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s3 promo, Elena

TVD Big Bang Fic; A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi

Posted on 2011.10.05 at 22:14
Tags: ,

Chapter One

It was nineteen seventeen. His loyal grape-vine had informed him of a massacre in Monterey at the hands of a young vampire who was heading in Klaus’s direction, and he was in the mood to amuse himself with this creature; yet another vampire who believed himself so powerful that his actions were inconsequential. Klaus always enjoyed putting baby vampires in their place.

But this creature has none of the expected arrogance, or any of the expected fear. As he notices Klaus’ presence, he merely straightens with a small, polite--and surprisingly sincere--smile.

“Hello, would you like some?” the boy offers genuinely, as though they were two friends who just happened to stumble upon each other on their travels.

“Thank you, but no,” Klaus replies.

The boy shrugs, returning to his meal. Klaus watches as the boy kills, vicious but with the humans fully compelled, gore-ridden but not messy. The fledgling vampire is enough of a puzzle to have fun with for a few weeks, Klaus supposes.

“Care to join me for a nightcap?” Klaus asks, gesturing towards the Chevrolet.

The vampire boy gives it a mildly appreciative glance but doesn’t gush, and immediately earns a point for that. The boy just nods and follows.


Present Day

Klaus catches her just outside of Cincinnati; he grips her wrist so tightly she thinks it will leave a bruise--despite the impossibility. She struggles to keep up as he flies across town; her arm feels like it might break apart from its socket if she doesn’t speed up. They come to a halt in front of a black Mustang against which Stefan is leaning. Katherine watches, intrigued, as Stefan stands up straight and bows slightly, opening the back door with all the flourish of a professional valet and none of the resentment of a captive. She gets in without a fuss.

Katherine is a master of shadows, a true creature of the night, slipping in and out of lives without her presence ever being known. She has had to be, with Klaus hunting her all these centuries. She has watched Stefan on many occasions and can read his feelings on his face, even when he’s trying to hide them. As Stefan drives, she ponders the state he is in (which keeps her from dwelling on her own state). His small smile is real, and his face is free of any hidden resignation as Klaus wordlessly gestures seemingly random directions. She’s seen Stefan change into a ripper instantaneously, so one possibility is that he has already fallen so far that he doesn’t care--but this is unlikely, usually an instant change into a ripper only happens when Stefan changes of his own volition. She’s seen many people (Damon included) try to pull Stefan back into normal vampire habits, and the result is mostly Stefan spending several days grumpy and sullen before any progress is made. But it would be remiss to underestimate Klaus’ ability to assuage Stefan’s stubbornness.

There’s also the possibility that Stefan has been compelled. She doesn’t like that idea, it would mean he has no secret vervain supply to share (Klaus has already disposed of hers). It would also mean he will be markedly harder to manipulate to her ends and also much less fun. The possessive part of her is repulsed and incensed by Stefan having his will taken away by anyone other than her. Stefan is hers, he always will be; he just doesn’t know it yet.

Her hunger distracts her from her thoughts when Klaus opens up a blood bag for himself and then tosses one to Stefan; who drinks slowly but without hesitation. Katherine says nothing; if Klaus knows how hungry she is, he will make her wait even longer.

Hours pass, and her gaze stays fixated on the growing pile of empty blood-bags. Surreptitiously she moves to pick up one that isn’t quite empty. Klaus’ hand strikes out like a crocodile’s jaw and snaps her wrist in two. It’s in the moments that her wrist is healing that she decides to execute her haphazard escape sooner than later. With every minute she grows weaker from not feeding and in a few hours the vervain will have left her system and she won’t have any more chances.

She waits until the Mustang is soaring before breaking the door open. Spinning away from the car at full speed, her muscles protest wildly and bloodlust burns her insides like they’re drenched in gasoline. Despite this, she runs faster than ever before--because she has must. Rapidly Katherine changes direction to hide her trail, and then she runs and swiftly changes direction again, tearing past buildings and forests. There’s a crash. Her body stops. Winded, she hits the ground--falling away from an unyielding, steel-like statue. She blinks, the statue picks her up, and she realises it’s Klaus. Immediately Katherine moves to blur away again but Klaus’s grip is too strong. His hold doesn’t loosen a bit as they dart through the air, and it remains strong when they eventually land in the middle of a road. Three seconds later the Mustang rolls to a stop next to them.

