Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

~ X ~

"Gottcha!" she murmured under breath. The blonde Original snuck into a booth in the corner of the room. Not too difficult since the entire seedy bar was dimly lit. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sour reek of stale beer permeating the air and soaked into the stained wooden floor.

She had no need to compel away a waitress. Service, if there was any, was apparently invisible.

She listened, frowning, to a dark haired girl standing wedged between her quarry and an adjacent bar stool. The dark haired girl propped her back against the bar apparently too oblivious or too drunk to care that she was crowding the patron on the next seat. She had one encroaching hand on Stefan's shoulder and other one massaged his leg just above the knee. Her loud attention grabbing laugh grated on Rebekah's nerves, and she didn't understand how Stefan tolerated it. Rebekah sniffed in disdain at the girl's cheap good looks, stemming more from heavily applied makeup then any real facial beauty.

Rebekah's upper lip curled as she watched the brunette slide her hand further up Stefan's leg, artfully managing to hold her arms so they squeezed her chest to display even more of the ample bosom straining to escape her low cut blouse.

"Looks like a cow." Rebecca hissed under her breath.

Stefan knocked off a shot and casually raised a finger at the bartender, requesting a refill. The bartender obliged, shooting an amused glance at the brunette and then a sly wink at Stefan. The vampire just rolled his eyes.

Stefan didn't appear to pay any attention to the babbling girl and wasted no time replying to any of her commonplace inane prattle.

One moment Stefan had tossed off the new shot and was draining a beer stein, and the next he casually interrupted the still chattering girl. "Do you wanna go someplace?"

She kept talking for a while, not realizing that he had actually said something, and then when his words finally penetrated through the drunken haze engulfing her brain, beamed. "Oh! Yeah! Oh sure, yes!"

Stefan dropped some money on the counter. He put one finger to his head and shot off a salute to the bartender who smirked and mouthed, "She won't be too bad if you can get her to shut up."

Stefan grimaced and got up to leave. The girl clung to his arm with both hands as she tottered along beside him. They had almost reached the door, when they were intercepted by Rebekah.

The Original roughly yanked the girl away at the same time she dilated her pupils. "Go home you drunken slut. Take some classes and learn how to dress so your picture doesn't appear in the DON'T section on the last page of a magazine. "

"Su-u-u-r-re. Sure thing." The girl slurred and left, weaving from side to side.

Stefan hadn't moved the whole time Rebekah was compelling the brunette. She turned to him. "You lost your taste in women when you left me."

Stefan attempted to brush past her. "We have nothing to say to each other."

An iron grip on his arm stopped his forward movement so abruptly it almost jerked him off his feet. Rebekah's voice was cold. "I say different."

Those green eyes that had always fascinated her were hard and his perfect lips were set in a tight thin line, but she didn't let that shake her determination. She was an Original, and she wouldn't stop until she learned what she needed to know.

She kept her voice matter-of-fact, attempting to strike the right note. The slightest indication that she was quivering on the inside, and he would try to bolt on her; too belligerent and he would fight her. "Listen to what I have to say and then you can go on your way." She uttered the lie with convincing sincerity.

His jaw tightened and a tic flicked in one cheek, but he eventually nodded and turned to a table in the corner. He sat before her, a fact that made her narrow her eyes in annoyance, and she chided him, "There was a time when you would have shown me to a seat before sitting yourself."

He just looked at her, face expressionless. "There was a time when I would do a lot of things different."

He sat slouched, elbows on the table, hands intertwined, pressed to his mouth. She took the opportunity to study him, especially his hands. How she loved his hands. Rough hands, knuckles big and scarred. Hands that could be surprisingly gentle when brushing her cheek or reassuringly strong when they needed to be. He wore a tight black T-shirt that outlined the sculpted muscles and knots in his shoulders, and the flat planes of his stomach; the short sleeves revealing chiseled arms. His hair was a little too long for the style he kept it in, and she longed to brush it back from his forehead.

She returned her gaze to what she could see of his face. The eyes that used to twinkle in the Twenties were dull and lifeless.

He sighed, straightened, and put his hands palms down flat on the table. "What do you want?" That handsome face that used to smile at her with a mischievous little boy grin, all but shouting that he was a rogue, was grim.

She didn't answer the question, instead asking, "What were you doing with that? You were always something of a gourmet when it came to choosing your food."

He made a small, ambiguous hand motion. "It all tastes the same."

