Disclaimer: Sanctuary is not mine. I'm just borrowing Tesla for my own little fantasies.

A/N. This is turning out to be more violent than I originally planned. Cursed plotbunnies. The story is inexorably changing from the original plan, so I don't really know how it's going to end now. Also, a bit of a Henry/Kate thing has suddenly emerged as a subplot. I don't mind if you don't. :D Not to worry. It still is--and always will be--all about Niko. ^_^

Chapter 3 – Dinner and a Show

Dinner was, in fact, ready promptly at eight. Helen, Will, Henry, and Kate stood behind an anxious Bigfoot outside the closed door to the barely-used main dining hall. As the sanctuary bells finished the eighth chime, the double doors flung open with a flourish to reveal a grinning Nikola Tesla. He was dressed in a dark gray shirt with his tailored black vest over it and black slacks.

"Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and freaks of all breeds," he said dramatically, bowing deeply.

"Still dressing like a vampire, Tesla?" Will said, only half-teasing, as they entered.

Nikola scoffed. "Please. I invented this look long before Bram Stoker wrote that god-awful piece of literature."

By then, they'd all entered and no one had anything more to say about Nikola's wardrobe choices. Candles, hundreds of them, covered the room and a dozen sat on the table in silver settings. Blood red roses littered the white tablecloth around the silver candelabras and the sanctuary's best, blue-printed china set the table with OCD-like particularity.

The food was already steaming on the table and looked delicious.

"How did you make all this so quickly?" Kate asked in wonder.

Nikola shrugged modestly. "It's an old hobby. I'm quite good, if I do say so myself."

"And you do," Henry muttered.

"I'm more interested in how you got the china out of a locked cabinet," Helen said suspiciously.

Nikola paused midway through pulling a chair out for her and gave that innocent look he had perfected over the years. "Well, I didn't want to bother you for the key and besides, what is a lock but a series of metal tumblers." He grinned. "It only took me thirty seconds to figure out how to spin them all just right without being able to see them."

Rolling her eyes, but unable to hold back a smile, Helen sat in the chair, still looking around in wonder. She picked up one of the velvet blossoms from the table.

"And the roses?"

"I may have borrowed them from the garden," Nikola admitted, fidgeting his fingers in front of him.

"Borrowed?"

"Alright, I took them," he said in exasperation. "But if it means that much to you, just give me two days of uninterrupted lab time and I'm positive I can find a way to reattach every single precious stem with minimal abnormally violent mutations and no ill-effects to the beauty of the flower."

"Two whole days?" Henry said, digging at the genius's ego slightly.

Nikola leveled a no-nonsense glare. "Botany isn't exactly my field of expertise, so yes. Now. What are we missing…" He snapped his fingers. "Ah! Wine, of course!"

With a wink at Helen, he disappeared from the room and a comfortable silence settled on the rest of the group as they took everything in. Helen was seated at the head of the table; the other end was vacant for Nikola's return. To her right sat a very agitated Bigfoot, who looked around at all the exquisite dishes with a cross between admiration and jealousy. Will sat next to him. Henry sat to Helen's left and Kate was next to him, staring down at her T-shirt and jeans.

"I feel underdressed," Kate whispered to Henry in the silence.

"You look great," Henry whispered back.

Kate blinked at him in suitable surprise and Henry cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at his plate and hoping that the dim, antique lighting of the room didn't show his blush. Helen smothered a smile. These were the moments she lived for. These warm, happy snatches of life that made all the pain and nightmare of longevity fade away to a memory.

"And voila!" Nikola reentered clutching four bottles in his arms. "I found a 1910, a '32, and two '46s. Nice years, hm, Helen?"

"You know," Will said, worriedly. "You should really be careful, Tesla. Judging from your habits, you could very easily become an alcoholic now that you're—"

Nikola's vicious glare stopped Will just short of uttering the deadly 'm' word.

"They're not all for me, Huggy Bear," he said, releasing the torturous name with hardly a twitch. "I plan on sharing."

"Huggy Bear?" Kate muttered in confusion to no one in particular.

"So!" Nikola dropped the bottles on the table and scooped one up gracefully, brandishing a corkscrew and his devilish grin. "Shall we begin the festivities?"

*

After the meal, Nikola sat back in his chair, cradling a wineglass in one hand, and observed all of their reactions with a little, self-satisfied smile.

