Chapter 4: The Party

Many years later…

"Elijah, brother," Klaus says cheerfully over the phone, "I know you've been having a lovely time slumming it in Bogotá the last few months but your presence is requested in New Orleans."

"Whatever for?" Elijah raises an eyebrow, idly pressing folds into his paper napkin.

"We're having a little party for your birthday. Gifts and dancing and everything."

"My birthday?" Elijah asks, incredulous. "Niklaus, I haven't celebrated a birthday in centuries. You know that."

"Well then, you're overdue," Klaus tells him.

"You aren't plotting my demise, are you?" Elijah asks suspiciously, only half-joking. His relationship with his brother has been much improved now that Klaus is secure in his reign of all vampire-kind, but the petty sibling rivalry is still inevitable.

"Caroline would never speak to me again," Klaus assures him, and Elijah knows that is reason enough to trust him. "She planned the party and will be upset if you don't come."

Elijah rolls his eyes and beckons to the attractive curly-haired waitress at the café he is currently patronizing. "Very well. Only so as not to disappoint your lady-love. The kingdom suffers when the King is upset."

Klaus laughs darkly. "See you soon, then."

Elijah hangs up as the waitress approaches. "Como te llamas?" he asks.

"Claudia," she replies, batting her eyes coyly at him. "Would you like a drink?" she asks in accented English.

"Claudia," he repeats, eyeing the skin on her smooth, tan neck. "I would love a drink. Please, have a seat." She obeys, no compulsion required.


"Elena!" Caroline squeals, rushing to embrace her friend. "I'm so glad you came."

Elena exhales as Caroline knocks the wind out of her, hugging her tightly. "You sounded so insistent I thought I should come see what all the fuss was about."

"You'll love it here," Caroline raves. Elena smiles, watching Caroline's face light up as she describes the vampire playground. "You're just in time; we're having a big birthday party tonight for… a close friend. I organized it, of course," she says proudly.

Elena smiles. "Your specialty."

"You need to blow off some steam," Caroline tells her, crossly. "You've been spending too much time working at the hospital. I still don't understand how you can be around all of that blood; that's like, Stefan-level masochism."

"It's all about balance, Caroline. I just save it for after work."

"Well tonight, we party. But first, I bought you some stuff to wear. Come see!" Caroline drags Elena up to her bedroom, boxes and shopping bags strewn around her bed. Elena glances around the room, lacking completely in Klaus-like touches.

"You don't share a bedroom with Klaus?" Elena asks.

"Well, of course. But sometimes he's such a brat that I need my own space."

"You two are practically an old married couple," Elena teases.

"Ugh, don't even start on that. He proposes to me at least once a month and I always shut him down."

"You'll give in, one day," Elena tells her.

"Not yet," she maintains, stubbornly. "And what about you? Any hot new guys in your life?"

"Nope," Elena tells her. "Nada."

She hasn't seen Elijah since that day she said goodbye to him decades ago; the possibility of their reunion seems far off and abstract, their time together a pleasant, distant memory. As a personal rule she's committed herself to living only in the present: despite coming to terms (as much as such a thing is actually possible) with the past, she doesn't like to dwell on it. The future, incomprehensively vast and seemingly unlimited, is also a source of anxiety, and so her thoughts never stray past present day.

"Well," Caroline grins, "That's why I bought you these!" She opens one of the smaller wrapped boxes and reveals a sinfully tiny set of black and red panties. "I was afraid you were going to show up in your scrubs."

"Caroline!" Elena says indignantly, dangling them off of one of her fingers, "These are absurd."

"What?" Caroline asks, unabashed. "You might get lucky tonight!"

Elena narrows her eyes suspiciously. "This isn't another one of your attempts to set me up on a blind date with the latest, most eligible vampire-bachelor, is it? Because that didn't go so well the last time."

"Nope, not a blind date, I promise," Caroline avoids her eyes and goes about unwrapping the rest of her purchases. Elena lets it slide, but she knows Caroline is up to something. In any case, she is actually looking forward to the party, having some drinks and some laughs.


Klaus is waiting personally at the arrivals terminal in the airport as Elijah lands. They shake hands.

"Happy birthday, big brother. You hardly look a day over 600," Klaus smirks.

Elijah rolls his eyes. "I was expecting you to send one of your lackeys to collect me. How kind of you to grace me with your presence."

