said nothing more, thumb scrolling through what I assumed where messages. Then she gave me an unreadable look. "It could be fun you know."

"Fun— well, at least, I managed to get out of Mystic Falls," I muttered irritably.

"You're not going to get stuck in Mystic Falls anyway, Darling," she drolly replied.

"I will die there."

"Yeah," she nodded and I scanned the horizon until I found the position of the watery sun. It was probably around five-thirty. Too early to have dinner, as far as I was concerned. Too early to be inside. I liked to pretend out here. Greta didn't. "Come on, honey, indulge me."

"Fine," I grumbled and slowly got to my feet.

I didn't say much once I followed Greta inside. The table in the kitchen was already set, two bowls of salads in the middle, a wine cooler to one edge, and two plates gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. The same speakers as before were settled on the counter, music pumping out of them, and I settled in one of the chairs, reaching for the wine cooler. This evening would not go without a glass of wine… Or several.

It was hard to focus on the conversation. It felt like I'd lost my sense of touch, lost that relation to my body because somewhere deep inside I knew what tomorrow would bring. For starters, Greta made several shots, seemingly conjuring small paper umbrellas out of thin air. The buzz that hit my bloodstream after consuming three, made my fingers tingle. And then the chatting started.

Greta started to talk. The more alcohol, the more she started to talk and it was weird. It felt a lot like the first few days of inhabiting Elena's body. I nodded, and ummed, and aahed when required and ate my actual starter (something with shrimps) slowly.

I supposed under normal circumstances, I would have liked to have dinner with another person. Another person who wasn't aware of what Elena Gilbert should be like. But, the circumstances weren't different. No matter how pleasant she acted, she would still be the one who would hand Klaus the metaphorical dagger that would slit my throat.

Worrying Greta would get upset with me if she noticed my wandering thoughts, I tried to tune in on her words again—

"—my father was never the understanding type," she said as I served myself a bit of salad, "and then I met Klaus. He was different. So different from what I'd learned vampires to be. And I could be who I wanted to be around him. And the power, Elena, it is wonderful."

"I'll take your word for it." I said softly.

"And I can love with whoever I want." Even though it had grown dark, I noticed Greta's face flushing a deep, dark red. She laughed boisterously.

I cocked my head to the side. "So, I take it you didn't follow Klaus because you loved him?"

"No," she sniggered.

"I don't understand— I honestly thought you were all over the moon for him."

"Oh Honey," she laughed, "you're so barking up the wrong tree, no, I could be myself."

"Erm?"

She sniffed, somehow looking as if the answer should be incredibly obvious. It wasn't to me. "Elena, I'm more likely to be all over the moon for you than for Klaus." She explained. "I'm gay."

"You're what now?" I echoed, "I don't understand. Then why are you with Klaus?"

"I told you, because he lets me be myself."

"Your family doesn't approve?"

Greta made an affirmative sound. "My dad pretty much exploded. Not only was my girlfriend not a witch, she was a woman too."

"Oh," I whispered.

"Hm," she agreed, a forkful of lettuce suspended over her plate, "my father is a hypocrite."

"Perhaps he was just surprised?" I offered softly.

"That's one way to call kicking your daughter out of your house."

"What, he wouldn't," I struggled out.

"Hm, yes," she said, using her for, to pick around the capers and tomatoes in her salad, "that's why I don't want to have any contact with him. Admittedly, my interests in magic run darker then his, but that's not the reason he and I don't speak."

"But your brother…"

"Shouldn't have to choose." She shrugged. "He's a child, but I suppose I could arrange to meet him."

I nodded as we each took a bite of the salad. There was a hell of a lot more to the story than I'd originally thought. Greta smiled at me in a way that had my stomach turn and I realized, I'd misunderstood her attempts to get close to me. She was indeed far more likely to be all over the moon for me than for her terrifying Hybrid master, but—

Attraction wouldn't beat her thirst for power.

But—

I guessed it could have helped in persuading Klaus to let me live. It was a pity Klaus didn't really care about other people's opinions though. I watched Greta pour more wine in my glass and I cradled the stem almost as if it was a precious newborn. At least the wine was good. I took large sips and leant back in my chair.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Right now, you mean?"

"Yes," I agreed and Greta tapped her fingers against the neck of the bottle.

"No, not really," she shrugged "but, I'm twenty years old. I've got time."

Wetting my lips, I took another sip of my wine. "You're a witch too. You'd think you have all the time in the world." I decided, feeling the beginnings of the wine buzz through my veins. "Must be nice to be able to intervene with faith any time the way you can."

