All's Fair in Love and War

A fic by Jenna

Rating: M Mature content-bad words and smut—you've been warned!

Disclaimer: I own none of TVD characters. I just like to take them out, make them (D&E) happy (unlike the show) and then put them back away again. ;)

I have finally started to reply to reviews. I know—I am terribly sorry to be such a slacker and for the (evil) cliffhanger Ieft you guys with. Ugh—to Alice—I am so sorry hon. As soon as I read your reviews… *whew* I knew I had to get this out before you came and lynched me! ;) ;)

Seriously though, thank you to each and every one of you who R&R'd this fic. If I haven't gotten to you tonight—I will by tomorrow. You are all the best and have inspired me to (once again) defeat my Bi-Polar and carry on with what I love. Thank you!

xoxo

Jenna

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Chappie 13

Fells Church: Salvatore Residence; Guest House.

Katherine Pierce-Salvatore was a lot of things; selfish, vain, narcissistic and damaged were just a few of the adjectives she could be accused of. However, the one thing she was not (now or ever) was forgiving. Seeing her sister lying naked in bed with the man she desired, and considered her own, didn't just make her see red—it made her downright homicidal! If she had been in possession of a firearm she might have shot them both where they lay cuddled together.

As a matter of fact…had she known she was going to find Damon in bed with her traitorous bitch of a sister—she definitely would have brought Elena's gun!

Katherine's first instinct was to roust them from their far-too-cozy little love nest and have it out with the both of them, then and there; but she refused to give in to those urges. Katherine hadn't survived being abused by her father and hunted by a deranged psychopath for years by acting on impulse. No. She had to play this smart. She wouldn't let on that she knew Elena had betrayed her, instead she would make her little sister squirm.

Katherine's smile was deviously cruel as she took one last look at them; in that moment, she hated Damon as much as she had ever loved him. She vowed to see him suffer, too.

With that thought in mind, she shut the door, spun on her heel and walked out of the guest house, with her head held high, refusing to give in to the ripping ache in her chest and the ridiculous tears that wanted to flow. They would pay for their treachery. After all, she was Katherine Pierce-Salvatore. She did not break down and cry, like a lovesick sap! She lived by her own rules. Men worshipped the ground she walked on—not vice-versa. She swore as she walked away from that house, that Damon Salvatore would rue the day he decided to throw her love away in favor of her sister. Her mind was already spinning as she created different scenarios of how she would punish them for betraying her.

They would be sorry. It was only a matter of time…

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Later that morning...

Elena became aware of several things simultaneously when she awoke the next day; one was the warm, hard, naked body cuddled behind her. Two, was the hot, turgid erection pressed right up against her lower back, and three, was the breath catching fear that he might regret what happened last night in the harsh light of 'the morning after'?

As if answering her unspoken questions, his hand snaked its way around her hip to flatten on her belly and he pulled her just that little bit closer, so close, that she could feel the weeping tip of his penis against the dip in her spine.

"Mmmm…morning," he murmured, placing a kiss on her naked shoulder.

Elena's body sagged in relief. He wasn't jumping from the bed and high-tailing it out of there or pretending it didn't happen. Those were good signs.

"Good morning to you, too," she said looking back at him over her shoulder. She noticed the time on the bedside clock and smiled. "Except, it's not morning anymore; it's after noon."

His lashes fluttered as he gave her a lazy, oh-so-satisfied smile. "Then it's a pretty damned good after noon." He kissed her neck gently, laving the area with his tongue. "Waking up with you in my bed…" Damon nuzzled his way up her neck to that spot behind her ear that he now knew drove her crazy. She shivered in his arms when he placed several butterfly kisses there. "Hmmm, pretty much perfect and it can only get even better from here," he whispered against the sensitive lobe there.

One of his hands slid down her belly to her mound, cupping her, as his fingers moved through her curls to find her soft folds. He slid one slender finger into her and Elena whimpered softly. He paused, "Are you sore?"