"Well?" he pressed.

"That was the most fantastic meal I've ever eaten," Henry said around a mouthful of pasta. "And I'm still eating it!"

"Excellent," Will said, simply. "Absolutely delicious."

"It seems I must surrender one of my duties to one more talented than I," Bigfoot acquiesced with a slight bow of his head.

"I had no idea you could cook, Nikola," Helen said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

Nikola's smirk turned into a grin as he set down the wineglass and leaned his elbows on the table. "You don't know everything about me, Helen."

Helen found to her sort-of intrigued panic that she couldn't look away from his pale blue eyes. The seconds dragged on in silence and she was very much aware that the rest of the group was watching the moment awkwardly, but she still couldn't break her gaze.

"So, what's the occasion anyway?" Kate piped up.

Thankfully, Nikola's clear eyes turned to the young woman. "You mean you don't know?" He glanced around at all the others and frowned, clearly shocked. "None of you know?"

"Nikola, they probably just forgot," Helen soothed. "We've had a lot to deal with lately after all."

Nikola smiled and locked his eyes on Helen once again as he drank slowly from his glass. "I didn't forget. I haven't forgotten a single one yet. Not a single year."

Henry abruptly remembered, nearly choking on the last of his roast chicken. "Oh my god, your birthday!"

"It's your birthday?" Will exclaimed.

"Happy birthday!" Kate cried, lifting her glass.

Helen sighed and shook her head at the grinning Nikola. "Now look what you've done."

"You deserve spoiling," he replied with a shrug, drinking again. "You'll work yourself to death if you don't learn to…relax."

He uttered the last word with a sultry smirk that caused a quick chill to dance across the skin of her back.

Will cleared his throat and stood up, holding his glass. "How about a toast?"

"Refill first," Nikola said, pouring more into his glass. Then he leaned back. "Alright, protégé. Give it your best shot."

Will took a breath. "Right. Well." He faced Helen. "Magnus." A small smile. "You once told me that 'life without end is not a gift—it's a curse,' but I for one am thankful for every minute of your life. If I had never met you…well, you changed my life in the most fantastic way I can think of. You've changed each of our lives for the better and I'd just like to thank you on behalf of all of us. Here's to many more years to come."

Nikola raised his eyebrows in surprised appreciation. "I'll drink to that."

They'd all barely touched the wineglasses to their lips when the unthinkable happened.

John Druitt flashed into existence behind Helen's chair.

"Holy shit!" Henry yelped.

Before anyone could react, John had hauled Helen to her feet with an arm around her neck, knocking the elegant chair over with a clatter. Several other chairs smashed to the floor, as well, as their occupants leaped to their feet. Kate had her pistol out almost before she was fully standing. Nikola's wineglass had shattered on the wood floor and he stood perfectly still, sharp eyes taking in everything, his powerful mind racing furiously. Bigfoot was growling in a very intimidating way.

But Druitt simply smiled that mad, calm smile and pressed his long, walking-stick dagger against Helen's throat.

"Whoa, easy, easy…" Will soothed, using the best weapon in his arsenal—his voice.

"Hello again, everyone," Jack the Ripper murmured in his frighteningly low voice.

"Come on, Druitt, what're you doing," Will went on talking. "We're all friends here, right?"

"Don't bother," Nikola spoke up. "The man's hardly rational at the moment."

"Hello, Nikola," John said, and he truly did look insane. "Unfortunately your electroshock therapy isn't permanent. I've come to my senses."

"No, you've lost your senses again, John," Helen spoke up. She gasped sharply as the dagger pressed harder into her neck, breaking the skin. "What are you doing here?!"

"Let her go, Johnny," Nikola said.

Helen was surprised that the slender scientist had his own threatening edge to his voice.

"Why?" John challenged, cocking his head like a lunatic, eyes wide and spaced-out.

"You slice up whores, Jack," Nikola said. "Helen's not your type."

John looked like he was thinking hard about that. Then he spoke again. "No, you're right. But she is your type. And I'm here to cause you great pain, Nikola. Once the effects wore off, I realized that your little electrical solution to make me sane has kept me from my noble work." He grinned. "And now you're mortal, which makes my goal not only plausible, but thoroughly more enjoyable."

Nikola's jaw tightened. "I could always shock you into sanity again."

John laughed. "I know for a fact your powers over electricity left with your vampirism, Nikola. Please. Empty threats are beneath you."

