Highway to Hell

"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace." - Chuck Palahniuk

Over the past thousand years or so, Niklaus Mikaelson had developed a rather sophisticated palate when it came to pain. Sophisticated enough that he could withstand it in some forms and thoroughly enjoy it in others. Its current form however...

Indescribable.

The beauty of Tunde's blade is that while the bone itself burrowed into one's chest, the magic it held burrowed into the entire being. It ripped into the soul, laying all secrets bare and then twisted them. It settled on the mind and projected long kept fears in high definition. And once all had been stripped down to its rawest form, it would then writhe and thrash creating a violent sensory assault that can only be described as pain. And yet that word seems so small compared to the agony it left in its wake.

Because the blade's full effect isn't immediate, there is a struggle to hold on to who and what you are. To grit teeth and believe that sheer force of will can become a buffer, a shield...

An exercise in futility.

Fighting against the blade's effects only increases its savagery. And so a part of him is grateful when he loses track of when and where. Best not to mark the time and place when he finally gave up and gave in to the blade. Gave into it so completely that he forgot his own name.

When he opens his eyes, he knows that he is no longer drifting in his personal sea of torment. And yet he cannot entirely be sure. He can't move. He can barely see. What little blood has been introduced into his body can hardly sustain it. Perhaps he has not been freed. Perhaps this is yet another elaborate ruse meant to draw out his suffering.

Gathering what little strength returned, Klaus turns his head to the side and is now even less sure of his reality. In spite of the fact that his heightened vision has yet to fully return, he recognizes the face of the woman sleeping beside him. It's unmistakable really. Always has been.

Bonnie Bennett.

The tiny witch is sleeping on her side and she is pressed against him in a confined space, yet he cannot feel her. He can't feel anything. In fact the last time he felt this frustrating numbness...

Desiccation. He's been desiccating.

Turning his head forward, he now knows rather than feels that he's lying on his back. How long had he been under? He'd growl in frustration but his vocal cords are still petrified, much like the rest of him. Although his eyes are adjusting more and wait...was this a hearse? Was he in the back of a bloody hearse?!

He turns his head towards the witch again. This is her doing though he cannot fathom why. If she has jeopardized anything...endangered his family in any way...

She will give him answers.

Or he will take her head.

BKBKBKBKBKBKBKBKB

One levitation spell and a slammed door later and Bonnie was hauling ass out of the Garden, dirt flying from beneath her tires. She floored her Baby the moment she hit the highway, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Marcel as possible.

While committed to her purpose, she could not ignore the magnitude of what she'd just done. It was something that could only be described with titles in order to adequately measure the weight:

The Bennett Witch just stole the Original Hybrid from the King of New Orleans.

Bonnie drove into daylight.

She finally pulled over at mid morning, eyes bleary and closing on their own. She found an off-road and parked in a small clearing. After grabbing a blood bag from the cooler, she made her way to the back of her 1958 Cadillac Superior. Yes, it was a hearse. Yes, it was her Baby. She and that car had survived too much for it to be anything else.

She opened the back door and climbed in, careful not to jostle Klaus. As desiccated as he was, she was amazed that pieces of him hadn't broken off in clumps of dust just getting him into the back.

While occasionally a sore spot for her, she was now glad that she was small. Small enough to climb inside and with a little space left to work. Klaus was long and broad but there was still a little room left on either side of him in the rear compartment. His eyes were open but unblinking, the whites scaled over. She stood hunched over him for a moment before settling into a rather indecent looking squat.

Grabbing her pocket knife, she sliced through the front of his shirt, revealing his grayed and petrified chest. The blade was completely enveloped. She put her knife to the side and began rubbing her hands together, summoning her magic.

Considering the awfulness of that blade, he shouldn't notice this at all.

With her palms together and pressing down with the tips of her fingers, she seared her way through the hybrid's chest, her magic burning a path through his sternum until she felt the blade.

Tunde's magic tried to rebel the moment she wrapped her hands around it. She was elbows-deep in hybrid and the blade wanted to put up a fight.

She pulled hard, straining against the dark magic stubbornly keeping the damn thing in place. Her forearms felt as if they were on fire as dark magic lashed out at her. Papa Tunde had created this torment specifically for the hybrid and now that it had him, it was a part of him.

Bonnie ramped up the flow of magic through her hands and put her back into it as she struggled, her body shaking from the strain.

