Summary

Klaus Mikaelson has killed a few slayers in his day, and Buffy wants to know how. Klaus represents everything she hates, so why can't she fully hate him?
When Buffy's mom gets sick, she needs him. She doesn't want to need Klaus, but her mother is more important. She asks him to use his blood to cure her. It works, but will it last?

Set Season 5 Btvs; Buffy, lost what to do after the defeat of Adam has turned her eyes on the myth of Klaus Mikaelson. Said to be the Original Vampire. But more than that, the killer of a few vampire Slayers. Buffy wants to know more about her past, her weakness'. So she travels to New Orleans to track down the infamous Klaus. She wants answers. But also to do what no slayer has ever been able to do. Kill the monster that started it all.
Set post series TO; Hayley is not pregnant but Klaus has moved back to New Orleans in hope of taking back what was once his.

The sights of the quarter were more than could fill the eye. The air was hot, almost stifling so. After all it was early September, which is still summer for New Orleans. Buffy's boots made a clomp clomp sound on the sidewalk. She was use to Indian summers, she was from California. Her bag swung over her shoulder. To most it would be a burden, packed to the brim with weapons and shoes. But she barely noticed it weight as she wandered around the infamous French Quarter. All she had to go on was the little information Giles' resources were able to tell her. She knew that infamous vampire had recently settled in the French Quarter after what seemed to be a remarkable body count in some small backwoods Virginia Town. He wasn't exactly mister lay low from what Buffy had heard.

Giles thought she was reckless to seek out the threat that had been written about with such fear. But when Buffy wanted answers, well let's just say that nothing stood in her way. The only problem was, even with the little research they were able to get, she had no idea what this big bad looked like. She was picturing someone tall, menacing, and bulky. But she also knew that big bad's came in every which size. For heavens sake's, look at the Mayor. He seemed like a wholesome family man when he wasn't transforming into something straight out of those horrible Predator movies.

But she did have some lead, or kind of lead. Okay, she had a tiny inkling of where something may possibly kind of go down. But it was more than anything else. Besides, she wasn't research Gal anyways. She was more of a stake first and ask questions later kind of Slayer. Something the Council wasn't all too happy about. They would probably be shaking in their tea-filled houses or whatever those Brits did if they had any idea what she was about to do. But she wanted answers, and they couldn't give them to her. Soon her eyes landed on their prize. Giles had told her that there was rumor of a powerful coven of witches in New Orleans. Buffy figured that was the place to start. After all, from what she heard, anyone with power was a target for his jealous vampire-ness. She heard that one of the witches worked at this bar. Sophie something-french was her name. So without hesitation, Buffy pushed open the heavy and old oak door to the bar.

The place was pretty standard for a bar. Beer, liquor, sqeaky stools. With a few more clomp clomps of her boots she sat at the end of the bar. Technically she wasn't even old enough to be drinking, not that that was really what she came here to do. But the ever trust worthy Xander had given her an ID for the journey. It had taken her a long time to convince Xander that he didn't need to accompany her on her soul-seeking Slayer-esqe mission. She was pretty sure she had had hurt his Xander-shaped feelings in the process. But this was something she had to do without him, without Giles, without any one. So for tonight she would be Telulla Saunders. She could punch Xander in his cute little head for his idea of a joke. Freakin' Tellula. What was she, a forty year old former beauty queen turned alcoholic from Kentucky? But it would do for now.

Buffy had her eye on the bartender. She could only get Sophie Bonjor-whatever's name from a long list of contacts. She wasn't in the know enough for her work schedule but she was hoping that she could be in some luck today. The girl behind the bar had dark, dirty blonde like hair, and slightly panicked way of moving. Buffy waited quietly for the lady to make her way towards Buffy's end of the bar. While waiting, Buffy tried to think of what the next step would be. Obviously she had to find this Niklaus Mikaelson. That was her ultimate goal here, well kinda. Giles warned her that she may not be able to get any answers out of him. She knew he was worried she would end up like the Slayer's before her. It was written in a journal of some old dead guy who had the writing of a four year old who had too much kiddie crack pixie sticks that a wooden stake wouldn't kill Niklaus or his family. So she would just have to wing it if it came to blows. Which is always did the end.

Finally the sweet faced bartender had noticed Buffy. In a slightly out of breath voice, she asked "What can I get you?" Buffy pushed her bag off of the bar and on to the empty seat next to her. "Actually, I was looking for someone called Sophie. I was told she worked here." Buffy studied the girl's facial expression as she talked. She could tell the moment she said the name that this woman was not Sophie witchy-girl. But that didn't mean that she didn't know her.

