THE REAPING – Chapter 01

*This is the fourth book of the series. You could probably read it alone, but it all ties together so it may be a more satisfying read if you give the others a run through – I like to keep all four books tied together so I reference things that have happened in the previous stories quite often.

ELENA's POV

My reaction is immediate – I've been trained to respond this way from years of living in fear for my life, for the lives of my friends and family. The prickly sensation of my nerves coming alive, moving into an over-sensitive state, it runs up my spine and tickles the back of my neck – at the same time, the skin on my arms is covered in those tiny, very telling, goosebumps. My chest is tight, my lungs barely moving oxygen in an out of my body as my blood rushes through my veins with the brutality of a raging river.

The small, seaside market that we've shopped at for the past two years is suddenly not so familiar – now that I feel a predators eyes on me, now that I sense a coming attack – each isle seems ominous, the dim florescent lighting casting threatening shadows.

Until now, I've never noticed how confining this place is.

The rows of prepackaged and canned foods are much too close together for me to be able to put up any kind of resistance. The brightly colored boxes and labels, with their cursive Thai alphabet for the locals and small print English for people like me, they make it difficult to spot anything out of the ordinary – too much color, too little pattern. It's a small miracle that Allie and Grayson are with Mae as it gives me the freedom to just walk away from the half full cart of groceries.

I take a step back, inhale deeply, slowly, and focus my dancing, nervous eyes on my white knuckles - my fingers gripping the handle of the cart much too tightly. It's been so very long since I've experienced being stalked… but something deep in my gut tells me it's coming from in front of me, to my left – watching me from the safety of the dark, hollow corner - sheltered by the upright freezer cases.

Another step away, pivoting on the heel of my flip flop, I think I catch a glimpse of someone moving in the very corner I am concerned about, but I don't have time to stop and look –my best defense is and always was to just get away. Distance.

I'm too small to fight.

It's been five months, but I'm still weak in my back and torso from being pregnant with Grayson.

So, no – I am not going to stay for a battle. I am not going to linger around and inspect the movement in that shadowed corner.

Moving quickly towards the door, I catch Mr. Mookjai – the very old, very monotone, very unfriendly owner – giving me a look that is even more aggravated and cross than his usual glower. Not stopping or even slowing my pace, I return his stare with a quick smile and welcome the warm breeze against my heated skin as I step out of his small, unair-conditioned shop and into the hustling mid-day crowd.

I don't know what it is that makes me pause just outside of the entrance to Mookjai Cadkeb – I'll blame it on the rickshaw passing so closely that my hair wooshes back off my shoulders and the smell of fresh fish and maybe-not-so-fresh produce waiting to be sold invading my nostrils. Whatever it is, I stop too long.

I know I've committed a terrible mistake – this pause – when I feel my body tense, being squeezed tightly by an electric-like aura, the quality of the atmosphere sitting heavy against me.

My feet begin to move before my brain can send any synapsis at all. As I've said, I'm used to be chased. My body knows how to react without thought.

Again, I'm thankful Allie and Grayson are with Mae – thankful that I am not pregnant, thankful that I've lost most of my pregnancy bulk as I weave through the crowd of dark hair and dark skin and loud calls to sell a multitude of items. It's both good and bad that the street market is full of window shoppers and slow grazing customers – I'm able to mix into the crowd and try and lose myself amongst the vast amount of people and things. The market may appear to be an unorganized mixture of tables and tents and barrels of fish and wooden crates of vegetables but I know this place very well – I can wind through this maze swiftly, but he's moving quickly too.

I can feel him. Sense him.

So close behind me, nearly on my heels.

I don't have to look behind me to know that he's moving in, getting closer, much better at playing his part than I am at mine. I've been the victim for a little more than seven years while he's been the hunter for centuries.

I have no chance at escape.

The thought runs through me like a shockwave, all the way through my veins and resonates in my bones as I take a quick turn through a make-shift store – a red, canvas tent with hundreds of seashell and beach glass wind chimes. Finally through them, I'm not in the crowd for more than eight seconds before I hear the same clinging and chiming and rustling of seashells that rang into the air as I passed – he's that close.