"You...let...him...go!" She gritted out as she felt the blade begin to move, breaking away from the calcified home it had made for itself. Bonnie gathered all of her strength and with one hard yank, the blade dislodged, sending her stumbling backwards into Baby's closed back door.

Leaning against it and breathing heavily, she looked at the curved bone clutched in her hand. Its magic was already beginning to retreat into itself.

"Gotcha, bitch," she huffed, reaching over the hybrid for a small box near his hip. She opened it and dropped the blade onto a bed of black salt before closing it.

Crawling back over to Klaus, she straddled him, popping the cap on the blood bag. She slowly began to pour its contents into his still open mouth. With the blade now gone, the blood should be more effective. She stayed hovered over him until the bag was empty. Once it was, she squeezed herself into a space next to the hybrid.

She hadn't slept in nearly 24 hours and extracting the blade had taken a toll on an already tired body. Glancing at her watch, she knew she could afford a couple of hours of sleep before hitting the road again.

"Two hours. I can stand being this close to you for two hours."

She set her watch and drifted off.

BKBKBKBKBKBKBKBKB

The witch had been out for quite a while before the alarm on her watch sounded. Klaus watched as she lifted herself up from her place beside him and gingerly crawled her way across his body and out the back of the hearse, stopping only to grab a small wooden box. A few moments later and she was driving.

Whatever blood she had given him had begun to work in earnest while she slept. His hearing had returned and his vision had sharpened; but he still couldn't move and when he tried to speak, only a death rattle came forth.

Her sleep had been troubled and periodically, she'd mumble nonsense before falling silent. At one point he was certain she was having a nightmare for she tried to shift restlessly within her confined space, her breathing erratic, and heart fluttering. She called out sorrowfully to Stefan's disaster of a brother and some bloke named Enzo.

He suspects she hasn't had a peaceful night's sleep since discovering she was a witch.

When the hearse is suddenly flooded with the music of Sarah Vaughan, Klaus is reminded that he actually knows very little about Bonnie Bennett.

He remembers the first time he saw her. It was at her high school. His witch Marcus had transferred his consciousness into the body of the doppelganger's history teacher, Alaric Saltzman. The Gilbert girl had arrived with the little witch in tow.

As deeply as he'd felt for Tatia, her doppelganger did nothing to stir him. Whether Katherine or this Elena, the doppelganger was a means to an end and the only pleasure he'd receive would be from her blood spilling in the name of his liberation. The witch on the other hand...

She was lovely. A diminutive creature full of innocence and vigor. His sources informed him that she had come into her powers only recently. He'd known his fair share of Bennett witches and it was clear that both their power and their beauty had been amplified in their youngest descendant. With her long chocolate brown curls catching the breeze and caramel skin bronzed by the sun, making her large green eyes sparkle; you needn't be supernatural to know that this girl had magic in her veins. What she lacked in height, and she lacked quite a bit, she more than made up for in the dips and swells of her curves. It was one of life ironies that a face that pure presided over a body that sinful. If she managed to avoid irritating him with her attempt to thwart his plans, he might take her. While Greta was useful, her presence in his bed was beginning to stale.

"I can't believe they signed over the house to you," Bonnie said.

"Well it makes sense. Now no one can get in without an invitation. I'll be safe there," Elena reasoned.

"Of course it makes sense...I just have to wonder..." Bonnie hedged.

"Wonder what?"

"What aren't they willing to do?"

"I don't know. But that's a good thing, right?"

Bonnie's brow furrowed. "I don't know. It just makes me nervous."

"Bonnie you're always nervous. Stefan loves me and he just wants to keep me safe."

"Damon loved Katherine so much he was willing to unleash a tomb full of hungry vampires on the town just to get her out."

"Stefan is not Damon, Bonnie" Elena responded, her voice firm.

Bonnie chewed her bottom lip and nodded, "Yeah...I know..." She laughed nervously, "I'm just being a worry wart."

Elena threw her arm around Bonnie and laughed "I know. It's why I love you."

Bonnie bumped her best friend with her hip, smiling. "That better not be the only reason."

Klaus had observed that exchange and several others throughout the morning. The witch had been on edge for most of it, taking up sentry duty next to Elena. She remained on high alert, eyes darting, bracing herself to defend at a moment's notice.

The doppelganger remained unbothered. What need did she have to worry when everyone in her circle was doing it for her? The air of self-assuredness irked him. Which is why he compelled one of her classmates to drop his name to her as a gentle reminder that everyoneneeded to worry about Klaus Mikaelson.