"Sophie called out today, hence me having to open the bar by myself. And from the looks of it this morning, she didn't attempt to clean up after her self last night either. I'm Cammi, by the way." The woman sighed, lines appearing in her forehead. Strike out number one, Buffy She thought to herself. She opened her mouth to ask the woman when Sophie was expected to be in next, or where Buffy could find her, but she was interrupted. A few rowdy men at the other end of the bar's argument drown out anything else, and a glass shattered on the ground. The noise broke all conversation except that of the bitter old men's argument. Cammi quickly moved towards them, already trying to diffuse the problem.

Buffy sighed, trying to figure out what the next step on this foggy journey would be. And that was when she felt someone sitting down next to her. "I would offer to buy you a drink, love. But it seems like our lady of alcohol is otherwise preoccupied." The voice had a thick British accent, and had control that many people's voices lacked. Buffy turned to take in the man. She did not have time for some creep to hit on her. She was on a mission. Plus, random bar pickup. Ick factor much? But she took in his sandy hair, his deep eyes, and of course a smirk that clearly stated 'Everyone melts in my hand, why should you be any different'. Ugh, cockiness was not something Buffy took well too. She had enough Cordelia in her three years of Sunnydale high to really stand anymore. And Miss May Queen Cordy would have been swooning in her paid for by Daddy's designer clothes if she had been in front of this man.

Buffy opened her mouth to spurn his advances before they came. But her words dropped when she watched him reach across the bar for a bottle and two glasses. As he grabbed one of the glasses, the fragile pint glass next to it swayed. It careened off the edge of the black mat. But before it could travel very far, the man caught it easily in his hand. Too easily. Vampire. Buffy's instincts screamed. Maybe the trip wasn't going to be a complete waste after all. If she could get the vampire on it's own, she may be able to get some information on Niklaus. He eyes scanned for some form of daylight jewelry as he smirked at her. Obviously she was suppose to be impressed. While that may have been the part he wanted her to play, Buffy was never one for the rules.

"Is this how you act at every bar? Just take a bottle and hope the bartender has had one too many to notice you have a bottle of Angel's Envy in front of you?" Buffy quipped. Hmm, she couldn't spot any daylight jewelry, but it had to be somewhere. After all, the bar was filled with sunlight that would have been burning him otherwise. She turned her body towards him, crossing her legs as her black skirt rode up a bit. A little flirting can get you far with vamp, something her evil-not-twin other half had taught her. Buffy wasn't one for the femme fetale approach, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head. Camille won't miss this anyways." He threw a small wink her direction. Barf. Ugh, if this had been any other situation her fist would be half way to his jaw by now. But instead she forced herself to smile.

"Well if you insist on partaking in petty theft right in front of me, I guess i'll have to indulge." She quipped, pushing one of the glasses towards him. "Although drinking before three in the afternoon feels a little too trampy to me. Or desperate alcoholic. Can't decide which." But the vampire just smiled as he poured two decent size drinks in the tumblers. Buffy wasn't a big drinker. 'Specially since the whole Buffy gets drunk and then becomes a near primate thing. Let's just say when your the Slayer, there is more that can happen then waking up with a hangover the size of Texas.

"Cheers, love." Her murmured as they clinked glasses. Buffy tried not to grimace as the smoky and harsh liquid slid down her throat.

"So really though, what are you doing at a bar during peak office hours?" She brushed back a piece of hair, trying to appear flirty. It was easy, after all, this type of guy was just expecting for everyone to fall at his feet. Again, yuck.

"I could ask you the same thing. Let me guess. Your running from your estranged husband because you took off with fifty quid of his savings?" The vampire had a playful look on his face as he arched an eye brow. "Whatever it is, your on the run. I can sense that, darling. You have rebellion just wafting off of you."

Double yuck. Did he think that the British accent was a gateway to acting like Colin Farrel or whatever that British guy from Love, Actually was? The whole I'm-british-and-poetic-shag-me-now thing was sooo over played. Buffy downed the rest of her drink, this time not succeeding in keeping the grimace off her face. "How about we exchange names before we exchange oh-so-tragic movie of the week life stories, Prince Harry."

The man let out a chuckle that seemed to bounce off the glasses and back to them. "How rude of me. Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson."

Jackpot.

Hope you guys enjoyed it. It's just the first chapter and I have a lot more planned for Buffy and the New Orleans crew. This was more setting up Buffy and Klaus meeting and the whys and what not.

Please let me know any feedback and what not you have, and hopefully I can update really soon. Hoping to get another, longer chapter out tomorrow.