Hi there! Hello everyone!

And welcome back! I'm really sorry for the long absence and I cannot express my thankfulness enough for all of you lovely people who support me and wait patiently for me to pick up this story again. I want to stress that, no, I have not abandoned my stories, not have I lost interest in them. To be honest, I've just been insanely busy with my studies, with work and I've been dealing with some personal issues (like Corona and a strange laptop that one day works perfectly and the next doesn't work at all).

Anyway, I'll get through them eventually and I will go back to updating regularly again. Right now, I have a lot of the story written down already (although I'm still busy fine-tuning and drawing up the finer points to make sure they keep making sense), but the later chapters are difficult.

I actually still haven't watched the show further than the fifth season (yeah, shame on me), and although I have watched clips of Kai the psychopath, I just don't find the storyline of later seasons (especially second part of season 5…) very compelling. Of course, things will not happen like any of it. If there's anything I've managed to do, it is to screw over the original plot…

Anyway, please bear with me!

I truly love and appreciate your input and thoughts in this story as well as your wonderful support. What I wanted to say, really, was, thank you! And enjoy the next chapter.

Lots of love,

Anna

Ps this chapter was not beta'd yet. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone...

o.O.o

Chapter Twenty-One, Dark Pretenses

When I blinked again, I was no longer outside. Instead, I was in a room. It was small and dark, with an old, brown lamp on the bedside table. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed the heavy four-poster bed carved from dark oak wood with cream-colored bedclothes. A movement alerted me to the corner of the room I was in.

A figure, male I thought, rose slowly to his feet, moving along the wall. A moment later the lightbulbs on the ceiling flickered on. It made my eyes sting and moaning, I sat up, rubbing my fingers over my face.

When the white spots disappeared from my vision, I looked over. Klaus, this time in his own body, leant casually against the windowsill and I blinked blearily, trying to figure out how I'd gotten here. I'd been outside—

"How did I get here?"

"I drove you," he smirked and crossed the room before sitting on the edge of the bed.

The orange lamplight dancing along his face, accentuating his delicate cheekbones and made his dirty-blond hair look golden.

He was smiling, dimples digging into his cheeks and eyes alight with what I assumed was pleasure. It was a face I could work with. I at least somewhat knew and I exhaled a sigh. "Why don't I remember you doing that?" I settled on dreading the answer.

"Sweetheart, I compelled you."

My hand went to my neck, finger sliding over my skin, to the absence of my necklace. Shakily, I turned to face him again. "Why? I wasn't trying to fight you."

"I don't like leaving things to chance."

"Right," I whispered.

"Come on, Love, let me lead you around." He grinned, holding out his hand.

I took it, barely refraining from rolling my eyes and Klaus led me out of the room. It led into a long, dimly lit stone hall. It looked rather quaint, the corridors smelling faintly of mildew and the furniture old. He was talking, much like I was an honored guest instead of a hostage or an abducted high school student.

I couldn't seem to hang on his words, instead, my eyes flitted through the passing windows and over a fast expanse of grass reaching wide and far until they met a swirling tree-line. I had no idea how much time had passed between me taking a walk with Zach-Klaus and me waking up in this bedroom in the middle of nowhere.

If I had to guess, only a few hours. Long enough for the sun to sink behind the horizon but not long enough for more than a day to pass. I wasn't hungry, nor tired — although he could have compelled me to eat and sleep, I suppose — and still wearing the clothes I'd been wearing before, sans coat, of course.

"—How did you know?"

"What?" I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from a painting of a dreary landscape and to his face.

"You knew what I would want the Doppelgänger for, yet you seemed to know contacting my family was the best course of action."

"I can't explain. You'll think I'm insane." I whispered. I didn't think he would buy me having visions or being a clairvoyant. Too exhausted to keep going, I stopped walking and curled my arms tightly around my waist. "Are you going to compel me now? To have me tell you my secrets?" I forced out, unconsciously keeping pace with the rise and fall of his chest.

"Are your secrets worth compelling you for?" He drawled in an amused way.

"I think I should be entitled to my secrets. Just like you are?"

His smile turned almost predatory and he leaned in as I leaned back. "Hm, and yet you already know so much about me."

"You can thank your brother for that."

"I thought you were the clairvoyant type?" He asked conversely and I swallowed.

"I've seen things. But so much is already different, I—" I swallowed again trying to push away the growing lump in my throat, "—I know one possible future. Or part of it, but when you change one thing, you change all. And I've changed one thing. I've already changed all."