This time Klaus slides in the back with her, sliding his arm around her waist to hold her in place. Her thoughts return to Stefan, who could’ve easily driven off somewhere else- if he wasn’t stupidly worrying about other people and consequences. At the moment, though, she’s more inclined to believe he’s been compelled. Klaus points out the destination they’re approaching--a small bright-white diner--Katherine puts away her thoughts for later, to focus on their surroundings and any possible escape routes. They walk into the diner holding hands; Klaus’ dimples are showing.

Yellow sunlight lights up the eatery, and, with its shiny surfaces and overly cheery waitresses, the place looks like a light-hearted death comedy version of heaven--it is ridiculous. A waitress approaches them with a lemonade pitcher, brimming with ice and lemon slices and lemonade that is a gorgeous shade of red. Starving, Katherine holds back from baring her fangs. The waitress pours the blood into a glass with two straws; one for Stefan and one for her. Klaus gives Stefan the task of deciding how much each of them gets.

She relaxes in her seat; the game is designed to play with them both, but is the first of many, and she has no intention of rising to the bait; after all she’s pretty sure she will have her fill whatever Stefan decides. She knows Stefan will still be reluctant to drink too much, trying to maintain whatever tenuous control he is hiding from Klaus. She can almost hear him thinking out the balance; not really wanting either of them to have much blood. Katherine can’t help but be proud when Stefan puts on a grin, as though he was pleased at this opportunity to mess with her. Maybe he is a little pleased, but she knows him, and he has to be worrying about his control, drinking all this blood. She might feel a little fear, but even if he chose to risk taking more just to deny her, she highly doubts he would drink the whole pitcher, there would be plenty left.

Stefan drinks deeply, his gaze affixed on her face smugly. He’s clearly looking to milk this modicum of power. After about a third of the glass is gone, Stefan pushes it over to her. Katherine smirks before closing her dry lips around the straw--she refuses to look desperate. She takes a sip and her body relaxes immediately as the first few deliciously fresh droplets slide warmly down her throat, pooling satisfyingly inside her. Katherine takes a second sip, wondering whether the kitchen is lined with living blood donors; it has been at least a day since she’s had any blood and at least four since she had anything this fresh (a hazard of staying under the radar). Before she can take a third sip Stefan speaks.

“Stop,” Stefan says in a note far too cheery for his typical register.

“What?” She asks impatiently.

“That’s enough,” he states firmly.

Katherine gives him an incredulous look and carries on drinking.

“Do as he says,” Klaus says softly, as though it’s a gentle request and not a point-blank order.

Katherine considers continuing to drink but knows it will only reduce the likelihood of getting blood later. She passes back the glass reluctantly. After a taste her starving body is now screaming at her for more. Her bloodlust is well hidden but cracks in her veneer must be showing for both Klaus and Stefan are smirking at her.

Stefan picks up the pitcher, trickling blood into the glass before drinking it at an annoyingly snail-like pace, blood floats up the straw and drips back down before reaching his lips. Air bubbles bob slowly at straw’s tail. He drinks half the glass and then just pauses, staring at her intently for a minute and only then passing it over to her. Katherine throws her straw aside and downs the glass and sends a challenging look Stefan’s way as she slams it down on the table. The sheer vindictive nature of ripper Stefan appearing so soon is unexpected, but as always she adjusts quickly. She tempers her anger into threatening smiles and coyly whispers;

“Enjoy this while you can; you’ll pay later.”

He ignores her completely, and she briefly wonders whether the Stefan who was so mindful of her retributions has been compelled away or just over-shadowed by Klaus’ possible retributions. The next time the glass is filled she suspects he’s about to drink the entire thing and thus ignores the glass, letting her mind drift to how she thought Stefan had been compelled. It didn’t seem like he had been mind-controlled into blind obedience; perhaps he’s been compelled to be a ripper or Klaus has just nudged a bit here and there. Stefan ends up leaving her some dregs at the bottom and she takes them with little thought. Her hunger isn’t as biting anymore, her mind is much clearer, and she begins rethinking escape plans.

Klaus holds her tightly until the vervain is out of her system and her plans fall to grave-dirt.

Katherine looks around as they enter the apartment they’ve apparently been staying in. It’s opulent but also minimalist. They’re barely inside the door before Klaus is leading Stefan into one of the bedrooms. This is another idea she doesn’t like, for much the same reason; Stefan is hers. She would rather it be Stefan than her, but she would prefer Klaus not touch either of them. Stefan only smiles widely following Klaus; definitely compelled she thinks.