They fled the school immediately.

The next time he saw the Bennett witch, she was tossing Damon Salvatore across a room. A picture began to form. With those unwavering green eyes and steel in her spine, the baby witch insisted that she "could take him." He found it admirable...naive...but admirable. He had waited centuries for the moment his curse would be broken and no wet-behind-the-ears witch with a power boost and a death wish was going to stop him.

So when she confronted him at the high school and threw everything she had at him only to die on a cafeteria floor, he relished the removal of his most troubling obstacle, while mourning a missed opportunity.

Having a Bennett witch in the fold would have been a boon. Especially one that tempting. As a witch and a lover, Greta had been more than willing and more than satisfactory. But Bennett witches...there was something about that blood line...the witches born of it tended to be capable of the impossible. He wondered what this one could have done given time.

He found out when she rained hell on him several days later.

She'd come striding out of trees like an avenging goddess. Alive and well and hell bent on vanquishing him. When he'd endured her onslaught while within Saltzman, Marcus had cast multiple protection spells on him to act as a buffer. So he hadn't felt the full effects of her power.

The night of the ritual was another story. And it is a story that has bothered him ever since.

With all of her power unleashed, he knew he was going to die. For one eternally long second he was sure of it. He would never acknowledge that fact to anyone, but he knew it. And more importantly, she knew it. Were it not for Elijah, he would have died and taken her with him.

Knowing what he knew about her heritage, he'd still managed underestimate her. An error he would never make again.

He finally gained what he thought was a complete picture of the Bennett witch the night she broke Esther's linking spell. He had harangued her for most of the day, even threatened to kill both her wayward mother and the doppelganger's little brother. Unsurprisingly, she completed the spell with ease.

When he escorted her through his house and showed her what Rebekah had done to Damon Salvatore, he was curious as to what she would do. He taunted her. Appealed to her to rescue the vampire that killed her mother. He expected her to do just that but he hoped that she would vent the rage she clearly held for Salvatore, for his viewing pleasure.

Instead, she asked him to show her the door.

He'd been disappointed. Disappointed she hadn't saved Salvatore or killed him...he wasn't sure.

It wasn't until after he'd closed the front door behind her and heard her erupt into tears moments later that he began to understand.

She'd called the doppelganger. Told her what had happened and suggested Stefan come and collect his brother. After she ended the call, she crumpled like a dying leaf falling from a tree. He watched her small body convulse, as if it couldn't contain her grief and rage. She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to jam them down, keep them from escaping...but her anguished sobs still drifted over to him. And for the first time, he felt a uniquely uncomfortable twisting in the pit of his stomach.

This was a witch with a mandate but no agency.

She was steadfastly committed to doing "the right thing", he knew. But at her age, with her background and a complete lack of support, knowing the right thing was a great deal more complicated for one such as her. The morally binary life she'd led prior to learning of her powers had unceremoniously become fluid...and she was drowning.

And in spite of all those around her whom she called friend, there was no one to throw her a life line. No one to even turn around and see her flailing arms as she gasped and struggled for air.

When she heard Stefan's car pulling up, she scurried away into the night and out of his thoughts.

And yet that uncomfortable twisting sensation returned the night she told him about the Other Side.

The space in his chest where Tunde's blade had lived began to throb as he realized, lying on his back more than half petrified, that he'd felt that twisting a third time.

By the time Sarah Vaughan was halfway through Whatever Lola Wants, Bonnie's car had come to a stop and the engine cut off. Klaus heard the back door open and felt sunlight wash over him. Suddenly, he was weightless, gliding out of the hearse and into daylight.

BKBKBKBKBKBKBKBKB

Bonnie was at a loss. After nearly 16 hours of driving from New Orleans to Maryland, she was still no closer to figuring out what she was going to say to the hybrid. They were not friends. They had been reluctant allies at best once or twice, but that was many years ago.

Four years ago, at the height of the Phoenix Stone debacle, Caroline had fled Dallas with the girls to seek shelter with Klaus. But when she arrived in New Orleans, she was told that he hadn't been seen in years.

Now she knew why.

She wished Caroline was here now. If Klaus still harbored any affection for her, it would certainly make all of this easier. Stefan might have been able to help as well. But they were both on the road tracking Damon and Enzo's movements. And they both would certainly have had a thing or two to say about her going rogue and unearthing the hybrid. She hadn't even told them that she was looking for the damn blade in the first place.

