Author's Note: The title of this chapter is inspired by the song "Get Some" by Lykka Li. "Get Some" was featured in Episode 2.19 of The Vampire Diaries, "Klaus." If you recall, Katherine danced to this particular song, while cooped up in Alaric's apartment. The scene remains one of my favorite Vampire Katherine moments to date, hence its inclusion in this story. As you may have guessed from the title, this chapter will likely push the limits of this story's "T" rating. Be on the lookout for some heavy petting, as well as a bit of (unintentional) drug use. Viewer discretion is advised.

9:35 - Bon Temps Motor Lodge

By the time Damon Salvatore pulled into the parking lot, Elena Gilbert was passed out cold in the passenger seat. She looked so peaceful this way, with her head tilted gently toward her right shoulder, and her mouth slightly open, as if anticipating the kiss Damon was dying to give her. Damon contemplated just letting her lay there for a while. He suspected he could watch Elena sleep for hours, without getting bored.

Yet, having been in such a heavy state of intoxicated sleep himself many times in the past, Damon knew that Elena was in for a rather rude awakening the following morning. And that awakening would be undoubtedly ruder, had he allowed her to remain resting in such an awkward seated position for any longer than she already had been. So, the elder Salvatore brother quietly turned off the car, exited the driver's seat, and walked around to the passenger side. Opening the door ever so slightly, Damon gently patted Elena's shoulder. "Pssst . . . Sleeping Beauty . . . we're here," he whispered, not wanting to startle her.

Elena opened her eyes ever so slightly, and turned sleepily toward her travel companion. "Damon," she said with a smile, as if the same face she'd been dreaming about had just come to life in front of her. After that, she closed her eyes again . . .

Sighing, Damon carefully undid the sleeping Elena's seatbelt. He then lifted her lithe body into his arms, allowing her head to rest contentedly on his chest. As Damon carried Elena across the parking lot, shifting her body ever so slightly, so that he could pull the hotel key from his pocket, and open the door, he experienced a powerful sense of déjà vu.

And why not? After all, it hadn't been so long ago, that Damon had carried a lifeless Elena home from The Sacrifice Ritual. The emotions he felt during that time instantly flooded his subconscious mind . . . his fear that Elena would die . . . or worse, become a vampire, and hate him forever . . . his guilt over not having been able to stop what had happened to her . . . for not being able to soothe the pain of the loss she experienced upon Jenna's death. Elena was still very young, and yet, an old soul, in so many ways. Damon was thinking THIS thought, as he carried Elena across the threshold into the dingy motel room.

"Well . . . this isn't exactly the location I imagined for our honeymoon, but I guess it will have to do," Damon joked to nobody in particular.

Ever so carefully, Damon placed Elena down on the stark white bed sheets, which reminded him a bit of the ones he had at home (only THESE had a significantly lower thread count, he suspected). He then turned her body on its side, placing a pillow behind her back, just in case all of that top shelf tequila she had recently consumed decided to make an unexpected re-appearance. A strand of dark hair had fallen across Elena's face, during her journey from the car to the bed. So, Damon sat down next to her, and brushed it free from her eyes. Mesmerized by her beauty and innocence, Damon remained there for a few moments longer, his deft fingers dancing across the gentle curves of her face.

I need a shower . . . a cold one. Damon thought to himself, as his masculinity made itself known to him, through a throbbing pain between his legs. Groaning, Damon removed his shirt, and haphazardly tossed it to the floor. He was about to leave the bed, when he felt a soft hand take firm hold of his upper thigh. "Damon, I can't lose you," Elena whispered, her eyes still closed. "I've already lost Stefan. And I can't lose you too."

Damon smiled, placing his large hand over her smaller one. "Gilbert, you couldn't lose me, if you tried," he reassured her, with a wink she couldn't see.

He then patted her hand, and gently moved it back to its former position. But when Damon began to rise again, Elena stopped him, this time, by placing her hand on his chest. Her fingers splayed outward across his skin, causing intensely pleasurable warmth to radiate throughout Damon's body. "Don't go," pleaded Elena, as she rose to a sitting position.

Before Damon could protest, Elena was in his arms, her soft lips pressed firmly against his . . .

9:43 p.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Limousine

Katherine Petrova regarded Stefan Salvatore out of the corner of her eye, trying to judge his expression. A mixture of fear and lust sent tingles throughout her body. The sensation was not entirely an unpleasant one.