Stefan has a feeling that this vampire was old; definitely older than Alexia, possibly even older than even Katherine had been. He let himself be escorted, reserving any defiance or vitriolic insight for later.
He is taken to a large mansion (it was mostly bare, though the few furnishings present were lavish) and immediately led to the bed chambers. Sensing that this vampire appreciates his silence, Stefan keeps that way.


Klaus appreciates Stefan’s quietness, but he’s curious as to whether it is because he knows exactly who Klaus is; after all, to say his reputation precedes him would be somewhat of an understatement. He leans away, still collaring Stefan’s neck with his hand.

“I’m Klaus by the way.”

Stefan raises his eyebrows as new recognition dawns.

“As in...?” Stefan asks, trailing off.

“Yes, as in the king of vampires.”

“Oh, okay,” Stefan replies in a measured tone, and Klaus can almost see him filing it away for later.
Within a second Stefan’s previous expression of neutral enthusiasm has returned. And Klaus thinks he should be more bothered by that than he is, but he’s too busy with Stefan’s body to be annoyed over Stefan’s mind.


He makes no move to jockey for position as Klaus moves on top of him, secure enough within himself to play the submissive role without becoming submissive. Every touch from Klaus is distinct, different. Sometimes Klaus is rougher than the most violent of Stefan’s previous lovers, and Stefan fights the instinct to flinch away, arching closer instead. And other times Klaus acts as though Stefan is no older than he looks, like a virginal child who needs to be treated delicately lest he fall apart.

“You may go,” Klaus tells him once he is finished.

“Bored with me already?” Stefan asks, getting up to find his clothes that currently patchwork the room.

“I can find you whenever I want,” Klaus says with a feral grin. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day.” It sounds like a threat.

Stefan’s brow creases as he considers Klaus for a moment. Then he determinedly slides back into the bed. Klaus’s eyes darken in response, and he lets out a wolfish chuckle.

“Sleep now; tomorrow I’ll decide whether you’re enough of a fascination to counter your idiocy.”

He doesn’t answer; he lets Klaus have at least the illusion of the last word, after all Stefan has gotten his own way.



Katherine wakes with droopy eyelids and skin stretched taught over her bones; she knows the grey hue is there before she sees it and tells herself the pain is irrelevant. Getting blood is what’s relevant. She hasn’t had any since the diner, six days ago. The walk into the living room is done tentatively, placing weakened heels and toes deliberately, to avoid a stumble.

“Maybe we should let her have something to drink,” Stefan says in a tone filled with pity.

“Go play your good cop act with someone else, I don’t need it,” she snaps at him.

“You’ll spoil her, pet,” Klaus replies to Stefan.



Klaus wakes to the sounds of food preparations and finds Stefan taking liberties with his kitchen equipment and staff.

“Where’s Chef?” he asks.

“I banished her, I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“I feel I should make my intentions clear; I do not intend to take a wife,” Klaus deadpans.

“Most amusing,” Stefan replies plainly, lips quirking in a closeted smile.

“The main ingredient seems to be missing,” Klaus says, noticing the lack of humans.

“I sent her away; I didn’t want you to fill up before we go out hunting.”

“I’m contemplating why I shouldn’t kill you.”

“Don’t be that way, you know the hunt is always better with hunger roaring in your ears, and I figured I should plan something good or else you might become bored with your childish quickness.”

“Don’t insult me, Stefan.” Klaus’s face is blank, and the expression added to the morning curls on his head, gives him the likeness of a Grecian masterpiece. The ‘I’ve killed for less’ is implied, and Stefan decides he will stay with Klaus; the danger only enhances the pleasure.


The park is filled with people, every one of them compelled, all dancing a waltz.

“This is not to my tastes,” Klaus scoffs derisively.

“I’m sure some of them will be,” Stefan says, snapping his fingers.

The humans all spring into frenzied animation; some running away fearfully; some running towards them; and some running in chaotic circles and attacking each other. Klaus’s unimpressed for only a moment before he sees the patterns forming, a beautifully orchestrated bloody circus. A macabre, red-stained dance.

A myriad of blood-scents colour their surroundings like a symphony. The water fountain abruptly stops flowing, and begins again--this time spouting bright crimson.

“This is ... satisfactory,” he admits, plucking up a petite girl dancing near him.

Stefan’s no longer listening, already enjoying his own feast. It strikes Klaus again--but deeper this time--the appearance of Stefan amidst his prey, in his element. It’s almost ethereal.