"Hm," he grinned, canines glinting in the artificial light, "something I'd want to know?"

"Not without your word that you'll make sure I survive afterwards." I returned. "And that I can have a life without you trying to dictate it or trying to have me lead it a certain way."

"You don't want to die, hm?"

"Do you?"

His eyes shone with amusement, with mirth. I considered him worriedly. He could probably tell I knew something he would want to know. Like how my blood was needed to make hybrids, but I refused to tell him that. If I did every leverage I had would be gone and I would never get to live a life. No matter if it was Elena's or my own. I cleared my throat.

"Would you want to die?" I asked. "Would you want to die, for someone else's gain?"

"You look at it the wrong way, Luv." he told me cheerfully and I pursed my lips. Of course, why wouldn't Klaus make this all about himself? I was, after all, only a human. Klaus patted my cheek with his fingers, making me feel like a child. "It's not about your death, it's about my freedom."

I swallowed hard to keep my stomach from contracting, "You could turn that around too, you know."

"Hm?"

I curled my arms around my waist. "You could wait with your ritual until I'm old and lived a full-filling life. What would a few more decades mean for you?"

"I've waited for over a thousand years, Sweetheart."

"And I haven't lived at all," I answered back tersely. "Even without your werewolf side, you are the most powerful being alive. It makes no sense the way you level one being over another."

His smile remained, but a telltale twitching to the corners of his mouth told me he was getting irritated. He stepped closer to me, well into my personal space, and his body heat seeped into me.

I vaguely remembered Stefan telling Vicky Donovan how coffee warmed them up, making a vampire feel more like a living human than a dead corpse. Klaus certainly felt warmer and I wondered if human blood made vampires feel this hot or if that was a sealed werewolf thing.

Klaus leant closer, one hand cupping my jaw as he tilted my head up so that I had to look into his eyes. "And if I let you live, what good will that bring me?"

'Alive Hybrids,' my mind supplied easily and I wetted my lips. "You mean what you'll get when I survive the ritual and I'll get to live my life?"

"By all means," he agreed, toying with me, I was sure.

"I'll tell you once I've survived." I drawled back and the fingers still on my chin stiffened.

And then he reared his head back and let out a bark of laughter. His hand fell away and he stepped back, away from my personal space and leant his elbows back on the windowsill. "My Luv, we're going to have a lot of fun together."

"I'm sure," I mumbled.

"Why don't we continue our tour of the house?"

"Sure."

Klaus clapped his hands together, an act more logical on a child, and beckoned for me to follow him. I did without a fight, placing my hand into his again. I honestly didn't see what I would win alienating him right now and again tried to listen to the things he told me, but failing quite a bit.

He led me down the hall, through a nondescript bare living room, and pointed me into a quaint kitchen. The first thing I noticed when the door clicked shut behind me was the stained-glass window. The second was the large granite counter and the high throne-like chairs, fixed around the high table.

"Do you want something?" He drawled and his smirk grew. "I believe I should offer tea?"

"Oh," I mumbled and settled on a stool at the granite counter and sucked my lower lip between my teeth. "All right, sure."

He moved towards the counter and I inhaled deeply.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I was under the impression you knew?"

"What are you going to do with me now?" I rephrased crossing my arms over my chest, frowning.

"Feed you, keep you alive— Sweetheart, I was planning to just wing it."

"Sounds wonderful," I remarked drolly. His eyes turned serious a second later and he drew a finger along the curve of my cheek. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to seduce me yet."

I snorted. "No, duh, of course, and I won't try either."

"Careful, sweetheart, you're hurting my feelings."

"Oh," my face flushed, "I mean— I didn't mean that in a bad way…"

Would it hurt his feelings too, if I said I just didn't fancy him? I guessed it would and I clenched my teeth together. The door opened again and this time a girl entered.

"Ah, there you are, Love," a dark-skinned girl greeted, stepping into the small dark bedroom.

I recognized her immediately.

Greta Martin. Looking up at Klaus with open admiration. She was my height, or perhaps I should still say Elena's height? With long curly hair, long lashes and thick red-painted lips. Her dark hair was parted and looped behind her ears into a knot at the back of her head and she was dressed casually in a lovely red button-up and a dark set of skinny jeans.

She looked pleasant enough, but I shouldn't forget that she was the witch willing to leave her family behind to create a monster.