Having realized that her two companions were already well-acquainted, Queen Sophie Anne had excused herself, and moved to sit next to her driver. Upon doing so, she was careful to raise the barrier between the front seat and the back, so that Katherine and Stefan could have their privacy.

Under the circumstances, Katherine wasn't quite sure she wanted to be left alone with Stefan . . . especially THIS Stefan, who, she knew, was a bit of a loose cannon, to say the least. There was no telling what he would do to her, if given the chance. Yet, the terror Katherine was experiencing had nothing to do with Stefan. She had MUCH bigger demons to battle than him, and she knew it.

"If you are planning to tell him that I'm here, I only ask that you have the decency to at least give me a running start," remarked Katherine, turning so that Stefan's cold dark eyes met hers directly. (No further explanation was necessary as to the "him" to whom she was referring. Both parties knew exactly who she was talking about.) "Because, as much as you hate to admit it, Stefan, you loved me once . . . And I would hope that somewhere in that dark bloodaholic heart of yours, that still counts for something."

Stefan said nothing. Instead, he turned away from Katherine to remove the cell phone from his pocket. Katherine's eyes widened, as he dialed.

A deafening silence filled the limousine, as Stefan waited for Klaus to answer his phone. The answering machine picked up. "I got hungry . . . and decided to hunt," began Stefan, not bothering to leave his name. "Don't wait up. I'll meet you back at Eric's in the morning," the younger Salvatore Brother added, hanging up the phone, and returning it to his pocket.

Katherine breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said, suddenly finding herself unable to look at him.

"I didn't do it for you," Stefan said coldly, turning his attention back to the window.

Katherine nodded, as she opened the mini fridge and extracted a bottle of scotch, which had always been Stefan's favorite. She grabbed a tumbler and filled it, pushing it in his direction . . . a peace offering. "Well . . . thanks anyway," she said.

Stefan surprised her by ignoring the tumbler. Instead, he reached for the entire bottle. He then took a long and intense pull from it, before passing the bottle back to Katherine.

Katherine took a sip from the bottle as well. Now, we are getting somewhere. She thought to herself with a smirk. "You know . . . there's no rule that says you have to spend the rest of eternity as Klaus' bitch," she offered helpfully. "You already got what you wanted. Damon's not dying anymore. Elena's safe . . . and human. I hope you're not sticking around out of some warped sense of honor," she concluded, passing the Scotch back to Stefan.

He looked thoughtfully at the bottle, drinking even deeper this time. "It's not about honor," he answered. "I can't be with her now . . . not when I'm like this. I just . . . I can't put her life in jeopardy like that. I won't."

Katherine grabbed the bottle from Stefan, and tilted her head back. The liquor burned the lining of her stomach as it went down. And it felt good. "I didn't say you should go back to her. Not everything has to be black and white, Stefan. You are a strong, dangerous . . . not to mention, extremely sexy, vampire. There are countless places you could go. The World is your Blood Bag."

"And then what? Spend the next half millennium running scared . . . like YOU?"He inquired bitterly.

Stefan reached for the bottle again. When he did, his hands brushed against Katherine's. The action caused a powerful feeling of arousal to move throughout his body. There was a brief time, back when he first got involved with Klaus, that Stefan worried he would never feel that sensation again toward anybody. And yet, there it was, tugging at his pant leg insistently, like a petulant child . . . for her. Stefan felt a luxurious cloudiness slowly taking over his brain, as he took yet another drink from the now nearly empty bottle of scotch.

It was Katherine who got the honor of finishing the bottle, tossing it triumphantly into the waste basket near her feet. She stretched seductively, using her body to its best advantage – a not-so-subtle reminder to Stefan of what he had been missing all these years.

"It's better than what you are doing now," she argued trying in vain to bring her vision back into focus. Wow, I'm really drunk. She thought to herself.

"Not from where I'm sitting," replied Stefan gruffly.

Katherine was briefly startled by a rapping on the window near her head. She hadn't even realized the limo had stopped moving. "I hope you are decent, lovebirds, because we have arrived. It's time for this party to really begin," cooed Sophie Anne, as the limo driver opened the door for Katherine and Stefan.

"Oh, I think it's already begun," said Katherine with a wink.

9:50 p.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge

Elena dug her nails into Damon's back, as she hungrily probed his mouth with her tongue. Meanwhile, Damon hands were deftly removing Elena's shirt. He pulled it over her head, in a single yank.

