Paris, Month One

The blonde had been staring at Stefan all night, dancing with many different partners, male and female, but keeping her eyes securely on him. Consequently, it surprised neither of them when she wound her way through the crowd to sidle up to him and murmur, "Bon soir, cheri."

Stefan said nothing and gave her only a fleeting glance before returning his attention to his drink.

"Non parlez-vous francais, cheri?" she continued, not giving up, "That is all right - I speak some English."

"Stefan, what a pretty little bird you've captured," Klaus exclaimed appreciatively, gliding effortlessly toward them from his perch at the bar. "Comment allez-vous, ma petite?"

"Dominique Renault," she whispered conspiratorially to Klaus, following it up with a little giggle.

"Un nom tres jolie," he said gallantly, raising her hand to his lips. "But you said you knew English, my pet?"

"A little," she replied, her words only slightly obscured by her accent. "I find that it allows me to meet interesting people."

"Oh, then I think tonight is your lucky night, my dear," Klaus said, placing his other hand on top of hers and looking deeply into her eyes. "For my friend and I have led terribly, terribly interesting lives. We've done things a pretty little girl like yourself could never even dream of."

"I would love to hear about them. Perhaps over a drink at...your place?" she asked coyly.

Klaus rewarded her boldness with a smile, then turned to Stefan and said, "Oh, I think that could be arranged, don't you Stefan?"

"This is your party, Klaus, do what you like," Stefan said stiffly, putting his drink down on the bar.

"Ignore my friend's rudeness, mon coeur," Klaus said, turning back to Dominique, "He is pining for a girl who is far away."

"How sad," Dominique said, turning to Stefan and dragging her hand slowly down his chest. "Perhaps with a little work, I can make him forget her, at least for the evening."

"Oh, I do hope so," Klaus said seriously, taking Dominique by the hand and leading her out of the club, using his eyes to signal Stefan to follow.

With no light to guide them but the moon, the three wound their way through the serpentine back streets of Paris until they arrived at the faded red door of a dilapidated old house.

"This...is your place?" Dominique asked hesitantly, perhaps weighing for the first time the wiseness of her decision.

"Oh, don't be frightened," Klaus soothed her, "You're perfectly safe as long as you're with us." Before it could occur to Dominique that perhaps Klaus was what she should be afraid of, he had opened the door, crossed the foyer, and beckoned her up the winding staircase, which years of disuse had rendered creaky and dust-covered.

"Don't you find that there's something terribly romantic about ruined splendor?" he murmured, never breaking eye contact with her. "It's so atmospheric."

"Yes...I suppose," Dominique said, looking concernedly at the grand house around her as if it might fall down at any second.

When they reached the master bedroom, which was still in remarkably good condition, Klaus wound his left hand round Dominique's neck and began kissing her, while using his right to untie the knot holding together the flimsy halter dress she had been wearing, which slipped quickly to the ground.

"Tell me, is your family Parisian, Dominique?" he asked as he moved to stand behind her, moving his fingers lightly and seductively over her hips and bending down to kiss her neck.

"Oui," she murmured with a little smile, Klaus's nearness distracting her from her earlier fears, "We have lived here for many generations. My grandmother used to say there had been Renaults in Paris since before the Revolution."

"Then perhaps it will intrigue you to wonder," Klaus said softly, "While you scream and beg for your life, whether it was some ancestor of yours who did the same when I was last here, all those centuries ago."

A panicked and confused "Quoi?" was all Dominique got out before she started screaming at Klaus's teeth sinking into her neck. She attempted to get away, but he quickly seized her wrists in an iron-like grip and continued to drink more and more of her blood. After about half a minute, Klaus brought his head up and let out an appreciative laugh, blood dripping from his bared fangs.

"Stefan, you must try this," he pronounced, "The highest quality French fare I've had since we got here. Even better than that Algerian exchange student, and she was delectable."

Dominique took this opportunity to look deeply into Stefan's eyes and plead with him, "Please, monsieur, please. Help me."

Stefan stared at her for a few moments, his eyes filled with pain, then walked slowly toward her and took her face in his hands, taking care to hold her gaze.

"You are in a calm, happy place," he said quietly, "You feel no pain. Everything is going to be fine."

"Everything is going to be fine," she repeated monotonously after him, her body relaxing as her struggles ceased.

"Have you been listening at all this past month, Stefan?" Klaus asked exasperatedly. "How many times must I tell you? - a real ripper enjoys the hunt. You still have much to learn. As punishment, you must completely drain her yourself."