Eight seconds.

And he's closing in. His strides are longer than mine, his steps more confident.

I don't take the time to be for-sure, but I know I'm getting strange looks from those around me as I hop on one foot to remove my foamy-soled flip flop - then switch legs and remove the other. I can almost feel him smile at me - amused. We both know that the flip flops weren't slowing me down to the point that now that they are removed and shoved into my bag I'll be able to get away. Ducking under the railing and entering the covered shopping area, I shake my head – frustrated with myself for taking off my shoes as I know the move was futile and may have helped close the already small distance between us even more.

Moving past a few tables selling jewelry, socks, knock-off sunglasses, I can see the canal on the other side – I can smell the water – it's no more than thirty yards away. My escape! So close! A few steps more, my eyes on the murky green-brown water that will be my saving grace, I make a huge mistake.

The worst mistake.

Rule number one when being stalked, hunted… the prey must always watch their line of movement. Every step must be calculated in advance – your eyes must be on your path, not on your goal, not on the predator.

Still focused on the canal and the water and the sure-to-be-waiting-for-me long-tailed boat taxi, I'm not watching where I'm going and I'm not planning out my path and I step out in front of a tuk-tuk moving faster than it should be on it's three wheels and through a crowd of people shopping.

Again, I stop. Right in it's line – I stop.

I can feel the heat of it's engine and the rumbling of the tires against the concrete below my bare feet – hear the driver lay on the horn – but I can't move. It's too close. Much much too close.

And then I'm in his arms – pressed against a wooden support beam, his heavy green gaze on my face.

I can't look at him. My lips shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me, my skin much too aware of his warm, secure embrace – like being enveloped by something tailored just to you, perfectly fit.

He's angry with me for that mistake; nearly getting hit by the taxi – I know it because of the frequency we share. It's how I knew he was in the grocery store, it's how I knew he was behind me… it's how I've always known Stefan without laying eyes on him. Right now, our gravity, it's changed from the playful, cat and mouse, slightly sexual charge and is much less fun, much less easy… Stefan's angry with me.

And just like every time he's angry with me or upset about something I've done or said, I want it over with – I want him in every way possible. It's why my breath is shaky and my skin is fully away of his fingers gripping my hips - his firm body pinning against me.

I try a joke, "Perfect timing, Mr. Salvatore."

How many times has he saved my life?

It's a terrible thing to lose count of, but it's happened so many times; Stefan showing up at the exact right moment and removing me from harm… though this may be the first time since he's been human.

When I finally look up at his burning green eyes, the thought that Stefan doesn't need vampire senses or supernatural tricks to be the hero enters my mind and increases my want for my husband.

His brow is low, eyebrows knitted together – those perfectly soft lips pressed into a straight line telling me that he doesn't find my joke amusing.

I don't know if I'll ever get used to the way his body feels now that he's human – the softness and the warmth of his skin that was missing when he was a vampire. My hands are curled around his well formed, hard cut biceps and though I've felt his muscular arms before – I've licked and kissed and tasted them even – but before I move my hands to his face I gently squeeze and delight in the hard muscles of my husbands beautiful, strong, never-failing arms.

"Stefan," I feel him relax a bit and I can't tell you if it's because of my hands touching his face every so gently or me saying his name. "I'm fine."

I should be looking into his eyes – those burning, beautiful, telling green eyes that make me weak in the knees still, after seven years together – but I'm watching his mouth, wanting his mouth.

"I shouldn't have chased you." He says quietly, my lips moving towards his is uncontrolled – not forced, almost involuntary; we haven't seen each other in nearly a full day. It's the longest we've been apart since I found him and Allie here in Thailand. Since then, we haven't spent more than nine hours away from each other and that's just while I am working.

Ignoring his unnecessary guilt – I was enjoying being chased by him, playing out the ways I'd let him catch me, the things I'd let him do to me once caught… - I brush back the short hair over his ears and place a soft, slow kiss on his lips as he presses our bodies together his with his hands splayed flat on the lowest low of my back.