"In a way everyone can," she told me, tapping a blueish adjacent vein in her hand.

"If you become a vampire," and I snorted, "bad idea, I'm sure."

She shrugged and stumbled to her feet, circling the table and yanked me up to my feet. I didn't resist her, perhaps the wine was having its effect. Perhaps the wine was making me more loose that evening than I'd been in months. She marched me around the kitchen, her form of dancing, I assumed. Mirth glittering beneath her long lashes and cheeks pinkish beneath the artificial light of the lamps. She twirled me, like I was a kid. Twirled me so fast my hair slapped into my face and I laughed. Elena Gilbert had been quite the party girl, perhaps I had inherited her alcohol tolerance?

The music changed to something slow and Greta settled her hands on my waist, thumbs tracing circles over the jut of my hips. My mind whirled and shifted dangerously and I knew I should put a stop to this. Put a stop to it right now, because as much as I enjoyed Greta's company that evening, I wasn't gay.

I had never looked at girls quite that way. I'd been still half in love with my boyfriend when we came to the mutual decision to break up and— even more, I didn't want to complicate my life anymore than it already was. Dropping my hands to her shoulders I pushed away, smiling gently.

"Perhaps I'm misreading the situation, but I'm not, you know, gay."

"A pity," she smirked, cheeks dark and forehead damp with sweat, "I'm an excellent lover."

Twirling me around one last time she let go of my hand and I stumbled against the counter. Perhaps I wasn't so unaffected by the amount of alcohol I had consumed as I'd initially thought. I leant my elbows heavily against cold stove and watched Greta move around like a flower, opening to the sun.

"You know," Greta grinned, "the fact that you didn't try to twist this to your own favor— I'm glad you didn't."

"What?"

"Really glad," she smiled and walked towards the exit backwards, hips swinging from side to side.

"Was this a test?" I asked dumbly.

Greta winked at me, giving me a look that was blatantly seductive and disappeared out of the kitchen. I almost thought I'd imagined it. Well, at least she left the wine bottle behind. I reached for it and cradled it against my chest, drawing circles over the neck of the bottle. There was another one on the counter and half of the food was quickly cooling on the middle of the table. It was a waste to leave it untouched wasn't it? Besides, there was still an entire wine bottle left.

When the door opened not much later, I had worked through most of the two bottles and had managed to stumble to the sink, hoping to get some water to drink.

Craning my neck to look at the door, I noticed a blurry figure stepping inside. "Well, well…"

"Klaus?" I hiccuped and settled my wineglass on the counter.

"Yes, sweetheart," he agreed and his body neared until finally his morose expression came into focus, "I can see you and Greta enjoyed the wine?"

My brain sluggishly rolled his words around and I nodded. "It's good wine."

Klaus' morose expression turned amused as he cocked his head to the side and took in my undoubtedly flushed cheeks. "You're inebriated, Luv."

"That's what you get, after two bottles of that stuff, and several shots— Greta is pretty good at conjuring up potions," I said, grinning widely and Klaus scrutinized me for a long beat. My mind was reeling, everything around me lighter, easier somehow and for a tense, telling second he was silent.

"I see, I shouldn't have left you alone with Greta."

"Why, can't you sacrifice a Doppelgänger with a hangover?" I asked genuinely curious if the Doppelgänger's good health was a requirement. If it was, all I would have to do was find something, Elena was allergic for. "Does that somehow turn the blood bad?"

"No, not really," he answered easily.

"Hm, pity," I mumbled and took a long sip of the best red wine ever.

"Or else you would have tried to get chronically ill, sweetheart?"

"Yes," I agreed heartily and his lips quirked, "that would have bought me time to— do something."

"I would have figured that out, though. Would have made me upset."

"But you get— upset about every-thing!" I hiccuped and waved my arms around me in wide arcs.

"Be that as it may, I could have easily compelled you to behave."

"No, you wouldn't compel me." I told him, although he'd never actually promised that.

"I'd only have to feed you enough wine and voila, drunken Doppelgänger equals pure honesty," he remarked so dryly, even I could tell he was sassing me.

"That's not true. There's a lot I haven't said yet," I huffed defensively and Klaus scoffed.

"Haven't you?"

"No!" I huffed, I grumbled. "I haven't told you about my parents. Or about my previous boyfriend, or my study— or—"

Klaus snorted. "No, getting you drunk would certainly not have revealed all of your secrets."

"Exactly," I nodded.

"You probably should go to bed," he told me as I finished the last of my wine and peered around in search of the bottle. I must have left it somewhere, mustn't I? "Or are you planning on getting as drunk as drunk can be?"

