There were so many differences between the Salvatore brothers, and one of them was the way they kissed. Damon was forceful, as if he wanted no one to see yet everyone to notice. Stefan, on the other hand... Stefan's kiss felt soft, gentle, yet filled with so many emotions that you couldn't help but kiss back. It was roughness and fireworks and a gentle caress all in one. When he kissed me, it was messy and complicated. It wasn't perfect, but it felt like electricity running through my veins. I had never felt so alive before. Yet, it felt strange, wrong, as if it wasn't supposed to happen. 

   In the morning, we didn't speak. Each time he was close to me, I pushed myself further. It came to  the point where I decided that it would be better to hang out with Damon than to be in the same room with Stefan. I helped Damon pack—I packed, he leaned back and watched in curiosity. He was leaving with Elena to go to Denver to pick up, or see, I wasn't sure, Jeremy Gilbert. Elena had Damon compel him into wanting to leave Mystic Falls, and he did, but he was now in danger because of Kol Mikaelson.

   "Would you like to tell me why are you packing for me?" Damon asked. 

   I stopped moving and looked up at him. "Wha-what are you talking about?" 

   "You're packing for me," he stated. "I mean, I don't mind but it's really confusing me." He stood from the bed and walked over to me, grabbing the shirt I had folded in my hands. "Did something happen?"

   I bit my bottom lip and looked down. "Uh, no," I answered, scratching the back of my head. "Nothing happened."

   "Liar," he said. "Clara, I've known you for a very long time. I know when you're lying, and you're clearly lying right now. So, tell me, what happened? Now that I think about it, you've been hanging around me too much. Did something happen with Stefan?"

   I quickly looked at the open door of his bedroom, knowing that Stefan may or may not be listening from downstairs. I quickly glanced at Damon and grabbed the shirt from his hand, shaking my head. "Can we not talk about this?"

   "Ooh, something did happen," he mused, smirking. "Think of me as Caroline; tell me what happened."

   "Nothing, okay?"

   "Did you two kiss?"

   I stayed quiet and continued to pack for him. It wasn't because he had asked me; trust me, he never did. I packed for him because I wanted to think of something else, something that wasn't Stefan's kiss. Although it was still in my mind, packing was a short distraction that would soon be over the moment I finished. 

   "You did kiss him," Damon laughed. "Oh, wow, I—wow! I was not expecting this to happen."

   "Yeah, well, neither did I," I muttered as I closed his luggage. "You know, since I can't exactly see into the future."

   He took a seat by the luggage and sarcastically smiled up at me. "How was it?"

   "I am not telling you how it felt to kiss your brother," I said, rolling my eyes.

   "You think it's going to break my heart?" He pursed his lips, sarcastically, as if he were making fun of me. 

   I crossed my arms and looked at him, sucking the inside of my lip as I tried not to lash out in the anger he brought out in me. "No, it's not going to break your heart, Damon, because you and I are no longer a thing. I'm not telling you because even I don't know how I feel about it. And, it's seriously weird talking to you about this. For God's sake, we were engaged!" I crossed my arms and let out a short laugh. "It's weird, because I never imagined my life without you in it."

   "I'm still here," he answered, almost like a whisper. "I'm still part of your life, Clara."

   "Well, in my head, it was different," I said. "We were married, we were happy, we had kids. But, I think back to it, and it all looks different. I no longer see us married."

   "Yeah, neither do I," he said, taking my hand. "I used to, but I can't anymore. Now, I think that we would have had a very, very bad marriage."

   I chuckled and nodded. "We've probably fight a lot."

   "Probably," he agreed. "But, there would be a lot of make-up sex." I pulled my hand away from his and pushed him, rolling my eyes. He laughed, and immediately took hold of my hand once again when I tried to walk away. "But, seriously, Clara. I'll always be part of your life, unless you decide to leave and stop talking to me."

   "I'm debating on that," I smiled, pulling my hand away from his. "Anyway, we should go downstairs. I think Elena's done with Alaric. And Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Seriously?"

   "What?" he shrugged, smiling. "I thought it was funny."

   I walked down the stairs, him following behind with the bag in his hand. In the parlour, Stefan stood by the fireplace and stared into the flames with an empty look in his eyes. I glanced back at Damon, who was staring at his brother with furrowed brows and an annoyed look. "You hear from Klaus?" he asked. 