Kissing Stefan is like coming up for air – every time. Seven years later. Two full years of just us – no drama, no threats – and every kiss sets me on fire; an internal burn for him that is never satisfied.

His hands split – leaving my lower back, one moves further up my shirt, the other grazing down my rear to my hip – our kiss getting hotter, deeper. I forget that we're surrounded by a hundred people, that I'm covered in a sheen of sweat from the humid heat. I don't know how far I'd be willing to go, his hand pulling my leg up around his waist for a moment before he pulls away – his beautiful smile against my hungry lips – it's always Stefan who has the control. With him, I give myself completely. He knows it and he enjoys it… knowing what he does to me.

We're both breathless from our kiss – from breaking apart far from where we wanted it to lead. Resting his forehead against mine, I can hear his delight when he says "You have no idea how badly I missed you."

I do. I missed him just the same. But I'm not going to tell him how I cried myself to sleep last night… he probably already knows. Stefan knows me through and through.

Changing the subject as I am a little embarrassed by how emotional I was about spending the night alone, I ask "How was their flight?"

Kissing my forehead, he moves back and glances around quickly – I follow his gaze and notice many unhappy faces looking our way. Two American's making out in the market is apparently not looked at fondly. I don't care – they don't know him, they can't possibly understand my love for Stefan. Still, I'm surprised when Stefan kisses my mouth once more, still passionate and loving, but quicker – he doesn't care either.

Lacing his fingers with mine, Stefan gives a small laugh, "You know how Katherine is.", then brings my hand to his face and kisses my fingers.

Do I? I guess so… she's cold and vindictive and has to have what she wants when she wants it. Now that I think about it, asking Katherine to sit in a commercial flight from New York to Bangkok was probably like asking a bull to sit still in a china closet.

"And Damon?" The question escapes my lips before I can think about how Stefan may take to me asking about his brother.

Thankfully, Stefan doesn't seem to falter in the slightest, giving a shrug and saying "Damon handles Katherine much better than anyone else possibly could."

I haven't seen Damon and Katherine together – like as a couple together, so honestly, I don't know what Stefan means by that, but it makes sense. He and Katherine are so much alike. Atleast they were as vampires – it bothers me, really irritates me that I've been wondering about how Damon will be now that he's human.

We haven't seen Damon, or anyone else for that matter, since the day Gia and Bonnie spelled us all and broke the blood line curse – saving Allie and bringing me back to life as a human. I didn't remember Damon back then, not the way I do now. Everything that his compulsion took away from me returned when I woke in that crypt – all of my memories of loving Stefan… and of loving Damon.

Nothing has changed – Stefan is my soulmate. I've always known that Stefan was my choice. That's why I'm so angry with myself for wondering about Damon…

"Where are you?" Stefan asks, brushing my hair off my shoulders. It's how he asks me what I'm thinking without asking me what I'm thinking.

Shrugging, I sigh, "I'm nervous I guess."

Damon and Katherine, Bonnie, Jeremy and the twins, Lola and Liam, Caroline and Klaus – when we planned this big get together, I was so excited! It was my idea even, but that was more than a year ago when I was cute pregnant with Grayson and not frumpy and worn-through from carrying a nine pound Salvatore boy. I've been working out and eating right as much as I can for the last three months. I'm back in my pre-pregnancy clothes, but I still don't feel right - I can't help that I'm almost shaking nervous about having to stand next to the always-perfect Caroline and my husband's first love, Katherine… both of which he's got a history with.

Pursing his lips, I can see Stefan choosing his words carefully – we've argued about this off and on for the last few weeks. Every day getting closer and closer to today – the day of everyone's arrival – and every day I'd get a little more tense, a little more self-conscious. Stefan's never been the kind of guy to have a wondering eye or to fantasize about other girls, but let's face it; I haven't exactly been the Elena of old lately. I've been much too concerned about my not-as-tight-as-they-used-to-be abs to let him touch my stomach. We went a full year taking showers together – yes, a full year without missing a single night of making out beneath a stream of hot water and falling into our bed with our skin still steaming from the shower and making love – sometimes laughing and playful, other times intense and passionate. Now I won't even let him see me naked with the light on…

My brain keeps saying, no Stefan would never! while that annoying little voice in the back of my mind whispers, he's a guy, a guy that's been with Katherine and Caroline… of course he's excited about seeing them.

