Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by the song "My Boyfriend's Back," by the Raveonettes. As you may have already guessed, this popular "Golden Oldie" was featured in the episode Unpleasantville, which included, among other things, a fifties-themed dance. You'll notice that, in the context of this story, the song's lyrics have a much darker meaning than the song writers initially intended . . .

8:48 a.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge

The color gradually drained from Elena Gilbert's face, as she stood, stock still, in the doorway of the motel room, reading the Bon Temp Spectator's cover story. Once she finished reading, Elena allowed the newspaper to drift from her fingertips, and flutter gently to the floor. And yet, she, herself, remained rooted to the same spot, as if her feet had been glued to the carpet beneath her.

The whole time Elena was reading, Damon Salvatore waited patiently for her to finish. It was all he could do . . . really. Mentally, he had begun kicking himself for destroying the television. Its metallic bits were now scattered across the hotel floor. And every few minutes, one of them would give off a spark. His little act of defensive vandalism was not only going to require a heck of a lot of compulsion to "clean up," it may actually end up burning the place down!

Thinking back, Damon realized how foolish it was of him to think that he could protect Elena from this. She was destined to find out, eventually. At least, this way, she got to do it in the relative comfort of the motel room . . .

"If you're going to be sick again, please let me know. I'll go throw down some towels, or something," Damon snarked, the obvious look of concern on his face, belying his attempt at humor.

Elena slowly walked back toward the center of the room, a dazed expression in her eyes. She looked like a woman compelled. For a few moments, Damon contemplating removing Elena's vervain necklace, and actually compelling her. He could easily make her forget the horrors she had recently experienced. He could take away her pain . . . make her whole again.

But, of course, Damon realized that removing the newspaper article from Elena's consciousness wouldn't be enough to truly make her happy. For that, he would have to make her forget losing her aunt . . . her adoptive parents . . . her biological parents . . . her entire childhood. The thought depressed Damon more than he was willing to admit.

The elder Salvatore brother was snapped out of his reverie, when he saw Elena begin to swoon, her eyes rolling back in her head. With vampire speed, he positioned himself behind her, allowing her head and body to fall back into his sturdy waiting arms, rather than into the wooden night table, where she was originally headed. The incident had the unexpected effect of causing Elena's towel to drop to the floor, exposing Damon to a tantalizing peek at her olive skin, among other things. Damon shook his head vigorously, trying to shoo from his brain the image of Elena from the night before, touching him . . . wanting him . . . needing him. But, of course, that was just the alcohol working its magic. Wasn't it?

After a few brief moments, Elena returned to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open to the image of Damon's chiseled face, his iced cobalt blue orbs staring intently down at her through long dark lashes. Still not quite back to herself, Elena smiled dopily, instinctively leaning closer to Damon, as he laid her back down on the bed. Reluctantly, Damon let go of her, laying her too short towel back across her body, before heading to the bathroom, to get her a glass of water. By the time he returned, she was sitting upright, clutching the piece of terry cloth tightly to her body.

When Damon handed her the glass of water, she took it gratefully, and gulped it down slowly and soundlessly . . . anything to avoid the conversation she was about to have. "Those girls at the bar last night . . . he actually killed them," Elena whispered, her eyes blinking back tears.

"I know," said Damon solemnly, as he removed the glass from Elena's shaking hands, and placed it on the bedside table.

"I saw him do it to the first girl . . . but then she disappeared so quickly, that I thought . . . I hoped . . ."

"I know," Damon replied again, grasping both of Elena's hands in his own.

Her small dainty hands felt cold as ice, and before he realized what he was doing, he found himself massaging them with his fingers to keep them warm.

Damon's touch had an immediate relaxing effect on Elena. He could hear the sound of her breathing - which had been short and gasping - gradually slow to normal speed. Elena's heart, which, moments before, had been thumping loudly in her chest, eventually followed suit. She looked up at Damon, giving him a small nod of thanks.

"All those times he told me he used to be like this . . . a monster . . . I don't think I ever really believed him," Elena noted with disbelief. "Even that time at the pageant, when he disappeared with Amber, and you and I had to . . ."

Elena blushed a bit at the memory of her dance with Damon on the day of the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. The tingling sensation that rushed through her body upon remembering that moment seemed all the more inappropriate considering the trauma that followed it. "He was able to stop himself then . . . We were able to stop him. But now . . . I can't . . . I don't . . ."