She shook her head, blushing a bit at his question and the reasoning behind it. They had certainly given new meaning to the words 'fucking like bunnies!' last night.

"Ah, so that was a good whine…" he teased, moving his finger in and out of her with slow and thorough precision.

Elena reached behind her back to take hold of his erection, causing Damon to let out a muffled groan of his own.

"Yeah, it was," she said, her breath hitching when he added another finger, "just like that was a good sound, too…right?"

"Definitely," he said huskily, pumping his cock into her hand as she stroked him.

Trying to work him in the position they were in, was somewhat awkward, but she managed to find a rhythm that very quickly had Damon's head spinning. His arched his back, thrusting forward unconsciously when she ran her thumb over the head of his cock, over and over, using the copious amount of pre-cum there to give her the lubrication needed to slide her hand up and down his shaft faster and faster…

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, halting her efforts to get him off. "Stop, I'm gonna cum."

Elena trembled. His words, combined with the delicious things his fingers were doing to her, made her even hotter. "That was the point," she said, moaning again when he used his thumb to apply pressure to her clitoris.

"I need to be inside you," he gritted out, placing his hand over hers and guiding his cock towards her entrance.

Elena couldn't agree more. She'd never been so desperately in lust or in love and it seemed her body simply could not get enough of his.

"Please…" The head of his cock nudged her and Elena scooted back, closer to him and brought her knee up towards her chest, giving him easier access. "I need you."

It was more than enough to get Damon's engine revving all over again. "I can't get enough of you," he growled and pushed forward, sliding easily inside her wet, tight sheath.

She fit him like a silken glove and they both moaned when he filled her.

He grabbed her knee and pressed it to her chest as he pumped his hips against her backside, enjoying the silky wet feeling of her tight sheath gripping him as he gave it to her slowly at first; withdrawing until only the head of his cock was within her and then gliding forward, savoring every inch of feeling as their bodies reunited. Damon kept the lazy pace going as long as he could, but all too soon, his basic instinct to come arose and he quickened his strokes, pulling out rapidly and then slamming forward. The sound of flesh meeting flesh was loud in the room as he drove his cock home again and again with an exclamation point of raw, needy desire surging through him.

Elena let out a breathless scream every time his penis hit that spot just under her belly button. It was the one that made her see not only stars, but stripes, shapes and she swore she heard a hazy faze of white noise that blended with a kaleidoscope of colors that danced beguilingly just beneath her eyelids as his divine cock took her to heaven and back.

Damon had found the elusive 'G-spot' that every romance writer expounds on. Before him, Elena had believed a 'G-spot' orgasm was a term 'Cosmo' writers had dreamed up to sell more magazines. She'd given its existence the same credence she had the Unicorn, or getting hairy palms when you masturbated! It was either a myth or an Urban Legend. That is, until Damon showed her last night (several times as a matter of fact) that it wasn't only possible; it was a probability, as long as it was him that was inside her!

Elena's hands fisted the sheets and she arched her back, pressing back into his sure thrusts. "Yes-yes-yes-yes…" she chanted on each downward driving motion of his hips as he pounded into her from behind.

In a move she wasn't at all prepared for, Damon suddenly flipped her over onto her stomach and climbed on top of her. He dragged her back by her hips, lifting her so that she almost up on all fours. Her ass was in the air, with her elbows, knees and chest on the mattress, so that when he drove back into her and started to fuck her hard and fast, intently seeking their mutual orgasms, he hit that *special spot* dead on. It was so intense, it was almost too much of a sensual overload for her to handle.

"Damon…Oh God, Damon!" she panted as every-single-hard stroke of his thick cock inside her nudged that spongy tissue just under her belly button and it sent her senses spinning wildly out of control.

Elena let out a soft whimper. It was almost unbearable it was so-so good.

"I could spend eternity inside you," he gritted out, his voice hoarse with raw passion as his hand tangled in her hair and he tugged her head back, causing her back to arch.

"Please!" she cried, needing to find relief.