"Elena. I love you." Stefan says through a frown, kissing my fingers – just below my wedding ring. "You own me. You truly have nothing to worry about." To this day, hearing him say that – you own me – it thrills me, radiates light into my bone marrow. "But if you want I'll tell them to go home. All of them."

I laugh, picturing Stefan telling everyone to get back on a plane for another seventeen hours – that would go over really well. "I'm serious. It doesn't bother me at all. I got to see Damon – I know he's alright and Katherine hasn't murdered him in his sleep." Again I laugh – but, Stefan has actually been a little worried about that. He says Katherine, human or vampire, should be feared. "Everyone else, I don't care about seeing." I frown, he's lying. "Ok, I'd like to see Caroline, but it's not a big deal."

I feel like a petulant child. Stefan my caretaker burdened with my low self esteem and my incessant need for reassurance – both are bi-products left over from the compulsion, as well as from the raging hormones still not yet back to normal after having our very handsome son, Grayson. Shaking my head no, I pretend to be looking at a piece of beach-glass jewelry when I ask, "Where are they now?"

Stefan smiles, remembering something humorous, "After the long flight, then another seven hour drive here, they were in need of some space away from each other, so I dropped them off at the bed and breakfast."

I run it through in my mind – Jeremy and family landed two hours ago, so they should be in town by nightfall and will stay with us. Caroline and Klaus are coming in tomorrow via private jet, then a private local flight. That gives me a few hours to go home, shower, and put on my best you don't intimidate me in the slightest persona.

I'm quiet too long, my eyes too still to be looking at the jewelry. Stefan rests his hand against my lower back and says quietly into my ear. "I'm serious, Elena… I'll tell them to go. Just say the word and I'll give them some story and take the blame." When his hand slips around my waist, moving towards my stomach as he pulls me back against him in what should be a sweet hug, my over-concerned brain moves from his embrace before his fingers touch my belly. I don't look at him – I don't have to, I can sense his frown.

I hate it – not feeling comfortable with him touching me, making him feel rejected, restricting his access to his wife's body – so I give a nonchalant, "No, it's okay." and take his hand in mine, pretending to look for the exit. "Let's go back to Mr. Mookjai's and get some groceries." I start to move, but Stefan is stone still and even as human he's so much stronger than me… he doesn't budge. Giving my best smile, I look at his beautiful Roman face, so perfectly shaped and cut into what a man should look like… I have to push away the thoughts of Caroline and Katherine loving his face as much as I do. "I'm fine, Stefan, really."

Not really, but what choice do I have? Damon and Katherine are already here – Caroline and Klaus are probably in the air while Jeremy and Bonnie are only a couple hours away – too late to back out now.

STEFAN's POV

I wasn't around for Allie's birth. I wasn't there to see how Elena felt or to compare our first pregnancy to the second so I have no clue if this is normal for Elena. But after reading and researching, I've learned that having some body issues is one hundred percent normal after having a child.

I can tell you as a man who knows every single curve and dip, each muscle and freckle, every inch of his wife's body, Elena doesn't look much different from the first day I met her.

For the life of me I can't figure out why she thinks she looks frumpy or out of shape. I've been watching her all day – from the sidelines after dropping Damon and Katherine at their hotel and finding her in the market, then the rest of the afternoon that we spent lazily wasting away our last few hours of solitude trolling through the various tents and tables, sneaking kisses, playfully flirting... She wore a white tank top and olive green short shorts, not hiding much, and I have to say that after a couple of hours inspecting her, her body is, as always, calling to me.

I crave her… crave her touch, her skin against mine, her body in my hands. The curve of her hips, the deep arc of her waist, her long, firm legs… her neck, her breasts, her beautiful face… she looks no different. So – while it's normal for her to have some body conscious issues, they are completely groundless and though I'd deny it if anyone asks, I'm finding it more and more difficult to restrain my desire for her.

