"Funny," Elijah murmured playing a smile as he pressed the glass to his lips.

"And what is that?" Damon turned from the fireplace to the window, his hands folded in his lap, a half empty glass of whiskey on the end table beside him. His eyes were slightly closed, and although his shoulders were slouched Elijah could see how Damon's muscles tensed as he spoke.

But Elijah just chuckled, the whites of his teeth just barely showing. He turned toward the fire, the light from the flames licking at the shadows on his face. "You and your brother remind me a lot of Klaus and myself."

"I wouldn't flatter yourself," Damon mumbled. Not once had he looked up to view the man on the adjacent couch.

Elijah shifted crossing one leg over the other as he did so. "I only tell the truth, Damon, and the truth is nothing but a warning." When Damon stayed silent, Elijah continued with narrowed eyes. "I can only hope I haven't told you the truth too late."

Again Damon said nothing. "I mean look at us," Elijah spread his arms out with a cheery purr, "You and Klaus destroying everything you cross. You're family, your friends your lovers," Elijah finished the last word with almost a hiss. Damon's jaw had tightened, his focus back on the fireplace. "And poor Stefan and I, left to pick up the pieces." Elijah was grinning now, a predatory glance as he continued mercilessly. "Why, just look at what happened to our mothers."

Glass screamed as it met the wooden floor. Damon was out of the chair now, his once calm façade broken. His chest heaved as his hand whipped toward the doors of the Salvatore house. "Get out."

"Sit down," Elijah purred unperturbed by his host's outburst.

"Get out."

"Now Damon, let's not do anything brash. I was just trying to make conversation," Elijah said with humor in his throat.

Damon jumped from the living room long, quick strides as he raced to reach the door. As his hand reached for the door knob a hand clutched his wrist and Damon swiveled around his other arm drawn back.

Elijah chuckled at the young man. "Calm down, boy," he held up a fresh glass of whiskey, "and drink up." Damon snatched at the cup but Elijah pulled it away, the bronze liquid not even moving for a breath. "Try not to break this one. You've already left quite a bit of a mess to clean up."

"What do you want?" Damon growled.

"I just want a talk, young Salvatore. I wouldn't want history to repeat itself." Elijah laughed again after a moment of silence. "Not much of a talker tonight. But please, sit down," he motioned towards the previous seats, flakes of glass still littering the floor. "We have quite a bit to talk about before the others get back."

Elijah moved towards the table and filled another glass with whiskey. Without a pause Damon swept by, snatching the bottle from Elijah's hand and dutiful slunk back into the armchair by the fire, glass snapping beneath his feet as he walked.

Grinning Elijah took his seat on the couch taking a careful sip from his drink. "If you're comfortable, I suppose I'll begin."

Damon took a deep drink from the bottle.