"So, what happened to Professor Boudreaux anyway?"
"He moved to Canada or Mexico or something over the winter holiday is what I heard someone say," Camille answered as she entered the history classroom behind her best friend. Consumed in rearranging her books in her arms while simultaneously trying to find the Chapstick that had managed to drop all the way to the bottom of her purse, she followed closely behind as the two girls found their way to their seats in the classroom of perhaps a hundred students.
"So the guy randomly picks up and moves to Mexico and doesn't tell anyone? He was born and raised here. How does that make sense?" Pree asked, flipping her curly hair back over her shoulder and leading the way to the seats they claimed before the holidays.
Shrugging her shoulders, Camille rolled her eyes slightly and tucked her blond hair behind her ear. "I don't know. Does everyone have to tell you every tiny detail of their lives?" She smiled innocently as she successfully retrieved her Chapstick and settled herself in her seat beside her best friend.
Rolling her eyes dramatically, Pree shrugged her prim shoulders and flattened her textbook and notebook out on the table in front of her. "Not necessary, but appreciated."
Camille chuckled in amusement, clumsily dropping her books on the table before reorganizing them into some semblance of order. Pree watched her with a mildly disdainful look out of the corner of her eye. She had always been the prim and proper one of the two - although she was markedly more outgoing and man-hungry than her best friend - and she often remarked on Camille's lack of care about how she looked to the outside world. She wasn't unkempt, but she was disorderly for Pree's taste, and she could really spend more time plucking her eyebrows. The story was so overdone, Camille had begun tuning her out long ago, and Pree stopped talking after a while, resorting to dirty looks and imperceptible sniffs of derision.
Absorbed in organizing her books and situating her purse safely on the floor between their chairs, Camille was unaware as the new professor entered the room, garnering a low whistle of approval from her best friend.
"Ohhh, I'd do him," Pree commented under her breath.
Camille's eyebrows raised as she glanced up, her eyes settling on the new - and seemingly-young - history professor. His dirty blond hair was curly and unruly in a classic way, and his cleft chin and cheeks were covered in the perfect amount of stubble. She guessed he was several inches taller than either of them, and he wore a black duster jacket which he removed and tossed over the back of his desk chair to reveal the smoky gray long-sleeved shirt he wore underneath. That was layered with a white shirt and overlaid with two necklaces, the symbols on which Camille couldn't pick out from so far away.
Why she'd bothered picking up on so many details about the man, she didn't want to analyze. She was a naturally inquisitive person and believed that the simple details about a person told the most about them.
"That's because you're horny and you have unresolved daddy issues; you'd do any attractive male who walked into the room," Camille retorted good-naturedly, garnering an elbow from her best friend who shot her a feigned look of offense.
"This is when I hate you being a Psych major. Stop analyzing me, Cam."
Holding her hands up in surrender, Camille smiled to herself and pulled out her pen as the lecture began.
She'd always enjoyed history, although she preferred psychology to all areas of study, but she couldn't focus over her friend fidgeting beside her. Half an hour into the class, she cut her eyes over at Pree to see her sitting forward on her elbows, her cleavage pressed up into her chin as she chewed obviously on a piece of gum, accentuating her already-plump lips.
"Seriously?" she whispered exasperatedly, her eyebrows shooting up as she fixed her friend with a condemning look.
Pree returned her desperation with a look of innocence Camille knew to be completely fake. "What?"
"You know what," she hissed in return, motioning curtly with her head toward the professor.
Pree smiled knowingly then, her gum snapping in her mouth. "I already told you: I want to fuck him. May as well capitalize on an opportunity."
Blushing, Camille shook her head and buried her forehead against the palm of her hand. "Pree... he's probably ten years older than us, not to mention the fact that he's our teacher..."
"So? No one needs to know. It's not like I want to marry the guy."
"Oh my, I just can't with you-" Camille began.
"Ladies," came the lilting voice of the professor, his English accent carrying over any humming of voices in the classroom. Camille's blood ran cold at that word, knowing instantly he was addressing them. Pree sat up straighter in her chair, her hair bouncing around her shoulders as she smiled sweetly down at him.
Turning, mortified, toward the front of the classroom, Camille absently brushed her blond waves behind her ear and looked down at the teacher as he watched them intently. His look was a mixture of so many things - Was he mad? Was he amused? Was he indifferent? - she found him untouchable from the moment she made eye contact. He was instantly an enigma, and an inexplicable spark of curiosity came to life within her brain. She loved watching people, loved analyzing them, and seeing someone so impossible to read caught her attention immediately.
She knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't even his inescapable good looks that drew her, but that potpourri of unreadable emotions that crossed his blue eyes as he smiled a pleasant smile up at them.
"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked, his voice pleasant with a hint of something darker underneath that she couldn't pinpoint.
"You could probably help her," she blurted before realizing what she'd said.
Pree's jaw dropped and she looked over at her friend as the students nearby began giggling. There she went with her bluntness again. That seemed to be a problem she would need to get control over. Her cheeks pinked gently as her eyes widened, disbelieving she'd actually said what had just come out of her mouth.
The professor smiled then, a smile she considered genuine and not forced or sickeningly sweet as before, as if he was amused by her bleated response. Intertwining his hands behind his back, he shifted his weight and looked up at them out of the tops of his eyes.
"I would appreciate if you would remain silent during class, if that's at all possible," he remarked, his tone demanding but calm. It was surreal, how sufficiently he shut down any desire she might have to argue with him, as if his voice was somehow manipulating her with its velvety power.
Nodding meekly, Camille stared down at her notebook, noticing a similar reaction out of Pree beside her. As class continued, she tried to disappear into her seat but felt as if eyes were boring into her the entire time. A shift beside her caught her attention and she glanced over to see a note Pree had written on her notebook. Good job, dumb ass. Now I'll never get laid. :)
Klaus stalked out of the classroom as the last students left, his impatience and curiosity overwhelming him until he felt the need to wring something's neck. He resisted, of course, and moved swiftly so as to maintain an aura of humanity while getting outside as quickly as possible. Pushing open the exit door with an air of violence, his brows drew down against the sunlight as he focused across the parking lot at the two men speaking on the edge of the campus. Their eyes turned and took him in simultaneously, and suddenly, he disappeared in a blur of motion, reappearing beside them in a flash. His mood was such that he didn't much care if anyone saw him break the laws of physics with his supernatural speed, and his eyes blazed with impatience as he halted at Elijah's side.
"I believe we've found the one you're searching for, brother," Elijah intoned, his voice calm and soothing as if he was always comforting a wild animal. In Klaus's presence, he technically always was.
"Where is Hayley?" Klaus asked bluntly, pushing between Elijah and Marcel and walking toward the black SUV parked on the road outside of the college.
"She's...safe," his protegé commented, his voice silky like melted chocolate, the perfect voice for a predatory vampire like Marcel.
Klaus raised his eyebrows slightly, his characteristic look of half-pissed inquisition passing over his blue eyes. "You know what happens if you harm her. I don't care if you have a fascination with romancing every werewolf you can get your hands on." He halted and turned to cut his withering gaze on the younger vampire who watched him with mild amusement on his face. "Your desire to live on the edge of danger is unimportant in the grander scheme of what I have planned for her. Keep your hands off."
Shrugging his shoulders innocently, Marcel smirked at his master and bowed his head slightly, his dark, almost black hair shifting over his shoulders. "As you wish."
Satisfied, as satisfied as it was possible for him to be, Klaus turned and marched off with the two following behind him. He'd been searching for too long, and he was getting restless. The incessant humidity of New Orleans did nothing for his mood even if the heat didn't affect him. The longer he had to wait for something, the more irritable he would become.
Jarring him out of his violent thoughts, his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket, and he growled audibly as he withdrew it. Seeing who it was, he shook his head slightly and dropped it back into his jacket. He didn't have time to deal with self-righteousness right now.
The trip to the homestead he still owned outside of New Orleans took hardly any time at all, thanks to his lead foot, and soon enough, the three of them were climbing the stairs inside. The compelled housekeepers scurried out of the way as the ancient vampires whisked through the house, stopping only when they reached the room specially designed for Klaus's current experiment.
Hayley's eyes snapped up as the three men appeared in the doorway, and she stood to her feet, glaring hotly at them in hatred. Klaus she hated the most, with exception to Marcel who obviously wanted in her pants despite (or perhaps in spite) of the fact she could easily kill him with a bite to his neck, and she could care less about Elijah who she considered to be the peaceful Original.
"Let me go," she snapped.