   "Not yet," Stefan answered, turning to us. "I'm sure I will soon, though." He picked up a white oak stake. "He's expecting me to deliver two stakes. I only have one."

   "Well, that's gonna be disappointing for him," Damon said, almost sarcastic. 

   "I'll get it out of Alaric," Stefan nodded. "I just need some time."

   "I like that confidence, Stefan," the older Salvatore mused. "I don't share it, but I like it."

   "You don't think I can do what it takes."

   "Well, you're good Stefan again," Damon said, then took a quick glance at me, smirked, and shrugged. "Kind of. Sorry, you might get the girl but you lose the edge. Speaking off..." Elena walked in at that moment, her jacket in her hands. "Have you ever flown first class?"

   "Who did you have to compel for that?" Elena asked, almost annoyed. There was a hint of excitement in her tone. 

   "Pft, please" Damon scoffed. "I use miles." He picked up his bag and looked over at me, then gave me a wink with the smirk he seemed to always sport. "Thanks for packing my bags, honey."

   Elena looked at me and furrowed her brows. "You packed his bags?"

   "Long story," I answered as I grabbed myself a drink. "You're running late." Elena looked at me, then glanced at Stefan. I nodded and walked out, following Damon out the door. He took my drink after he put the bags in his car, then looked at me. "Don't do anything reckless while I'm gone," he said, smirking. He handed me back the almost empty glass. "And, behave."

   I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "I should be telling you that."

   "Well, I don't know what you might do with my brother." He sarcastically widened his eyes and wiggled his brows. "So, I'm telling you to behave."

   "Yeah, I shouldn't have packed your bags."

   "Again, thank you for doing all the work for me, honey."

   "Screw you."

   "You already have."

   Before I punched him, Elena walked out. We stopped moving when she hurried past us and got in the passenger's seat without another word. I looked at her and crossed my arms, then looked back at Damon. "Don't do anything reckless," I said, almost mimicking him. "And behave."

    I watched as he drove away with Elena, then hurried back inside. Stefan still stood by the fire, his hands inside his pockets and the same empty look in his eyes. He glanced towards me, cleared his throat, then looked back at the fire. "Damon suggested that we helped Alaric with this thing," he said, lifting up a bottle of whiskey. "He said this might help speed up the process."

   Alaric was locked up in the basement, in a cosy cell that looked very uncomfortable. His other self, the one that had been murdering vampire-sympathiser and soon vampires, had hidden the last stake. Although everyone had looked in the places he knew about, the stake was still lost. It was as if his other self had made the stake disappear into thin air. While Damon and Elena left to pick up Jeremy, we stayed back and would try to coerce Alaric's alter-ego into telling us where he hid the stake.

   "Let's go then," I said, pushing my hands into the pockets of my sweater. "Let's get this over with." We were both trying to ignore each other, yet at the same time we couldn't. I wanted to be far away from him, but there was something inside of me that told me that the best place was close to him.

   I followed Stefan to the basement, stopping in front of the cell door where Alaric was. He was laying on the cot, his eyes closed as his hands rested behind his head. "Do you know how hard it is to fall asleep when that is what you're supposed to do?"

   "Well, look, it's not that easy, so." Stefan held up the bottle of whiskey. "Damon suggested that I bring something to help speed up the process."

   Alaric sucked in a breath. "What the hell." He sat up and put the book that was on his chest next to him as Stefan and I entered the cell. He grabbed the bottle when Stefan handed it to him and glanced at it for a couple of seconds before opening it. "You know, I'll feel decidedly less pathetic if I don't drink alone."

   "Oh, I'm one step ahead of you," Stefan replied as he brought in two chairs. He put them down and showed us two glasses, handing me one. I thanked him, for both the chair and the glass, and took a seat. As soon as my butt touched the chair, Alaric poured me a drink. I lifted the glass to him as a cheer, then took a quick sip. Alaric did the same with the bottle, taking a larger gulp, then closed it. "So, road trip huh?"

   Stefan hummed and nodded. "Yeah, I needed to stay here."

   "Why?" Alaric asked. "I mean, why you? You know, it doesn't take much to babysit me while I sit here waiting for a psychotic break."