Elena is as sexy and strikingly beautiful as she always has been.

I'm still watching her – finally home from grocery shopping. As always, we split the duties. Elena nursed Grayson after I bathed him, then while she was tied up with my little guy, Allie and I read through another chapter of her children's Bible before our end of day ritual of cuddling and talking, and yes, singing. I, Stefan Salvatore, sing. She's got her mother's way of coercing me into doing anything and everything to make her happy.

I've just finished with Allie's goodnight and I've checked on Grayson, returning to the kitchen of our seaside home to find Elena putting up the groceries – stretching and reaching and bending and making my palms tingle and my mouth salivate with the thought of her.

She won't let me touch her like she used to – it's been close to a year since the last time she allowed me to make love to her the way I like – and I can't help how badly I want her. I'm lost in my thoughts of sitting her on the kitchen counter and having her taste on my tongue and her hands fisting in my hair when she turns around and says "Bonnie just sent a message – they're about an hour out."

Bonnie – she's a wonderful friend to Elena, sister-in-law I guess I should say, but her name is like a cold-shower to me. I don't know why. Bonnie is a beautiful girl… but the instant I hear her name any thoughts of making love to Elena slip away.

"Have they ate?" I start moving again, frozen in place as I watched my wife… wanting her. Opening the fridge, I look through the contents and try to think of something to put together for them. "I can make a quick salad – cut up some fruit." Imagining how beat down she and Jeremy will be after making such a long trip with two one year olds, I spot an old bottle of Petron and add with a chuckle "I can soak the fruit in tequila."

When Elena doesn't respond, not even a returned laugh at the tequila joke, I start pulling items from the shelves – spinach leaves, strawberries, a block of Asiago cheese that I used on a pasta a couple nights ago. My hands are full and for some reason my muscles tense when Elena's arms slip around my body – her hands splayed flat against my stomach. She's warm against my back – it's a strange, enticing sensation, the warmth of her on my back versus the cool of the refrigerator in front of me.

I can feel her chin moving against my back as she speaks– she's short, her face is between my shoulder blades. "Have I told you how amazing you are?" Moving her touch down my torso, I start to wonder if she was waiting for this moment - when my hands would be busy with the salad items. Unable to move, I look down, watching as one hand takes hold of my belt buckle – her thumb slipping under the waist of my jeans, the other hand moving beneath the fabric of my shirt. "I'm sorry that I've been so strange lately." Leaving a teasing kiss against my back, her fingernail scrape slow soft circles against my stomach – my abs clenching in response to her playful touch.

"I can drop all of this on the floor." I hope I sound more playful than I feel… I want her terribly. "Doesn't bother me a bit, you know."

She laughs. That sweet, teasing giggle that sends tremors of pride through me – I did that, I made her laugh. I'm sure I've told her before – it's her face and her laugh that fuels my desire for her, more than any other part of her – I can't help but wonder if this sweet sound is yet another play from her arsenal. "Are you seducing me?"

Releasing me from her embrace, Elena is covering her smile with her fingers when I turn to face her. Yes. She is seducing me. Returning her smile, I know my face an open book – less mischievous, more anxious.

Backing away from me in a slow sway, she lets me look her over as she says, "Make the salad. I can wait."

I counter her move – stepping towards her, "Maybe, but I don't know if I can."

"And deprive my brother and sister-in-law of my husband's amazing culinary skills?" Elena walks her finger tips up my arm as I sit the items on the isle she's leaning against, adding in a coy tone as she hops onto the counter and I suppress a smile as I recall my fantasy from just moments earlier, "Surely, you aren't that cruel."

Leaning into her, I kiss her softly, taking her bottom lip between my teeth and letting them scrape over her soft flesh when I pull away – my hand has found it's way to her inner thigh. "I can be as cruel as you like."

Her bottom lip is shiny, wet from my saliva when she sighs through her smile, "You are so bad, Stefan".