"Yes," I flushed in pleasure when I noticed the bottle next to the litter bin.

"I think you had enough," he muttered and stuck out his arm, intercepting me before I could even get near the wine and I glared. "More than enough, even."

"You're not my dad." I grumbled and he let out a bark of a laugh. Shaking his head, he became a blur. When he came back into focus again, the wine bottle was in his hand, out of my reach. I crossed my arms. "I'm not even that drunk."

"Mark my words, all drunks think that."

"Whatever," I started, alcohol burning through my veins. "I thought of what you said though."

"Remind me Luv, I've said a lot."

"That love is a vampire's greatest weakness." I explained. "You're wrong about that. You live for millenniums, but for what?" I continued. "To see the world? To eat people? To destroy and build countries? I don't believe that. Everyone wants someone they can truly be themselves with. Why else wouldn't you content with just being a vampire? Yes, you're part wolf, but it doesn't define you."

"Are you trying to get me to not unlock my werewolf side?"

"That would be nice," I admitted, my vision shifted precariously, "but no— you want to change to make more of you. To me that sounds like you wouldn't want to be lonely. Not really. You want more people to be like you."

"You're threading on thin ice, sweetheart."

"Yeah," I nodded and patted his chest trying to reach for my wine, "I'm not wrong though."

"Careful—"

"It's just— I don't think it's a weakness." I said. "The fact that you don't want to be alone."

His face was rapidly gaining color. In the back of my mind I realized I was pushing him too far. His flirtatious smile had diminished and the teasing tone had left his voice, in it now filtered warning. "Elena!"

"I know what that asshole did. Well, not all, but I think I get the picture." I mumbled.

"You're a really bad drunk," he gruffly muttered, his fingers balled so tight around the kitchen stove, I thought he might break the cooktop in two.

"True," I mumbled, "but I'm right and honest too."

"I think you've had enough." He told me tightly and I groaned, falling back against the counter.

I shook my head. "I haven't."

"You have," he decided, meeting my gaze as he reached into the pocket of his jeans before apparently thinking better of it and grabbed my chin. I froze. Not even drunken haze could make me forget how dangerous, Niklaus Mikaelson really was. He didn't move, didn't do anything really, just stared and then a smile curved his lips into what might passed for a reassuring smile.

"What are you doing?" I asked, trying to ignore the way my pulse had sped up dangerously.

"Looking," he drawled, "you are by far the oddest Doppelgänger so far."

"You already said that." I blurted out.

He smirked, it wasn't a good smirk. "Yes, I did, didn't I?"

I nodded, my tongue feeling rough and thick in my mouth. Leaning forward, his fingers ghosted over my cheek, before he reached into the pocket of his pants again. Something cool pressed against one hand and with eyes wide and head aching, I pushed past my fluttering, stuttering heartbeat.

I resisted the impulse to take a large step backwards, into the counter and away from the reaching hand curling in my hair, and peered at my hand. A glass vial, clear liquid sloshed inside. It was not wine. He yanked my head back and peered in my eyes again—

A muscle in his jaw twitched—

And then I wasn't in the kitchen anymore, instead, I was in my room, with the world's awfullest taste in my mouth, sitting on my bed. Also, my head was aching and I groaned. Must have been more drunk than I thought. Flopping backwards, I was already asleep before my head hit the pillow.

To be continued….

A/N: I have no idea what the thought process of a drunken person is per se. I can't handle tannins, which is a bit of a thing with (red) wine and then decided I would just leave it. There's enough other things I personally can enjoy. But no alcoholic drinks (beer never quite smelled nice to me and the stronger liquids… well, let's say I'm a bit worried I won't handle that well either).

Anyway, drunken non-Elena is especially bad at keeping a thoughtful head on her shoulders. I low-key think Canon Klaus would be more amused by this than anything else, which, in the end, is how I wrote him.

Then about Greta: I tried to give Greta more substance and intrigue than the show offers her. To be honest, I always wondered why Greta chose the life she had, away from her family. Sure, it could have been Klaus manipulating her, but it could also have an entirely different reason.

We saw Jonas Martin being very strict about the rules of witches and warlocks. I could see him push his child away. Especially, when said child would start rebelling at some point. Besides, I quite like the idea of Greta being there because she chose to and not because Klaus manipulated her (it feels a bit too easy).

I'd love to get feedback— constructive criticism makes for a better story, people. As always, leave a review to let me know what you'll think.

This chapter wasn't beta'd yet.