Hey! So short notice(s): a)I own nothing but the plot. b) there's still no juicy stuff, sorry I know I promised, but things turned out differently! c) the next one, I hope, will carry out the promise d) R&R, people! I love reading what you think! ^_^ Now, enjoy!

~ Nikkitosa

Bath me in Red

An old spiral staircase leads down to the underground parts of the house, a.k.a. the basement, which is separated in two by a thick brick wall. From the stairs you only see the part that is now a well-kept winery and even if you stride down the rows, look carefully at the wooden panels that cover the otherwise stony walls, you won't find the door hidden there. Concealed behind a barrel, with no difference in the beams, my secret passage is basically impossible to see with a naked eye. And what lies behind that door is something that the naked eye should better not see.

The room on the other side is all stone - walls, floor, ceiling. In the centre of it is a cage, which bars are driven deep down; they are thicker than a human's arm and are said to be unbreakable and unbendable. Now, as I calmly walk in and close the door behind me, the especially built-in lamps cast strange shadows and I see that I have proven one of them wrong – the bars are bendable, they just need the right amount of strength to do it.

Even now, after more than three centuries of being a Huntress and experiencing the curse on my own back, knowing perfectly well the amount of pain that tries to crush your will and make you spill blood, a shiver runs down my spine by the thought of the power harnessed to make those iron bars turn into a grotesque statue of art. Touching to cool surface with the tips of my fingers only brings many unpleasant memories and makes the warning bells in my head ring as loud as possible. 'Tonight.' I remind myself and open the cell's door, the huge padlock and the chains ringing mockingly. Inside of the cell there are two chains hanging loosely from the top and two lying on the ground. As I kneel to check if everything is in place, I see the long claw marks recessed into the floor, my fingers unconsciously following the trail. 'My clawing.' Like I already said we are made to experience the pain of the werewolves' turning but without the shifting part, so the marks are made by my own human nails while I tried to fight off the urge to kill. 'And Hayley will be here tonight… It won't be safe… '

The next thirty minutes pass by in checking all the equipment for tonight and thinking over and over again how should I act. It seems that I only have two choices – either call Rebekah and tell her to come and pick Hayley up, kicking and screaming most probably, or make sure the little wolf stays hidden and locked in the furthest corner of the house. Both seem to lack any logic or rational thinking, yet I eventually decide on a third one – talk with her, warn her about the danger she is stepping into and let her decide. 'Like that's gonna turn out to be a surprise!?' a voice in my head scoffs and I shake my head. 'Huntress, shush! I don't need your wisdom right now!'

The chains are in place and all the locks are checked again before I leave my secret room and return to the winery. It is cosy in there, compared with the humidity and coolness of the air in the cell, and the constant lingering smell of the red liquid almost makes my head swirl in a nice, almost alluring, way. Almost. Striding down the rows and then dashing up the stairs, I close the door behind me, not paying any attention to what's happening around me. My only concern now is to find the little wolf and warn her about how life-threatening her stay here tonight may be.

"Does Rebekah know?"

"Yes."

Hayley only furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head, making her curly hair bounce on her small shoulders. 'She looks so fragile and small. And under this little façade hides a true she-wolf.' I muse and smirk.

"That's so screwed up!" she exclaims and narrows her eyes, staring out of the window, a dark shadow passing through her face for a second.

"What are you thinking?" I ask after taking a sip of my water, already feeling the first of the symptoms – dehydration.

"You won't like it anyway." she sighs and looks at her hands, clasped in her lap.

"Try me." I dare.

She stays silent, her gaze distant, and now I can see how vulnerable she suddenly looks.

"You are in a way like him. I don't know his worldly experience or anything, but in a way you remind me of him – dark, dangerous, full of pain and anger. Lonely, yet capable of great devotion and love. Cocky. A polar character." the last two are said with a teasing smile and I smirk.