I look at her for a long moment, taking in the sight of my beautiful wife looking at me like she does – like I'm all she sees – all the while my thumb is grazing back and forth against the skin of her thigh, just under the fabric of her shorts. I'm wondering how far she'd let me go… how close I could come to acting out my fantasy of having her on the kitchen counter before she stops me when she adds, "Salad?"

A little frustrated, a little embarrassed by the images playing in my mind, I take my hand from her leg and run in through my hair – pressing an exhale through tight lips – then begin with the salad.

Elena watches – she always watches me cook. Every night for two years now, I clean and prepare and chop and mix and cook while Elena observes. Surely, she's picked up on something by now but this is our thing – our time together when we talk, or when we just be together in that comfortable silence that we've always shared. For me, it's the time of the day when all my worries and concerns, anything causing me stress, it slips away in her presence.

I've grated the cheese into a ceramic bowl and have started slicing the strawberries, my thoughts focusing on the task in a way of easing my high-strung desire for her, when her warm mouth against my neck surprises me. I turn into her, meet her lips with mine and when she sucks my tongue into her mouth I taste the sweet flavor of wine, feel the cool sensation of alcohol.

I want her. God you have no idea. I mean, don't get me wrong, we've had sex a handful of times since Grayson was born… but she's been reserved, scared, timid – I want to carry on with this so badly. I've got one hand trailing up and down her body and the other – stained red from the strawberries – against her face when I finally convince myself to move away from this deep, passionate kiss.

"Are you drunk?" My eyes are still closed, my mouth against her skin.

I'm licking at her neck, sucking at her soft skin as she replies, "Consider it liquid courage. I can't have my husband unsatisfied when his ex-girlfriends show up."

There are a million things Elena could have said – so many ways she could have responded – but that one sentence is probably the only thing that would make me stop, pull away.

She must see it – the heavy weight in my eyes as I look at her face. I don't know what else I can say or do to show her that there is no one else I want. No one could compare to her. I've spent the last six months telling her over and over how beautiful she is, how much I love her, how I want her – most times she takes it as a ploy for sex and it's actually caused us a few ridiculous arguments.

"Wait," My hand is still holding her face, but the other has left her body and is holding my weight on the countertop next to her hip. "I just mean. I mean I want this… I want us to be normal again and for me to get over my… my, whatever." That smile… my hand moves back to her body, holding her hip. Who am I kidding? I can't resist her. "The wine is just to help me get over the hump."

I frown at her, so confused at how she could possibly see herself as anything short of breathtaking, "You're just, Elena you're so beautiful. I wish you could see that."

Her clear, endless dark eyes are looking at my mouth, then finally at my eyes as she takes my hand from her face and kisses the tip of my smallest finger. "You make me feel beautiful." Kiss on the tip of my ring finger. "You make me feel sexy." Kiss on the tip of my middle finger. "I want you." I inhale sharply when she slips my middle finger into her mouth – her warm mouth and wet tongue slipping against my sensitive nerves makes my jaw clench tightly as I watch her lips curled around me, her eyes watching mine. Finally releasing me, she licks her lips and smiles, "You know how much I love strawberries."

"Don't start something you can't finish, Mrs. Salvatore." I nearly groan, pulling her hips closer to me – her legs wrapping around my waist as she tosses her head back and laughs, resting back on her hands so that I can't quite reach her mouth to kiss her.

"Never, Mr. Salvatore." She teases, stretching her body out in front of me – I can't tell you how delicious she looks or how hungry for her that I am.

I look at her face once more, giving her ample opportunity to back out – instead, Elena bites her bottom lip and trails her gaze down my torso. "Take off your shirt."

Quickly reacting to her command, I toss my shirt towards the dishwasher and wonder if it was wine or that Petron that I tasted as she's got plenty of courage.

When she starts to sit up, reaching out to touch my chest, I take hold of her hands and push her back down – her giggle does nothing to help ease the burn I have for her.

"You just lay back." I say, nonchalant like as I unbutton her shorts, kissing the exposed skin of her pelvis as I unzip them.