"I was going to be holding a sign that said E. Mikaelson: Insufferable Git, but I forgot it in my car," Klaus fires back.

The brothers stare each other down for a moment before Elijah breaks into a laugh and embraces Klaus. "It's good to see you, Niklaus."

Elijah follows Klaus to the parkade and loads his bags into the back of Klaus's Maserati. "Caroline's told me she doesn't want you around while she prepares and that we are commanded to make ourselves scarce until later," Klaus informs him.

"And what do you suggest we do?"

"I was actually thinking we could go and box a few rounds, like old times."

"Why is it that the two of us can't have fun without trying to beat the other into a bloody pulp?" Elijah asks, amused.

"Is that a yes?" Klaus asks.

Elijah grins and flexes his muscles. "Of course."


Caroline sighs contentedly. The preparations for the party have gone off without a hitch and the guests are starting to arrive. The mansion is trimmed edgily in black (Elijah's favorite color, from what she's gathered), lights low, music loud. Humans are distinguishable in the crowd by the red ribbon tied around their wrists. Some of them are willing participants here in the underworld, others compelled to smile and gasp in delight when fed upon. There are humans for every taste, but naturally there is preponderance of scantily clad, wide-eyed young women. Guests may feed, but they may not kill: those are the rules, and Klaus is respected and feared enough that they will be followed. Klaus is by no means reformed but Caroline assures him it's in bad taste to have corpses littering the party.

Next to her, Elena surveys the scene, two ice cubes floating in her glass of vodka. She can already feel the liquor-induced buzz creeping into her cheeks as the music pounds through her. People are obviously having a good time, drinking, dancing, feeding. The energy is infectious in this golden age of the vampire court. "This is great, Caroline, I mean it," Elena tells her.

Caroline grins. "I know! Thanks, Elena."

"So whose birthday are we even celebrating? Anyone I know?" Elena asks.

"Nope," Caroline lies easily. "He should be here any minute with Klaus. Let's go dance!" Elena follows Caroline into a throng of dancing vampires and lets the music overtake her, happy and free.


"Ready?" Klaus asks as they stand before the double-doors of the mansion.

Elijah can hear the party raging inside. "This is a ridiculous spectacle," he tells Klaus plainly. "A new tie would have sufficed."

"Shut up and enjoy yourself, you fucking prick," Klaus growls, and then throws open the double doors. "The guest of honour has arrived!" he booms out.

Those in the immediate vicinity rush forward to greet them, shaking Elijah's hand and patting him on the back and then moving on to pay their respects to the host. Elijah is well-respected around these parts and it shows; even those few less fond of him wish him well for fear of reprisal. Someone presses a glass of champagne into his hand and he takes a healthy swig.

"Where is our gracious hostess?" Elijah asks, scanning the room for Caroline's blonde head.

"Somewhere in the ballroom, I'd imagine," Klaus tells him. "Let's go find her, shall we?"

They stroll through the mansion and Elijah smiles despite himself. Caroline has outdone herself - everything is quite to his taste, except for the atrocious dance music. "There she is," Klaus points. "Caroline, love! Your future brother-in-law has arrived," he calls out to her.

Caroline rolls her eyes at the younger Original but skips gleefully over, giving Elijah a hug and then fitting herself into Klaus's side. "Do you like it?" she asks eagerly, gesturing around.

"This was quite unnecessary, but lovely all the same. Thank you, Caroline," Elijah says sincerely.

"You should pick out someone to eat," Klaus says wolfishly, gesturing to the gyrating mass of bodies before them. "It's your party, Elijah. Enjoy yourself."

Elijah's tense shoulders relax as he takes another swig of his drink and scans the crowd. "I do appreciate a willing brunette now and then," he says mildly.

"So predictable, Elijah. Go on then," Klaus chides him.

Elijah wanders away and scans the crowd, unfurling his predator instincts as he searches for the perfect meal… or the perfect fuck.

Both, if he's lucky.

Mentally, he eliminates possibilities. Too fat, too pale, too thin, too blonde, sour looking. Women file past him, some brushing him gently on the chest or shoulder, their eyes promising him a good time. A few men, also. He smiles politely at them all.