He planted a hand on her hip and his next thrust pounded into her at a different angle and she cried out in alarm, before the fear she was about to pee (thank God she'd learned last night that *really* was a myth!) had passed and she relaxed, getting into rhythm again with the unrelenting drive of his hips.

Damon slipped his other hand down her belly to cup her sex and Elena froze as all her nerve ending zinged with imminent release. Damon slid two gingers between her folds, found her hot button and tweaked it while driving into her like a runaway freight train. Elena didn't stand a chance. She tossed her head back and whimpered, cried and shouted his name as he took her body on another deliriously intoxicating trip to the wild-side of her nature while drilling her sated into the bed unmercifully.

It was the sweetest of torments…and Elena collapsed under him.

Damon yanked her back up on all fours and had her grip the headboard.

"Hold tight baby," he growled and started to really fuck her into oblivion, swiveling his hips as he nailed her unmercifully.

It didn't take Elena long to be back in the game. She got to her knees and pushed back as he pounded into her. "Oh-my-God! Yes! Again! Harder!" she gasped. "Faster. Damon…Please!"

Damon was more than happy to oblige. He gripped the nape of her neck, while his other hand grabbed hold of the headboard to give him the leverage he needed to really fuck her like she wanted. Elena held onto the wooden headboard for dear life as Damon slammed home, over and over, making her quiver and shudder as she drew closer and closer to another blazing trip on the Orgasm-Express, courtesy of one, Damon Salvatore.

"I love being inside you," he growled, biting down on her shoulder, overcome by the instinctual need to dominate, conquer and make her his.

It triggered an instinctual response in Elena, too. And when she came this time, it was with a flood of liquid gushing out of her as she climaxed long and hard. She panted his name as the final aftershock tingled through her body, then she let go of the headboard and fell forward onto the mattress, crumbling into in a heap, to lie limp and utterly satisfied.

Damon was right behind her. The force of his upcoming orgasm threw off his timing and his hands gripped her hips tightly as he thrust once, maybe twice more erratically, before going over the edge himself. He threw his head back and groaned deeply in pleasure as he fell headlong into the cataclysmic world of a bliss so fanatical, it made him swear he'd found religion again!

In the afterglow of such a mind-numbing experience, they lay there, a sweaty tangle of naked limbs for several moments, allowing their heart rates to settle down. Not wanting to crush her under his weight, Damon rolled off her supine form to flop down next to her on the bed. That had literally been the best sex of his life! He ran a shaky hand through his sweat dampened hair, trembling like an addict as he tried to come back to planet Earth, before he froze… it dawned on him then (like a two ton boulder landing on his chest) that he'd utterly forgotten to wear a condom with her.

His stomach tightened and the urge to run snaked its way throughout his psyche. He cursed softly and fluently.

Surprised at his reaction to such a fantastic experience, Elena turned on her side to look at him. "Damon, what's wrong?"

Damon rolled onto his side too, facing her. She looked so sated and happy, he hated to ruin the moment; however, they needed to talk about their slip-up and pronto.

He leaned up on an elbow, staring down into her face. "Elena…" Words failed him for the first time in his life and he heaved a huge sigh. "Shit. There's no easy way to say this, so I'm gonna take the Band-Aid approach and just say it… I forgot the damned condom. I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse, except…you obviously make me crazy."

He looked about as sick as the sudden feeling that rushed through her tummy with his words, tying it in knots. Elena bolted upright, a worried gasp escaping her lips. "Oh no!" she said softly, her hand automatically going to her stomach where, as they spoke, he was alive inside her. "How could we have forgotten?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Elena couldn't believe they'd been so careless. Throughout their many romps last night, they'd come close, but they'd never actually forgot protection.

His eyes went down to where her palm rested against her flat, hard belly and he suddenly imagined it swollen with his baby. Damon was (more than a little) stunned when the image didn't send him running from the room as if the Devil himself was nipping at his heels!

With any other woman, it would have.