He threw the now docile Dominique toward Stefan, who caught her and, after staring at Klaus for a moment, released his fangs and sank them into her neck. Once the first taste of her blood hit his lips, he knew he could not have stopped, even without Klaus's command. As Stefan dug his fangs deeper and deeper into Dominique's neck, sucking out her blood greedily, desperately, Klaus sat on the bed opposite him, eyes never leaving Stefan, mouth arranged in a cruelly amused smile.

When Dominique was dead and her body completely devoid of blood, Stefan let her drop to the floor and, shooting a look of hatred at Klaus, stalked into the bathroom to wash off the blood that was now covering his face and chest.

"Oh don't look at me like that," Klaus called after him, "Like I'm the bad, bad man and you're the innocent victim. This isn't they way I planned it either, you know; I wanted a wingman, a real right hand, not a sullen hostage."

"Well, what did you expect, Klaus?" Stefan said angrily, returning to the bedroom. "You blackmailed me into leaving my home, not to mention the girl I love, my brother, my friends, just to follow you around to a series of hole-in-the-wall clubs to feed on pathetic human girls who have no idea what they're getting into."

"I expected you to live up to your part of the bargain." Klaus said sternly.

"You traded me Damon's life for my companionship and obedience," Stefan said coldly, "But me liking the things you make me do was never part of the agreement. You thought all it would take to revert my character was a little human blood, but I'm afraid I'm a little bit stronger than that."

Klaus stood in silence for a few moments, appraising him, then changed tactics. "Come on Stefan," he whispered, winding his way around him like a snake. "Don't you ever get tired of it? Putting all that energy toward being so good all the time? Spending every waking moment with a little voice in your head saying, 'Control yourself, Stefan,' 'Reign it in, Stefan,' 'Not too much now, Stefan,'

"If I don't control myself, people die," Stefan replied through gritted teeth, throwing a small glance at Dominique's body.

"Oh yes, sainted Stefan, always so concerned with human life," Klaus mocked. "But then again, that's right, your soft spot for humans goes farther than that, doesn't it? You have actually gone and convinced yourself you love one of them."

"Don't you dare say I don't love Elena!" Stefan snapped.

"I'm sorry, of course you do," said Klaus, his voice couched in mock remorse. "I forgot, you two were made for each other by tiny little angels, you would do anything to protect her, she thinks the sun rises and sets in your eyes, do stop me if it all gets too pathetically human!" Klaus's whipped out the last few words as if they were weaponized before returning his voice to its deceptively calm timbre . "My God, Stefan, do you even remember any more?"

"Remember what?" Stefan asked, losing patience.

"Remember what it was like to be extraordinary," Klaus replied. "To leave formerly great cities in burning ruins, to watch powerful men and women begging for their lives and hurling gold at your feet like you were some kind of god! I picked you for my companion because I'd heard stories of the damage you inflicted. 'Stefan Salvatore' they said, 'A real ripper,' they said to me. But you're of no use to me like this. I might as well have taken the little blonde cheerleader with me - at least she'd know how to have a good time."

"What more do you want from me?" Stefan shouted.

"I want you to stop pretending to be something other than what you are," Klaus shouted back. "I want you to stand up and start acting like -"

"Oh, what," Stefan asked mockingly, "A 'real man'"

Klaus' eyes gleamed as he replied, his voice dangerously soft, "Oh no, not a real man. A real vampire." With that he was on Stefan in a flash, sinking his teeth into his neck.

Stefan shouted at the pain of the poisonous bite and pushed Klaus away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Klaus laughed, Stefan's blood dripping from his mouth, and replied, "Showing you that a real vampire takes what he wants."

Stefan sped over to loom over him. "And what if what I want is to hit you so hard your head comes flying off?"

Klaus smiled appreciatively and got out, "Then I guess you'd better-" before he was interrupted by Stefan throwing him into an antique armoire on the other side of the room.

Klaus' previous laugh did not compare with the cackle he let out now, which was bordering on a howl, as he slowly picked himself up off the floor and said, "Now you're getting it," before knocking Stefan to the ground in a lightning-fast tackle. Stefan took the opportunity of Klaus' proximity to sink his fangs into his forearm.

To his surprise, Klaus did not withdraw, but pressed his arm to Stefan's mouth, urging him to drink more. Stefan did so, finding himself surprisingly unable to stop; Klaus's blood was like nothing else he'd ever tasted before.

"You didn't think curing werewolf bites was the only special property of my blood, did you?" Klaus asked, amused. "It has many other much more intriguing side effects: improved speed and strength, a feeling of invincibility...increased libido."