"You forgot a badass, sassy and deadly." I add and we start laughing. "So I am like a female version of Klaus?"

Hayley tenses for a moment, the bare mentioning of his name making her smile grow cold and eventually disappear.

"You are nothing like him – he's a monster in disguise. He kills on a whim, does whatever he wants, not minding the consequences that come along. He's selfish and arrogant. He's- "

"The father of your child, Hayley. Don't forget that." I interrupt, trying not to sound like I'm condemning her.

"I know. Believe me, if I could, I'd go back in time and stop myself from falling for his charm."

"He's handsome." I suddenly blur out, looking at the crossbow above the fireplace.

Hayley stares at me with wide eyes, utter shock written all over her pale face.

"What?! Even I can't deny the obvious!" I defend myself.

"No, it's just… I though you hated him in the guts." her look is apologetic and I smile, hiding the already present pulsating pain in my chest.

"Like I said – I'm trying to be flexible."

Hayley's narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow show me that she saw right through my lie and she's not pleased.

"I just believe there's more to Klaus then he lets us see, that's all." I sigh and massage my temples. 'A headache! Fucking perfect!'

"You seem sick." it's the worry in her voice that makes me open my eyes.

Unconsciously I have bowed my head and rested it on the elbow pad on the armchair, closed my eyes and, as it appears, drifted off for more than half a second.

"Sorry." I mumble feeling drained out of energy already. 'And it's barely noon!'

Usually when the time comes, I spend the whole day sleeping and laying around, after making sure that my 'cage' is ready for the night. This way I manage to save and collect energy, ease the cramps in my stiffening muscles, minimize the damage the dehydration causes and mentally prepare myself for what's to come. Because in the end that's the worst part – knowing what and when the danger is coming and not being able to stop it in any way. The only thing you can do is just lie there, feeling lethargic and wondering if it's better to just cut your veins right away and get it over with. Because the only thing you will get is pain. No love. No hope for something better or improvement. Just plain, raw, old-fashioned pain. With time you start despising yourself and the choices you have made just because of that pain that eventually managed to get under your skin and slowly eat you alive. And one day you realise there's nothing left to fight for; no one will miss you, no one to water the plants on your grave with their tears. And in the end, when you realise just how fucked up everything is you have two options – give yourself a break, end it all, and have the rest you crave for, or keep on fighting, hoping that one day there will be some justice, even though you know there's no such thing.

"How can I help?" Hayley's voice brings me out of my thoughts and I blink a few times, chasing away the dizziness.

"If I say run as fast and as far away from here, would you do it?" even though I'm serious, a little smile creeps up my face at the realisation that she'd rather be chased around the house by a one-night bloodthirsty psychopath than return to the one who seems to have taken this up as a full-time job.

"I'll pass." she tilts her head to the side, her piercing eyes filled with determination.

"Then we will have to make a deal." my only option, as it seems, is to negotiate something somewhat passable for both of us.

"I'm listening."

"You can stay here for the night and after that if you promise me one thing."

She only nods, indicating that she's following.

"If I manage to somehow get out you'll immediately run out of that door and call either Klaus or Elijah."

"Why them?"

"Because they are overprotective and will do whatever they can to keep you safe and sound. Rebekah… well, she is a softy when it comes to me and will definitely come in and try to stop me. And I don't want to spill blood tonight. So promise me that if I get loose, you'll get out of here and call one of them." despite the hoarse sounds here and there, my voice is even and stern, emphasising that this is of great importance.

For some time Hayley stays silent, her calculating gaze weighting the options and probably coming up with a plan of her own. The hands of the clock strike twelve and a low ringing sound echoes through the empty house, bouncing off the walls.

"Fine. If I hear something I'll leave and call Elijah." her huff in the end indicates that, indeed, she prefers not to.

Nodding, I stand up and head to the second floor.

"Come, I'll show you something you may like."