Across the room a mystery brunette dances with her back turned to him. He can't see a red ribbon on her wrist, disqualifying her from the running for good meal, but good fuck is most definitely a possibility. She's wearing a silky black halter-topped romper with a sinfully low back and tiny shorts displaying her long, tanned legs, which end in impossibly tall patent stilettos. Her long hair falls in soft waves down her back and obscures her face from his view. She is dancing with a human, pausing occasionally to take a pull from the oozing wound in his neck. The way she holds her body speaks of ease and confidence, afraid neither of her sexuality nor her predatory nature. She reminds him of someone he once knew -

"For your own sake and hers, I hope you didn't invite Katerina," he says to Klaus, low, angry.

Caroline is smiling at him and he can't figure out why. "I would never invite that skanky ho to anything," she assures him.

"Losing your touch, brother. That's Elena Gilbert," Klaus smiles widely.

In Elijah's head, the room lurches. She turns slightly and he catches a glimpse of her profile, button nose and long eyelashes. Is it her? He can't be sure; he has to see for himself. "Excuse me," he sets down his champagne glass and strides into the crowd. His skin prickles in anticipation as he slides between bodies. "Elena," he says, in a normal tone of voice, hoping she'll hear him without drawing more attention to himself. "Elena," he calls, a little louder.

This time she turns, eyes hooded and dark, lips still stained red. People mill in front of him, blocking him from her view. She looks unsettled but seems to dismiss the phantom voice. The music becomes more mellow and people pair off for a slow dance. A pang of jealousy shoots through him as he watches her appraise the men milling around her.

"Elijah!" A cheery voice booms. "The guest of honour. Happy birthday!" It's Marcel, now reduced to Klaus's lapdog, come to wish him well. Elijah tamps down the urge to rip out Marcel's heart and continue his hunt.

"Marcel," his voice admits tersely. "Thank you."

He glances back over in Elena's direction. She most certainly heard Marcel's loud announcement of him. She turns completely around this time, and her eyes lock with his. Her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise. Marcel says something to him, he's not sure what, but he looks back at Marcel so as not to be rude. When he glances back a split second later, she's gone.


Elena presses herself against the wall outside the door to the ballroom, seething. She knows Caroline is about to coming looking for her.

"Wh- jeez Elena!" Caroline shouts as Elena grabs her by her arm and drags her down the hall.

"Caroline Forbes," Elena hisses, "You lied to me! This is Elijah's party?"

"Why are you so mad?" Caroline asks indignantly, "The two of you are friends!"

"I haven't seen Elijah in years, Caroline, and the last time I was with him – we have history, ok?"

"I know you have history! Why do you think I even threw this party?"

"You've really got to stop with the matchmaking, Caroline. I told you, when I'm ready –"

"You are ready!" Caroline snaps. For a moment they have a staring contest before Caroline loses and rolls her eyes. "Come on, Elena, just dance with him, ok? He didn't know you were going to be here either. One dance, that's all I'm asking," she pleads. "It really is his birthday. His 1121st, to be exact, and you didn't get him a present." Caroline turns to walk away, smiling mischievously over her shoulder.

Elena lets out a little "ugh" and balls her fists at her sides. One night spent in the same building as Elijah: she can do that, she reasons. She'll say hello and have a polite dance with him and then go back to her single, fancy-free life, far away from dark and handsome former lovers and memories of lives past.

She takes a deep breath and walks slowly back to the ballroom. Elijah is standing, stock-still with his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, obviously perturbed by her appearing and disappearing act.

"Elijah," she calls out to him. He turns to her and she sees relief flood through his eyes. She closes the distance between them.

"Hello, Elena," he says cautiously. "I was afraid you'd gone."

"I'm sorry I bolted. I was just… surprised."

"Already forgiven," he assures her. "It was a surprise for me also. A pleasant one."

"I hear this party is for you," she says, mentally admonishing herself for being unable to come up with anything more interesting to say to him. "Happy birthday."

He purses his lips momentarily. "So it would appear. Thank you."

"Would you like to dance?" she asks.

"I would like nothing more," he extends his hand to her, and she takes it, letting him lead her onto the floor before his hand on her bare back pulls her body gently to his.

"Hello there," he murmurs into her hair, quietly, intimately, his fingers sliding across her skin to disappear under the hem of her shirt, signalling to everyone in the room that she is for him and him alone. She gasps as his fingers settle on the side of her hip. She says his name, simultaneously warning and encouragement.

"Yes, Elena?" he asks, sensing her desire to express herself further.