"Now, now, Wolf Girl, let's not skip the pleasantries," Klaus commented, smiling that sickening sweet smile of his as he entered the room, his hands going around his back as he watched her, nonplussed by her hot hatred of him.
Hayley spat at his feet as he began circling her, pulling against the wolfsbane-laced chains around her wrists. The metal burnt into her skin, and she grimaced against it but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain. He smiled anyway, much to her disgust and chagrin, but she continued glaring undauntedly at him as he completed the first circle around her.
"Are we going to pretend like I appreciate the fact that you've got me chained to the floor in a house I've never seen? Because if you want my admiration, then you're going to be waiting a long time," she retorted, offering him a derisive smile of her own, satisfied when she saw the flash of irritation in his eyes.
"I could have killed you long before now, little wolf - or given you to Marcel - but I haven't. Have you asked yourself why?" Klaus asked as the French vampire behind him in the doorway smiled licentiously at her.
She hadn't particularly thought about why he was keeping her here after she'd told him about the betrayal of his hybrids, other than the fact that he still wanted Tyler Lockwood dead and couldn't find him. But that was information he could easily get from Caroline or even one of the Salvatore brothers for that matter. Tyler meant little to the vampires of Mystic Falls. She had to admit she was involuntarily curious as to where they were and why she was being detained instead of tortured. The entire situation confused her. She wasn't being treated badly, on the contrary, Elijah had been tending to her and protecting her from Marcel's advances, making sure she had every creature comfort she wanted besides freedom from the chains around her wrists.
"I haven't thought much about it," she lied, raising her eyebrows and pouting her full lips as she unflinchingly met his gaze.
Nodding his head with a knowing grin, Klaus began his circle around her once more, making her skin crawl when he was where she couldn't turn her head to see him. His brother and protege lingered in the door, watching with impassive expressions on their faces (excluding the occasional wink Marcel would give her when she made eye contact with him) as Klaus delved into his long-winded explanation as to why he had chosen not to kill her.
"It turns out you and I have much more in common than I first thought," he pointed out, his eyebrows raising as he meandered around the room.
"We don't have anything in common. Well, that's if you count Tyler Lockwood out of the equation," Hayley retorted, smiling darkly over at him as she saw the flash of anger pass over his face. She felt a small, petty victory in getting even the slightest reaction out of him.
Seeing Klaus's ire piqued, Elijah stepped fully into the room, ignoring Marcel who seemed overjoyed at the building tension between his master and the wolf girl. "Niklaus is descended from the original werewolf line as well as the original vampire line, as I'm sure you know," Elijah pointed out, standing in front of her and facing her as an honorable man was wont to do while Klaus fumed testily against the wall to her right. She fully expected the hybrid to spring at her at any moment, but he didn't, and his lack of reaction thoroughly confused her. That confusion was obvious as she narrowed her eyes and listened to Elijah's explanation.
"Recent discoveries have led us to believe you may also be descended from this original werewolf line," Elijah concluded, steepling his fingers together in front of him as he watched her face, awaiting her reaction.
Thick, latent confusion spread over her like molasses and she stared dumbly at the Original vampire as he waited patiently before her. "Isn't every werewolf technically descended from them?" she asked.
"Yes, but there are fewer original werewolves remaining than original vampires," Elijah clarified. Obviously, all but a couple of the original vampires were still alive, but the news of original werewolves was fresh information to her. She hadn't thought about the fact that there would be originals in the werewolf bloodline as well, but it made sense.
"You, my dear, are an original werewolf," Elijah concluded.
She sucked in a breath so hard, she almost fell backward as her eyes widened to look at him. Snapping her gaze from Elijah's impassive face to Klaus who stood watching her intently against the wall, she judged his reaction to see if it was true. As always, he covered any discomfort he had with a slightly demeaning smile.
"It appears we're related, little wolf," Klaus commented impassively, cocking his head as an amused grin replaced his usual smirk.
"Oh, hell no," Hayley barked, pulling against the chains around her wrists before remembering the wolfsbane and yelping as the searing pain burned in to her arms. Slumping over, her back bent but unable to sink to her knees on the floor thanks to her stubbornness and the shortness of her bindings.
"It makes perfect sense, honestly," Klaus intoned, moving from where he stood against the wall and walking around his vampire brother to stand side-by-side with his fellow Mikaelson as they watched the werewolf in front of them. "Nature has a balance for everything. If there are vampires, there must be werewolves, witches, hunters, and doppelgangers. It's a lovely cycle that we all must endure."