The room we enter used to be a packed to the ceiling with junk closet according to an old house-journal I accidently found while looking around not so long ago. It seems that the previous owner was a one of those old-fashioned chroniclers that was in urgent need of space to stack all her journals and the closet turned out to be the best option. After cleaning it and throwing all the unnecessary rubbish out, the woman turned the otherwise small, claustrophobic room, into a fine office with shelves from floor to ceiling, filled with every kind of information a local may need. At first I was rather sceptic of the truthfulness in her scribbles, having in mind that a mere human can hardly keep up with all the things going on around New Orleans, but I was left rather astonished at how precise, and true, all her documents were. After some digging up I found a personal journal that contained all the answers I needed to find out what kind of a person that Betty-woman was. It appeared that she was no ordinary person at all. 'Possessed' she described herself as. Usually when I hear someone babbling about being possessed by something I turn around and leave as fast as possible, not even wanting to check if the said person has some kind of mental disorder or not. I was raised by the old laws of my people and so I belied that gods, and some other supernatural creatures for that matters, could channel parts of their energy into a living human being and either control most of the host's action or give him some kind of supernatural abilities they could use. I never came round to that old fable until I saw with my own two eyes a host. She was rather normal and, dare I say, simple to be honoured with the title 'host' in my understandings of the word at that time. But I was barely fifteen and I hardly found anything living up to my expectations. That was until I saw the said woman inflame herself, alongside with her hut, in which she was hiding some kinds of journals filled with centuries-old secrets. The day before she died she told me that the journals she was hiding were priceless, that only the ones who had the sight could wield the knowledge encrypted in them. And that she, as a host of a powerful god, had the needed sight to find these people and give them the journals they may need. Then handed me one little red book, wrapped in goat's skin before ushering me out of her home, a terrified look in her eyes. The words 'Use it wisely!' rang in my ears as I watched her burn alongside with her house the next day, only to protect the journals from falling into the wrong hands. Now that little book serves me right, as a mean to help people, to cure them; in it are written down most of the potions, poisons and their cures that ever existed.

Since that little encounter all my disbelief in that matter vanished and I swore to stay as far away as possible from such people. Getting lured and enchanted by power is bad, but getting greedy for knowledge that's not meant for you is a whole new degree of shit-will-go-down bad in my eyes. So I kept my distance, only occasionally throwing a sideways glance at some 'hosts' that were just too interesting to slip by unnoticed.

And Betty Eloquent seems to have been just that type of person. A chronicler, to be exact. Imagine my surprised face when I read her name /C'mon! Eloquent?! What kind of chronicler would she be?/ of her private journal and afterwards seeing she wasn't one of those people who would rather burn-down-alongside-my-documents then just leave. Because that's what she had done – pack her stuff and leave, abandoning all her life-long work here, where anyone could find it and read it.

My first though was to burn all those documents concerning the existence of Gods and all, because as it seems Betty here believed she was only partly possessed by Seshat, the Egyptian Goddess who was believed to be a record keeper among other things, and she found it her "duty" to write down all the things concerning the host-god relationship! I admit I felt tempted to read that part of the journal, but I decided against it, and skipped to the end, reminding myself that I shouldn't judge the poor woman, because for all I know she may have been made into believing she was only halfway possessed. Eventually I found out that she had moved away due to health problems, and with some 21st century research from my side, I read she had died thirty years ago in a hospital, diagnosed with a rare form of Alzheimer's , which left her with the memory of a new-born for nearly three years. All data of her existence had been destroyed in a fire, leaving no trails of her whereabouts before hospitalization.

Until I stumbled upon her house and became the legal owner of the property and the things it included, alongside the hidden closet and all the documents in it. As a precaution I had decided to go through most of the books if not all of them only to make sure there's no dangerous information in them, but a little piece of carton saved me at least a month-long work. It was a very detailed classifier which showed the way the journals were arranged, the things they contained, the date they were written, the area that's being examined and many more.