Damon's initial panic dwindled in the face of Elena's fear. "Hey," he said softly, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, "just so you know, I've never forgotten with anyone else," he told her, needing to reassure her in whatever way he could. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable talking about his previous escapades with her, but understanding she needed to know he was clean. "I swear to you, Elena, I always wear protection and I get tested regularly, so catching something isn't an issue." Both her hands were on her tummy now and Damon's eyes were drawn there again. He swallowed hard. It may have only been once, but that was all it took. He placed a hand on top of hers. "The only thing we have to worry about is…"

"Getting pregnant," she replied, saying it for him.

"Yeah," he agreed softly.

They were quiet for a moment, the ramifications of their wake up romp going through both their heads.

"Isn't there a pill?" Elena suddenly asked. "They call it 'the morning after pill' or something like that, right?"

Damon nodded. "Yeah, there is. We can pick it up at the pharmacy in town. As long as you take it within 24 hours of unprotected sex, it is supposed to eliminate the chance of getting pregnant."

Elena seemed to relax just a bit. "Damon, I know you've been with a lot of women…"

He sat up and his blue eyes were direct and intense as he met her gaze. "Elena, look at me. I swear to you—swear it—I never have unprotected sex."

"Never…" She raised a brow and let the comment linger. They wouldn't be having this conversation if that was the case.

"Well…until this morning, that is," he reiterated dryly. She still looked a bit unconvinced. "I'm serious, Elena. I worked for an escort company years ago and the first thing I learned was always bag it. Hell, sometimes double bag it, that way you don't take any chances. I can promise you—you're the only one who's made me forget that lesson."

Elena's eyes widened. "You were a gigolo?"

"Seriously, that was all you got out of that?"

"Were you?"

"Yeah, I was." She chewed on her bottom lip, an expression of sympathy drawing her brows down and Damon sighed. "Look, it's not a big deal, Elena. I was nineteen and young, dumb and full of cum," he teased. "It was the perfect job!"

"But…" she said hesitantly, "you prostituted yourself. Why?"

Damon managed not to cringe at the 'P' word. He'd never looked at it like that and the way Elena said it made him feel suddenly dirty.

His mask slipped back on. "Whatever, it was years ago," he replied flippantly. "Can we drop it?"

Elena could almost see his walls coming back up. "I'm not judging you, Damon. I just want to know you better. Why did you resort to that when your family obviously has money?" He remained silent and Elena turned on her side, facing him. "Please don't shut me out. Not now."

Damon could see she wasn't going to let the matter drop, so he sat up and made himself comfortable as he decided to give her a glimpse into his past. "My family may have money, but I didn't at the time," he said, letting himself go back in time for a moment. "After another blow-out with my Father about me not living up to the Salvatore name…I'd left home. I was eighteen and totally on my own for the first time ever," he explained, and Elena sat up too, fascinated.

"I did some odd jobs that got me enough money to head west and I ended up in Las Vegas. For the first week I was literally living on the streets and pan-handling cash in front of some of the better casinos." Elena made a small sound of sympathy, but Damon went on as if he hadn't heard it. "After a couple weeks I got hooked up with a local bookie who worked out of the Mirage and I started running bets for him. I was taking in the money for an upcoming fight when I met up with Sage." He shrugged. "She took one look at me and asked me if I'd ever considered making a living with my looks…"

"Sage?" Elena queried, interrupting him, "Was she your Madam?"

Damon laughed softly. "I guess you could call her that. She was actually a fight promoter; had an all-girl boxing league. She also ran an escort company. She was pretty amazing. Strong and totally sure of herself…"

"You were lovers," Elena quickly deduced.

He fiddled with a lock of Elena's long brown hair. "For a minute," he acceded, "but to me, it was more a learning experience. Sage was older, knew what she wanted and she definitely wasn't shy in showing me what a woman expected in the bedroom." He wriggled his brows at her, making Elena giggle. "You can thank her for all my amazing skills…"

"But, if you were hers—how did you end up an escort? Did she get tired of you?"

He looked offended. "You're kidding, right?"

Elena had sat up and tucked the sheet up under her armpits. "Well, what happened?"

