Notes: Hey, guys! I'm excited and running on Monster Energy (the no-sugar, no-calories kind, I swear) adrenaline right now-(and it's 5 in the morning to boot)-so take what I say with a grain of salt. Anyway, this is the 3rd chapter of D&R. Basically, I realized that if I were to fit everything I had initially planned into this chapter, it would've topped at like-20k words, and really, who wants to read all that in one sitting? And plus, you guys and your response to this story has been so damn wonderful that you all deserve faster updates, so this was me attempting to give you that. Believe it or not, this chapter is the cut down version of the original cut down version. Yeah... Anyways, to the EE fans (since I know there are a lot of you following this story), I apologize, but there isn't any direct Elejah interaction in this chapter. There will be very soon. ;) I hope you all still enjoy it, and I'd love some feedback if you guys have the time. Your feedback helps me gauge what you like and don't like, and so it helps the writing process go a lot faster. So please, if you have the time, even just a little feedback goes such a long way.

Enjoy. :)

Disclaimer:The Vampire Diaries, its characters, plot lines and premise belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, The CW, Warner Brothers and their affiliates. I do not own anything detailed in this story, and I make no monetary profit by these writings. All rights reserved to respective parties.

III.

Upon initial inspection, there appeared to be an endless array of haphazardly organized documents shoved into a metal file cabinet sealed only with a worn and weathered key lock that busted open upon the slightest flick of his wrist. It was chilly in Meredith Fell's cramped corner office, the thermostat dialed down to the low 60s and the only source of heat emitting in steam wisps from a freshly brewed but seemingly abandoned cup of hot black coffee. Elijah sat at the head of the room, huddled over a dark maple desk, his designer dress shoes lightly crossed over one another as he surveyed one of the documents, the paper worn and thin, the dark ink smudged on the occasional letter.

The distinct spike in heartbeat signaled to the new presence lingering in the doorway, having stopped startled with a strangled gasp caught in her throat, but he didn't even bother to look up from his reading. With a low chuckle and a languid hand gesture towards the coffee mug on his right, he commented with a wry smile, "I've been expecting you for quite a while… I took it upon myself to peruse some of your reading material, I hope that's alright." As he raised his head to nod politely at her in greeting, he continued; "You'll have to forgive my snooping, I simply can't resist a good, compelling story."

Meredith had a handful of scattered and disheveled paperwork clutched tightly to her chest, her hair tousled and eyes frantic. She knew exactly why Elijah was calling on her, and beyond that, her ways around this confrontation were unnervingly limited. She began speaking, her voice small and hesitant—"You see—I was just getting prepared to leave for the night. I wonder if we could possib-"

Elijah flipped a page of the tightly bound packet he was reading through and shook his head briskly, "I'm afraid it cannot wait, Miss Fell. As for your nightly plans, I hasten to question—one does not often pour coffee if they do not intend to work late, do they?"

He swept his hand towards the chair opposite him, a deceptively amiable smile on his face; "Consider this to be your overtime, then. I have quite a few questions for you; I hope it wouldn't be too much a bother? Please, sit; make yourself comfortable. As long as you cooperate, this conversation shouldn't take up too much of your time."

There was a glimmer of fear in her eyes as she reluctantly took a seat opposite him, but her voice rung out strong and determined in a last ditch effort to retain some form of control. "I will humor your questions to our mutual benefit, Elijah, but I must insist that you do not entertain yourself with my confidential files, as they are named such for a reason."

"Oh, of course," Elijah conceded and folded the paper back on the desk in front of him. "Besides, I'd wager a guess that you have a far more riveting story to recount to me about my youngest brother's—questionable activities…" As she struggled to retain a calm and composed disposition in the face of his questioning, he inquired rhetorically, "Do you not? After all, nobody produces a compelling tale quite like my brother… he's something of a character, wouldn't you say?"

Meredith crossed her hands in her lap and did not avert his gaze as she spoke; "You said you had questions—do these count as questions or is this merely the warm-up intimidation?"

"Very blunt of you, Miss Fell—no, I think you know exactly what my questions are."

"And am I meant to simply speculate or would you prefer actual answers?"

