The grandfather clock struck at 3 AM as Elena stood frozen in the doorway, her wide eyes fixed on the blonde stranger beside Stefan.
The silence stretched, broken only by the steady tick-tock marking seconds that felt like hours.
"Hello, Elena," Rebekah repeated, her smile sharp as a knife. "I've heard so much about you."
Stefan's posture was rigid, his eyes moving between the women with barely concealed anxiety. "Elena," he said carefully, "this is Rebekah Mikaelson. Klaus's sister."
Elena's fingers tightened on the doorframe. "An Original," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
"The Original," Rebekah corrected, examining her perfectly manicured nails. "The only female one, at least."
Stefan cleared his throat. "Rebekah needs a place to stay tonight."
Elena's eyes narrowed slightly, catching the tension in Stefan's voice. Something unspoken hung in the air between him and the blonde vampire.
"And she chose our home?" Elena asked, emphasis on the 'our' subtle but unmistakable.
"Klaus only just undaggered her," Stefan explained. "She's been... asleep since the 1920s."
"The 1920s," Elena repeated, pieces falling into place. "When you were in Chicago. When you knew Klaus."
"When Stefan and I were lovers," Rebekah interjected bluntly, her accent sharpening with satisfaction at Elena's barely perceptible flinch.
Stefan shot Rebekah a warning look. "Elena, may we come in?"
Elena hesitated, studying the vampire before her. Rebekah stood with aristocratic poise, her modern clothes unable to disguise the ancient predator beneath.
This was a creature who had walked the earth for a millennium, who had seen empires rise and fall, who had once claimed Stefan as her own.
"Please," Stefan added quietly. "It's important."
With a slow nod, Elena stepped back. "Come in, Rebekah."
The Original's smile widened as she crossed the threshold, her eyes scanning the interior of the boarding house with critical interest.
"Quaint," she remarked. "Though you've changed the drapes, Stefan. The burgundy suited the woodwork better."
"You've been here before," Elena observed, closing the door behind them.
"In the twenties," Rebekah confirmed, trailing her fingers along a bookshelf. "Stefan and I had quite the adventure in this very house. Didn't we, love?"
Stefan's jaw tightened. "That was a long time ago."
"Not for me," Rebekah countered, her voice softening with genuine emotion. "For me, it feels like yesterday."
The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence that followed. Elena watched as something passed between Stefan and Rebekah - a shared history she couldn't access, memories she couldn't touch.
"I'll show you to the guest room," Stefan said finally, breaking the moment.
"Guest room?" Rebekah's laugh was musical but sharp-edged. "How very proper of you."
Elena squared her shoulders. "Would you like something to drink first? Blood? We have bags in the basement."
Both vampires turned to her with surprise, though for different reasons. Stefan's expression held a flicker of pride at her composure, while Rebekah's showed reluctant respect for the unexpected hospitality.
"How domestic," Rebekah said. "Stefan has you well-trained in vampire etiquette."
"I've learned a few things," Elena replied evenly. "Living with vampires teaches you the importance of proper hosting."
A ghost of a smile touched Rebekah's lips. "Blood would be lovely, thank you."
Elena nodded to Stefan, who disappeared toward the basement in a blur. Left alone with Rebekah, Elena gestured toward the living room.
"Please, make yourself comfortable."
Rebekah moved with fluid grace to the couch, her eyes never leaving Elena. "You're nothing like Katherine," she observed, sounding almost disappointed.
"I'm told that frequently," Elena said, remaining standing. "Usually as a compliment."
"It wasn't meant as one," Rebekah replied. "Katherine had survival instincts. Self-preservation. You seem to court danger willingly."
Elena met her gaze without flinching. "Some things are worth the risk."
"Stefan, you mean." It wasn't a question.
"Among others."
Rebekah leaned forward, her expression suddenly intense. "Let me be clear, Elena. I've watched Petrova doppelgängers destroy men I care about for a thousand years. Tatia tore my brothers apart. Katherine did the same to the Salvatores before- though Stefan is the only I care about of the pair. I won't stand by and watch history repeat itself."
"I'm not Katherine or Tatia," Elena said firmly. "Judge me by my own actions, not my appearance."
"Your face has caused nothing but trouble for a millennium," Rebekah countered.
Stefan returned with three glasses - two filled with blood, one with water. The tension in the room was palpable as he handed the drinks around.
"I see you two are getting acquainted," he said carefully, positioning himself slightly closer to Elena than to Rebekah.
Rebekah sipped her blood, her eyes never leaving Elena. "Just establishing boundaries."
"Boundaries," Stefan repeated, his tone making it clear he didn't believe her. "Rebekah, you're a guest here. Elena's lives in my home- is under my protection."