   "Well, unfortunately, we only have a limited amount of time."

   "Before what?"

   "Before we have to resort to other methods," I said, glancing from him to Stefan.

   Alaric stared at me for a couple of seconds. "So, you two are worried that you're gonna have to torture me. You don't think Damon could have done that?"

   Stefan stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, and then took a quick glance at me before turning to look back at Alaric. "Look, Elena needed to go on that trip with Damon. No matter what I go through to get her back; fighting my bloodlust, trying to gain control of my life again–none of that matters if she has feelings for someone else."

   "And you?" Alaric asked, quickly glancing at me again. "Do you have feelings for somebody else?" Stefan stayed quiet, again, and leaned back on his chair. He still said nothing. Alaric let out a soft chuckle and nodded. "I get it. You don't want to talk about this because you're not sure. I get it."

   "I'm gonna go upstairs," I said, standing. "Do you want anything, Alaric? A sandwich?"

   "Uh," he chuckled, "I'm good."

   I nodded, glanced at Stefan, then hurried out of the cell and back upstairs. As soon as my feet touched the top step, I let out a deep breath. I hurried to Damon' secret stash and served myself a glass full. I took a big gulp, enjoying the taste of both alcohol and blood on my tongue. It felt fresh, calming, and it was exactly what I needed. I licked my lips, then took another well-needed deep breath. It didn't matter how many times I cleaned my lips, I could still feel Stefan's lips against them. Even as I drank, I felt them.

   I laid my fingers against my lip, a reminder. At that moment, a small smile spread through my lips just as warmth spread through all of me. When I realized what I was doing, I shook my head and replaced my smile with a stern look. 

   No, I thought. No. No. No. No. This is Stefan that we're talking about—Stefan! No.

   "Would you look at that?" A new voice joined my thoughts. I turned to see Klaus standing behind me, a smirk on his lips as he held a stake in his hand. "Look what I've found, Clara."

   "Congratulations," I sarcastically said, "you found a stake that we were going to give to you already. A plus for effort."

   "Well, someone's in a bad mood," he chuckled. 

   I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. "You're not here to just annoy me, right? Because I am not in the mood for your antics."

   He chuckled once again. "I came here for what was promised to me," he said, looking down at the stake. "Where's Stefan?" He looked at the door that led to the basement, and his smirk widened. "Down there, I bet." He ambled towards me, smirking, then continued down to the basement. I decided that it'd be best to keep an eye on him, so I followed. He entered the cell and let out a soft chuckle. "Well, this is depressing, isn't it?" He looked at Stefan and raised the stake. "Oh, and I found this upstairs. Now, by my count, there should be one more."

   "Yeah, well, it's gonna take a little more time," I said, pushing by him and taking a stand inside the cell, a few inches away from Stefan. 

   "Why? Because we're waiting for that one to pass out?" Klaus pointed at Alaric. "No thanks. I think I'll just kill him."

   "Well, then you won't know the location of the other stake," Stefan said. 

   "I can live with that."

   "Well, I can't," sighed Stefan. "When we staked Finn, we discovered that killing an Original vampire killed its entire bloodline. Now, I don't know which one of you I'm descended from, but I'd really rather not find out by dying. So, why don't we just find the stake, destroy it so we can all be safe."

   "So, the fate of the entire vampire race depends on you finding a stake?" Klaus questioned, almost in disbelief. He turned to Alaric. "And to get it we need you to pass out. Which means that I feel totally justified doing this." He rushed towards him and broke his neck. "There. Sleeping like a baby."

   "What the hell?" I groaned at Klaus.

   He laughed. "It's not me that you should take out your anger on, love." He glanced at Stefan, then at me, then let out another laugh. "Tell me, what happened here? I can feel the tension."

   "You killed him," Stefan broke in, taking a deep breath. "We'll wait till he wakes up as the other-Alaric, get the stake, and get it for you. You don't have to be here for that."

   Klaus laughed once again. "Like I said to Clara, you don't have to take your anger out on me."

   "I'm not angry" I groaned, "but I will be if you don't stop with this bullshit!"