Finally, Elena broke down, bursting into tears, as Damon clutched her tightly to his chest, running his hand soothingly through her hair, as her wet face nuzzled against his bare skin. "What if we can't get him back this time? What if he stays like this forever? I mean, he can actually go to jail for this, Damon."

"Yes, the term 'life imprisonment' bears a whole new meaning, when you're a vampire," Damon offered dryly. "And did you notice how he told everybody at the bar his name was 'Damon?' That was a nice touch, don't you think?" The elder Salvatore Brother added with a smirk.

The comments had their intended effect, in that they caused Elena to smile, in spite of herself. "Damon," she scolded, punching him in the arm. "This is serious."

Damon nodded. This was serious. The Stefan Situation had become grimmer than he had ever imagined it would be. And this meant that more dangerous methods would have to be employed to get him back. "I promise you, we can fix this, Elena. We just have to change our strategy," Damon said into her long brunette hair, as its intoxicating scent filled his nostrils.

"What do you mean, 'change our strategy'?" Elena inquired, looking back up at Damon, with an adorably crinkled brow.

Damon thought for a moment, before forming his response. "Well, we are clearly not going to get Stefan back on the wagon, of his own accord. He is way too far gone for that . . . which just means we are going to have to kidnap him."

Elena shook her head in disbelief. "Kidnap him? That's great, Damon." She said sarcastically. "And how exactly do you expect to get him away from Klaus long enough to do that?"

"Simple," Damon said, rising from his position on the bed, with a determined look on his face. "We're going to kill him . . . kill Klaus, I mean," he added hurriedly, catching the look of horror that passed across Elena's face.

"Riiiiiight . . . because that worked out so well, last time," Elena remarked.

Damon couldn't help but smile. Sarcasm. Elena was more like him than she would ever be willing to admit. "It's not going to be like last time . . . because, last time, I only had Bonnie and Stefan on my side."

"And this time, you only have me . . . which, pretty much, means you're screwed," Elena replied, as she watched Damon pace the perimeter of the hotel room.

"No, Elena," he said firmly. "This time, we're going to have an entire army."

9:05 a.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion

Stefan emerged from the kitchen, fangs bared. He sped across the room, so that he could block Katherine's body from Klaus' view. You always did look fetching in your birthday suit. Klaus' words to Katherine echoed gratingly in his ears. In truth, they shouldn't have bothered him. After all, not too long ago, Stefan had spent night after night, with his body entwined with Elena's . . . her long muscular legs wrapped around his waist . . . her mouth on his . . . her hands . . .

And Katherine . . . well, surely a 500-year old woman with such a voracious appetite for sex had been with countless men OTHER than just him and Damon, during lengthy stay on Earth. But there was something about the image of Katherine and Klaus lying naked together in passionate embrace that set Stefan's teeth on edge. Of course, considering that Klaus had just located him AND Katherine, Stefan knew he had more to worry about than petty matters of jealously.

"Stefan . . . you've been a VERY naughty boy," Klaus sang mockingly, his lips curled in a smirk. "Killing college coeds in bars . . . dumping their bodies into incinerators . . . going by your brother's name . . . cheating on your Petrova Doppelganger Girlfriend, with your OTHER Petrova Doppelganger girlfriend . . ."

Stefan growled angrily, yet did not speak. He would like nothing better than to bite off Klaus' head, and tear his flesh, limb from limb. But for now, he needed to be patient, and figure out his next move . . .

Of course, Klaus had more to say, "And this picture of you, Stefan . . . it is just so adorable," Klaus cooed, pulling a rolled-up newspaper from his back pocket to show it to his captive audience. "Is this your high school yearbook picture? I think it is! Such a sweet smile, you have, Stefan. But I must say, I much prefer what you are wearing now to what are you are wearing in this photograph."

With the attention briefly off her, Katherine took the opportunity to escape, using her vampire speed to rush up the long winding staircase of Queen Sophie Anne's mansion. But Klaus was faster than she was. And by the time she arrived at the top of the stairs, he was already in front of her.

Grinning, Klaus casually grabbed Katherine by her waist with one hand, as he explored the curves of her body with the other. As he did this, he buried his head in the crook of her neck. Katherine tensed up her muscles, trying to fight off the arousal that was overtaking her. As much as her brain feared Klaus, her body and limbs remembered a different side of him . . . a more sensual side.