It was up to her to sway him. After her conversation with Vincent, she knew she had leverage...incentive for him to cooperate, but she didn't want to have to go that route. She knew what it was like having your hand forced—hell Klaus had done it to her—but, she would use it if she had to.

And what if he still says no?

If he rejects her, there would now be the completely undesirable problem of one of the wickedest, most bloodthirsty supernaturals in existence roaming free, becoming a liability to Bonnie and a potential asset to their enemy. He would return to New Orleans, rip apart the city, and bring unholy hell down on Vincent's head. She didn't want to be responsible for that. While she'd never experienced it first hand, she did believe that witches should stick together. The fact that Vincent and the witches of the Nine Covens weren't Bennetts didn't matter to her. She would protect them from both Marcel and Klaus as much as she could. Which made the answer to the question simple:

If she can't sway him...if she can't get him to see reason, then she will finish the job she started 12 yeas ago: She will kill the hybrid. And with as strong as she is now, her life need not be forfeit to do it.

But for now, she needed to revive him completely. Sundown was in 2 hours and the moon would be up not long after that.

Using her magic to levitate Klaus' prone body beside her, Bonnie grabbed her cooler and the box now holding the blade and began to walk towards what has been her home for the past three and a half years.

Reaching the front doors, she entered her code on a keypad affixed to it. Once they slid open she levitated Klaus' body inside.

BKBKBKBKBKBKBKBKB

Where the fuck was he?

Once he'd realized that this was the Bennett witch's doing, he assumed that she was taking him to Mystic Falls. However this place...

He turned his head as best he could as he levitated. Was this a library? The hallway she'd taken them down revealed rooms of nothing but bookcases. The hallway opened into a large room filled with display cases of varying sizes. From his vantage point, Klaus recognized many of the items on display, some of them had even been in his possession at one point.

Bonnie led him into a cargo elevator. Klaus thought he might rupture, his frustration was so great. He didn't know where he was or why he was here and the witch wasn't saying anything. She merely stared off into space, waiting for them to reach whatever destination she'd set.

He stared up at her, trying to will her to acknowledge him. Look at me! Explain yourself! He was already looking forward to the taste of her blood in mouth when he was free. Had she become simple? Did she think she wouldn't pay for these indignities? Had she forgotten who and what she was dealing with?

The elevator stopped, doors opening and Bonnie made her way down the hall, Klaus trailing her. They passed what appeared to be a laboratory and further down a training room. Beyond that was clearly a weapons locker. When she finally stopped, Bonnie stood before four holding cells. She entered her code on the door of one of the cells and ushered Klaus inside. There was a bed contained within and nothing else. Bonnie settled Klaus upon it and went to work, fishing a pair of blood bags out of the cooler.

Holding up the bags, Bonnie finally looked down at the hybrid.

"Hello Klaus."

If looks were weapons she'd be dead already. The wrath swimming in Klaus' eyes was potent. She couldn't blame him.

"Look, you have questions and I have answers. But there a few things that need to be taken care of first. Now I'm going to feed these bags to you. That should be enough to get you up and moving and you can feed yourself with the rest of these," she explained, patting the cooler with her hand.

"You may not be fully aware of this fact yet, but tonight is a full moon. So you're staying in here until tomorrow at least. Whether you're in here longer than that depends entirely on you."

She sat on the bed and popped the cap on the first bag and inserted the tip into his mouth. This feeding was more uncomfortable than in the car. Klaus could see her this time. He was awake and aware. He glared at her, daring her to meet his eyes as he drank.

With a sharp intake of breath, she straightened her spine and returned his gaze. Times have changed, hybrid. That girl you terrorized and bullied is long gone. And what's left will fuck you up.

Once the second bag was empty, Bonnie stood and made her way to the door. As she opened it, she heard him move. Turning around, she saw he was slowly sitting up, reaching for the cooler. His skin was already less hardened, less gray. The movement of muscle and sinew more evident.

The hybrid cleared his throat. "Where am I, witch?" Though gravelly and rough and thick with anger, his words were clear.

"This is my home," she said simply. "Formerly known as The Armory."

She closed the door behind her.
_

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and follows! This fic is going to be quite a few chapters so expect a slow burn from Klonnie. They've got a lot of work to do.