"My brother's involvement, let's begin there—how have you attained the blood of an Original Vampire, and furthermore, why have you taken up the practice of dispensing them to clients as carelessly as one would an aspirin regimen?"

"I did not take them by force if that is the accusation here, nor even without his full consent, I'll have you know."

Elijah was not remotely surprised by this admission, and it certainly did nothing to alleviate his distress over Kol's questionable ambitions. "You two have brokered a deal then, I presume—something he needs for something you want. What did he demand in return?"

Meredith took a sharp, deep breath and phrased her words carefully. "Census documents—old town records, most within the decade of the 1870s. My family is a strong name in this town, and in this county—I provided him with information, he provided me with blood. It was a simple transaction, and I assure you no one will speculate on the missing documents. All old town records are digitally archived now, no one would have an inkling to the wiser."

Of course, Elijah mused with a thoughtful followed the pattern, and it was exactly as he expected. Elijah had been keeping tabs on his youngest brother since the day he'd been released from his daggered state not but a few months ago. Kol had made the round trip—Sicily, Gdańsk, Cardiff, New York and back to Mystic Falls all in less than two months. Truth was, he wasn't overly concerned with his brother's inability to release the memory of his tragically fated beloved, no—that, Elijah could've inferred without Meredith's help. It was the blood that was the issue, Kol's reckless and insouciant behavior that threatened the very foundation of their family's well-being.

"May I inquire as to your doctoral certifications, Miss Fell? I only mean to ponder why—as a Founding Family Member of a town staunchly oppositional to vampires—you've taken up a practice that so starkly disputes this stance? I know you are a member of the infamous secret Council, and yet you exploit the very essence of a vampire… and to what end?"

Meredith raised an eyebrow with a hearty laugh, "A formidable enemy is only considered as much if he has something of value—to destroy an enemy and leave that something of value to disintegrate along with them is a terrible waste, don't you think?"

"Do you believe the Council would commend your efforts in preserving the blood of the very creature they wish to annihilate? I daresay they'd declare it treason against the cause. That's a dangerous secret to be keeping in a camp of vampire haters, Meredith. I'm sure that's hardly news to you, however—everything in this office is padlocked shut, after all." Elijah leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with an almost tangible danger and the threat to his voice as sharp as a blade; "Tell me, are you more afraid of the vampires or the Council that protects you from them?"

"What do you want from me, Elijah? I will not entertain these mind games; this is strictly business. Yes, your brother's blood sired Elena Gilbert, I will not deny that. Yes, I am part of the 'secret' council, I will not deny that either. Besides that, I do not understand what more information you want from me, I have nothing more to give."

Elijah sat, silent and pensive for a long pause. "I shall take my leave in a moment, Miss Fell, but first—let us be very clear on something." He stood up, straightened his posture to an imposing stance and spoke deliberately, "You will terminate this practice of dispensing vampire blood immediately, and you will tell no one, Council or otherwise, anything you know of Elena Gilbert or her current condition. Do I make myself clear? For if you should breach either of these demands, you will find yourself staring down an angry mob of Council members out for blood, and make no mistake about it—I will feed you to them… raw, fresh meat for the ravenous hounds, do we understand each other?"

Meredith's voice was shaky, staring into his cold, threatening eyes, but she managed to at the very least mutter out a strangled, "Perfectly understood," before Elijah turned to leave, handing her the filled-to-the-brim coffee cup as he walked past her.

"Then you have nothing to worry about, don't look so frightened. If you have no intent to betray those demands, you have no reason to be frightened."

Meredith seemed to be grappling with the decision whether to say something or not, and decided to speak up just as he reached the doorway. "No, perhaps not… but you might."

Elijah stopped in his tracks, turning around to survey her with a serious expression. "Oh, and how so?"

Meredith's voice was reluctant, but not quite hesitant. "Because as far as you and I are aware, Elena Gilbert has been detained on the ground floor of this hospital for a week now, and yet she's been awfully involved in the Council's plans and meetings recently. Oh, they're all simply thrilled that she's taken such an interest in her family legacy. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Katerina. Elijah could hardly restrain the growl that rumbled low in his throat as he even contemplated the theory. Oh yes, he understood perfectly. With a deep, calming breath and a polite nod in her direction, he spoke "Pleasant evening to you Miss Fell, I'm certain we'll be speaking again very soon."