No longer encumbered by that pesky fabric, Damon began the fun task of exploring every part of Elena's perfectly sculpted body . . . the gentle curve of her neck . . . the hollow of her chest . . . the lithe musculature of her arms . . . the deep valley of cleavage between the soft pink mountains that were her breasts, the ripple of her abdominal muscles . . . the delicate folds of her belly button. He conquered them all with expert fingers, and then again, with his greedy mouth . . . savoring each moan of pleasure that emanated from her throat, and each shudder of her shoulders. Damon took immense joy in every sound Elena made, and every slight movement that possessed her. He felt as though he was a starving man, and THESE comprised his first meal in days.

A loud growl crawled from Damon's chest to his lips, causing his entire body to shake with the sound of it, as Elena tilted her head back and sighed, her eyes rolling back in her head. Impatiently, she began to fumble with his jeans, and him with hers . . . It was at that point, while the two of them were grappling with one another's inconvenient buttons and zippers, that Damon saw him . . . Stefan . . . or, rather, Stefan's head, floating above the hotel room, like some bizarre approximation of the Man in the Moon.

Damon blinked, not quite sure what to make of this bizarre, not to mention, highly inconvenient, hallucination. Stefan laughed maniacally. "You're pathetic, you know that?" The younger Salvatore scoffed, his eyes probing his brother's half naked form in disgust. "Is this what has become of the Great Damon Salvatore? Forced to take his brother's girlfriend thousands of miles away, and get her drunk and vulnerable, just so he could get laid? Oh, how the mighty hath fallen!"

Damon cringed, as he pulled Elena's pants down over her ass, allowing them to sit at the top of her thighs. "It's not like that," he said out loud.

"Not like what," Elena asked, her breathing quickened with the exertion of arousal, as she slipped her hands through Damon's now-open jeans.

Damon growled, becoming even more determined now. He wasn't going to let something as ridiculous as guilt get in the way of him FINALLY doing something he had been waiting to do seemingly for his entire existence . . .

"You know . . . she's going to hate you for this, in the morning . . . once she sobers up, that is" Stefan piped in, his voice less menacing now, and more pitying. "And worse . . . she's going to hate herself," he concluded, before seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Well, that did it. Damon instinctively jerked back from Elena. His action had the unintended effect of causing her to assume the role of aggressor. Elena reached for Damon, pushing his body forcefully into a laying position, so that she was seated on top of him. Straddling him, she began to move in a rhythmic motion. In another minute, they would be entering the point of no return.

What am I, nuts? Why on Earth would I possibly stop this from happening? Damon thought to himself, as he felt the weight of Elena's body pulsating on top of his own.

Damon was the bad brother! He wasn't the type of guy to put an end to something like this . . . something that felt so good . . . so right . . . out of some ridiculous sense of obligation, to the guy who, less than twenty minutes ago, said he wanted nothing to do with either of them?

But then, Damon looked up at Elena. He saw the resplendent smile on her face . . . the way her almond eye shined with excitement and passion. He saw her innocence . . . her goodness. Instantly, he knew what he had to do. "We can't do this, Elena," he muttered, shaking his head ruefully. "Not now . . . not like this."

Elena pursed her lips, as she leaned toward Damon, and whispered in his ear. "We can . . . and we ARE."

"No," said Damon, cursing silently, as he sat up, and moved off the bed.

Elena's blinked, still not quite understanding what was happening. "But Damon . . ." she whispered. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"It IS . . . my GOD, of course it is," he explained, grabbing her shoulders protectively.

"But . . ." Elena interrupted, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Damon sighed. It wasn't too late. He could turn back. He could grab Elena in his arms, bring her back to that dingy bed, and spend the night having the best sex of his 160-plus year existence. All he had to do was keep his big fat mouth shut.

"Stefan," he said morosely. "You have to figure things out with Stefan. You'll never forgive yourself, if you don't."

Elena released herself from Damon's grasp. He was right. She must have been crazy to think that one drunken night of great sex in a cheap motel would solve things . . . that it would erase her past , or change what had happened between her and Stefan.

Humiliated, Elena placed one hand on her heart and the other across her mouth. "Oh my god! I'm such a whore," she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears

Damon opened his mouth in protest, suddenly convinced he had made a terrible mistake "No . . . Elena. You're not a whore. You are the most . . ."

But Elena was no longer in any position to listen to reason. Instead, she turned, and ran toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Damon followed her, knocking gently on the door. "GO AWAY!" Elena yelped.