The closet and its content had slipped out of my mind and it would have stayed that way, until Hayley showed up and a series of words from the classifier struck me - New Orleans/ Werewolves/ Crescent Wolf Clan. And so the idea formed – if Hayley is to stay here during the night, and she obviously has no intention to leave, then I should at least keep her occupied for as long as I can, hoping that the depth study of her family's history would keep her quieter than a mouse, and preferably out of my sight when the night falls.

"I found some old journals in here that may help you." I nod towards a small pile near the desk – the last of the host's researches.

Hayley cautiously enters the office, looking around as if expecting a threat to emerge from the pieces of old paper, before kneeling next to the pile and reading the title. Even in my current weakening state I notice her body stiffening and the hand holding the classifier – shaking.

"I overheard a few things about you while I was here. And since the night's going to be long for both of us, I figured out at least you can do something productive."

The brunette stays silent and for a brief moment I wonder if I did the right thing by showing her the closet and the files it contained.

"Thank you." her low whisper almost slips past my ears as she raises up, carefully holding the pile.

"I'll be in my room resting until sundown. Then I'll go downstairs. You are free to do whatever you want until then. After that you'll lock the door and won't leave this room."

Hayley only nods, her straight face showing me that she's taking things seriously. And how wouldn't she? I grow weaker and petulant by the minute and a numb pain is coursing through my whole body in waves; my skin is ashy now, its usual bronze hue gone, there are huge bags under my eyes and my moves are a lot slower and lethargic. She basically sees first hand that I'm losing my strength slowly but surely.

"And one last thing." I add before stopping right next to the opened door, "While in that… state, I may do or even say things that are… let's say cruel and offensive, but do bear in mind that I won't recall any of it if I wake up tomorrow morning. While not myself, I don't have control over my actions and if… if I hurt you in any way before help comes I hope you will have the strength to forgive me." the last part is mostly whispered as my throat seems to clench painfully.

A dry cough makes me grip the frame of the door, fighting for my breath.

"What do you mean if you wake up tomorrow morning?" Hayley seems truthfully concerned and I can't help but smile.

"This whole charade we are made to pass through was created with the only purpose to make us kill ourselves in the process. "

The young werewolves' eyes widen and a terrified expression crosses her face for a second before vanishing, anger taking its place.

"What the fuck's up with this shitty curses? What sick mind would come up with such torture?" and while she fusses around I can't help but smile sadly, the irony of this scene not staying hidden from me.

"If I wake up-"

"When you wake up!" her interruption makes me chuckle.

"When I wake up, remind me to tell you the story of how we got our heads in the bag. "

I walk out of the door and close it after me, but not before my sad whisper echoes in the silent room.

"If you would still want to even look at me by then."

I walk down the spiral staircase that leads to the winery and am immediately engulfed in the sweet odour of ripe grades, old wooden barrel and warmth, coming from the torches on the wall. As I slowly drag my feet to the hidden door a though, quite strange if I may add, crosses my mind and makes me halt near one of the big barrels. 'All this wine will go to waste. There's no one do drink it…' An image of red wine rivers running out of my house and into the land where it soaks in, giving the soil a nice brick red shade, bombard me, immediately followed by a headache.

Using the last remains of my strength I manage to drag my heavy and definitely not cooperative body to the hidden door and then into the other room, giving myself the needed time to make sure all the locks are in place. Then I enter the cage, to cold metal sending chills up and down my spine, and start rolling the chains around my ankles, one at a time. Even though I've been doing this for many years, every time an uneasy feeling settles deep in me, making me anxious, jumpy and agitated. Yet, thanks to this long practise, I know how to keep myself away from the brink of unconsciousness longer than my fellow damned. In taking deep gulps of oxygen and fastening the chains around my angles I try to chase away the images of the very pregnant Hayley remaining very close by, being very confident and stubborn and making me feel very edgy. 'Everything's going to be alright!' I chant, trying to persuade myself to believe in those words, only to end up feeling less and less convinced with each and every time I repeat them. 'I have never managed to break out of here! Definitely today won't be the day to bend these bars!' that's the last rational thought I have before the darkness looms over me, sending waves and waves of numbness.

