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25th May 2009

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He stares at the television screen.

It's Katherine's face, he would know it anywhere, knows it like the back of his hand, like the air he breathes. It's Katherine's face. But the news-reporters call her Elena.

Elena Gilbert, missing from Mystic Falls for two weeks. A letter states she has run away but her family have reason to believe she's been kidnapped by someone. No other leads.

Stefan sits himself down on the motel bed, the worn springs creaking beneath his weight. A girl that looks just like Katherine. He needs answers. He needs to return home, to do some digging and find out how a girl that looks so much like her but is human (has to have been human, give the vast array of childhood photos the news is cycling through now) exists.

First though, he needs a drink.

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Slurping the last of her milkshake up through the hot pink straw, Elena 'Ellie' Gilbert rattles the paper cup in the vain hope there's some more fluid to be found.

There isn't.

"Are you sure that influx of sugar is good for you, Love?"

The heat of Florida's summer sun beats down something harsh on the back of her neck, not even the slightest whiff of a breeze to cushion its aggressive assault. She's decked out in the shortest pair of shorts she could find that still preserved her modesty, coupled with a floaty crop-top that exposes far more belly than her father would ever be comfortable with her showing. Even with the high-heeled sandals, she's still not quite the same height as her companion; a freak of nature who persists in wearing a long-sleeved henley and jeans despite triple digit heat. It's almost as if he's determined to announce himself a supernatural tourist. Because, while a Florida-man may be crazy enough to come out dressed like that in this heat, he probably wouldn't have the money for the branded clothes Niklaus Mikaelson wears.

"Pretty sure you're supposed to get your blood sugar levels up before making a donation," she snarks back, eyes rolling but lips twisting up in a smile regardless of the taunt. It'd been over three weeks now since she's walked out onto the porch of her house to find the Original to-be-Hybrid standing there, waiting for her. Like the incoming roll of a thunderstorm, she couldn't have stopped him if she'd tried. Instead, Elena had prepared, had submitted herself to the flashes of lightning and the downpour of torrents. It'd been a miracle that Klaus had allowed her to leave a letter at all.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Elena scans the surrounds for a bin to dispose of her empty cup in, fanning her face all the while. The hat and wig combo aren't helping in this heat but Klaus had been insistent she wear them. Still is insistent, despite the fact they are trekking into protected swampland.

"We're relatively close to Miami; are we staying the night there?" She hopes so. There's only so much sleeping in the car's back seats or rough motel beds she can take. Klaus may be happy bunking down anywhere, but he's a former Viking and she most certainly is not.

Klaus laughs and says nothing, continuing his expedition through the wilderness and Elena hurries after him with a huff, shoving the empty cup into her backpack for later disposal. She's not worried about the local wildlife; none could pose so much as a threat when she stands beside the Original Hybrid. Her moss and mud splattered boots are another matter entirely. She'll need new clothes after this, shoes too. All on Klaus' card of course.

It's not like she's got any cash of her own right now.

Elena swears as her foot slips, reaching out with desperate hands ready to catch herself, cup dropped and forgotten. Only, the impact doesn't come.

Klaus scoops her up off the ground with one arm around her waist and she's quickly deposited over one of his broad shoulders, hanging limp and useless. Like a hunter's prey being carted back to the cave.

As comparisons go, it's not too far off.

"Can't have you spilling that blood yet," Klaus chirps and it's positively sunny the way he speaks, the way one hand taps at her lower thigh. Elena responds by dragging her own hands down the hard muscles of his back. Yum. At least her kidnapper/blood-dependent/tentative friend is an attractive one, hot as hell.

...Yeah, reincarnation may have messed with her head a little bit.

"Love you too, buddy," Elena muses, slipping one hand into his back pocket and giving a shallow squeeze. It provokes a laugh from her captor, who jostles her a little until her hand slides free.

"While I am aware you are a reborn spirit trapped in a young body you're still growing into, Love, try to refrain from making any moves on me when we're about to go meet new people. Sends the wrong impression."

Elena leans back, wiggling her legs until she's free enough from Klaus' grip to wrap them around his waist, leaning back so she can look him in the eye. He's not stopped walking either, utterly unbothered by her shifting weight. Once again, hot as hell. She's in strong company, that's for sure (not that she'd had any doubted to begin with).

"Does that imply you'd be willing to return those advances, Mr Mikaelson? Because I gotta say, I am loving the fact you've kept yourself in shape and with that face-" Elena cuts off, head tilting to a side and eyelids blinking furiously. A vast array of pictures flash before her eyes, a face as familiar as the one she sees in the mirror, coupled with the aged version of Tyler Lockwood's attractive uncle, the one who used to babysit her before he skipped down. Huh.

"You're gonna wanna put me down once you hit the clearing, and you're gonna wanna move really fast."

Klaus lifts an eyebrow, lips parting to question her but Elena places a single finger against his lips, smiling all the while.

"Trust me, m'kay?"