"But you used to care about the presentation," she countered.

Finally he looked at her. "I'm not here to spar with you. So I'll ask again. What are you here for?"

"You," she baldly stated.

He looked at her like she had lost her mind and started to rise. She grabbed his arms and slammed him back in his seat.

He was angry now. "Really? You killed Elena, and you think I'll come back to you?"

"It wasn't just me," she coolly replied. "You could have saved her. You chose to save Matt."

He visibly winced. She hated the hurt look on his face, but she steeled herself against it.

"That's enough," he said as he started to rise, but she dilated her pupils, and he was caught. "We'll go to your place."

He tried one last time. "Why are you doing this?"

"There's things I need to know," was the simple response as she put her hand into his and pulled him outside. "Lead on," she ordered.

They walked the few blocks to his apartment complex in silence. This was not an especially good part of town. Weeds sprouted up through the cracked sidewalks, and the buildings were dingy in the harsh glare of the streetlights. Graffiti covered every surface within reach.

Stefan fished in his jeans pocket, digging out his keys and letting them in the front door. They climbed a flight of stairs, stopping in front of a door identical to every other door on the floor except for a cheap peeling label – '2F'. He jiggled the keys in the lock and opened the door, before tossing them on a nearby bureau.

Rebekah followed him in. She stood in the center of the one room flat, turning a slow circle to see a small kitchen table and wooden chairs, a narrow stove and refrigerator, closet door, glimpse of a tiny utilitarian bathroom through a half open door, and a comfortable armchair set in front of a TV hung on the wall. She was surprised to see a double bed instead of the twin size she would have expected.

"What now?" he asked.

Rebekah spoke as she slipped out of her heels. "I have a plane to catch late tomorrow night. I'm meeting my family, but I can't go until I have some answers." She put her hands on her hips. "We got the whole night, and you're going to have sex with me three different ways."

He folded his arms and laughed harshly. "Aren't you being a little optimistic?"

"No, I know you. Give you a little rest and some blood, and you're ready to go." She wagged a finger at him. "Start stripping."

He sighed and kicked off his boots, unbuckled his belt, pulling it through the loops and tossing it, before yanking the black T-shirt over his head. She admired the way his muscles moved as he pulled the shirt off and then unzipped and pushed down his jeans. He stood naked, totally unselfconscious, looking at her for directions.

She coolly ordered, "Rough first."

He grabbed her, spinning her around, ripping her blouse and slamming her up against the wall. His hand went up her skirt, with a punishing grip on her thigh, and he lifted one of her legs, pinning her to the wall, trying to hobble her. She fought back, kicking and twisting round to face him, slamming him to the opposite wall. He kissed her fiercely, biting her lip, seizing her arms in a hold that left bruises. She dug her nails into his back and ripped down as he growled with the pain. He reached down and grabbed the hem of her skirt, ripping it up to the waistband. He didn't bother removing her panties, just pushed them aside, trying to force himself into her.

As they slammed into walls and knocked over chairs faint yells reached their ears. "Keep it down up there!" A 'thump' echoed through the room, like someone banging on their ceiling with a broom handle. When he finally penetrated her he thrust into her unrelentingly, with no consideration or regard for her. They ignored the complaints, humping in a lust inspired frenzy. There was nothing loving in their actions – they were animals in rut, almost vicious in their determination to mate.

Sated at last, they sprawled on the cheap carpet, healing rug burns and welts, bruises, bites and scratches. Stefan was stretched out on his back. Rebekah sat cross-legged nearby, shreds of clothing hanging off her. She casually rose, stripping the remnants of torn garments as she walked to a bureau, opening drawers and pawing through them until she found an oversized t-shirt. As she slipped it over her head she told Stefan, "We need an energy drink."

She left, snapping an order over her shoulder. "Don't even think about leaving." She padded barefoot down the hallway, head swiveling slightly from side to side, pinpointing conversations like a bat using sonar. She halted outside an apartment where she heard both a male and female voice. Her brisk knock interrupted the conversation.

She waited, listening to the approaching footsteps, and was ready when the deadbolt was pulled back and the door opened only the width of the chain locking it. As the person opening the door peered out she pounced. "Invite me in." She waited while the man undid the chain, the female voice irritably asking what he was doing.

"Come in," he invited. Rebekah quickly confronted the woman compelling her to wait until she was sent for. She then instructed the man to follow her.

Once inside Stephan's apartment the captive obeyed Rebekah's command. "Sit on the floor against the wall and don't move or speak unless I tell you to."