"I- I always thought that the next time we met, that would be the start of… something. But I always imagined that I would seek you out, when I was ready."

She looks up at his face, seeking confirmation of their previous understanding, painfully aware of just how young she is, comparatively. "But this –" she continues, "this was a surprise."

"You are free to go or stay, as you always have been, lovely Elena. But –" he moves his mouth down to her ear, "I would ask that you consider spending this one night with me."

Her heart thrums erratically in her chest, fear, anticipation, desire, alcohol, all course through her in potent mixture. She looks around the room at the sets of eyes trained interestedly on them – some curious, others lustful, others jealous. What does she have to lose? His touch makes her feel alive. She trusts his assurance of her freedom (though she does not trust herself in this regard). Is she ready to fall?

"Just one night, Elena," he reminds her. "Not forever, unless you want it."

It is his birthday, after all.

Tentatively, her hand reaches up to trace his face, as though she is still unsure that he is real and not simply an apparition. He rests his forehead against hers, and she fully expects him to kiss her. Instead, he ducks his mouth to her ear and inhales deeply. "It's been too long since I had you, Elena," he whispers. No one here deserves to watch this particular show.

She feels a thrill go through her at his words and feels her predatory confidence return. "Would it be rude of us to leave in the middle of your party?"

"Not as rude as what I'm going to do to you later," he replies, nipping discretely at her earlobe. She moans.

"My brother!" Klaus is heard from across the room, eyes twinkling mischievously. Elijah all but growls out loud, the spell between them broken. "It's time us to shower you with gifts!"

Elena exhales the breath she was holding in. "It's alright," she tells him gently. "I'll see you later," she reaches up to kiss his cheek, her lips barely brushing the corner of his mouth, a promise.

Elijah takes a moment to compose himself and then joins Klaus as the guests deliver tokens of their admiration. Priceless art, liquor, faraway silks and trinkets. Caroline hands him a piece of chocolate cake and all he can think about is licking molten drops of it off of Elena's breasts. She sits, watching him from across the room. Her arms are crossed in front of her with a sinful little smile on her lips as she no doubt divines his thoughts.

"Well, brother," Klaus tells him, "I think you can guess what Caroline and I got you for your birthday. I'm sure you'll have plenty of fun with it tonight." Caroline smacks him.

"Indeed. You invited me under false pretences, though."

"Hardly," Klaus scoffs. "It is your birthday. I know we've had our differences, 'lijah, but I've found my peace and it's time you found yours."

Caroline nods. "We just want you to be happy."

"I'm afraid that that is entirely up to her," Elijah says mildly, watching as Elena climbs the grand staircase, slowly, assuredly. When she gets to the top she surveys the line of closed doors leading to the bedrooms.

This one? She gestures at the one immediately before her.

Elijah nods ever so slightly to the left and then again in affirmation when she points to the right one. His bedroom. She looks over her shoulder at him and pins him with a seductive glance as she lets herself in, closing the door behind her.

He sighs frustratedly as he surveys all the guests that remain and thinks that eternity has never felt longer.


The next half hour of pleasantries is excruciating. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, most of the guests begin to filter out. Elijah says goodnight to Caroline and Klaus and makes every effort to climb the staircase at human pace.

He opens the door to his bedroom and surveys the scene. Elena is nowhere to be seen. He calls out her name, once again afraid that she's bolted. For a moment, nothing. Then he feels the telltale woosh of a vampire moving at hyper-speed behind him.

He smiles and licks his lips. "Let's play, then," he calls out. She might be young and spry, but he is older, stronger, faster than her. He closes his eyes and listens until he hears her slow heartbeat only a few meters away from him. Then he lunges, but all he catches is empty air. In his moment of confusion, she pounces, slamming him against the opposite wall.

"Booze and lust make you sloppy, Elijah," she says, her hand wrapped around his throat.

"Surely, Elena, you should know by now that letting you catch me is the same thing as me - " he deftly reverses their positions - "catching you."

She pouts prettily. "But how will I give you your birthday gift then?"

"You didn't get me a gift. Poor manners," he tuts, pressing his body against hers.

"I've just thought of something," she tells him.

"And what's that?" he asks, eyes boring into hers.

"If you let go of me, I'll show you."