She turned to me with a wan smile. "Hello."

"Hello," I echoed awkwardly and Klaus smiled.

"Greta, meet my little doppelgänger, Elena."

"She's pretty," Greta replied, flicking a long, loose curly strand of hair over her shoulder.

Klaus rolled his shoulders in what might have been a shrug. "Right up your street, hm?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Greta drolly remarked and I felt like I missed something. She settled on one of the stools across from me, lazily swinging a leg over the tiny iron arm. "So, Elena Gilbert, where do you hail from?"

"Mystic Falls," I answered hollowly. It felt pointless. I was sure she already knew.

"Small town," she praised, pearl white grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Hm, yeah," I agreed.

The stool creaked when Greta jerked to her feet. Her lips unfurling in a lopsided smile and her eyes glimmered. "What a dreary mood Klaus has you in," she grinned and moved to one of the cabinets.

I watched her as she rummaged through them and pulled out a set of small remote speakers. They were old— or they were old for me. I suppose for the year 2009 they were quite new. Grinning almost manically, she plugged her phone into the speakers. It took seconds before the cover of a Britney Spears song warbled out of the speakers and Greta turned to Klaus in a blatantly sexual manner.

"It's not nice not offering a guest a drink you know?"

"Hm, she hasn't offered me a drink either." He returned and I swallowed. Technically he had offered.

Greta let out a harsh, high laugh and I winced. They really were alike. I understood now why they got on so well. I understood now, that Mr. Martin was wrong. Greta Martin was definitely with Klaus out of her own volition. Chewing on my cheeks, I nervously rubbed my hands together and frowned.

"I'll not be offering anything if it's all the same to you." I murmured daring a glare in the direction of the smirking Klaus and crossed my arms over my chest. It was a stance I was familiar with. I felt comfortable with, and I jutted my chin out in a huffy pout. "I think that that once before I die and come back, will be enough to last a lifetime."

"I can be gentle," he remarked easily.

"Sure, and I can fly, you just don't see my wings from this angle." I drolly replied.

"I like you," Greta said, clapping her hands together, "you've got spunk."

Klaus snorted, rolling his eyes and waved his hand. "It seems I will have to invite Maddox to the party. Two women are too much for me." He muttered and moved out of the kitchen. "By all means Greta, get her settled. Get her food. It's not like I have the same needs as the two of you."

The door clicked closed behind him and I was left with the dancing Greta. Swallowing, I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably and watched her busy herself at the counter, hips still moving in the same rhythm of the music.

Dark skin gleamed in the waning light of the lamplight above and I rubbed my fingers tiredly over my temples. This was going to be a long, long last few weeks of my life.

A very long last few weeks…

And grindingly hollow and dreadful…

Living with Klaus and Greta was like living with two psychotic toddlers. Klaus was the grenade without a pin, whereas Greta was the smothered little girl finally having free reins over her own body, soul and magic. They were worse than Damon.

Not worse in killing — I suppose perhaps even in killing, but they hadn't left behind a dead girl for me to trip over one morning clambering out of bed or a slaughtered man in the kitchen when I went to get a drink — however, they were less predictable.

After being fed that first night and being pumped for information by Greta, Klaus had returned. In a typical Klaus-style he'd grabbed my chin and, instead of forcing me to spill my deepest secrets, he compelled me to not leave the house until he said otherwise. He'd also agreed to most of my terms, promised he wouldn't go after my loved ones, but never spoke about my survival either. Perhaps he had that point under consideration?

I didn't sleep well the first night. Nor did I the night after that and the night after. I half-expected him or one of his lackeys to ambush me when I was in bed. It never happened.

After three nights and four days, he hadn't touched me. He hadn't even spent that much time with me in the first place. Often, just left alone or with Greta, who liked playing games, I wandered through the house. I did that one evening. I wasn't sure what day it was. The day of the week didn't hold much meaning in Klaus' house, but I knew it was late afternoon, early evening.

Canopies of pale, winter sun filtered in through the partially tinted windows scattered out over the rug in the living room. I'd been curled up on one brown ratty Chesterfield, skimming through one of the books I'd found. It was an old print on the greatest artist through time (till the year 1966) and although it wouldn't have been a book I would have chosen to read normally, it was interesting enough.

"There you are," Greta thundered, hip jutting out against the wall, hand tapping against the side of the bookcase, "you surely know how to make yourself scarce."