Damon forcefully threw open the bathroom door. He wasn't about to let her hide from him. They were going to solve this "little problem," they were having, if they had to hash it out all night.

That's when he heard it . . . the sound that confirmed for Damon that he had done the right thing, by putting the brakes on his and Elena's brief, but extremely erotic, romantic interlude. It was the sound of Elena emptying the contents of her stomach into the small hotel toilet bowl.

Sighing, Damon kneeled down next to Elena. Quickly, he tied her hair in a knot behind her head, to keep it out of her face. Then, he silently, and methodically, began to rub her back.

It was in that awful, pain-filled, moment that Damon came to the startling realization that he would never ever again love another woman the way he loved Elena Gilbert . . .

10:10 p.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion

Stefan and Katherine were lazily lounging by Queen Sophie Anne's indoor pool, when their hostess emerged, in a silken kimono, with the "main course" trailing behind her. The woman in question was about eighteen years old, with red hair, green eyes, and blood red lipstick. Unlike most of the "blood donors" Stefan had encountered in the past, this person was clearly acting on her own accord. Her eyes were bright, intense, and decidedly free from compulsion.

"Allow me to introduce you to Marissa," announced Queen Sophie. "She leads an active lifestyle, is disease free, and has an extremely rare, not to mention, decadently delicious, AB negative blood type, which, as you may or may not know, is offered in less than one percent of the human population."

Stefan licked his lips in anticipation. He couldn't remember the last time he had tasted AB negative blood. And yet, hungry as he was there was always something disconcerting about draining a woman who was not under compulsion. She would experience every gnash of teeth and, every rip of her flesh. She would feel her pulse weaken, and listen to the slowed beating of her heart. This woman would know exactly when she was going to die.

Despite how hungry he was . . . despite all the women he had murdered, without remorse, or emotion . . . there was something about murdering the seemingly willing Marissa that gave him pause. "You won't kill me," Marissa offered, seeming to read his mind. "I'm what you call a professional fangbanger. I've replaced all my non-vital organs with blood. This puts me at about two pints more blood than your average human. So, there's plenty for everyone," she concluded proudly.

To prove herself, Marissa moved toward Stefan, immediately filling his nostrils with her delicious scent. When she was close enough to him to do so, she kissed him roughly on the mouth, and ran her hand across his stomach. No longer able to resist his vampire impulses, Stefan bit Marissa's lip hard, kissing her mouth, as her luxurious blood ran down her chin in thin rivulets.

She tasted like nothing he had ever experienced before. Stefan moaned, closing his eyes, as the blood ran down his throat. He then licked his lips, immediately wanting another taste.

By the time Stefan opened his eyes, Marissa was no longer kissing him. Instead, she was kissing Katherine, with the same delectable bloody mouth that Stefan had experienced moments earlier. But before Stefan could become too jealous, Marissa extended her hand toward the younger Salvatore brother, pulling him toward the pair.

Now Stefan was biting Marissa neck, and so was Katherine. The former lovers looked at one another, in the midst of their shared indulgence. Their eyes were filled with passion and desire. The euphoric mix of blood and liquor was clearly taking its toll on both of their bodies, and the effect was irresistible.

Stefan began working his way toward Marissa's chest, his hand groping Katherine as he moved. But, suddenly, he began to feel very strange. The world around him began to spin increasingly fast. Colors seemed more vivid . . . lights seemed brighter . . . every touch was amplified. Stefan moved his hand in front of his face, and was surprised to find it distorted, and bulbous. He looked at the ground below him, which appeared to be disappearing beneath him. He felt as though he was floating.

It was at that moment that Marissa collapsed on the ground, her eye fluttering, her entire body shaking. She seemed to be having some kind of seizure. "Sophie . . . what was in that blood?" Stefan growled.

Katherine, who was feeling more than a bit loopy herself, turned slowly toward her oldest friend, feeling equal parts betrayed and excited about the journey that lay ahead of her. "Oh, nothing too dangerous . . . just your basic Feel Good Drug Cocktail," replied Queen Sophie Anne, clearly proud of herself. "Like I always say, what doesn't kill you makes you better in bed."

Katherine instinctively placed her hand on her chest, and was surprised by how amazing it felt to be touched. She suddenly had the desire to touch everyone and everything. Was this a side effect of the drugs? Katherine didn't care.

This desire took over her body, shattering her ability to calculate, and think rationally. Then, with a fervor she didn't know was possible, Katherine launched herself at Stefan with vampire speed, ripping his shirt and pants open in one single, intense, tear.