I've tugged them down, just past her hip bones, my tongue trailing against her panty line and her hands in my hair – just like I imagnined – as her body arches, pressing her skin against my lips when Allie calls to me.

I stand straight up, shirtless – caught red handed by my six year old daughter. Elena turns, slips off of the counter – her face covered by her hands though I think I can feel a blushing heat radiating off of her.

"Daddy, I saw a scorpio." She means, scorpion.

Allie is standing in the doorway holding the red, one eyed Muno doll that Pepper and Robert sent her for Christmas – I have no idea what she thinks I was doing leaned over her mother laid flat on the countertop, but from her angle she couldn't have seen much of anything. The realization makes me nearly laugh. Still terribly embarrassed and facing away from Allie, Elena nudges me the ribs with her elbow as I hold back my chuckle.

ELENA's POV

"Are you satisfied now?" Stefan asks Allie. "No, scorpions."

I'm in the main bathroom – quickly running a brush through my hair, checking to make sure I don't need a hit of deodorant or blow my nose or something. The tequila was a great idea!

All I feel is my love for Stefan, my deep need to feel him deep inside of me – to let me touch and kiss and taste and set me ablaze like only he can – two shots of tequila and all of my points of contention and my silly concerns are nowhere to be found. I'm a light-weight, thank goodness.

"I saw one, Daddy." Allie says in her tone of voice that tells me that she's telling the truth – her voice tells me she's frustrated, maybe still concerned about the scorpio she's sure she saw.

"Come on, hop in." Stefan says – I can practically see him tucking her into bed. My husband, he's amazing. He's got more patience with our daughter and our new son than any man I've ever witnessed with children. I'm not surprised though… there is nothing Stefan Salvatore cannot do.

Why that thought – the fact that Stefan is so capable, intelligent, so fully-deft in everything he does – why it makes my want for him increase, I don't know. But I quickly flip off the light and head back to the kitchen with plans to start that scene up right where we left it.

Nearly to the isle, I'm considering actually hoping back up on it when the doorbell rings.

I sigh – a big, heavy, are you kidding me sigh. I haven't seen my brother or my best friend in two years! I've never even met Lola and Liam! But here they are standing outside my door and I give a frustrated sigh… that's how badly I want Stefan.

When I open the door, Jeremy – it kind of breaks my heart that he's a grown man… - is smiling and holding Lola on his left arm and Liam on his right; both unconscious – asleep on their daddy's shoulders. I cover my mouth with both hands as my eyes fill with tears. Until this moment, actually seeing my baby brother and his children, I hadn't realized how terribly I'd missed them.

Still shirtless, Stefan has an intent stride to his walk when he comes into the kitchen – giving me a quick look that matched my heavy sigh, before smiling at Jeremy and gesturing for him to follow. Again, Stefan just knows… I don't have to direct, I don't have to remind. Jeremy has two sleeping kids in his arms – Stefan silently leads them to their bedroom for the weekend.

My eyes are watching them, peeking at the squished up chubby faces on my brothers shoulders when Bonnie slams into me, squeezing me tightly.

"Bonnie!" I squeal – quieter than if there weren't four sleeping kids within earshot, but still it's high pitched and very girly. I haven't been girly with a girlfriend in so long. I squeeze her back with the thought.

I show her around – laugh at Bonnie and Jeremy's comments about our 'bungalow' being closer to a mansion. It's not. I mean it's big and it's beautiful and Stefan makes sure that we have the best of the best – but it's only five bedrooms so that my family from the US can visit. It's right here on the beach because I wanted to be able to watch the sunset over the ocean and to let our kids play in the sand. Stefan made sure my every wish came true, my every desire he takes as his own personal project.

I'm listening to Bonnie tell us about the terrible flight – the turbulence and Liam and Lola crying, the flight attendant that may have had her eye on Jeremy – but my mind keeps wandering to Stefan. He's got his shirt back on, leaning against the door frame with his arms loosely folded across his chest – his green eyes smiling at me each time I look his way.

