Present.

Elena shook her head.

"Oh no, you're mistaken. I'm not Katherine…"

Klaus silenced her almost instantly. His hand was massive and it curled easily around her neck. He did it in one slow and fluid motion, pressing Elena back into the wall.

"Oh, you wish it were that easy," He purred.

Elena's hands flew up to his hand, attempting to pry off his vice grip. His hand anchored her to the wall like an ornament. Her feet were no longer touching the floor and she found that she could barely scrape the marble with the tip of her big toe. She was frantic. He, on the other hand, seemed unnaturally calm.

"And what name have you adopted now? Jezebel? It would suit you seeing as how you were a disloyal, selfish little harlot."

"No…" Elena tried to gasp, though it came out as less than a whisper. Her eyes were wide, and bulging from their sockets.

Klaus's other hand fell across her face. A painful explosion of light filled her eyes for a bright second. And to her horror, his hand descended again and again. The pain was outstanding and her ears rung like a bell. Elena struggled wildly but she was no match for him. In fact, she was barely able to struggle at all. The scent of blood filled her nostrils. Her blood.

Klaus screamed with pleasure as her eyes began to roll back into her head and she fell limp.

'Damon…' She thought frantically. She looked around the sparse living room. There was nothing and no one to save her. And she slipped into unconsciousness.

Damon carried his overnight bag over his shoulder and opened the door to his room at the Crowne Plaza Hotel. He tossed the bag onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. Bonnie was down the hall getting her luggage situated before they began combing the town looking for Elena and Katherine.

Damon.

Damon opened his eyes and sat very still for a moment, his head still bent. It was almost as if he were simultaneously listening and feeling. He then lifted his head swiftly.

Damon.

His mind was filled with images too quick to grasp. And a moan escaped his lips.

"Elena!"

He ran.

It was raining, she could feel the warm droplets falling onto her closed eyelids. Elena groaned lightly and tried to move. Except she could not move. It was she became aware of the weight on top of her. Her eyes opened slowly, painfully. And it was with a tired horror that she realized it was not rain, but blood. Blood was dripping slowly off of the fangs of Klaus's drenched mouth. His eyes were a blazing blue. So blue. In any other setting, he would be seen as beautiful. His hand was in her hair, almost tenderly.

"You were always the most beautiful, my Princess, when in pain," he said breathtakingly.

Elena moved her face slightly, the blood now dripping into her mouth.

Klaus licked his lips and leaned his head forward, immersing himself in her scent as he kissed her jaw.

There was a familiarity about him that was disconcerting for her. As if she knew him, but she didn't. She'd never met this man before in all of her life. But she had said his name. Klaus. An image of him flashed in her mind: they were driving in a carriage and he was playfully tickling her nose w/ a feather. The image quickly faded. He had called her Katherine. Katherine! Elena wondered if she was long gone by now. It was obvious that this man was why she was acting so strange. Elena felt as if she had been on the floor for hours. How long had she been here with Klaus?

"You're my failsafe…"

Katherine's words came back to Elena in a rush. Failsafe. She hadn't understood what she meant. Nor did Katherine clarify. And yet here she was, on the floor with this man. And in the corner of her mind…

"You're here because I made you…"

Everything Katherine had said was deliberate, if ambiguous. But the pieces began to form in her mind. This had been her trap. She had been a diversion—a trick so Katherine could escape and this man, this vampire, would think he had found her. It was plain as day.

"You're even more captivating than I remember," he whispered into her skin.

Elena's attention was averted back to Klaus, who sunk his teeth into Elena's neck, piercing her flesh. She could feel the blood literally draining out of her. Elena was too weak to protest, too weak to lift her arms. All she could do was moan. Could a vampire die this way? To die from blood loss—blood that provided no sustenance to an un-beating heart? She didn't understand the lore of a vampire, much less the anatomy. Klaus's voice was hollow…far away…

"Didn't I protect you? Care for you? Why did you do it? I made you, Katherine. I plucked you from your deathbed. I made you a vampire. I gave you power that you never knew existed. And that was how you showed your gratitude? And how many have fallen under your spell since then? Hmm?"

Klaus was gripping her shoulders, shaking her. Elena's head banged into the marble.

Klaus leaned back, drinking in her attire. Lace moist with blood. Satin against creamy skin.

"You're dressed like a whore," he said quietly. "You knew I'd find you and still…and in blue, no less. Is this your burial gown, my sweet?"

His hands slid over the Elena.

"I can't express how much I loathe you. I loathe you so much that I love you, you bitch. You've ruined me. You've poisoned my mind for years and took whatever bit of sanity I had left with you," his tone suddenly venomous.