The Original then turned to Stefan. "Time to rejuvenate the old love machine."

Stefan just sulked, turning his back to her. Her eyebrows rose, but she just gave him a knowing smile. "Suit yourself, but I'm hungry after all that work." She walked over to the man and knelt next to him, permitting her fangs to spring out. She casually sliced his neck, creating a flow of blood. She wasn't surprised when Stefan dashed over, sliding to his knees while sinking his teeth in with a growl, pushing her aside. She simply smirked and moved to the wrist.

After what she judged to be a sufficient feed, she ordered, "Stop, Stefan."

He reluctantly withdrew his fangs forcing them to recede into his gums. He stood up and went to the bathroom, sponging himself off. She sat on the double bed, wiggling her toes and admiring the carefully painted nails.

"Are we done now," he asked.

"Nope," she said brightly. "Sit for a while. I want to give you time to rearm." She patted the bed, but he deliberately bypassed it, lying on the floor in a blatant reproach to her. She played with a strand of her hair, curling it round her finger and then loosening it. "Want to know the results?"

"Nope."

Rebekah ignored his response. "Okay, I'll tell you." She looked up at the ceiling. "There was a time when I really enjoyed what we just did. I wanted to behave like the predator, the animal that our kind is."

She paused, pursing her lips, choosing her words carefully. "You're still good, though not quite as good as when you were a ripper. You had a . . a ruthlessness about you then. It's like some of the taste for it has been blunted, softened. This control thing has dulled you somehow for the rough stuff. Now your brother edges you out in this department because it's all about the physical. He's superior – no doubt about it. But I've known two other men who beat even him hands down – David in the 1900's – he was good with the rough. The best was Antonio, but he was a specialist. That's the only way he liked it. If it wasn't rough then he wasn't satisfied. He would pretend otherwise for me, but I can't be fooled. I dumped him when I got bored with it."

She looked over at Stefan. He had his arm thrown over his eyes so it was impossible to tell if he was listening, but she continued as if he was. "I'm my mother's daughter you know. I was a witch. . I could feel things grow in the earth . . I cou . . anyway that changed when I was turned. But I never completely lost the people feeling. When I touch someone I know."

She sighed deeply. Judging enough time had passed she said, "The next test is pure technique." She was suddenly next to him on the floor, pulling his arm off his eyes and grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You use your hands, your tongue"—she looked down and grinned—"your everything to satisfy me. I'm going to lay back, maybe do my nails. It's all up to you."

Stefan swung her up in his arms and stood. He carried her over to the old armchair, sitting down with her on his lap. He deftly touched, stimulated, and teased until he had her begging for satisfaction. He brought her to completion over and over again until she called enough. She then took pity on him, and a few quick strokes ended his arousal.

"Now that wasn't very well thought out." She smirked as she examined the glistening trail on her hand and belly. "Oh well." She lazily stood up and went back to the bathroom. She grabbed an unused face towel, running the tap until the water ran hot. She soaked the towel in it and sponged off her stomach and between her thighs. She rinsed it out and then went over to a spent Stefan still slouched in the armchair, cleaning him as well.

He watched her silently, shifting a little when she touched a sensitive area, which amused her.

She turned to the man sitting neglected against the wall and issued an order. "Go back to your apartment and tell the woman to come here. Clean and bandage yourself and keep it all covered until it heals. If anyone notices it, tell them it was an accident."

When he left Rebekah went and sat on the bed. "Time to give you your evaluation on technique."

Stefan refused to speak, turning his head away from her, as if hoping that refusing to acknowledge her would mean she would go away.

She spoke judiciously. "You are definitely technically superior. Again in the top ten. You've got amazing stamina, and someone taught you very well . . your touch . . not too hard . . not too soft. Had to have been a woman." She peered at him. "Who was it?"

She replied to Stefan's continued silence with, "I can force you to speak, and you know it."

He finally reluctantly admitted, "Katherine."

Rebekah frowned, not pleased to hear it, but still giving a grudging respectful nod. "Hmmm! What is it about Tatia and her descendants?" She shrugged and continued. "You might have a slight edge on your brother, but you're both probably neck and neck. You Salvatores are right up there with Jeremiah, Isaac, and Thorn. Now Thorn also was taught by a woman. The others were just self-taught overachievers."

The woman came in then, and Rebekah repeated the same instructions she had given to the man.