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Miraculously, he does exactly that. Elena's head spins with how fast she's planted on her feet, gathering her bearings the exact second there's a loud, wet crack from the clearing.

Half the gathering of people roar in shock but she's too busy reorienting herself, head spinning ever so slightly as she turns to look at the group. Klaus stands in the middle, a body slumped on the ground before him. The dark brown hair is remarkably familiar.

Elena lifts one of her hands to brush at the wavy strands atop her own heads, sheered to a sudden stop before they reach her shoulder.

"Oh, Elena," Klaus states, utterly unbothered by the fact he's surrounded by a dozen angry werewolves and company, too busy laughing in absolute delight with the unconscious Katerina Petrova at his feet, "you do seem to be giving me all the best presents."

.

Klaus has to knock six werewolves unconscious before they stop attacking him; Mason Lockwood is one of them.

Now, all the actual werewolves are 'dead', force-fed Klaus' blood and mid-way through the transition. The rest of the humans cower on one side of the clearing and Elena feels bad. Bad with a capital 'B'. Yeah, she feels really Bad.

She's a selfish bitch though. Perhaps it's genetic, perhaps it's just how she's always been and it had never actually had to surface in the life before this one.

She's a selfish bitch because she's quick to go and stand by Klaus' side once he's done setting up his werewolves for transformation, once he's snapped Katerina's neck a second time, just to keep her unconscious and out of the way. Part of Elena feels bad for that one; the woman is only doing what any sensible person would do, had only done what any sensible person would do when faced with death; tried to find a way around it. How could she have known Klaus' true nature? How could she have known she'd be signing her family's death warrants with that one act?

Setting up Elena as a blood sacrifice though? Yeah, that she can be pissed about.

Squatting by her ancestor's face, Elena pokes at her cheek, lips pursed as she drinks in every detail before her. It's her face, but it's not a flat 2D picture or reflection; this is her face in 3D, high definition and it's so creepily cool.

"Done admiring yourself, Love?"

"Never. At least the original doppelgänger had the decency to have a pretty face."

Cool fingers still caked in blood take a gentle hold of her chin, tilting her head back so that her face may be better exposed to the light. The sun is half hidden behind a great swath of trees, leaves weaving over each and allowing only the smallest sunbeams to grace the ground. One gets her right in the eye and Elena scowls, squinting against the bright light.

"Pretty indeed. Let's try and keep this face scar free, shall we?"

"I don't know what you mean," Elena instantly insists, smiling all the while, as if she'd not tripped on the way here, as if she hasn't somehow become the biggest klutz known to man since meeting Klaus. She blames the dying and coming back thing. That's gotta mess with something up in the brain, right? "But hey, you do know I'm probably gonna soon like a fourteenth century maiden once you've taken enough blood for all of these guys, right? So I really hope you're not tired of carrying me about everywhere."

"If what you've said is true about the sire bonds, then I'll have more than enough minors to cart dear Katerina around," Klaus declares, staring down at the body that lays by their feet, something dark and dangerous in his eyes. Does Elena feel sorry for the other? Most certainly. Is she going to be getting in the middle of that? Er, no. No way in a month of Sundays. It'll be a hard pass on that one.

"Naw, you're keeping your arms open for me, that's really sweet." Elena wiggles her face free of Klaus' grasp, running a hand along her jawline and grimacing at the blood that comes away with the motion. Great. Not that she doesn't have a pack of baby wipes in her backpack, but the fact she has to use them at all is less than ideal. Huffing, Elena swings the bag from her shoulder, digging for the packet to clean her face up. She's not a vampire, she's a doppelgänger. The only blood she wants to be covered in at any point is her own; at least she knows that doesn't have any nasty diseases in it. She'll settle for some of Klaus' blood on her at a push; chances are good if she's got access to that, it's because she needs it to heal.

Marching across the clearing to pout the soiled baby wipe into the werewolves' improvised bin, Elena chances another glance over at the humans. They're fearful, that's true, but they seem remarkably well adjusted. Eh, they do run with a crowd of werewolves, she probably shouldn't be surprised by this.

Sitting herself down on the nearest log, Elena pulls her notebook and a pen from her bag, twisting the cap free.

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'Dear Mum and Dad and Jeremy,

It's me again, writing to you from the arse-end of nowhere. I'm doing fine; working on my tan in the summer sun, so not much has changed from last year, I guess. Again, I'm sorry I couldn't give you much warning of what was going to happen. I've already explained most of it, but given that I'm never in a position to get a reply from you (if you even would write me a reply), I guess I'll keep repeating it.

I know about the vampires. There are werewolves too, by the way. It's why I'm with Klaus. I was born the doppelgänger; they'd have come for me anyway. He's got the largest need for me to be alive, to be happy. My bloodline has been tied to him for over a thousand years; it was always going to end with us meeting.

I just set it up so that he'd know the reason to he needs to protect me.