He rolled his eyes. "You really want the whole sordid story?"

Elena nodded. This was the first time he'd ever given up any real personal information about himself and she wanted every detail.

Damon sighed and gave in. "Fine," he said, "but there's really nothing to it." Elena waited patiently before he finally began to tell her the story. "My illustrious escort career started a few months after me and Sage had been messing around. She was pretty hot and heavy, but I was in it for the fun, you know?" he said with a shrug. "Well, one night she had an escort bail on her for an event at the MGM. Now, normally, that might not have been a thing, but the client happened to be the wife of the owner of the hotel of her next fight. Sage was freaking out. Fucking this up would ruin her reputation in town…" He paused and leveled a serious look on her, "In Vegas—all you have is your word, trust me."

"So…" Elena asked, "she what? Asked you to take his place?"

Damon shook his head. "No. I volunteered."

"You what?!" she asked, shocked and showing it. "But why? Wasn't she mad?"

He grinned. "Elena, Sage was thirty four. She was totally into me, but let's face it—I was her nineteen year old playmate." Elena looked offended, but Damon chuckled. "She was a business woman first—my lover second. I can respect that." He wriggled his brows again and did that eye thing that made her weak in the knees. "Plus…she knew my skills. Hell, she'd taught me most of them! I was perfect for the job and she knew it," he stated with his infamous smirk.

For a moment she sat there stunned. He sounded cocky about it. Not at all like she pictured a runaway prostitute to sound…

"But you didn't have to sell yourself…" Elena said weakly, still trying to grasp why Damon had jumped into that kind of life when he had a woman who wanted to take care of him.

He laughed outright. "Are you serious? I was nineteen, Elena. Like I said—young dumb and full of cum! Name one nineteen year old healthy male who wouldn't jump at the chance to get paid to have sex!"

There was more to it than that and in a sudden epiphany she got it. "And it would be a way for you to make it on your own," she stated softly.

Damon's brow shot up at her insight into his motives, but he wasn't quite ready to admit she knew him so well. "Elena, I wasn't a victim," he said, making her look at him by taking her by the chin and turning her face to him." It's not like I was standing on a street corner selling my ass to a john for a quick fix. My clients were all fabulously wealthy women who were usually married to men who paid them no attention, or women who simply wanted eye candy to take them to public events. I loved every minute of it. I made these women feel impossibly good and got paid to do it." He turned his head and placed a kiss on her palm. "Don't feel sorry for me. No one got hurt and I made a ton of money and some very good contacts during my short stint as an escort."

"But you shouldn't have had to do that. Your family had all the money you could need—"

"My family," he said, interrupting her with a snort. "You mean my father?" He chuckled, but it was without humor. "He didn't give a damn about me, Elena. He made it pretty obvious when I was growing up that Stefan who was his favorite. After my Mom died it got worse…"

Elena debated telling him she'd read his mother's diary, but decided against it for now. "What did he do?"

"Let's just say he wasn't 'Father-of the-Year' material and leave it at that, okay?"

Elena's tender heart bled for him. He may act as if his past didn't mean anything, but Elena saw the pain he kept carefully hidden behind a façade of negligent arrogance and that made her decide to share a bit of her own personal family heartache.

"My father used to come home drunk and play 'eeny-meeny-miney-moe' to decide which kid he was going to beat for the night," she said softly.

Damon's eyes bulged. "Are you kidding?"

Elena shook her head. "Wish I was, but no. He used to line us up in the living room and literally do the 'eeny-meeny' thing and whichever kid got 'moe'—that one was the victim for the night."

That confession spurred Damon into confessing a trauma of his own. "My Father used to tell me I put extra strain on my mother's heart…"

His words trailed off, but Elena got the drift of what Giuseppe Salvatore had led his young son to believe. She gasped. "That's horrible! How could he say something so cruel?"

"I told you, my father didn't give a damn about me, but I was the heir and he used cruelty, his fists and finally his money to try and control me."