Klaus used Katherine's distraction to his advantage, and threw her over the railing of the staircase. She dangled there, screaming, legs kicking ferociously, trying, in vain, to pull her body upward. But all she could do was hold on tightly to Klaus' hand, since it was the only thing keeping her from a lengthy plummet to the ground below. Tears filled her eyes, as she whispered. "Please, don't . . . Klaus."

Within seconds, Stefan was up the stairs as well, which, of course, was precisely what Klaus had wanted. "Don't hurt her," he said, trying to keep his voice void of telltale emotion. "We could use her later."

Still holding on to a frantic Katherine, Klaus turned toward Stefan, brows furrowed. "Use her . . . the way you used her, last night. I hate to say it Stefan, but your proposition doesn't interest me. I've been there, and done that . . . ," he said, leering at Katherine's nude body as it dangled over the railing. " . . . many times."

"Listen," said Stefan, now unable to keep the tension out of his voice. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll be your Ripper for a decade . . . a century, even . . . I'll rape . . . I'll steal . . . I'll kill. Just do this one thing for me. And I promise, I'll never lie to you again."

Klaus laughed. "A-ha. I knew it! I knew it since the moment you let Elena go with me, the night of The Sacrifice . . . And, when it was all over, you let Damon carry her home, so that you could make sure I was dead. At first, I thought you gave up Elena for your brother's life, out of some sick sense of fraternal responsibility. Now, I see that you never loved her at all. It was Katherine . . . it has always been Katherine for you, hasn't it, Stefan."

Before Stefan could form a response to Klaus' statement, Queen Sophie Anne emerged in frilly pink dressing gown. "Katherine, you didn't tell me we had more guests," she said sweetly, as she threw Klaus down on the ground in the stairway, catching him completely by surprise.

Stefan immediately rushed to Katherine, gradually helping her to pull herself up from the railing. When she was safe, he held her tightly in her arms, the contours of her nude body fitting perfectly into the shadows of his own. He felt her head burrow deeply into the crook of her neck, as she shook from fear, relief, and joy. "God, I love you," she whispered in his ear, breathily.

"I love you too," he whispered back, knowing instantly that it was true.

Meanwhile, Sophie Anne and Klaus were deep in battle, their eyes glowing red . . . their fangs bared . . . their shoulders clenched. At first, the pair seemed fairly evenly matched. They clawed and scratched at one another, each drawing blood, ripping at one another's clothing with their teeth and hands. The sound of growling filled the air, as these two worthy opponents each luxuriated in the thrill of the hunt.

It was Stefan that heard it first . . . the cracking of bone. Still gripping Katherine tightly to him, Stefan turned and watched with horror, as fine black hairs sprouted on Klaus back . . . his neck . . . his legs. A low guttural sound that Stefan had heard only once before, echoed throughout the house, shaking its foundation. And that's when he knew . . . Klaus was undergoing his werewolf transformation.

Queen Sophie Anne's eyes widened, revealing a series of emotions in rapid succession . . . confusion, recognition, realization, and, finally FEAR. Sophie Anne was in retreat mode now, as she instinctively backed away from the World's First Werewolf - Vampire Hybrid. But it was too late. Klaus had already lifted Sophie Anne's body up deftly to his face, taking a long deep chuck of flesh from her neck, as he casually tossed her screaming, flailing, body, over the railing of her own house.

Stefan didn't have to look to know where he had thrown her. Queen Sophie Anne had a hideous sculpture in her living room. It was a series of extended sharp, highly-phallic looking blood red fangs, the size of small children, which together formed a demented vampire smile. "Don't look," he whispered to Katherine.

But look, she did. Katherine's screams shattered glass throughout the house, as she took in the image of her oldest friend, impaled on a fang. Her blood spewed forth from her lifeless body, like a geyser. All Stefan could do was hug her tighter, and try to take some of her pain away.

"She was the Queen of Louisiana, Klaus . . . one of the most powerful, well-loved, vampires in this country," Stefan noted bitterly. "They'll never let you get away with this."

Klaus laughed maniacally, as his body slowly morphed back into vampire form. "They are going to have to . . .," he replied gleefully. " . . . because, there's new King in town. And his name is Klaus."