"I wouldn't want to be in the way of your preparations to have me sacrificed," I replied frostily.

"There is a bit of that funk. Come on white girl, don't go easy on me now."

"What do you want from me, Greta?" I asked slowly. "Klaus isn't here. You don't have to entertain him with my humiliation."

She grinned. "You think I try to humiliate you?"

"Yes," I agreed readily. What else did she want to call the sarcastic comments about 'women with my face' and 'being easy?' Friendly bantering? I leant forward. Dark waves of hair fell forward, curtaining my face from the world. The ends of my hair tickled my wrists and the backs of my hands and I stared at the page I'd been reading from.

"I'm not." She denied and I dared a glance at her oval face. She looked earnest enough.

"Than what are the comments for?"

"Hm," she grinned dropping on the arm of the couch, nudging my leg with the nose of her boot. "I've been trying to get a reaction out of you." She admitted finally. Her smile was of the dangerous kind and I wetted my lips nervously. "I know what you are, Dollface."

"What I am?"

"This is not your body."

"No!" I snarled. "What— No!"

Dread coursed down my spine and made my fingers go numb. I was only half aware that the book on my lap shifted perilously before it fell to the rug with a hollow 'plop'. My heart twisted with the dread of what this meant and my mouth went dry. "No!"

"I'm a witch, Elena," she answered, "and I'm a good one too."

"But—"

"This is not your body." Greta answered, digging the knife in deeper. I couldn't speak. I couldn't utter a single word as she continued. "Don't get me wrong, it's not easy to pick up on, but that body hasn't always been yours."

"How— how the fuck could you possibly know?"

"Markers of your previous life still cling to you. Although they are dwindling…"

I made a strangled noise from the back of my throat and pushed to my feet. "Excuse me?"

"Life leaves marks on us. Like when you fall and get a scar. These marks are like those. Although instead of scars on your body, they're on your soul. The lessons learned, the death of a beloved pet or a parent." She started and something hard and painful clogged in my throat. I'd lost my father when I'd been eighteen, in my Senior year of High School. He'd been sick, very sick and one day he went to sleep, to never awake again. It had been easy to pretend that at least he'd been still alive right now. That he would have been if I'd gotten stuck in someone else's body in my reality years in the past, and somehow that had been enough not to go looking for him. This version of my father wouldn't know me. This version of my mother might not even have gotten a child (she'd never wanted one before meeting my dad), and I didn't want to go to them knowing I was no-one to them either. I shook my head. It couldn't have been what Greta meant though.

"I don't buy this." I tried evenly. "If it was that easy everyone would already have picked up on it."

"Every witch or warlock," Greta absentmindedly corrected.

"You're father and brother didn't. They only did when they broke into my thoughts."

"Of course not," she grinned, her lips curling up in a caricature of a smile, "but Elena, my baby bro and my daddy dearest don't do the kind of magic I do. They wouldn't pick up on it, because they don't know how to. Dark magic leaves marks too. You're right. You losing your father or not feeling a real bond with the people you have to call 'mom and dad' doesn't mean anything. The string faintly tied around your soul, that, however, does mean something."

"A string?" I echoed doubtfully and Greta nodded.

"Yes, Honey, a string."

"And you would be able to reverse it?" I asked, stepping closer to her.

That wiped the grin right off her face and I felt that last bit of hope I somehow still been clinging to vanish. I knew her answer even before she shook her head slowly, the late afternoon sun turning her dark curly hair a bloody red. "No, I can't." She admitted. "I don't think anyone can. This kind of magic. It can't be undone. It's a sacrifice. To safe someone you sacrifice yourself, burn up every magical cell you have. You disappear as if you'd never even existed so your loved one can have a life outside of whatever horror he or she had been living." She tried and I felt something angry crawl down my spine.

"But you ruin someone else's life."

"Yes," she admitted. "It's worse than just upsetting the balance of nature. Magic isn't supposed to support something so evil. Snatching someone from their bodies? To actually completely remove someone's soul so someone else can inhibit it in a different universe? I'm surprised someone would attempt that."

"There's no way you just picked up on me being from a different universe." I snapped.

"No, you're right. Luka told me."

"Luka?"

"Yes, accidentally really," she grinned, "he's never been good at protecting his mind."

"You did the witch equivalent of putting a roofie on him didn't you?"