"Under your protection," Rebekah echoed, amusement dancing in her eyes. "How chivalrous. You always did have that knight-in-shining-armor complex, even as the Ripper."
Elena's gaze shifted to Stefan at the mention of his darker persona. "The Ripper of Monterey," she said quietly. "That's what Klaus called you."
"Oh, he was magnificent," Rebekah interjected before Stefan could respond. "Passionate, uninhibited, glorious in his bloodlust." She turned to Stefan, her expression softening with memory. "Remember Gloria's bar? The nights we'd select our prey together?"
Stefan's posture stiffened. "Rebekah-"
"We'd find the prettiest girls in Chicago," she continued, ignoring his warning. "Bring them back to our apartment. Stefan would have all of us while we drank from them."
Elena's grip tightened on her water glass, but her expression remained composed. Stefan moved closer to her, his hand finding hers in silent support.
"That's enough," he said, his voice low but firm.
Rebekah's eyes gleamed with triumph at Elena's discomfort. "The French triplets were my favorite. Remember them, Stefan? We spent a week in that chateau outside Paris. You had all four of us arranged just so."
Elena looked between them, genuine confusion overriding her discomfort. "So you were... willing to share him? With other women?"
Rebekah's smile was lazy, cat-like. "Of course. I enjoyed watching him with others. We'd feed together while he took his pleasure." Her expression hardened suddenly. "But I would never share him with a Petrova snake."
The blunt admission hung in the air. Elena blinked, renewing her understanding of whatever it was between Stefan and Rebekah.
"What is it about my bloodline that makes you so hostile?" she asked, curiosity genuine beneath the challenge.
"Like I said- Tatia played my brothers against each other for sport," Rebekah replied, bitterness lacing her words. "Katherine did the same to Stefan and Damon. Your face has brought nothing but pain to men I care about for a thousand years."
"Rebekah-" Stefan began.
"No, she should know," Rebekah cut him off. "The original Petrova nearly destroyed my family. I won't let another one take what's mine."
"Again, I'm not Tatia or Katherine," Elena said calmly. "And Stefan isn't 'yours' to take back."
Rebekah's eyes flashed dangerously. "We'll see about that."
Stefan stood abruptly. "I think it's time we all got some rest. It's been a long night."
Rebekah drained her glass, setting it down with deliberate care. "Show me to my room then, Stefan. I'm suddenly exhausted."
The tension eased marginally as Stefan led Rebekah toward the stairs. Elena remained in the living room, processing everything she'd just heard.
The casual mentions of blood and sex, the complex history between Stefan and this ancient vampire, the specific hatred for her bloodline - it was overwhelming.
She moved to the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a small measure of bourbon. The burn of alcohol steadied her as she waited for Stefan's return.
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Upstairs, Stefan opened the door to the guest room farthest from the master bedroom. "You'll be comfortable here," he said formally. "Bathroom is connected. There should be everything you need."
Rebekah stepped into the room, turning slowly to face him. "We shared a bed for months, Stefan. Don't you think this is a bit... cold?"
"Things have changed, Rebekah."
"Have they?" She moved closer, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. "Your memories are fresh now. You remember how good we were together."
Stefan gently removed her hand. "I remember everything. Including that it was a different time, and I was a different person."
"The Ripper," she said softly. "A part of the real you."
"No," Stefan shook his head. "None of that is a part of the true me. All he was, was a version- a broken mirror of me without humanity, without conscience."
"Without limitations," Rebekah corrected. "Without shame."
Stefan stepped back, creating distance between them. "Get some rest, Rebekah. We'll talk more tomorrow."
As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him. "You still tasted the same," she said quietly. "When I kissed you earlier. Exactly as I remembered."
Stefan paused, his back to her. "Goodnight, Rebekah."
He closed the door behind him, leaning against it briefly before heading back downstairs.
Elena was waiting, bourbon in hand, her expression carefully neutral.
"She's settled," he said unnecessarily.
Elena nodded, taking a slow sip of her drink. "You knew her in the 1920s."
"Yes."
"You were lovers."
Stefan moved to stand before her. "Yes. But Elena, before anything I... need to tell you something."
'Better say it to her straight, rather than let Rebekah have ammo for later, or worse, somehow, someway Damon finding out- however that may be and trying to use it to get closer to Elena.'
"When... When Rebekah woke up tonight, she kissed me."
Elena's eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent, waiting.
"I didn't kiss her back," Stefan continued quickly. "I couldn't. But I wanted you to know. I want as little secrets between us as possible, you know?"
The bourbon glass trembled slightly in Elena's hand. "Thank you for telling me."
Stefan took the glass, setting it aside before taking both her hands in his. "The memories Klaus restored tonight - they're... vivid, immediate. For Rebekah, the 1920s feel like yesterday because for her, they were. She went from that time straight into a coffin."