"Elena Marie Gilbert, I'm deeply appalled by your deviant behavior. You're being driven around in cars by strange boys, your jeans are ripped—are those new, god-dammit Elena, jeans cost money—and you look like you've been through a hailstorm. And you're three hours past curfew… I never expected this, not from you, Elena… What do you have to say for yourself before I decide on your punishment?"

Elena gave her brother the weariest look she thinks she's ever given him, and he's gone on much stranger tangents than this before. "… You're the dorkiest person I've ever met in my entire life."

"That's it young lady, you're grounded for life!"

The corners of her mouth turned just so. "That was a terrible show."

"You're telling me, that red-headed girl's voice made me want to spork my eyes out with a butter knife," Jeremy finally relented, dropping the act. "Come on 'Lena, what did you expect me to say when you showed up here? There's not exactly a guide-book for the 'My sister just became a vampire' conversation…"

Now she was smiling. If there was anything that would put her mind at ease after a week of detainment and incessant fear, it was her brother's quirky personality. "I don't know, Jer, I was just stupidly afraid-"

"That I'd disown you? Burn you at the stake? Sew a big red 'V' for Vampire on your lapel and start calling you Hester Prynne?"

She made the slightest movement to reach up and whack his shoulder, but pulled back instantly upon the realization that the invisible magical barrier holding her back from him would inevitably stop her. She coughed awkwardly now and tried to shield her nervousness with the crossing of her arms. "Jer, how can you be so nonchalant about all this? I can't even—I can't even look at myself… can't fathom how you can look at me right now…"

At this, his teasing smile dissipated and he frowned. "What's the alternative; break down and let myself really think about it all? Elena, you're alive. Well—kinda. More alive than Mom or Dad, or Jenna or Ric—or Klaus, thank god for that one—I mean, you're here, and you're okay, and fuck if I'd ever ask for more than that with what we've been through."

She opened her mouth to retort, but he continued on passionately. "And as for how I can stand to look at you, what the hell kind of question is that? I mean, yeah, your hair looks like a rat's nest and you smell like basement dirt but-"

"Jer, can't you even try to be serious? I'm a vampire—it changes things!"

"I am being serious!" He took a deep breath and his voice softened. "'Lena, I'm looking at you in the very same way I've looked at you for seventeen years. It changes nothing. I don't care what species you've become, vampire or mermaid or a fucking wookiee for god sakes—you're my sister, and that'll never change. So your teeth are a little pointier, so maybe we won't need to get a guard dog to scare away the neighbors after all, so maybe your diet is way more gross now—seriously, what does blood even taste like?"—he mused making a disgusted face—"I don't care. I don't care about any of it. At the risk of sounding like a feel-good Modern Family-esque sitcom character, you're my family and you're all I've got and you're my control-freak, judgmental, buzz-kill big sister who I love more than anybody else in this fucked up world, and you'll still be that, always—blood sucker or fun sucker." He paused momentarily, feeling accomplished by the shocked but pleased smile on her face. "But you really could try to work on that buzz-kill thing though—you do know that fun isn't the enemy, right?"

"You're such an ass," she laughed throaty and emotional, the glint in her eyes telling him plain and clear that they were only a comment or two away from full-blown tears.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't be me if I wasn't an ass to you, 'Lena, would I?"

And with that, one lone tear made its way down her cheek. Just one comment away indeed. "No," she assented, "No, you really wouldn't be."

"And you wouldn't be you if you didn't get needlessly emotional over my asinine comments, so see—point proven. Elena Gilbert, the emotional wreck who cried when Mufasa died in the Lion King—vampire or human. I bet you'd still cry if you watched it now, do you want the video for your road trip? Do they even have working VCRs you can buy anymore? Ooh, on second thought, that might not be such a good idea, might make Stefan a little too hungry with all those antelopes and gazelles and shit…"

"I love you, Jer. You're just—" she shook her head, trying to find the right words, her eyes still watery with hot, raw emotion—"How do you do that?"