"Any way, I'm just so glad to be here!" Bonnie sits back on the couch, squeezing my hand. "I'm exhausted."

"And starving." Jeremy adds.

Standing straight, Stefan offers, "I was just making you guys a salad. You wanna beer?"

Jeremy nods yes, as does Bonnie, and Stefan leaves us in the living room.

"Is it possible that Stefan is getting hotter as he ages?" Bonnie teases in a near whisper voice. I look at Jeremy – he just gives a playful roll of his eyes. "How is that fair?"

She's right. He is getting more handsome with every passing day. "You should see him with Allie and Grayson."

I lean back into the couch next to Bonnie. "We got really lucky, Elena."

I chuckle – I know, trust me. I know. To end up with Stefan after everything we went through – Katherine, Klaus, the Originals, Damon… Damon's compulsion.

I'm lost in my thoughts of how grateful I am for my little family when Jeremy asks about the local attractions. I tell him that locally there isn't much – Stefan picked a very rural, somewhat dull fishing village to hide away in – but that we could go into Sikao, or head further in to see the temples and what not.

"Here you go, man." Stefan returns, handing Jeremy, then Bonnie, a beer just as I finish telling Bonnie and Jeremy about how the locals are somewhat fearful of us – how they call Allie a tree spirit.

"Have they ever tried to hurt you guys? Or like, worship at her feet or anything?" Jeremy questions after he takes a long pull from his drink.

"No," Stefan answers, "They just bring their broken Buddha's to our property for good luck or something."

After a long moment of silence where I'm watching Stefan and he's watching me while Jeremy contemplates the strange tree spirit reputation that our daughter has, Bonnie stands up and says, "No. We aren't doing this." Extending her hand to Jeremy, she laughs, "I said no supernatural stuff and I mean it. We're in Thailand, on the beach, staying at our best friends very nice, very expensive home. You take me out to the deck and cuddle with me under the stars right now, Jeremy Gilbert."

Giving a laugh, Jeremy takes her hand and stands with her, shrugging as he says in a faux-frustrated tone, "She's so demanding."

It makes me happy – I mean, truly thrilled to see Bonnie and Jeremy together. He deserves someone like her. Bonnie deserves someone like my brother. I watch them head out to the deck, then look to Stefan, now sitting on the arm rest of the couch.

We've got a rule – it's never been spoken really, not outloud, but we are both well aware of it – our rule of never saying 'Everything's going to be okay' or 'Nothing's going to happen'. But I can't help but feel that way – like our lives have finally settled into what they always should have been.

Shaking his head with a wide smile on his face, I know Stefan knows what I'm thinking. "Don't." He warns with a laugh as I stand up and extend my hand to him in the same fashion Bonnie did to Jeremy.

"Coming?" I ask. Stefan looks at my hand, then trails his gaze up my body in a painfully slow way that makes me shiver as I remember what we could be doing had we not been interrupted. When his eyes finally meet mine, he raises an eyebrow – asking me where I'm taking him. "We can cuddle under the stars." I tease – I know what he wants, but we're going to have to wait.

Taking my hand, he stands and lifts my fingers to his mouth – kissing them. "I'll be out in a second." When I frown, he continues. "I'm going to get their salads together and bring it out to them. Maybe put some music on." My Stefan… seriously, I know I can't say it – but really, he's everything.

"Okay." Standing on my tip-toes, I kiss his lips and start to leave him, but his arm tightens around my waist and he holds me in place, looking into my eyes.

"I love you."

I smile. How could I not. "I love you."

I kiss him again – let my lips linger on his a bit longer than before. When I pull away, his arm slips from my side.

"I'll be right out." He smiles, kissing me on my cheek and adding in a playful whisper against my ear, "I'm gonna cuddle you so hard."

I laugh. Hard. Pushing him away from me. Playful Stefan… I've always loved him the most.

I know. I'm not supposed to think it or say it or even almost let my mind consider it –but as I step out onto the deck and find Bonnie and Jeremy kissing like a couple of teenagers the thought enters my mind – this weekend is going to be okay, afterall.

**MORE TO COME**

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