"My parents never had any money. They were more interested in getting loaded than taking care of their kids."

He was quiet for a moment and Elena waited, holding her breath for him to continue or comment about what she'd revealed.

"Jesus your parents sound worse than my dad!"

"They did say they loved us though," Elena said softly.

Damon blew out a breath. "Yeah, words—that'll keep you fed at night." He rolled his eyes. "You wanna know what the last conversation I had with my father was?" Elena nodded, curling up next to him. "It was when he told me it was a good thing my mother died so she didn't have to see what a waste of skin I'd turned out to be. He said either I start taking my role as heir to the Salvatore fortune seriously, which meant basically give up any dreams I had for myself, or I could get out of his house." He pursed his lips for a second. "I'm sure he thought that would make me toe-the-line. Instead, I chose to get out and I've never regretted the decision." He looked deeply into her eyes. "Never," he stated again.

"Your father was a complete an utter ass, Damon and he was also wrong." She stroked his chiseled jaw. "You took a terrible childhood and made something of yourself. That is something to be proud of and while I hate that you grew up with that, at least you knew you would always be able to eat and have hot water," she muttered. "My parents never inspired us to make something of ourselves."

Damon began to rub his hands up and down her back soothingly and she relaxed into his touch as the story of her childhood came pouring out of her. "They were both raging alcoholics and drug addicts. I left home at eighteen, too. I joined the Army to get away from them, because John and Isobel were either constantly blowing the rent on shots at the local bar or lining the pockets of some random drug dealer!" She snorted. "Trust me. Their kids were nowhere near their top ten of 'things to take care of'!" She looked both sad and sickened reliving the painful memories. Damon felt honored she was sharing them with him. "We lost our electricity and water at least 2 or 3 times a year when I was growing up. I remember going almost a week once with no water or power. We had to go down to the rest stop off the highway to shower before school!"

Damon's eyes widened at that. Her file hadn't come close to describing what she and her siblings had gone through and suddenly, Kat's need for security made a little more sense.

Elena looked haunted and Damon had the almost irresistible urge to pull her into his arms and tell her nothing bad would ever touch her again. He continued to rub her back gently, letting her talk as much or as little as she wanted.

"I can't remember a time when we actually sat down as a family to eat," she said sadly. "Isobel wasn't much of a cook. Most of the time we were lucky if we came home and there was some soup or a frozen dinner in the fridge. I remember one time when I was like eight and there was literally nothing in the house to eat, but a jar of mayonnaise, some ketchup and a few slices of bread." She leaned into his touch, sighing as his fingers found a particularly stubborn knot in her back. "Kat improvised and made us all these mayonnaise and ketchup sandwiches…"

Damon's fingers froze and he made a face at the thought of eating something so atrocious. Elena glanced over her shoulder, caught his expression and echoed it. "I know," she said, grimacing, "Gross, right? But when you're hungry…"

"You do what you have to do," he said for her.

Elena gave a small nod and Damon couldn't even imagine that kind of parental neglect. His abuse had been on a very different level. Emotionally and at times physically, it had been a real bitch, but he'd never had to worry about the basic needs for survival like having a roof over his head, water to bathe or food in his belly.

"I can't even imagine that," he said in sympathy. "Giuseppe was no prize, but we never had to go to bed hungry or worry if our lights were going to be shut off."

"But, he abused you emotionally." Elena sighed. "Sometimes I think that can be one of the worst kind of abuse."

Damon worried his bottom lip for a moment as he debated how much to tell her about his childhood. He hadn't let a woman close since Katherine. He preferred to keep his current relationships based strictly on fulfilling each other's sexual desires. He wasn't the cuddling type and any form of pillow talk after the sex was over was an absolute a no-no.

A part of him wanted to, but he simply couldn't eliminate all his defenses in one night. Instead he compromised. "Look, Elena…what I feel for you is different. It's complicated and it's crazy. It'll probably hurt somewhere down the road, too," he added with a smirk, "but I don't want to relegate it to the 'one-night-stand' pile, if you know what I mean?"