I am sorry that I had to leave. I miss the three of you every day, more than I can ever say. So yeah, I'm safe, healthy, and happy out here in the middle of nowhere. The next time I write you, I'll probably in a new ass-crack on nowhere because that's where werewolves like to hang out. It sucks, but there you go. (It totally doesn't suck; I'm having a great adventure and travelling with the one guy who can probably keep me safe. I use probably because who knows what else is out there.

Please don't lose the pictures I keep sending you; I'm relying on you to keep track of my adventures; god knows I'd lose whatever I wrote down myself.

Stay safe, stay healthy, and that'll keep me happy!

Hugs and kisses,
Elena'

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She finishes her letter and four write-ups of their adventure so far when the first werewolf splutters back to life. Katerina's neck has been snapped sixteen times. Klaus' face doesn't move in the slightest when he does it, but each time the deed is done, the huddle of humans collectively flinch.

"Elena, Love. Move your underaged ass over here."

"Oh, haha, very funny." Regardless of the comment chosen specifically to irritate her, Elena bounces across the handful of metres that separate the two of them, holding one wrist out before her.

(She's never done this before. The one-time Klaus had drunk from her had been the night of the ritual, an action done with the express intent of draining her dry)

He takes her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as werewolf-McGee coughs and splutters beside them. His thumb brushes over the sharp jolt of her wrist bone, the pads of his fingers seeking the thrumming of her pulse. With his head bent ever so slightly, with the burning gaze he offers her from beneath his lashes, Klaus could almost pass for a Disney prince about to confess his love.

Then he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of her wrist and the image is ruined.

Elena swears beneath her breath, hissing and spluttering from the startling pain (it hadn't made it easier, knowing it was coming) and she drops to her knees as Klaus lowers her wrist, her hand still held tight in his own. He grabs at the werewolf's hair with his free fingers, directing his mouth to her wrist with the action and a command of "drink."

He's the first of many.

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Elena isn't wrong; she does faint. Not quite like the fourteenth century maidens, though not quite like the drunkards the streets now house on a night. No, her eyes just slide shut and she stumbles forwards, right into his waiting arms.

She got through feeding all the werewolves though, so that's a plus point. She's probably lost more blood than he'd have liked though. The first werewolf- no, his first hybrid creation stares at him, having just broken Katerina's neck for the twenty-first time since they arrived in this clearing.

"Keep doing that whenever she wakes up until I tell you not to," Klaus instructs, kneeling on the ground to better support Elena. It's not the first time today that he's tearing into his own wrist, but it is the first time he's done it without the intention of turning the intended recipient.

"Come on then, Sweetheart, drink up." He presses his wrist to her lips, other hand cradling the back of his head. She's semi-conscious, enough to recognise the blood for the healing agent it is. Her own wrist is already healing up nicely, though it'll scar. He'll have to keep opening her up on that wrist; no need to scar both arms, after all. Just until he can get organises enough for her to make blood donations the human way. Of course, if he'd thought ahead, they could have done things that way but he'd been… Hasty. In his defence, Klaus isn't exactly used to things falling so effortlessly into his lap. If only he'd been checking the mail to his New York apartment more often, the he might have been able to kickstart this whole thing even earlier. That the letter from his little doppelgänger had gone unnoticed for months (that he may not have even seen it before she managed to get her fragile human self killed) is a dreadful thought. Nonetheless, he's here now. She's here now.

"Mmm, Klaus?"

"There she is," Klaus all but purrs, keeping one hand to her back as Elena struggles to sit up. She peers up at him with blurry eyes set in a terribly pale face. Yes, next time, less than twelve werewolves. Either than, or he'll find them with some pre-extracted blood already to hand. "How are you feeling, Love?"

"Like I've wormed my way into the Biggest Bad's good graces."

Klaus laughs, a surprised, bark of a sound that echoes in the clearing, a sound that draw the attention of all those present. Barring the unconscious Katerina of course.

"I'd say your feeling's quite right there, Sweetheart. Up for a princess carry?"

"Oooh, definitely."

Scooping Elena up into his arms (it's ridiculously easy; girl's probably not even nine stone, it's like she's barely there), Klaus allows her to curl close, to rest her head on the curve of his collarbone.

"You know, Beauty and the Beast was always my favourite Disney movie." Elena taps at his chest with one hand as she says it, as if he should understand the referenced to a children's movie. It's not exactly something that's on his to-do list right now, though he supposes he could indulge his wonderful little doppelgänger (third time must be the charm after all, their partnership is perfect; she's his little seer, his little hybrid-maker, his doppelgänger), what with all she's done for him. After he secures her bloodline, that is. The clinic is their next stop once he's got these minions whipped into a semblance of order. That and dealing with Mikael if what Elena has said about his current state of being proves true.

So much to do and it will be so much easier than he'd have considered it a month ago.

"You do realise this is the rest of your life right here, don't you, Love?" Elena hums into his chest, one hand groping at a pectoral and Klaus smothers a laugh behind his closed lips.

"Stuck with this hotness forever? I can live with that."

So, though this is a spin-off of Absconding from Helen, you can probably read it without having read that one.

Enjoy?

Tsume
xxx