"And for you?" Elena asked quietly.
Stefan considered his answer carefully. "For me, they're... complicated. I remember everything now - the feelings, the experiences - but they're memories of a different person. The Ripper isn't who I truly am anymore."
Elena nodded, processing this. "Tell me about her. About you and her."
Stefan was hesitant for a moment and looked at her. Looked her truly in the eyes, to see if she truly wanted this. Wanted to know this... part of him.
Finaly, he led her to the couch, sitting close beside her. "We met at Gloria's bar in Chicago. She was with Klaus. I was deep in my Ripper phase - feeding indiscriminately, reveling in the kill."
"And you fell in love?" The question held no accusation, only a desire to understand.
"As much as the Ripper could love," Stefan admitted. "It was intense, passionate, but wrapped in blood and darkness. We hunted together. Fed together."
"And the other women?" Elena asked, her voice steady despite the difficult question.
Stefan's jaw tightened briefly. "The blood and the pleasure were connected for us. It heightened everything. Rebekah and I would select victims together, bring them back. It was about power and feeding as much as anything else."
"She said she enjoyed watching you with them."
"Yes," Stefan confirmed, discomfort evident in his posture. "But Elena, that person - that version of me - it's not who I am with you. What we have is real, not blood-soaked or destructive."
Elena was quiet for a long moment, absorbing everything. The grandfather clock ticked steadily in the background, marking the passage of time as she considered his words.
"She's afraid of losing you to me," she said finally. "Not because she's jealous of sharing you physically, but because she fears a Petrova doppelgänger will take you from her emotionally."
Stefan looked frowned for a moment at her words. Elena caught it.
"Am I wrong?" She asked, a bit hesitant at the answer- that maybe she doesn't have Stefan anymore. The thought terrified her.
"Not... exactly. You're right about her not being jealous of sharing me physically, but Rebekah never shied from the emotional either. What she's... afraid of is, that you will hurt me." Stefan hesitantly explained.
At this Elena's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh... right, the whole Tatia and Katherine thing. That really is all this is about..."
Stefan nodded.
Another silence fell between them, this one charged with something different. Elena studied his face -the face she'd come to love, that had seen centuries of life, death, and rebirth as a vampire.
"The memories feel fresh for you," she said, not a question but an observation, recalling his words. Tasting them on her own tongue, what they meant for her, for them.
"They do," Stefan admitted again. "But my feelings for you are stronger than any echo from the past."
Elena nodded slowly, coming to a decision. She stood, extending her hand to him. "Come upstairs with me."
Stefan took her hand, confusion flickering across his features. "Elena?"
She didn't answer, simply led him up the stairs toward their bedroom. As they passed the guest room where Rebekah was staying, Elena's steps slowed fractionally, then continued with renewed purpose.
Inside their room, she closed the door and turned to face him. "I need you to show me we're real," she said simply.
Stefan studied her face. "Elena, are you sure? After everything today..."
She cut him off with a kiss, more demanding than any she'd given him before. Her hands found his hair, pulling him closer with unexpected possessiveness.
Stefan responded after a moment of surprise, his arms encircling her waist. When they broke apart, his eyes had darkened, pupils dilated with desire.
"I don't know If I could ever share you," Elena whispered against his lips. "With anyone."
"You'll never have to if you don't want to." Stefan promised, his voice rough with emotion.
Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, her intentions clear. "Show me who you are now. With me."
Stefan caught her wrists gently. "Elena-"
"I'm not doing this because of Rebekah," she said, anticipating his concern. "I'm doing this because I want you. Because I'm yours. And you're mine."
The possessive declaration ignited something in Stefan's eyes. He released her wrists, his own hands moving to cup her face as he kissed her with newfound intensity.
Elena lost herself in his kiss, in the unexpected fire she found there. Her hands resumed their work on his buttons, pushing the shirt from his shoulders.
Stefan backed her against the wall, his body pressed against hers in a line of heat. His lips traced a path down her neck, careful even in passion not to graze her skin with his fangs.
"You're mine, Elena," he whispered against her throat. "You're mine, and if you want me to be only yours... I'll be only yours."
Clothing gave way to skin to skin touch as they moved toward the bed. The world narrowed to just this room, just this moment.
----------------
In the guest room, Rebekah stared at the ceiling, vampire hearing unable to ignore the sounds from down the hall - heartbeats accelerating, whispered declarations, the rustle of sheets, the sound of skin slapping skin.
Her fingers curled into fists as Elena's breathless voice carried through the walls. The doppelgänger was staking her claim, and doing so without subtlety or restraint.
Despite herself, Rebekah felt a reluctant spark of respect. Perhaps this Elena Gilbert would prove more interesting than she'd anticipated.
The challenge, it seemed, had just begun.