"Do what? Come up with witty jokes that make you smile? I don't know, I watch a lot of late-night Comedy Centr—"

"No," she cut him off, "Knowing exactly the right thing to say at exactly the right time."

"Oh," he pondered this briefly. "We all have talents in this life, 'Lena. I just have more than most."

They didn't talk for a moment, just stood in comfortable silence on their dimly lit, quiet porch, surveying each other with identical sad smiles. The only noise in the deserted suburban neighborhood at 3 am was coming from the subtle engine hum of Stefan's vintage Porsche waiting for Elena at the end of the driveway.

"I'll be back soon, I swear. No longer than a few days," Elena assured him with so much conviction and determination that he knew she was trying to reassure herself more than she was him. "Bonnie is staying with you the whole time, right? I talked to her about it, she said it's fine and I just—"

"Yup, Bon's promised to babysit me the whole time, not a single shenanigan will occur in your absence, scouts honor," he joked dryly with a mocking salute.

"I really wish I could hug you right now," Elena admitted in a soft voice.

"Just give it some time, I'll still be here when you can. I'll always be here."

"I know," she said through wet tears. "You're the most dependable constant I have Jer, and I love you so much for it. Just—don't worry about me too much, okay? I—I trust Stefan to help me through this, and you should too."

They parted ways after yet another sad smile on Elena's part and she walked back down the driveway to Stefan's car. She slid into the passenger seat silently and didn't say anything for a moment, just stared ahead into the black abyss in front of them.

"Did it go alright?" Stefan asked suddenly, so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

"Well, it's Jeremy, so—" she started, not coming up with the proper way to describe how the conversation had gone.

Stefan laughed and started the engine, eyeing her sideways with a fond smile. "So something like infuriatingly frustrating but surprisingly comforting?"

Elena raised an eyebrow, shocked by how easily he'd turned her twisted up feelings into coherent words. "Yeah, exactly like that." She fidgeted with a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket, trying not to meet his eyes. "Look, Stefan—"

He cut her off immediately. "Elena, I get it. I understand completely. You're going through enough right now, and you shouldn't have to worry about the status of our relationship, I won't let you worry about it. I love you, and it doesn't matter how many ripper binges I go through or continents apart we may be, I always will. But I don't expect anything else from you, I don't expect anything that you aren't willing to give."

She'd heard a million times that 'your emotions get heightened when you're a vampire', but no one had ever really described it truthfully. Truthfully, it feels like a thick, tangible rope gagged around your neck, pulling and pulling and pulling, excruciatingly slow bit by excruciatingly slow bit, tighter and tighter and tighter until you feel as though you're going to choke on your own tongue.

"It's not that I'm unwilling to give, really. I just—I want to deal with this without needing to think about where we are. I know it's selfish, but it's something I need to do, something I need to be able to do. I don't want to be away from you, and I'm not, not really—I just don't want to feel weighed down by labels or commitments, you—you get that right?"

Stefan just nodded, although she knew him well enough to know that understanding aside, it was hurting him.

"Stefan, I love you. I know I don't have to prove that, I know that you know that. But I'm also dead scared—I also have an eternity left to live, I just want to live it right. Even just that word is intense—'eternity'—isn't it? God, it scares me like I've never been scared before."

"Elena, I won't lie to you—eternity is a terrifying thing. It's just not something I ever want you to go through alone."

"I'm not alone, I've got you," she rebutted immediately, "But I'm not restricted either. That's what I want to be, that's what I need to be so I can actually make it to the other side of this."

Stefan finally put the car in drive and the background of suburban Mystic Falls began to blur past them. "Then that's what you'll be," he said, "If that's what you need, I can promise you that much."

"Stefan, where are we going? I mean… are we going camping? I don't—I'm a little nervous, hunting animals you know?"

"Oh, we're not hunting animals, 'Lena," he dismissed quickly, and she didn't miss the way his lips turned into a crafty smile.

"No?" She asked, her tone playful but the surprise genuine. "What are we hunting then?"

"Cyborgs," he replied with a completely straight face, "… from the future," he amended as though the inane comment actually needed further explanation.