He is reluctant to relinquish dominance but carefully lets go of her throat, taking a deep breath to reign back in his lust, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Slowly, Elena turns so that her back is to him, and then sweeps her hair off to the side. Her halter is tied in a bow at her neck, a gift wrapped up just for him. He runs the pads of his fingers up her back and tugs gently at the bow and curls his lips in satisfaction as the satin falls quietly away from her skin. She makes a show out of stepping out of the one-piece garment. The low back doesn't allow for a bra, so she is left only a tiny black and scarlet thong.

"I hope you aren't overly fond of your underthings," he tells her, clenching his fists at his sides to avoid ripping them off prematurely.

"Shh…" she tells him, and then she drops to her knees before him. He sorely hopes this means she'll be worshipping his cock in short order. His suspicions are confirmed as she reaches his belt, her palms gently brushing his painfully hard erection through his pants. She unzips him and lets his pants drop to his ankles. "Commando, Elijah?" she comments, eyebrows raised, "How risqué."

"I can think of better uses for your mouth than talking right now, Elena," he warns, one hand caressing her hair.

"So can I…" she whispers, her hot breath tickling him. He hisses as she raises a cool hand to stroke him, first weighing his balls in her hand and then stroking gently up his length, looking up at him coquettishly. Then, much to his delight, she replaces her hand with her mouth, placing soft kisses up his shaft before her tough darts out to lap at the engorged tip. He groans and widens his stance, bracing himself against the wall.

Finally, she takes him into her mouth, and he watches in rapture as his cock disappears agonizingly slowly, inch by inch between her red lips and then down the back of her throat. She whimpers as his hands tangle painfully tightly in her hair and the vibrations go straight to his core. He loosens his grip so that she can pull back for another stroke of her mouth, and then she begins to pleasure him in earnest, delivering a grade-A, porn-star level blow job complete with corkscrew swivel and just the right amount of saliva. Despite his vampiric stamina, the sight is entirely to erotic for him to handle for long.

"Elena - " he manages, a warning, as the pleasure pooling in the base of his spine begs for release. He feels the plaster crack behind him as his throat admits a guttural noise and he spills himself inside her mouth.

She releases him and dabs prettily at her mouth with the back of her hand while he lets out the breath he'd been holding, trying to get his racing heart under control. She stands and starts to unbutton his shirt for him, kissing his chest as his skin is revealed to her. He tilts her chin up to his and kisses her deeply, one hand creeping down her stomach to dip a finger into her soaking panties. She bucks into his hand, seeking more contact.

He breaks their kiss. "Ah ah," he chides. "You had your fun; I am now responsible for your pleasure, and you will only receive fulfillment if you do exactly as I say," he warns.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks, breathlessly.

"Take off your underwear." She complies.

"Go lie on the bed and spread your legs, for me, lovely Elena," he commands, taking a seat in a leather armchair. She climbs onto the bed, lying partially upright supported by throw pillows, and spreads her legs to give him a perfect view of her glistening sex. He feels his own arousal start to build again. "Close your eyes and pleasure yourself, but do not come until I say you may."

She sighs softly as her eyes flutter close and her right hand travels slowly down her body, taking a quick detour to roll her nipples into an aroused state. Her left hand stays at her chest and palms her breast while the other dips between her thighs and starts rubbing a slow circle with two fingers on her clit. He watches, mesmerized, as her fingers dip briefly into her slick opening and spread the moisture around her labia.

"Honestly, Elena, I wasn't sure what this night had in store for me, but I was most certainly not expecting such a fantastic performance of fellatio." She whimpers at the sound of his voice, providing the perfect masturbatory soundtrack. "That was certainly the best birthday present I've ever received."

"You'll have to… send a thank-you note," she manages, now having inserted two fingers into her entrance, eyes still squeezed shut.

"Indeed," he agrees. "When I was dancing with you tonight all I could think about was bending you over the nearest piece of furniture and taking you from behind and tasting your sweet blood."

"Elijah, please," she entreats him, legs shaking, fingers going still to delay the inevitable.

"I didn't say you could stop," he says, sternly. Reluctantly, she sets to work on her clit again.

"I could get used to the sight of you naked and quivering in my bed," he tells her, voice low. "Oh Elena?" he says casually, "You may come."

In another five seconds she cries out and her hips arch off the bed. He watches her expression of pleasure and thinks he has never seen anything more beautiful.