She nodded, not looking even the slightest bit apologetic about it. "I did." She agreed and with a mirthless chuckle, she snatched a lock of my hair, flitting it through her fingers as if somehow measuring its texture. "Don't believe anyone who says they can fix this. Swapping someone, dragging something from a parallel universe, is the direst kind of magic there is and if you were hoping for a way out— well, there isn't. The only one who could, erased him or herself from existence. That's the price one has to pay."

"So I wouldn't even know him or her?"

"No," Greta replied. "Nature will have to balance it out. For you to live Elena's life, there can be no way back. Or really, it's for Elena to live."

"Why me?"

It had been a question that had been plaguing my mind for months now. Why me? I had nothing in common with Elena for perhaps my name. I hadn't been a cheerleader in school. I wasn't a writer or a journalizer. I didn't have a string of boyfriends who would lay down their lives for me. As far as I knew I didn't have several replicas of myself either…

"I don't know. You must have something foundational in common that you might not know about."

"Great," I grumbled, "can't think of anything."

"You might never know," Greta shrugged, "it's often really specific I've been told."

I ground my teeth together and met her eyes slowly. I tried swallowing. So it was hopeless? Practically every witch I'd met had told me that, yet, I'd still held hope. If I'd just know who or why— because then perhaps I could understand. But I never would, would I?

"What will you do now?" I asked. Because of course, when Klaus would learn what I was—

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, "honestly, if I'd been you everyone could have gone and sucked it."

"Sucked it?" I repeated because no way was she going to keep this secret for me.

"Yes," she agreed, "you do understand that it was someone who loved your Elena so much that they couldn't have been bothered with what the real you would have thought about it, right? I mean you were just expendable. They tore you from your life, from your world, and stuck you in this Doppelgänger's body and you just stayed put. You understood what it all meant but you stayed put."

"I— before today— I didn't know the specifics of that spell," I answered lamely.

"No," Greta shrugged, "but you knew what would happen to Elena."

"Yeah, right, I knew that."

"You didn't owe those people anything. Let's face it, you don't owe Klaus shit either." She continued and the noise in my head was cacophonous. "And yet, here you are. Klaus might think he has been clever. That he snubbed his brother's plan in the butt, but he wouldn't have been able to if you hadn't been so willing to work with him."

"Well, you're the one who got him to agree to my terms. Or part of them. He isn't going after the town's people is he? He hasn't point blank told me no to the surviving part either. That's something and you helped— at least I think so…"

"You don't get Klaus to do anything Elena. I merely coaxed him into agreeing with you."

"I don't understand why you would," I murmured.

She gave me a sad look, unlike any of the ones she'd ever given me and somehow my shoulders tensed together. "I know what it's like to have no choice. To have to make do with something you don't really want but still do it because, in the end, it helps the people you've come to care about."

"I thought you said you would run."

"I would, but I then again, I would have known one of those two-faced bitches would have been the one responsible for my pain and horror." She shrugged. Her eyes turned solemn. "I'm sorry you're the one getting stuck in this. I don't know the real girl who wore that face before you, but, I'm genuinely sorry."

"In another life, things would have been different," I remarked dully.

"I'd like to think so." A small smile played on her lips. She was gone the next moment and for a long time, I wondered if I had just imagined the entire conversation. With the amount of stress I was under, it wouldn't have surprised me…

To be continued…

A/N: Yeah, it sucks Non-Elena, every witch can tell you're not actually supposed to be here. Or at least, when they are being arseholes… Of course, Greta could have easily gone to Mystic Falls to explore. Her family would have rushed over to safe her not thinking they'd have anything to fear from her.

Besides, I think, it would have made perfect sense with Elijah there, working Klaus. I doubt he would have trusted his brother. Especially not with a Doppelgänger. Elijah did have a weakness for the Petrova face, didn't he?

And I hope you all enjoyed the awkwardness between Elena, Klaus and Greta. I do love to write awkwardness. It just works so fucking well^^

Like always, I adore to know what you all thought about this chapter! What do you guys think about Greta Martin? I did't have much to work with character-wise, but I don't buy she was only she crazy lunatic Wikipedia's going with.

On a different note, what do you think about Non-Elena's unwillingness to tell Klaus about his future Hybrid problem. I'm genuinely curious, because it's more me not knowing how to broach it, that has left Non-Elena in this pickle than anything else. How would you guys go about it?

Next update will not take a more than a month! I promise!

Bye now!