For the first time in weeks-months?-, Elena's genuine laugh rang throughout the car and Stefan could feel his body temperature spike just from the wonderful noise. With a tone he hadn't heard from her in years, she asked coyly, "Who do you think would win in a fight, a vampire or Arnold Schwarzenegger?"

His grin was so wide that she couldn't help but return the smile; she hadn't seen him this happy in such a long time, and it seemed as though it was infectious. "Depends, I suppose," he drawled in amusement, the crafty smile now a sly smirk, "—is the vampire me or you?"

She always knew there was a reason that she'd dreamt of Fifth Avenue shopping sprees, larger than life skyscrapers and Manhattan pent-house living, she thinks bitterly. That bright, spirited curly haired middle-schooler fantasized about the New York high life and getting the hell out of Mystic Falls after graduation since the very first picture she'd ever seen of the city, and yet here she was touring Whitmore College, for god sakes. How had it come to this, honestly? 13-year-old Caroline Forbes would be shrieking at her in white hot disbelief right now, she knows this for certain. Even more so if the little girl knew that her main reasoning for settling was the dark-haired savage Lockwood boy who had smudged her t-shirt with ice cream on her first and only field trip to New York and the Empire State Building.

18-year-old Caroline Forbes, however, smiles at the mere thought of that dark-haired boy she'd come to adore in ways she never even thought possible. Her tour guide—a skinny, pimply little guy wearing a wool-knit sweater that she thinks is not only terribly out of fashion, but also ridiculously not weather appropriate—continues on blathering about school clubs, but she isn't really listening. She's completely distracted, thinking of nothing but how she could convince Tyler to cheer her up when she got back. A sly grin twists her lips up as she chuckles at the thought—she hardly ever needed to convince Tyler of much of anything—he had twice the sex drive she did, and that was saying something.

"Um, Miss Forbes?" The tour guy questioned hesitantly. Caroline rolled her eyes and tried to look as though she'd been listening. Why had her mother even insisted on this tour in the first place? 'It's just good insurance to know all your options, sweetheart.' Ugh, she scoffed just at the memory of her mother's voice this morning.

"Anyway," the tour guide continued, "This is the Arts building, so you'd ha—"

Caroline immediately tuned out his voice as she abruptly collided into the chest of a random stranger—but a random stranger who smelled absolutely amazing, her always riled up consciousness couldn't help but chime in.

"I'm sorry," he apologized in a charming accent she couldn't at all place, her head still spinning from his beautiful—and more than likely ridiculously expensive—cologne. "I wasn't looking where I was going, entirely my fault." As he spoke, his entire face lit up, his smile nothing but beautiful, white teeth and genuine sincerity. "I'm Aaron," he introduced with an outstretched hand, "Aaron Mitchell."

By this point, the tour guide was completely forgotten about, and he certainly knew it, as he backed away and left the two alone, muttering something bitterly under his breath that Caroline neither heard nor cared about.

"Caroline Forbes," she introduced back as she shook his hand, firm and soft, his dark brown eyes assessing her from head to toe. She'd never felt insecure in meeting a new acquaintance in her entire life—not until now, at least. "Are you a student here?" She asked instinctively, although she knew it was ridiculous to even consider. Unlike the tour guide with the horrific sweater, this man dressed impeccably, wore a watch that probably cost as much as her entire outfit and exuded an air around him that gave every indication that he was not from nor currently inhabiting in Mystic Falls.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Forbes," he said, "And no, I'm afraid I'm not. I was having lunch with an old friend, he's a professor here actually. Although I certainly am glad I could be of assistance in getting rid of your—" he paused, an amused smile on his lips, "—company for you; you looked more than a little uncomfortable."

Caroline was a little weary of his forwardness, if she was being honest—after all, when you meet a hot, charming stranger in Mystic Falls, it was usually the cue for warning bells; she'd learned that one the hard way. "Well then, I thank you very much for the heroic save; it certainly wasn't necessary, however."

"Are you a student here, Caroline?" He asked with an inquisitive tilt of his head, that same charming smile plastered all over his face. She wished she could turn and walk away, but something about him was—magnetic. Her consciousness now berated her for sounding like a terribly cheesy romance novel, but she didn't mean it in the sense of sexually. There was literally something that seemed to be enticing her to speak more with him and that, in and of itself, was definitely not a good sign.