"'Lijah," she whimpers as she comes down, reaching a hand towards him, and he is suddenly struck by how long he has gone without touching her. Too long.

He joins her on the bed and covers her body with his, inhaling her scent deeply. "God, I missed you," he confesses, one hand caressing her face.

"I missed you too," she whispers, kissing him. She nudges his shoulder with the heel of her hand and he lets her roll them over so that he is on his back, resting on his elbows, while she straddles him. He groans as she rubs her wetness against him before reaching between their bodies to guide him inside her. Their rhythm is torturously slow, each reveling in the new connection of their bodies. Her long locks tickle his chest as she leans forward to nuzzle his neck, deeply inhaling his scent, simultaneously hearing and feeling the slow pulse of his blood in his neck.

She nips at him with her human teeth. "Can I- ?" she breathes against him.

Elijah can count on one hand the number of vampires who have ever dared to bite him under such intimate circumstances. Even fewer of them survived to tell the tale. And yet, he tilts his head away from her, an invitation.

Her eyes turn dark as sinks her fangs into him. He groans loudly. With his blood he feels a vital piece of his heart or soul escape him also, a piece that she will guard for as long as he lives.


Elena wakes in the night. It's still dark but she can see the sky out of the window is a dark indigo, teetering on the brief precipice between dusk and dawn. Elijah sleeps peacefully beside her, one arm draped heavily over her middle.

This is her chance to escape, she knows. She could slip out from under his arm and disappear back into the night and back to her old life. She doubts Elijah would even say anything as she left, despite his own disappointment. The thought of causing him pain weighs heavily on her. Making him wait in interminable limbo, she realizes, is equally unfair. It's all or nothing, right now.

She envisions herself sneaking out of bed, collecting her clothes and slipping out like a thief in the night. In her vision, she stands on the doorstep of Klaus' New Orleans mansion with the vast, bustling world spread out before. She could go back to her apartment in Paris for a while, aimlessly wandering the streets and having lonely cups of coffee in smoky cafés. She could throw herself into the bustling Asian underworld where wrinkled old witches would glare at her and know she was more than just a foreigner. She could go spend some time beach-side on a Greek Island and endure the endless ennui, the lack of purpose. She could go back to the hospital she was working at in Chicago and torture herself a little more with the constant temptation.

Or, she could do nothing at all, roll over and go back to sleep in Elijah's arms, then wake up and make love in the morning.

For the first time in years, the thought of waking up next to someone doesn't seem abhorrent to her. It seems… good, easy, pleasurable, right. In this vision of the future, there is no anxiety or anticipation, just a deep sense of contentment. It is as easy as breathing.

She takes a deep breath and lets sleep overpower her once more.


Elijah wakes to the sun streaming through his sheer drapery. Momentarily, he is confused by his unfamiliar surroundings. Then he remembers - Klaus' phone call, the flight to New Orleans, the party… Elena. If she is here, their bodies are not touching.

He rolls over slowly, afraid that he will find himself alone in bed. He exhales in relief as he sees her, still asleep next to him. He can't help but wake her, cautiously optimistic of her continued presence. "Elena," he says softly, "you're drooling."

She twitches slightly at the sound of his voice, one eye half-opening lazily. "Vampires do not drool," she tells him, self-assuredly.

"Apparently they do," he can't contain a small chuckle, reaching over to wipe the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. She opens both of her eyes and blinks the sleep out of them, propping herself up slightly to assess her pillow. She makes an indignant sound and flips the pillow over, cursing the human habit she never quite left behind.

"You know, pointing out my embarrassing habits isn't helping your case to get me to stay," she grumbles.

"On the contrary; I find them endearing. And you did stay - does that mean…?" he trails off, searching her face for some indication.

She smiles, a good sign. "I've decided to stay, for as long as you'll have me."

He grins, teeth and all, and rolls on top of her to express his joy.


Three weeks later, after a brief absence to collect her things, she shows back up at the mansion in New Orleans. She knocks and listens for footsteps inside.

"Elena," Elijah smiles lovingly as the dark oak door swings open, "Come in."

Home, she realizes, is not a place.

-fin


A/N: Thanks for all the kind words and support guys! This fic started out completely gratuitously and ended in something I am really proud of, so I hope you enjoyed. Please do leave me some feedback here or hit me up at thesofinator on twitter with any comments or whatever else is on your mind. All the best -S