Klaus paced angrily in the parlor of the manor, his footsteps echoing throughout the enormous house. He needed Elena's blood to make his hybrids, but a certain Salvatore brother was constantly making it increasingly difficult to obtain it. He had Stefan under control, thanks to a little good old compulsion to cater to his every whim, but Damon…

Damon drove him insane. Didn't he realize how much easier on everyone it would be if he would simply share Elena? Stupid fool, so in love with her he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else touching her. If only there was a way to make him not feel the need to protect her…

Trailing off, Klaus' eyes widened. Wait.

Compulsion. It had been the answer to everything all along! The only problem was, he didn't want to have Damon Salvatore hanging on his every word like his little brother currently was; the eldest Salvatore brother happened to get on his last nerve very easily, simply with his Better Than You attitude.

Pausing, Klaus furrowed his brow. Surely Damon hadn't always been such a stuck up sod.

"Stefan!" he yelled, and the young Salvatore swaggered into the room and leaned against the doorframe.

"What?"

"What was your brother like before you both became vampires? Was he always an insufferable know-it-all?"

Stefan raised an eyebrow. "When we were human? Oh, Damon was a bore. Your regular good old fashioned Southern gentleman. The only time he was a know-it-all was when facing off with our father."

"I see," Klaus nodded, a smirk blossoming on his lips. "And what year was it that you met Katerina?"

Stefan frowned a bit curiously, muttering, "1864… why?"

"Oh, no real reason. Just doing a bit of research. Now leave me be."

Rolling his eyes, Stefan walked out of the room, leaving Klaus on his own to smirk at the evil plot formulating in his head. Seconds later, he was out the door and heading for the boarding house.

… . … . … . … . …

Grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on, Damon walked down the stairs and into the parlor, searching for his car keys. Elena had called him a few minutes ago, asking him to come over and help her search for her diary. She was assuming that she had just misplaced it, but was a bit worried that a hybrid or someone may have nabbed it in hopes of using her dirty secrets against her.

As ridiculous as the theory was, Damon knew she would worry about it until he found the diary and put it to rest. So, it was off to the Gilbert's he needed to go.

However, something in the parlor caught his attention, distracting him from heading off to his destination.

Rather, someone distracted him.

"What's the matter, Damon; not happy to see me?"

Glaring, Damon snarled and took a step closer. "What do you want, Klaus?"

"Oh, nothing, really. For once, I'm not after your little girlfriend." Smirking, Klaus advanced on Damon. "I'm after you."

Damon sneered, repeating his question, "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm going to give you two options. Option number one; you give me Elena, I leave town with her, and we all live happily ever after."

Damon snorted. "Like hell!"

Klaus tutted, "A shame… I really don't think you're going to like option number two…" Smirking more broadly, he flashed forward and pinned Damon to the wall, gazing deeply into his shocked blue eyes.

"It's 1863. You know nothing about vampires and demons other than that your father has an irrational fear of them. You've never met a woman named Katherine Pierce. You're just a lowly human boy who's being forced against his will to go off to battle by his father."

Immediately, Damon stopped struggling. His venomous snarl and narrowed blue eyes were washed away, replaced by a perplexed look of confusion behind wide crystalline orbs. Klaus smirked before blurring from the house, leaving Damon to his stunned state of mind.

Looking around the unfamiliar parlor of the boarding house, Damon brought a hand up to touch his head, blinking. "Hello?" he called, taking a step forward and glancing around. "Hello…?"

However, he paused once he looked down and caught sight of his jeans, black button down and leather jacket, muttering, "What on earth am I wearing…?"

… . … . … . … . …

Elena was pacing around her bedroom with her cellphone in hand, frowning deeply. Damon had told her that he would be over right away.

It had been two hours. Where the hell was he?

Punching his number into her phone, she put it to her ear. It rang, and rang, and ran but he didn't answer. This wasn't like him. If Damon said he would be here, he always was. Not to mention, he never declined a phone call from her, let alone declined twelve. Sighing, she decided to just go over to the boarding house and see what could possibly be keeping him. Her diary could wait until later.

… . … . … . … . …

Damon had never been more skittish in his entire life. He was evidently lost, not to mention hopelessly confused. How in hell had he even gotten to this strange place, dressed in such peculiar clothes?

And what was that horrible sound that kept happening every few moments?

He had practically jumped out of his skin when the loud chiming had sounded inside the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, and he'd taken it off and tossed it half way across the room, startled. He wasn't sure what it was; some horrible Union invention, perhaps? Whatever it was, it couldn't be safe, and had to be avoided at any cost.

At the moment, Damon was wandering around the kitchen, marveling at all the strange devices located there, wondering what on earth they were.

"Damon? Damon, are you home?"

His blue eyes widening and head snapping up, Damon backed into the fridge loudly with fright. It was the voice of a woman; perhaps the camp had been invaded last night, and he was being held captive in some strange Union base?

Looking frantically for some type of weapon to use to defend himself, he settled on a kitchen knife, holding it out in front of him, his hand shaking.

"Who are you?" he yelled, "How do you know me?"

Seconds later a young woman appeared, poking her head into the room. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at her appearance, clearly shocked.

"Damon, what are you…?"

"What are you wearing, ma'am?" he breathed, stunned.

Elena raised an eyebrow as she stood in the doorway, glancing down at her outfit. "Umm… jeans from Old Navy? Why…?"

"Well, it's highly improper for ladies to wear trousers! Where did you even find a pair so small…?"

Elena's eyes narrowed with confusion. "Damon, what are you talking about…?"

"How do you know who I am?"

She frowned, and Damon flinched back when his cellphone rang again in the other room. "What is that awful noise?" he cried, and Elena frowned, turning on her heal and walking into the parlor, pulling his cellphone out of his jacket pocket and checking the number, noticing the 13 Missed Calls light flashing on the screen.

"Damon, what's going on with you?" she asked as she walked back into the kitchen where he was cowering against the fridge.

"Who are you?"

"Don't be stupid, Damon, this isn't funny…"

"Who are you?!"

Flinching at his tone, she responded, "Elena. Damon, it's me, Elena."

"I'm sorry, Elena, but I have no idea who you are, nor where I am. Now, if you'll please just release me from this place…"

"Damon, what are you talking about? You live here…"

"I most certainly do not!" Damon said, and Elena frowned.

"Well… where do you think you live?"

Damon frowned. "I live in Mystic Falls, with my brother and father."

"Father…?" Elena mumbled with confusion, and then her eyes widened. "Damon… what year is it?"

Puzzled at her question, Damon responded quickly with, "1863, of course. How could you possibly not know that?"

Blinking rapidly, Elena gaped at him in shock. He really didn't know who she was!

"Oh, my God…"