"No, I'm not." She didn't offer anything other than that, and he didn't press her for any extra information. "Where are you from, then? If you're only passing through…"

"California," Aaron told her with a radiant smile, "Napa Valley, actually—born and raised. And what about you, darling? Are you also 'just passing through'?"

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion-that accent was definitely not from California, wherever it was from-and decided that she wasn't so fond of where this conversation was headed. He was charming, indeed—a bit too much so, really—but there was an underlying sense of creepiness in his persona that she just couldn't shake, and it reminded her unnervingly of her first impression of Damon.

"I like to keep an air of mystery about myself," she joked nervously, "It keeps life so much more interesting, don't you think?"

"An air of mystery?" He repeated, thoughtful at this declaration. He seemed entirely oblivious to her joking manner, because as they locked eyes and he spoke, "We have so much in common then, my darling, because I feel the exact same way," she knew with a heavy sense of dread and foreboding that he was most certainly not joking.

He checked his watch with a pensive smile and turned to face her again. "I'm terribly sorry, Caroline, I must be going. It was wonderful to meet you—I'll be in town for a little while, perhaps we could meet again? Or is that just a bit too scheduled for your penchant towards mystery?"

She didn't know what to say, standing there almost wishing she hadn't bumped into this beguiling man and had instead been bored to death by the scrawny tour guide boy, so she merely smiled and nodded, having absolutely zero intention of ever seeing this guy again.

Well, she mused to herself as she drove back to Mystic Falls, radio blaring some top 40 pop tune that did wonders to drown out her previous misgivings, We can certainly cross Whitmore off the list, Mom.

"Philadelphia?" Elena asked incredulously, grabbing her coat and getting out of Stefan's car, glancing around at the congested crowds and plethora of migraine-inducing lights. "What the hell are we planning on hunting here, strippers?"

"Now Elena, don't confuse me for Damon; I have no stripper-involved plans," Stefan chided playfully as he got out of the drivers side of the car and tossed his keys at the valet, that same playful smirk that she'd loved four hours ago but could now do without still ever present on his lips.

It was then that Elena finally looked up and noticed the imposing, tall and very fancy building they were headed into. Although she would've probably put it slightly more tactfully, Jeremy wasn't wrong in assessing that she looked like she'd been beaten to death by a hailstorm, and now Stefan assumed that she was about to go in there and make a fool of herself? Oh, hell no. She'd been so confident in letting Stefan take the reigns before, but now she was beginning to get a little uncomfortably dubious.

"Stefan, what on earth are we doing here? I wish you'd told me we were coming to a place like this, I would've dressed slightly less—" but her voice just trailed off, her gaze still taking in the expansive and impressive landscape of the posh hotel. He handed her luggage from the trunk of his car and put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her into an all too familiar warm hug.

"Hey, you look perfect, and if you don't, who really cares? Look, you can take a shower as soon as we get upstairs and I'll even take you out shopping afterwards if you're still preoccupied about it." She didn't look convinced, and he let out a long sigh as he took his bag from the backseat as well. "Elena, do you trust me with this?"

"I thought I did…" she muttered, unsure and uneasy at how many people crowded them on all sides.

"Elena, do you trust me with this?" He asked again, not relenting.

"Yes…" she admitted weakly. "But how can you expect me to be so calm when there's about a thousand people I could easily lose control on in about five seconds flat? I mean…" her shoulders slumped and she looked completely defeated, "A city? How is that going to be anything but a colossal disaster?"

"You think you're going to hurt someone?" He asked rhetorically, and much to her surprise, he smiled, which only further fueled her anger.

"Is there something I should be aware of right now?" She asked through clenched teeth, in obvious irritation.

"Try it," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Give it a whirl; try to take a step away from me to attack someone and see what happens, Elena."

Her anger reaching its boiling point, she marched away from him, only to be pushed back after a few steps by that same invisible barrier that she knew guarded the homes of civilians from vampires. She turned back to him, her eyes flashing red with subtle veins underneath them, completely startled and indignant.