They sat quietly for a while, each thinking their own thoughts until Rebekah came out of her reverie and called the woman and Stefan over to the bed. She patted the space between her and Stefan, indicating that the woman should sit.

"Drink up. Last test," she said to Stefan.

He looked resentfully at Rebekah and then the veins under his eyes engorged and his fangs bumped the inside of his mouth. He bit the neck and drank deeply while Rebekah sank her fangs into the other side. He reached to cradle the woman's body and touched Rebekah's arm. The touch of her skin, the situation, brought up an old memory and he looked up, mouth dripping blood, and was trapped by Rebekah's eyes.

"Go back to the Twenties, Stefan. Love me like you loved me back then. Remember how it was before Nik ruined it all. Remember." The last remember was whispered with a longing she made no attempt to suppress.

His green eyes softened, and he reached to cup her face with his long fingers. She removed his hand for one moment and callously tossed the woman to the floor. She replaced his hand on her cheek turning her face to kiss his palm. He tenderly reached over to brush back a strand of silky blonde hair that had fallen over her forehead. She smiled hesitantly as he looked at her the way he used to, a loving twinkle in his eye. Their lips found each other, and he kissed her deeply.

When they finally broke the kiss, she marveled. "I knew I felt it. It was back there in the Twenties . . buried deep, almost like a film was dulling it, but I sensed it even then. There is something in you, so white, so shining, so pure. I feel it only when you love freely. It was gone when you kissed me when I woke up." Tears of happiness made her eyes shiny. "I doubted myself, doubted you." She shook her head in amazement. "I wondered if I imagined it, but it's true."

Stefan just looked at her, confused, not sure what she was talking about. He wiped the one tear that hung on her lashes and pulled her close again, foreheads touching before he put a finger under her chin, lifting her face so he could tenderly kiss her. This was a combination of passion, technique, and caring. They had learned each other's bodies so well in the months they had together in Chicago, spending hours experimenting, bringing each other almost to the peak and then backing off to start again. They knew what tantalized and what satisfied. This was the reunion Rebekah had hoped for. When they were finally spent this time, he held her in his arms, cradling her like he used to.

She lay on his chest for a while wrapped in his arms, before moving slightly away from him, leaning on her forearms, upper body raised. He watched her, a slight smile on his face. She spoke softly, almost dreamily. "Since the time I was turned . . . inside me . . . inside my mind . . . there's always been this place . . it's dark and cold and lonely, and I'm always looking for something . . .but there's a deep black hole in there, and if I'm not careful I'll fall into it, and I know once I fall in I can never get out. I'm always afraid . .afraid of being unloved . . afraid of being alone . . afraid of being different." She looked introspective. "I can never find it . . what I'm searching for . . whatever it is . . something . . .someone."

She was quiet, contemplating, chewing on a strand of hair. "That's what set you apart. When you held me you brought light and warmth into those dark corners. I wasn't alone anymore. I wasn't searching. The black hole closed up."

She sighed deeply. "That's why I told Nik I would stay with you. That's why I got daggered. I love my brothers, but they could never pierce the darkness in that place. Never reach in to help me." She reached up and pushed his hair into place.

"I was so scared. I didn't feel anything anymore when Nik woke me and made you remember . . Nothing. When you kissed me . . . Nothing. I . . I can't tell you how horrible I felt. There just aren't words to describe it. You were so distant, and I loved you as much as the moment I told Nik I was leaving him."

She reached a hand up to cup his face looking at him with something approaching awe. "I had to find out, Stefan. I had to find out if you could still let the sun into that dark place. Still warm me. Still stop the feeling that I had to keep searching." She stroked his face. "And you can. You can. You can make the shadows go away. Even better than before."

She sighed and nudged him. "Klaus is furious that Elena's turned, but I begged him not to take revenge. Stay with me, Stefan, and he won't touch her or your brother. Come with us, Stefan, and neither one of us will ever be alone again."

Her voice was passionate. "I want to live, Stefan, really live . . without looking over my shoulder, always ready to run. We can live life to the fullest together."

She knew he wasn't convinced and continued her arguments. "Part of you hates yourself because you listened to her. You honored her decision when you know your brother would have saved her. This is a way to make it up to both of them. Let them have a life together." She pleaded with him. "We're both damaged, Stefan. Together we can heal each other."

