I woke to a ceiling made of stone.

I blinked, allowing my senses to return, and found myself in a bed that I knew instantly was too narrow to be mine. My neck pounded against the pillow and I worked at massaging it as I sat up, groaning. The room was some kind of cellar. Or prison, given the iron door embellished in the rock. I stared at it in disbelief, feeling the memory rush back.

He'd snapped my neck.

I wouldn't have found it very surprising, given his past track record, but it still left me momentarily baffled. And annoyed.

As if sensing the change in the dank air, I heard the sound of footsteps, quickly followed by a grating sound as a small window in the iron door was pulled open, revealing the face of a very bored-looking Klaus. He leaned his side against the door, scrutinizing me from the other side. "To be honest, I'm relatively grateful for that switch right now," he said. "Otherwise, I'd sense you'd be quite angry." If not for the flatness of his voice, I would think him almost amused by the situation.

I managed a glower, but there was no heat in it. No emotion. "I thought you said you'd never hurt me."

Klaus didn't even blink. "I lied. Of course, it could have easily been prevented. had you not refused to listen." Maybe it was a trick of the low light, but I thought his eyes flashed. "There are repercussions for that."

"So, what? Are you gonna torture me now? Starve me? Bind my wrists in Verlaine? Because I hate to burst your bubble, but that seems to be a reoccurring theme for me."

"Tired of it yet?"

"Very."

He smirked darkly. "Don't worry, Love. I'll stand by my promise to bring you no harm. But then again, you may find that our definitions of 'harm' . . . vary drastically from one another."

I raised an eyebrow at him, loosing an uninterested sigh. "What're you gonna to do?"

He looked at me appreciatively, light eyes looking dark at this distance. "If I am speaking truthfully, I don't know. I'm . . . improvising."

I cocked my head, exasperated and a little surprised by his lack of imagination. "I guess you could always leave me without blood or drive a stake close to my heart," I proffered. "But it seems you prefer the strategy of talking one to death."

"It's probably best not to give your captor suggestions."

"Then there's always just forcing me to turn it back on. You can do that, right? Being a big, bad Original and all that?"

"I can," he admitted, eyes narrowing slightly. "But I won't. Not if I can help it. Forcing that in such a way . . . can make things exponentially worse."

"So you're just gonna torture me instead." I rolled my eyes and looked away from him, already bored with this topic. I took in the cellar-like room I was imprisoned in again, making note of the utter bareness of it. There was no other furniture but the cot I rested on, and I doubted sheets and straw would make for any decent weapon. "Where even am I?"

Klaus was silent for a moment and I could see him studying me in my peripheral vision where I kept him in, because I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of direct eye contact. A little juvenile of me, but thanks to the switch, I didn't remember how to care.

"What would be the fun in that?"

"Looks to me like your definition of fun is also different than mine."

The glimmer of a smile drew my attention back to him as he leaned closer to the window. "Oh, I will show you fun, Caroline," he said, his accent rolling atop words like water over stones. "I will show you every gleaming moment this world has to offer, emblazoned in art, in music, in the ruins of once great-cities, now fallen empires. I will show you raised civilizations and crushed civilizations. I will show you the finest sights nature has to offer and the most exquisite innovations constructed by man. But," his gaze deepened as he looked at me, "all of that, without your humanity, will go unappreciated. You'll look at it all and see color and design, but no emotion; no wonder. And my Caroline, the one who was always so desperate to prove to me that she belonged to no one, will be the one to see it."

I eyed him warily, and felt that irritation mount. "I'm not yours."

He smiled. "See? You're still in there."

*******

Klaus heard him before he'd reached the top of the stairs and pulled open the door before the vampire had the opportunity to knock. Perhaps he would not even have bothered.

"Stefan," Klaus said, injecting false enthusiasm into his voice as he acknowledged the youngest Salvatore. "I was expecting you much sooner; it's hardly been a full day."

Stefan, who never was one to take kindly to his barbs, glanced over Klaus's shoulder as if expecting Caroline to be loitering in the living room. "How is she?"

"Indifferent."

He pushed his way inside, a habit of which Klaus was beginning to become very annoyed at. "Are you hurting her?" Stefan asked, as he looked around.

Klaus turned to face him and offered a grimace. "Why, of course, she's screaming in the basement. Can you not hear it?"

Stefan cast him an irritated look. "Klaus, this is serious. I need to know what you're planning."

Klaus supplied nothing more than an off-handed shrug, and, after closing the door, sauntered over to his bar and poured himself some Bourbon. "Much like I told Caroline, It's in progress. There are precautions I have to take."

"Such as avoiding the quicker route and just torturing her?"

"Precisely." Klaus held out a glass for Stefan but the Vampire just shook his head. "I'm surprised," Klaus continued, "actually quite astonished, that one of her very female friends has yet to show up in your stead. Have you bothered to include them in on this sudden, if not poorly-devised scheme of yours, or do you find yourself content with leaving them in the dark?"

The ensuing silence was answer enough. "I thought it best to leave them out of it. Especially now that you're involved."

Klaus hid a smirk behind his crystal rock glass. "That's rather offensive, but I won't hold it against you."

Stefan cast around another look. "Where is Caroline anyway?"

"Oh, I wasn't joking. She really is in the basement. Just don't inform her of that."

"But . . . " and Klaus could see Stefan's hesitance, "nothing's been hurt?"

"Nothing except for my pride." Klaus raised his glass. "It'll mend, I assure you."

Stefan said nothing.

"You can see her if you like," Klaus added as an afterthought. "Though, I highly doubt it will benefit her. But it may raise false hopes. And what better way to feel human than to have those crushed?"

The younger Salvatore brother didn't look amused. "How . . . motivational of you," he said after a moment's consideration. "But I think I'll leave you to it."

Klaus assessed him, gauging his expression with careful, calculating eyes, and felt almost surprised at what he found there. "Do I detect subtle trust in your voice, Stefan?"

Stefan was already striding back to the door but paused after he'd opened it. He glanced back to the Original. "I trust that you care for her. And let's face it, you have a thousand years up your sleeve. You'll figure something out."

And with that, he was gone.

Klaus sighed as he set his glass back on the table and stared after the closed door. "That is one card I wish everyone would stop playing."