   Klaus raised his hands in defence, his smirk becoming wider. He walked away, his hand still raised. When he was walking up the stairs, he laughed. Even though I was tempted to go after him and break his neck, I stopped myself by closing my eyed and counting to ten. It felt weird how I got so easily angry at him, at what he said, because I had never felt like that. That's right, I had never felt like that. It was the first time I had felt so...so strange.

   Hours passed and Alaric had yet to wake up. Stefan and I were in the parlour, a drink in our hands and silence being shared. The only sound between us was the crackling of the fire on the fireplace, the wind outside, and nothing more. It was all quiet, all strange. I had a book in front of me, Letters to Milena by Franz Kafka, and I read it while glancing at the vampire that sat in the couch in front. He was on his phone, probably sending text messages to Damon or playing in his phone. In a way, he looked conflicted. 

   I bit my bottom lip and looked back down at the book, continuing to read:

          When one is alone, imperfection must be endured every minute of the day; a couple, however, does not have to put up with it. Aren't our eyes made to be torn out, and our hearts for the same purpose? At the same time it's really not that bad; that's an exaggeration and a lie, everything is exaggeration, the only truth is longing. But even the truth of longing is not so much its own truth; it's really an expression for everything else, which is a lie. This sounds crazy and distorted, but it's true. Moreover, perhaps it isn't love when I say you are what I love the most – you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love. This, my dear, is love.

    I took a deep breath and glanced up at Stefan, who was still on his phone. He was talking to Damon, filling him in on what happened since he left early in the morning. Not once did he glance at me, not once did his eyes shift from his empty hand. The only time his eyes shifted, to some place other than me, was when Damon told him that they were in a motel. He then sighed, looked down at his phone, then pushed it into his pocket. It was then when he looked up, when his eyes collided with mine.

   At that moment, I remembered the kiss once again. I remembered how his lips felt simultaneously soft and rough, how they moulded so perfectly with mine, how I wanted more. No, no, I couldn't want more. The man in front of me was no ordinary man, it was Stefan! This was the boy I first met when he was crying in the hallway of my home, the boy that I had laughed with when we were children, the boy that was so innocent yet mischievous at the same time. It annoyed me that I was attracted to that boy.

   I broke the contact with our eyes and cleared my throat. "We should, uh, check on Alaric." I stood and went to the basement with Letters to Milena between my hands. The cell door was still open, and Alaric was still dead. I sighed and took a seat against the wall, holding the book between my hands tightly. Stefan took a seat besides me, Moby Dick in his hands. It was then that I knew that I'd have to go through with speaking with him, no matter if I wanted it or not.

   "Clara," he began, breaking the silence. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"

   I swallowed had and nodded. "Yeah."

   "When we kissed," he began, briefly pausing. "When we kissed, did you, uh, feel anything?"

   I opened and closed my mouth, unsure on how to answer. I didn't know whether I should tell him the truth or lie, so I decided to do neither. "I'm not sure," I answered. "I'm really not sure."

   "Me neither," he said. "I'm not sure either."

   "Well," I chuckled, "that's something we have in common." That when he let out a chuckle as well, and shook his head. I smiled over at him and bumped him with my shoulder, and he did the same in return. Our shoulders remained touching, the simple touch being comforting.

   Inside of the cell, Alaric began to move. Stefan looked into the room. "Welcome back," he told Alaric. 

   "What happened?" Alaric asked. "Did I, uh..."

   "No," I answered, standing. "You pretty much just laid there dead for half of the night. On the plus side, I did almost finish reading Letters to Milena." I walked over to him, Stefan besides me. He sported a sarcastic smile, almost genuine. 

   "This is stupid," he said, looking grumpy and annoyed, tired. "Evil me, or whatever you want to call him, he's not gonna make an appearance. Why would he? I mean, the best hiding place is the one where you can't find the person who did it."

   "I know." 

   "So," Alaric sighed, "how do you two want to do this?" He glanced from Stefan to me.

   Stefan did the same, quickly glancing at me before he looked back at Alaric. "We don't want to do any of this." 

   "Well, that makes three of us," sighed Alaric once again. "But, I don't think we have much choice in that matter." He took of the infamous Gilbert ring and laid it on the cot.

   "Wait, wait, what are you doing?" I asked him, confused. "You need that ring."