Elena's nodded, her lips curling into a small smile. It wasn't a declaration of love, by any means, but it was a start and it would do…for now.

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Mystic Falls: The Mystic Grille

Elijah Första was sitting at a table in his bar. He had a copy of the Wall Street Journal on the table and was sipping from a cup of tea. His brother Klaus, on the other hand, was agitated as he paced across the tiled floor, the heels of his boots clicking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until finally, Elijah had had enough.

"Niklaus!" he snapped, setting his paper down. "If you insist on forming a permanent path on the floor, could you please do it outside where the patrons of our fine establishment might follow it?"

Klaus stopped immediately and turned to Elijah. "Well," he said with deadly charm, "excuse me brother, if I don't understand your sit and wait it out attitude when it comes to Katarina. We had her yesterday, but you hesitated and wouldn't let our men act when she left the grounds with that simpering husband of hers." He leaned against the table, palms flat as he stared down at Elijah. "And now it seems she's back at home, " he said derisively, "Safe and sound, tucked within the walls of her husband's compound and out of our reach." His cherry red lips curled into a sarcastic smirk. "Brilliant plan"

Elijah rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. Yesterday's failure had made him angry, too. "I had our men stationed strategically to take their limo. You know it was a good plan. Take the car before they got to the airport and make it look like a simple robbery—hostage situation. However, I had not expected them to turn around." He picked up his tea. "Now, we wait for another opportunity to present itself and it will. At least, we know where she is now, thanks to Elena…"

"Ahh yes…Elena," Klaus said. "It seems she hasn't turned into quite the reliable conspirator."

Elijah waved him off with a flick of his hand. "We have to give her time, Nik. I told you that.":

"I have no desire to wait for Elena to present us with another opportunity!" Klaus shouted. "We had that yesterday and lost it!" He pushed off from the table and headed for the bar for a drink. "I want to head straight up to Connecticut right now, and rip her fucking heart out myself!" he growled, pouring a healthy dose of Grey Goose Vodka into his glass. "I want her dead 'Lijah. I thought you understood that."

Elijah sighed as his brother pouted like the petulant, yet deadly child he was. "I understand your needs," he told his younger sibling. "Haven't I always? Wasn't I the one who told you we would find her and wasn't I the one who cleaned up the messes you made in your search for her?"

Klaus glanced away—he did not like being called on the carpet and Elijah knew him too well for it to be an even match. He also wasn't interested in discussing some of his other, more grisly exploits in trying to find the oh-so-elusive Katherine Gilbert. "Yes, you have and while appreciate the efforts you've made in always having my back, brother," he said softly, "but again, I'm asking you…why are we still here? We know where the little bitch is; why are we not going after her ourselves!?"

Elijah tossed his paper aside in a rare show of temper. "Because, you idiot! She isn't a homeless, seventeen year old girl anymore!" he snapped, scaring off any of the help that had been lingering in the area. He watched them scatter like rats and turned to his brother, trying to keep control over himself. Elijah deplored a loss of control more than anything.

"Her husband is one of the wealthiest men in America, Nik. You do not simply kidnap his wife and not expect to have each and every law enforcement resource that the United States Government has to offer looking for you." Elijah raised a haughty brow. "Is that a clear enough reason for you to not just rush down there and murder the girl in front of her family? Or do you want to spend the rest of your life in an American prison?!"

Klaus wasn't happy, it was obvious by the look on his face, but he did see the reasoning behind his brother's planning. "Then what do you suggest we do about the situation?" he growled. "Because, if it the very last thing I do on this planet, I will feel that bitch's neck between my hands, as I crush the very life out of her!"

Elijah had already known Klaus would not be patient about his plan, but he had to make his brother see that rushing headlong after Kat would only get them into a situation that could very well send them fleeing the country. And Elijah did not want to leave the United States. The land of opportunities…yes, it had been that to him and so much more.