Klaus grabbed a fist full of lace and pulled, ripping it apart like paper. His teeth sunk into her collarbone and tore through her flesh like butter all the way to her breast. He took no heed of her pain or of her weakness. It was thrilling. To hurt her was his God given right. From the moment she drank his blood, he owned her. Even now, she was his. Just thinking about the men who'd stepped in his shoes in his absence made him rage. Klaus had never understood the word 'no.' Everything and anything he ever wanted was his for the taking. He was an old one. And even vampires had to respect hierarchy.

Elena blinked with heavy eyes, her body being jerked as her clothes were coming apart in tatters. Her head bobbed like a ragdoll and fell back on its side, facing the foyer with her hair splayed out like a fan. She hazily watched the shadow of the Cyprus tree as it danced beyond the windows. The curtains were bathed red as sunset occurred beyond polyester. She imagined the French Quarter—of an old man sitting on a stool as he strummed his guitar…of children playing tag as they ran along the sidewalk. Her eyes smiled, far away. She imagined the bayou, a small boy fishing on his family's dock. So far away.

Klaus's growl was primal, guttural. He ripped off the remnants of the skirt and tossed it behind him. Defile her. Kill her. This was his vengeance, his right. He wanted to damage her mind, crush her spirit. And then when she had nothing left, he wanted her extinguished from existence. He loved her…hated her so much. He wanted to rip her apart and bathe in her blood. He wanted to pluck out her beautiful eyes and crush them in his fist. He wanted to cut off her head and hang it above his mantle. He wanted to fuck her and sink a stake into her heart as he climaxed. He was mad with rage and beyond sanity. He unbuttoned his trousers, as he whispered hatred into Elena's ear. Elena had never heard a vampire sound so wild, so gone.

And soon she felt gone. She couldn't feel anything anymore, her mind flying far and away. Her balled fist un-flexed and laid calmly as Klaus pushed them outward. He bent her head back, arched, his mouth clasping to her unresponsive lips. He pushed her face away again, almost as if he didn't want to look at her. His hands dug into her flesh, kneading her skin like dough. Elena blinked, unresponsive to stimuli.

She went to another place with no ugliness. No death. No pain. She was in a beautiful forest. The sun was streaming through the trees and she was at peace. And then she saw herself, bathed in a rich light, determination on her face, poised like a snake ready to strike. She heard voices. Words that she was too weak to process. Then she suddenly felt a sudden surge that course through her veins, through her heart. And suddenly she was lying in a field and Damon was washing her hair…washing her hair with flowers. And he kept saying her name, over and over and over…

"Elena? Elena? Elena…hey…?"

A hand was softly patting her face.

"Elena…Baby, wake up" The voice became more hysterical. "Elena?"

Elena felt her body being shook frantically.

"Open your eyes goddamnit. Fucking Christ. Please…Elena…!"

With great effort, Elena's eyes opened into slits.

Damon was staring down at her, pushing her hair out of her face, his hands shaking madly.

"God," he moaned, resting his head against hers, his body visibly relaxing.

Her smile was so pitiful, so small.

"You," she sighed.

Damon rocked her back and forth.

"Shhh, shhh. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. It's okay. Shhh."

He stood, lifting her easily in his arms. Gravity turned Elena's face outward on its side. And it was then that she realized that she wasn't dreaming. There on the floor—amidst blood, lace and satin was Klaus and beside him was Katherine. Her eyes were milky, vacant. The veins on her neck were dark and bulging. She was dead. Klaus's body was turned away and partly covered with Katherine's crumpled body, though obviously dead.

Elena slowly stretched out her arm, her fingers extending towards Katherine. Damon pulled Elena's arm back over her chest and covered her with a blanket.

"Don't look at them," he said and covered her eyes with his hand. "Don't. You're safe now."

Damon stared down, a pathetic heap at his feet. Rage was still fresh. Disgust was still fresh. His adrenaline was still pumping. That man…he wanted to rip him to pieces. And Katherine…

The sound of footsteps rushed up the walkway and burst into the house. Damon turned swiftly, his fangs bared and he growled.

Bonnie stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening in fear. She looked from Damon, to the bodies on the floor and finally to Elena.

"Elena, my God…!"

Bonnie moved towards them and Damon turned Elena's body in his arms, away from Bonnie.

"Don't you fucking come a step closer," Damon said quietly.

Bonnie looked at Damon.

"Damon, I—"

"You've done more than enough. This—" he gestured around him, "This is on your conscience."

He looked down at Elena, his features softening.

"Lets get you home," he said softly, walking out of the mansion and into the darkness of the night.