He started to speak, his eyes troubled. "I never meant to hurt you Beka." He turned to her. "You have to understand, my life was a blur after Klaus compelled me to forget. I was in such pain, there was such a sense of loss. I didn't know what I had lost, but I knew . . I knew something was missing. A really special friend of mine"—he gave a sad little laugh—"she was my best friend, told me it was worth the pain to feel because I could love then. Because to really love you needed to feel."

Now it was his turn to try to make her understand. "And I did. I met a girl who looked like the girl I first fell in love with. But she was human, and she was kind, and she was lost like me. Questioning what life was about and how to live. Trying to find a way to get out of bed each day. And we helped each other find the will to live. We went to school. We danced. We loved." He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. "We ate hamburgers, shot pool, and just talked."

He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated that he might not be making sense. "I can't go back to being what I was. I don't want to be a ripper, and that's what Klaus will want."

Rebekah stroked his cheek. "I won't let you lose control, and Elijah and Kol will back me against Nik."

He was still troubled, speaking haltingly. "I can't just forget them . . Elena . . my brother. I will always love her . . and . . I don't know if I can get past you killing her." He shook his head despairingly. "I don't think I can forgive myself for rescuing Matt and making her turn into a vampire." He asked her, "Do you understand that I can't just forget that I ruined their lives?"

He gave a heart rendering sound, half sob, half pain filled moan. "Part of me feels I don't deserve happiness."

Rebekah smiled cynically and sat up. "I understand more than you think." She shrugged fatalistically. "Expected it really. Both Nik and Elijah warned me you would feel that way." She dilated her pupils and said, "You and your brother are estranged. He made you drink human blood, and you turned into a ripper again. You got mixed up with his girlfriend Elena, but I found you and helped you. You had a hard time in Mystic Falls, but everything's all set now. You've realized that you don't really love Elena and that your brother needs her. You've decided it's time to move on with your life, and your brother is better off without you."

Stefan looked stunned for a moment and then shaking his head to clear it, jokingly complained to Rebekah. "You wore me out. I need to sleep."

Rebekah sent the woman back to her apartment with orders to forget what happened. They got under the covers, and she snuggled up next to Stefan, cradled in his arms

"We'll sleep until it just starts to turn light. Then we need to get on the road. We have a plane to catch, and I have a stop to make. There's something I want to do before we leave." Rebekah sighed, deeply content, the dark place was gone, overcome by the light of his love. She would have no trouble sleeping.

~~ Three Weeks Later~~

A handsome man with black hair and stunning blue eyes knocked and entered the manager's office in the apartment building. He was followed by a slender dark haired, brown eyed girl. The blowsy middle-aged manager blinked in astonishment when she looked up into the twinkling eyes of the most striking man she had ever seen. She immediately smiled and patted her hair. "How can I help you?" she asked in an artificially sweet voice as she looked him appreciatively up and down.

The man flashed a charming smile as he handed her a picture. "I'm looking for my brother. Heard he might have a flat here."

She took the picture without looking at it, batting her eyes at Damon, clearly flirting and coyly said, "We don't get many as good lookin as you here. My name's Shirley. And you are?"

"Damon," he answered, his eyes telling her she was a darling. Neither one paid any attention to a disgusted snort from the girl. "So, have you seen him?" he asked trying to steer the woman back to the reason he was here.

The reminder had its effect, and she looked at the picture. "Your brother, huh? Well, good looks run in the family, not that he was much of a mixer. Always in hurry when I tried to talk to him."

"Wonder why?" Elena muttered too low for the woman to hear.

Her comment earned a reproving frown from Damon which was quickly replaced with a smile as he asked, "What room is he in? I'm anxious to get back in touch with him."

"He's gone." The woman added, "Left bout three weeks ago, but . . . now, let's see, where did I put that?" She pushed a finger against her forehead as if she could force the memory out. Suddenly she pulled out a drawer in her desk, pawing through the stacks of paper crammed into it.

Damon and Elena exchanged curious glances as she triumphantly grabbed a folder square of white paper. "Found it! I was supposed to give this to Damon or Elena." She winked at Damon. "I would have given it to you good lookin, even if you weren't Damon." She jerked her head in Elena's direction. "She Elena?"

Damon nodded. "She is." He held out a hand and the women surrendered the paper with the air of a job well done, for all the world like a dog that expected to be patted for fetching.

Elena moved close to Damon as he unfolded the paper and they both silently read.

YOU'RE TOO LATE

XOXO

Rebekah Mikaelson Salvatore

~FIN~