"We need to be smart about this," he told Klaus. "I've been thinking—"

"Yes, I'm sure you have," Klaus interrupted. "It seems that is all you have been doing lately."

Elijah ignored the taunt. "I believe the best way to get Katarina alone is to have her sister bring her to us."

Klaus snorted. "You say that, brother, as if you actually believe she would ever do such a thing."

"She might, if I tell her about our connection with her sister and how we simply want Kat to pay us back the money she owes us."

"And how do you propose we make her believe that nonsense?"

Elijah got up and went behind the bar to pour himself a drink. He'd need its calming influence if he wanted to convince his brother his way was the right way. "It's the truth, or part of it, why wouldn't she believe it?"

"Because," Klaus railed, "it's about as far from the truth as you can get! I do not want or need that money, Elijah, I need that bitch to die…by my own hand preferably! And if I have to go there and drag her out of her comfortable little palace by her hair to do so." His face went deadly cold and a slow smile spread across his face. "Then that is exactly what I shall do."

Klaus's evil smirk gave truth to his words and Elijah didn't doubt his brother. He knew the violence Nik was capable of. Hadn't he had to clean it up and make it go away often enough?! However, in this instance, with the money backing Katarina, subtlety, rather than smash and grab, was needed. Elijah knew he was far better at subterfuge than his brother.

"And then, as I said before, we would have the FBI and every law enforcement agency of the Eastern seaboard looking for us. Is that what you want?"

"No," Klaus admitted, still raging, but allowing his brother's common sense to flow into his reasoning. "Those blokes have proven to be rather annoying. I don't fancy having any more of them sniffing around."

"Exactly," Elijah said. "That is why, if you will listen to me, I have a better plan." Elijah poured Klaus a drink and came around the bar to hand it to his brother. "Now, when I first met Elena, she asked about her brother and Jeremy only. Elena doesn't know we even know her sister. When she comes to settle her debt for Jeremy, I will tell her that Katarina—um—Katherine," he corrected, (using her proper name instead of the one Klaus and he had given her) "took some money from us several years ago."

"Why would she believe that?" Klaus butted in.

"Because, if she knows her sister at all, this will not be a surprise to her," Elijah shot back. "Now listen. After I make Elena see we are 'in a way' (he air-quoted the words) after Kat, I will tell her we will accept repayment of the 50,000 plus six years interest as repayment and then it is over." He took a sip of his drink. "Elena will convince Katarina and when she brings us the money, we get rid of both of them."

Klaus laughed out loud. "That is your grand plan?! Let her sister talk her into it?" He started to clap sarcastically. "Oh, well, now I'm, wondering, why did I worry? I mean, this is foolproof. What could possibly go wrong with this plan?" Klaus snapped his fingers. "Oh! I know…maybe this Elena will decide that is none of her business and simply save her brother." He smirked. "We all know how sisters can be, don't we?"

Elijah snarled a little at the subtle hint at Rebekah and what Klaus had done to her. "Don't. Don't bring her up. You won't like what I do to you if you do."

Klaus's eyes widened and he laughed. "Take your best shot, brother, but you and I both know…in the violence department, I will always win. Hands down."

Elijah took a sip of his drink. "Do you want to fight with me, Niklaus, or do you want to finalize our plan to capture the woman who tortured us both? If you listen to me, we can have our revenge on Katarina. I have faith in Elena…after all she convinced us not to kill her when she slammed your face into the bar and almost ripped your arm out of its socket…" He smirked at the livid look on Klaus's face at the reminder. "Did she not?"

Elijah nodded when Klaus had no more smart assed comments to offer. "Good, now that it's settled, this is what we are going to do."

Klaus suddenly grinned diabolically. "We'll try it your way, Elijah, but if you fail..." He smirked. "Well, we can always kill the brother, now can't we? I would think that should bring your Elena to heel and quickly."

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Okay guys…there is the next installment. I worked and re-worked this chappie, but in the end…I was happy with it for the most part. Let the musie know what you think—remember—reviews are love and musie is a greedy little thing that loves each and every word tossed her way. ;)