"What the hell is going on?" She demanded, hating the fact that she was clearly left very much in the dark about something here.

He smiled sadly, took her back in his arms, attempted to calm her down slightly, and then released her, looking at her bemused expression with a hint of regret. "Seriously Elena, what do you think I was trying to do here? Do you think I would've even let you out of the damn hospital without insurance that you wouldn't hurt someone? I will never let you kill someone, Elena—I don't ever want you to know what that feels like," he assured her with that calm, comforting tone she'd grown so used to over the years. "Bonnie spelled you so that you couldn't get more than twenty feet away from me… should you actually lose control and attempt to attack someone, you couldn't get far enough from me that I wouldn't stop you in less than a second. Elena, you have to learn blood control in a place that forces you to meet it head on, but I'm not going to compromise anyone's safety for it. You…" his voice became hesitant now, as though he was doubting what once was so confident before. "I was so sure you'd understand, Elena—I just want to do right by you, for once."

It wasn't flawed logic—it did make sense to have that kind of safety net, but still… she was positive that she'd be feeling much more appreciative of the effort if she wasn't currently feeling remarkably like a misbehaving dog with a shock collar.

"Can we just go inside, please? There's too much commotion out here…" she told him testily, and he immediately complied, ushering them both to the reception desk where he gave them his name.

"Sir?" The man asked uncertainly, "Mr. Stefan Salvatore checked in about two hours ago; I'll need to see some identification. Are you a guest of Mr. Salvatore's?"

Elena and Stefan both looked at each other in a panic, each with the exact same thought. Stefan instantly compelled the man for a room key, and debated his options. Due to the spell—the one that had seemed so handy not five minutes ago, and was now a hindrance—he couldn't leave Elena downstairs, and yet, he couldn't predict who would be up in the suite that he'd booked. It could be a trap too, so it wasn't all that wise to simply leave the building either, that could be exactly what they were expected to do. He could feel Elena clutching the fabric of his shirt hard, her eyes showing the panicked train of thought that so closely mirrored his own.

"Stay next to me, and when I go inside, you stay outside the door… don't go inside the suite no matter what you hear, you got it?"

Elena nodded warily, and Stefan knew his words were meaningless—she'd bolt in immediately if she thought he was in trouble—but still, he didn't have time to harp on that.

When they reached the suite doors, he put his finger to his lips to silence her, and immediately entered the hotel room, looking around for the culprit, his stance ready and waiting for a fight. What he found, however, had him dropping the fighting stance instantly, opting instead for slack-jawed shock.

Kol Mikaelson was spread out shirtless on the hotel bed, a tray of food at his bedside, a clearly dead blonde maid sprawled out on the carpet and a TV remote control resting in his hands. "Ah, Salvatore," he greeted with a grandiose hand-gesture to come towards him, "So nice of you to finally join me, I've been waiting a long time for you to get here. Did you know that they have terribly dreadful movies on this system they call 'Pay-Per-View'? I mean, honestly—" he gestured towards the TV as if to validate his point, "What is this 'Get Him to the Greek' bullshit? It's such an idiotic concept I wish I could stake whomever came up with this goddamned tripe. I do indeed weep for the death of good old-fashioned theatre—this is what they call entertainment these days? Pitiful, simply disgusting."

Stefan was still staring, unable to process this ridiculously unforeseen gate-crashing.

Kol simply rolled his eyes and turned his attention back towards the television. "Take a seat, Salvatore, and you look like a fish with that expression—really doesn't suit you, to be honest." And then with a smirk full of devious intent, he added, "Oh, and do please tell the doppelganger lurking outside to come in and get all good and settled… no one likes an eavesdropper, Gilbert. That's lesson #1, you really ought to be writing this down." He gave Stefan a wry smile, leaned back further into the plush bedspread and fluffed pillows, sighing in smug satisfaction.

Notes: Alright, there we have it. Originally, I had a much more cliff-hangery cliff hanger to end on, but if I had, this would've been way longer and I really wanted to post it tonight for you guys, you wonderful people don't deserve my crappy writing habits. But hey, I got this one out in less than two months. That's way better than the time before that. Let's shoot for less time for the next one? ... Too optimistic?