   "No, what I need is hope that my alter ego doesn't have a death wish," he said. "So, I'm taking bets that my dark side has a sense of self-preservation. So, let's see if he defends himself against death." He looked at Stefan, eyes hard and but lips set into almost a smirk.

   "Look, Alaric, I'm not gonna kill you," Stefan said, shaking his head. 

   "If we have any chance at this, you or Clara, you're gonna have to try."

   Stefan glanced at me, then back at Alaric. He was quiet for several seconds, deeply thinking what he wanted to do. It seemed that he immediately made up his mind because he hurried to Alaric and punched him. He pulled back, stared back at the man in front of him, then hurried in for another punch. I stood by the door, watching Stefan continued to punch Alaric. It came to the point where Alaric began to bleed from the nose and his lip, the blood staining his neck and shirt. 

    Alaric got punched once again and fell against the wall. "You're not putting enough into this!" he groaned out to Stefan, looking at him.

   "If I put any more into it, I'm gonna break your spine," Stefan explained, throwing yet another punch to the man's face. Alaric fell to the floor, blood coming out of his mouth. One of his tooth fell out, creating more blood to flow from his mouth. I quickly glanced at Stefan, seeing the veins under his eyes growing. He looked scared, and turned around to ignore the blood.

   "Well, don't back down now," Alaric said, glancing up at him.

   "No, no, no, no, no!" Stefan breathed. "I can't... the blood."

   I moved towards him and laid my hands on his cheeks, making him look at me. "Look at me," I said. He glanced at me, but then his eyes averted behind me, towards a bloody Alaric. "No, no! Stefan, look at me." His eyes landed on me once again, and this time they stayed there. I let out a small smile, softening my hold on his cheeks. "Listen, you can do this. You're strong enough to do this."

   "Come on," Alaric said from behind me. "You're past that."

   "No, I'm not," Stefan replied, to both me and Alaric.

   "Then us it!" It sounded as if Alaric was angry, as if he snapped. "Give into it! Try and kill me, Stefan. Come on!"

   "Not like this, Alaric!" I snapped, turning to him. 

   "Yes!" he argued. "Like this! He's gonna have to want to kill me for me to believe that he will."

   "If he goes this far, he might not be able to stop," I told him, shaking my head. If Stefan didn't stop, if he killed this man, he would never be able to forgive himself. 

   "If you two want the answers from my darkest side, he's gonna have to tap into his," Alaric said, looking from me to Stefan. "So, don't back down, don't fight it. Just do it. Do it!" He grabbed Stefan's shirt and shook him. It was then when Stefan vamped out and threw him against the brick wall. He fell down and laughed, almost like a maniac. "You're so weak." He got up and stared at Stefan in both disgust and amusement. "Look at you, one of nature's most hideous creatures and you can't even get that right."

   "You..." Stefan uttered.

   "Me," Alaric responded, his mouth almost sneering.

   Stefan took hold of my arm and pulled me behind him. He kept his hold on my arm as he stared at Alaric. "Where's the stake?"

   "You're worse than I ever was," Alaric taunted. "Spineless. Pathetic."

   "Tell me where the stake is before I kill you," Stefan lowly said. 

   "You know, you're all gonna burn." He looked from Stefan to me, and smirked, letting out a laugh. His smile was suddenly replaced with a straight face. "Ashes to dust."

   Stefan snapped. He moved from in front of me and began to punch Alaric repeatedly. Once, twice, four times. It came to the point where his knuckles were red with blood. "Where's the stake?!" he yelled. Alaric didn't answer, that made Stefan punch him once again then hold him in a chokehold. "I'm gonna kill you in three... Two... One..."

   "It's in the cave," Alaric choked out. "Where no vampire can get it." He cackled with a teasing laugh. 

   Stefan threw him on the floor, looked at me, then left the cellar. I followed after him, locking the door behind me. He walked up the stairs as he sent a text message over the phone. I still followed, wanting to calm him down fro the sudden anger that took over him. We stopped at the parlour, where Klaus and Rebekah were standing. 

   "That wasn't too hard, was it?" Klaus smirked. Rebekah left as he served himself a drink., she came back seconds later with a bloodied Alaric. "That's a little gratuitous, don't you think, Stefan? I would have been more gentle."