Klaus slams Stefan down against the grass, ripping off his trousers without thought. Stefan’s brows furrow in surprise, before his eyes slake with lustfulness. Klaus moves wildly, uncontrolled; never one to restrain himself.

They feed on every compelled person when they’re done. A few have trickled further afield, and they rustle the trees as they track--until fear saturates the air.

“Not yet willing to admit to having a good time?” Stefan challenges, as they lie together once more. Klaus chuckles.

“You’ll be entertainment enough for a month or two.”


Stefan mentions that he enjoys looking out over whichever new place he’s in from up high. So that afternoon Klaus takes him to a hotel where he knows there’s a spectacular view. They sit on the parapet, legs dangling towards the sixty foot plummet beneath them.

It amuses Klaus that Stefan is still able to remember clearly when sitting in this position would’ve been dangerous.

“So very young,” he chortles, when a pigeon flies over them and Stefan flinches away from the edge.

“I’m old for a human. Besides, isn’t everyone young compared to you?”

“That statement itself reveals how young you are; if you’d remained human, you might still be alive.
You’re young compared to most vampires.”

“I suppose. I’ve done a lot with the years I’ve had, though.”

“I heard you were a fireman at one point; if there was ever a stupid job for a vampire...”

Stefan shrugs.

“It was something different.”

“And reckless,” Klaus smirks.

“And reckless.” Stefan mirrors the smirk. “Well, what’ve you been doing with your eternity?”

“Accumulating power; manipulating and moulding the world to my preferences, having fun.”

“Of course; it’s all about the fun. You’re not doing this for the notoriety.”

Klaus’ expression shows hints of impressed, before sliding into amused indulgence.

“I’ve a meeting you should come to.”


Klaus walks into the meeting hall with Stefan. Every pair of eyes looks a moment longer than necessary.
It wasn’t unusual for Klaus to bring his lovers to sit beside him at the table of his inner circle; after all he enjoys flaunting his toys. But it was unusual for him to grant someone this position after only a day. No one dared say anything; he was smart enough not to surround himself with yes men, but they were smart enough to keep certain thoughts to themselves until appropriate times.


Stefan looks around the large hall as Klaus begins the meeting, it’s not lavish like the other rooms, surfaces cold and hard, purposeful. The chairs also lack the comfortable cushioning of the rest of the mansion. There are only four others present: the inner circle.

“Alexander, how goes the Bowman mission?” Klaus demands to know.

Stefan looks towards Alexander; the vampire has long blonde hair, and a gaunt look to his face. He knows this is Klaus’s right-hand man, and makes a point of remembering him.

“Everything is in place; the ambush will happen the day after tomorrow,” Alexander replies, with an English accent similar to Klaus’s.

“Good. Cora, the Roland mission?”

“The plan is to have our people posing as concierges and maids, and ... we’ll go from there,” Cora says, trailing off; clearly reluctant to say more in front of someone new.

Klaus shoots her a severe look, but says nothing. She primps nervously at her neat auburn bun for a few seconds before glancing away.

Stefan listens as Klaus has longer conversations with Ida and Herman, and gives them far more explicit orders. Ida’s a witch who looks like she’s in her mid twenties with silky black straight hair falling to her waist, and he’s heard Herman is a werewolf, but he’s still partially convinced someone is pulling his leg. After Klaus finishes giving orders, there’s some talk of the people their underlings before the meeting comes to an end.


“Why are you going after the Bowman witches?” Stefan asks, later that evening.

“You’ve heard of them then, that’s good. You’ll need to learn quickly if you’re to be a productive member of my circle.”

“I never said I wanted to have anything to do with your circle.”

“Most would be honoured to have such a position. I want you to do this; I can’t be sure of your loyalty unless I test it.”

“Must be tiring, testing everyone near you. I have no intention of allying with a cause I know nothing about.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Klaus says, voice hard and possessive.

“You seem to forget that I’m not scared of you.”

Klaus’ face snaps towards him, eyes flashing darkly, mouth an unyielding line. He grabs Stefan, and holds him up against the wall, fingers pressing determinedly restrained against his windpipe; a honed balance between inflicting pain and not inducing injury.

“Don’t make the mistake of fancying yourself special; many haven’t feared me in the beginning, but they all fear me by the end.”

“When you growl like that, I can see it,” Stefan says softly.

Klaus rolls his eyes, and fingers squeeze asking the question without the necessity of words.

“Your humanity,” Stefan replies, smirking.

 Chapter Two



(Deleted comment)
swirlsofblue at 2011-10-16 07:39 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you :)
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