Nikola's lips slowly stretched into a deadly smile. "See, John, this is why you never fit in with the Five. The rest of us were scientists—real genius. And you? You were just a thinker—a philosophy major. It's only because Helen took pity on you that you were even included."

"Do you want her to die, Nikola?" John hissed, tightening his hold even more on Helen. Blood now trickled from the dagger edge's contact point on the side of her neck. "I would love to make you suffer as much as possible before I kill you."

"If you were a scientist," Nikola went on rambling, "you would know that magnetism and electricity are two sides of the same coin. Electromagnetic energy is actually more powerful than mere electricity."

As his voice gained strength, the lights flickered noticeably.

"And if you were truly intelligent," Nikola went on, taking a step forward, "you would know that magnetic fields can do much more than make metal dance. When properly controlled and directed, they can do things like this."

He lifted his hand and simply snapped his fingers.

For one heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then, every light fixture in the room shattered simultaneously. The subsequent darkness was immediately rent by crackling electricity, striking John Druitt's skull with terrific ferocity. He instantly released Helen and she fell to the floor. John collapsed only a few feet away from her, thrashing like a man possessed. Nikola's face was blank in intense concentration as he stared levelly at the shrieking killer, keeping the pulses coursing through Druitt's body.

Helen lay on her side where John had dropped her and tore her eyes from the gruesome sight of him being tortured so close by. She looked up at Nikola. He stood perfectly still, hardly exerting any energy. Gone was the happy grin and dishonestly modest master chef. The cold look on his face made it seem like he had never lost his vampiric qualities at all. The bluish electricity reflected in his eyes, making them shine. John kept on screaming.

"Nikola!" Helen yelled over the crackling air. "Nikola, you have to stop! You're going to kill him!"

Nikola's eyes slid to the side, focusing on her. Without a change in his expression, the electricity suddenly stopped. The room faded to dimness, lit only by the candles on the table. Everyone in the room was panting hard—except for Nikola. Slowly, his blank expression cracked, allowing his usual smirk onto his face.

Helen once more locked gazes with him, but quickly broke off to crawl over to John's smoking body. The smell of burnt leather made her wrinkle her nose, but she pushed through it and pressed her fingers to the Ripper's neck.

"He's alive," she said, looking up. "Get him to the infirmary."

Nikola watched, rooted to the spot, as Henry and Bigfoot heaved John's tall, broad body off the floor, hurrying him out. Will and Kate ran ahead of them in order to prep the infirmary. Helen stood up wearily and was surprised to find Nikola at her elbow, helping her up.

"I'm fine," she snapped. But when she tried to shove away his hand, she nearly fell over.

"You're bleeding badly," Nikola countered.

With a deft snap, he pulled a linen napkin from the table and pressed it gently to her neck. Helen winced. Adrenaline had kept her from noticing that she'd been cut. Now, she felt the pain. She also felt his strong fingers cupping the back of her head in order to keep her from wiggling away from his other hand, which kept pressure on the napkin at her neck. He was standing less than a foot away from her. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his eyes were focused on tending to her wound, but she studied his face unashamedly.

After a few breaths, Nikola peeked under the cloth and shook his head. "You'll need stitches."

Helen barely registered his words. She felt woozy and didn't think it was entirely from blood loss. They hadn't been this close together since the closet/prison in the vampire kids' apartment a week ago. He smelled like wine and spices and his fingers were warm against her skin and curled against her skull in a gentle way that made her head buzz.

She was soon grinning like a loon. "Garlic," she mumbled.

"What?" Nikola frowned.

"You cooked with garlic tonight," she slurred. "S'just ironic. Kinda…funny…"

Then her eyes rolled back and she passed out. Nikola caught her before she hit the floor and, for a moment, just held her there. If anyone were to enter, it would look as if the two had been dancing and ended in a dip. His face was inches from her own; her head was titled back over his arm, lips parted and eyes closed. For several breaths, he was lost in the moment. Then he remembered her steadily bleeding neck.

"Damn," he muttered to himself.

Sandwiching the cloth between his shoulder and Helen's neck in order to keep pressure on the cut, he slid his other arm behind her knees and stood, lifting her cleanly off the ground with a grunt.

Carrying her as carefully as if she were a delicate doll, he glided to the infirmary, never jostling her.

TBC