   "I'm gonna take him to the caves," Rebekah said, then looked at the man she held. "You're gonna go inside and fetch me the stake, and if you think you're gonna hide, you're wrong." She smiled at us, then pushed Alaric out of the house. 

   "And then there was one," Klaus mused. "I know about your brother's little mission to Denver. He failed. Not that that's news anymore."

   "So, what are you gonna do now, Klaus?" Stefan asked, annoyed. "You gonna kill me? Us?"

   "Clara, no," Klaus chuckled. "You, I haven't actually decided." He looked up at me, and winked. 

   "Aww, sure you have. See, you've had every chance and every excuse imaginable to do it, but yet you haven't. Which means you don't want to."

   "You know something, you're right. You see, I'm still waiting for my old friend to come back. By the looks of it, he's just beneath the surface. Waiting to come out and play. Isn't that right, Ripper?" The smirk was clear as day on his lips. He turned to me, the smirk still there. "You, Clara, you're also waiting to come out. It'll just take a bit more hardening."

   I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes, annoyed. Even though he had basically everything in the world, he couldn't help but want more. He could have every piece of gold that existed, but he'd probably want more and more until it no longer existed. Klaus was one of those people, or creatures, that was greedy for everything. Maybe, it was that he missed how it was in the Twenties, how we were all so close and everything was so simple.

   "I've been fighting that part of myself, thinking that if I repressed it then it would go away," Stefan said, glancing from the floor to the hybrid. "But, it won't. And now that I've accepted it, it can't control me. And neither can you. So, unless you're gonna stake me, or Clara, why don't you get the hell out of my house?" He turned and left, walking up the stairs. 

   I sighed and turned to Klaus, shaking my head. "Don't say anything. Just leave, okay?"

   "You're kicking me out, too?" he asked, standing. 

   "It's not my house, but I also don't want you here now," I said, crossing my arms. 

   "What? You don't love me anymore?"

    "Wait," I let out a short laugh. "You think I... You thought I loved you?" I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. "Maybe I did have some form of feelings for you in the past, but it was never love. Klaus, I'm not Gwenhwyvar or any of my doppelgängers; I don't feel the same way they did towards you. I'm not them, so don't expect me to share everything they felt towards you." I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head, then took a deep breath. "You know where the door is."

   I left him at the parlour and walked up the stairs, my hand sliding against the bannister carefully. Never did I think that Klaus thought that I loved him, never had I insinuated that. But, maybe, in a way, I did. After all, I did kiss him many times while I was with him and Elijah. Did he think that all those kisses meant love?

   I went to my bedroom and laid down on the bed, starring at the dark ceiling. There was a part of me that was tired while another part was extremely curious. It was curious about Stefan, about whether he was okay after the events that occurred throughout the day. It was then when my bedroom door opened and closed. The empty side of my bed dipped, a figure now laying on it. I turned my head, and saw the person I was curious about staring back at me. 

   "So," I began, taking a deep breath. "How do you feel?"

   "I'm sorry," he quietly said, his voice barely a whisper. 

   "For?"

   "For seeing me so angry," he sighed. "I never thought I would have had to go to that extent with Alaric. I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

   I chuckled and turned my body in his direction. "Stefan, I was with you during the summer, when you became a ripper once again. Seeing you that angry didn't phase me, because I've seen you at your worse."

   He stared at me for a couple of seconds, then sighed and turned his head to look back up a the ceiling. "Yeah," he breathed. 

   "In fact," I continued, "seeing you that angry was kind of attractive." It was then when he laughed. Well, no, not exactly laugh. He let out a scoff that sounded like a laugh, but he did smile.

   He turned to me once again, and just stared. Seconds passed as we just stared at each other, until finally, he slowly raised a hand and laid it on my cheek. "Clara, can I try something?" I nodded, not trusting my voice. Slowly, he leaned in.

   Just like the night before, he kissed me. It was like a lot of adrenaline running through me. I was in that moment, purely. It was just me and him. His hand on my cheek, as if he were pulling me closer to him, his thumb gently moving up and down. Our lips moved, slowly, passionately, as if they knew the perfect dance. 

   Stefan pulled away, but not far enough that our lips weren't touching. "Yeah," he breathed against my lips. "I felt something."