Stepping toward her, Klaus leaned over, propping his weight on his knees so he could look across directly in to her brown eyes. "There were five original vampire children (Mikael created to keep us all in line and on the run for the entirety of our lives), five original hunters (whom I killed...), and five original werewolves so it seems."
He rose to his full height, gripping her chin roughly and dragging her upward she she was glaring up into his steely face, his fingers digging painfully into her jaw. "You don't remember your parents because they died over a thousand years ago. We share the same father, sister."
His words, especially the term 'sister', cut through her and she lost the will to fight against him as he harshly pushed her face out of his hand. Stumbling backward, her mind reeled with the revelations. It was true: she didn't remember anything about her parents. She had always been told they died, and that was why she was in the foster care system. But when she thought about it, she didn't remember a life before the one she'd lived in her foster home. She didn't remember a childhood or her favorite teddy bear to sleep with during thunderstorms. She didn't remember the simple things that everyone else knew, and she'd never considered the severity of this until now. She'd never bothered to remember those things because some small voice in the back of her mind told her it didn't matter. Why worry when you had nothing to worry about?
But the words of the men holding her captive had triggered something within her mind. Although she hated him, and she hated the idea of actually being related to him, she instinctively knew Klaus was right. Some small part of her actually trusted his brother Elijah since the vampire had never found cause to lie to her, and he had been especially benevolent throughout her entire imprisonment here. He was merely following orders from his demanding hybrid brother. She could understand that sort of relationship. It seemed every relationship she'd ever had ended up that way, with her as the servant to a greater force.
"And because you are an original werewolf," Klaus began again, turning so he was facing her with Marcel outlined just above his shoulder with a hungry grin on his face, "You shall prove a very valuable asset to me indeed. Once your memories are restored especially. Until then, it's necessary to give you a little extra help."
Hayley's stormy gaze snapped up at the ominous sound of his words. "Extra help? What are you talking about?"
Klaus smiled that disgustingly masochistic smile and swiveled his weight as he did when an idea entertained him, his hands clasped behind his back. "Why I'm talking about making you a hybrid, of course."
She stiffened visibly, her brown eyes widening at the sound of it. She'd expressly told him, long before she'd ever known the blood connection between them, that she didn't want to be sired to him. If she was turned into a hybrid, that was precisely what would happen, and the idea sickened and infuriated her. "I already told you, I won't be one of your sired little bitches, Klaus. Besides, you don't have a doppelganger anymore, or have you forgotten that Elena Gilbert got turned thanks to your sister." She smiled caustically, seeing the anger flash over his eyes at the mention of his lost possession: his precious doppelganger.
Hayley knew the story. She'd become a close friend to Tyler Lockwood as she helped him break his sire bond, and she'd spent most of her time around him after the two had returned to Mystic Falls. She was up-to-date on Elena Gilbert's status and the fight to return her humanity to her. Of course, it hadn't worked, but Hayley couldn't care less about that. In fact, she was more than grateful for it in this moment. Without that doppelganger blood, Klaus couldn't turn her, and she would remain in her happy werewolf skin.
"Ah, but you've already forgotten today's lesson, wolf girl," Klaus pointed out, holding up a finger as he shifted his weight, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly. "Nature has a balance. Five vampires, five werewolves, five hunters, five witches..."
"...and five doppelgangers," Marcel finished for him from the doorway.
Hayley's blood ran cold in her veins, and she closed her eyes at the realization. There were more doppelgangers than the Petrova bloodline. Now, she felt woefully out-of-date. She didn't know much about doppelgangers other than the fact that Elena had been one. Now she wished she'd read up on it a bit more.
"Once I get my new doppelganger..." Klaus pointed out, smiling a smile that could be considered happy if he was even possible of such emotion, "It seems you might become my sired bitch after all." He chuckled and turned to leave the room, Marcel following close behind him as his ever-loyal shadow. Elijah lingered for a moment, glancing back at Hayley as he reached the door. His lips parted and he pulled in a breath as he paused as if to say something. Perhaps to apologize or to console her. But he seemed to find no words, so he closed his mouth and turned, leaving her alone with the revelation that she would become the loyal follower of the one man she hated most on the earth if he was successful finding what he was looking for.
And he would be, she knew he would be. He was Klaus Mikaelson. She didn't stand a chance.