After a split second, Stefan shoved Klaus off of him and said, "Well, then feeding it to me wasn't very smart, was it?" In a flash, he had broken a chair in two and was flying at Klaus with a make-shift stake he had fashioned from it; Stefan's increased speed meant that Klaus only just managed to turn his body so the weapon missed his heart and sank harmlessly into his shoulder instead.

Klaus let out a broken little laugh, which became a groan when Stefan drove the stake in deeper. He looked directly at Stefan and asked, "Come on, Stefan, what do you want? Tell me what you want."

Stefan returned his gaze, eyes burning with blood lust, and hissed, "I want...to cause you pain," before he removed the stake and drove it into Klaus's stomach, causing him to buck against the wall Stefan was pressing him into.

"Then...take it," Klaus panted out, never breaking eye contact with Stefan, even as Stefan let out a primal scream and withdrew the stake only to plunge it in again, over and over and over until he had exhausted himself.

"You want me to hurt, to ache," Klaus whispered weakly, "You want to make me feel as helpless as I've made you feel. You want to control me completely. So do it."

Stefan felt the anger he'd been building up toward Klaus over the past month well up inside him until it was all that was left - just a wave of heat coursing and burning inside him. But standing there, staring into Klaus's eyes, body pressing him against the wall, something entirely unforseen happened.

By some strange, inexplicable alchemy, Stefan's want to hurt Klaus became so large and overwhelming that it turned into pure want, and before he knew what he was doing, Stefan was crashing his lips down on Klaus's.

The kiss was rough, angry, all-consuming; Stefan's still bared fangs scraped along Klaus's lips, drawing blood, the intoxicating flavor of which Stefan could taste in Klaus's mouth. He didn't pause for a second, but kept kissing him progressively more fiercely, darting his tongue in and out of Klaus's mouth and using it to search for any remaining blood.

Klaus, for his part, had soon removed both their shirts at vampire speed, and was dragging his nails into Stefan's back with such fervor that Stefan jerked his head up and let out a small hiss at the pain. Klaus took this opportunity to flip their positions on the wall as he tangled his fingers in Stefan's hair and yanked so Stefan's lips were once more pressed into his.

Soon they were hurtling themselves around the room, the kissing becoming as violent as their previous fight had been. Stefan had never experienced anything like this before; it was like they were tearing each other apart, bit by bit, before reassembling the pieces and starting again. Nothing seemed able to stop them - not the shards of glass that rained down when Klaus smashed Stefan into a seventeenth century mirror, or even the oak desk collapsing beneath them while Stefan was straddling Klaus on top of it.

But when Klaus tackled him to the floor, fangs scraping teasingly over Stefan's neck, and Stefan turned his head to allow Klaus better access, he was horrified to find himself looking into Dominique's eyes, gazing with the unfocused stare of the dead that nevertheless seemed to be directed straight at him. As her last words echoed jarringly in his head, "Please, monsieur, please. Help me," he pushed Klaus away with an anguished yell.

Klaus hit the wall with a thud, and as he picked himself up from the floor, looked amusedly at Stefan and said, "My, Stefan, you are a tease."

"What the hell did you do to me?" Stefan shouted, his whole body starting to shake, "A spell? A potion? Some kind of silent compulsion? Tell me, damn it!"

"I did nothing," Klaus replied matter-of-factly, raising his hands elegantly in a gesture of blamelessness. "My rocky relationship with witches makes a spell or potion unlikely, and I can hardly have compelled you since you've been covertly taking vervane since the day I picked you up in Mystic Falls."

Stefan's eyes widened, and he started, "But how did you...?"

Klaus stared at him, eyes hard, and said, "I told you then, Stefan, and I'll tell you again. I've been around for a very long time, and I rarely get played for a fool."

"No, dear boy," he continued, walking slowly toward Stefan, "I'm afraid you must accept that the simplest answer is the true one: what just happened between us happened because you wanted it to. You are going to have come to terms with the fact that the part of you which you've been trying so desperately to submerge beneath your noble intentions will no longer be ignored. That as much as you want to deny it, in your heart of hearts you know that, at your core, you are just...like...me."

"I will never be like you!" Stefan said vehemently, "I will fight you every inch of the way, Klaus, and so help me, I will win."

"It's only been a month, and the strain of keeping up your shield of virtue is already proving too much," Klaus said, amused, "How do you expect to last a decade?"

Stefan was too angry to do anything other than send him a look of pure hatred before storming out of the house and into the comforting darkness of the deserted, silent streets below. He would have sworn Klaus's cold laughter followed him even after he was long out of earshot.