Fooled by the false sense of drifting away, my body gambols and twists when the jolts of pain start stinging different nerves simultaneously, as if a giant scorpion is driving its incredibly long, sharp and poisonous sting into my flesh over and over again. I trash around, or at least think I'm doing it, but soon the darkness that until now crept around the corners of my vision, progresses rapidly forward, and my defence ends up being too weak, my willpower soon leaking away, and the world around me drowns in darkness.

I feel my body sprawled horizontally on the cold marble floor. It hurts all over and something hot and sticky is pooling around my head. Suddenly sharp pain makes me yell and clench my right shoulder, trying to somehow protect myself.

"Do you give up?" a female voice swirls, mock dripping from every word.

I groan and whimper, the pain from my shoulder gradually spreading down my forearm. Obviously irritated by my lack of answer, the attacker drives her sword deeper into my flesh. I yell once again, tears pricking in the corners of my eyes.

"Do you give up?" this time her snarl makes me open my eyes.

The image of the woman is blurred, like she's hundreds of miles away while the weapon, that's at present using my shoulder as a personal, still pretty much alive, case, is crystal clear, all the ornaments neat and nicely engraved over the cold steel.

"You are weak. Unworthy of being one of us." she pulls her sword out of my shoulder, disappointment and disgust mixing in her voice as she walks away. "It seems I misled myself regarding you and your none-existent abilities."

The chatter or her boots echoes in the empty room and with every step she takes I feel as if she's driving nails deep into my skull.

Turning to my side I manage to take a glimpse at her. A tall figure with broad shoulders and short hair. Yet after I blink the image has changed – a petite girl with long auburn locks just like mine, walking away, fresh blood dripping from her.

"Sister…" my voice is low and hoarse, as if something is clenching me by the throat.

In the short interval between my collapsing and loss of consciousness and the darkness drowning me in its black waters, I see my sister's scared blue eyes look at me with an emotion that almost makes me jerk back up. Disappointment. Betrayal.

"It seems I misled myself…." the words echo in my head, the even and emotionless voice that repeats them belonging to me.

The leaves are crunching under my feet, the still green and tender saplings being almost pulled out from the soil by my searching hands, desperately trying to grab on something, anything , that will help me reach the village faster. Despite my best attempts, I find my home, the place I grew up, though myself to Heal, and became an independent woman, engulfed in dark flames. The screams for help, the pained howls, the women's cries and the sound of cracking fire and the crumbling down of the temple accompany me all the way down the hill, into the village, down the burning streets, past the temple, and right to my hut. When I burst through the door, shouting my sister's name, I don't manage to spot the movement behind me. Rather sheer terror suffocates me as I run around my almost destroyed home, in despaired attempt to find my sister and my new-born baby. There's no one. Upon realising that I jump out of the wreck my home has turned into, and look around.

No one. Neither my sister's long auburn locks, nor my baby's inconsolable cries. My head spins, from the fear, from the running or from the smoke I inhaled, I don't know, but before I manage to steady myself, my body collapses, a numb pain in the back of my neck warning me of someone's unwanted presence.

The next flashbacks are played out in front of me as consistently alternating fast and slow motion scenes. Everything happens in a fraction of the second. Like and outsider I watch my limp body being thrown on the cold, soaked by my people's blood, ground, right in the feet of a man who too much resembles a beast. His fingers are actually long sharp claws, his face is not human but wolf and a huge tail with spikes is wagging dangerously behind him. The words he growls are all muted. He gestures at someone and the flames throw shadows at the nearby tree. I manage to glimpse at a pair of blue scared eyes before the scene rapidly changes.

I'm back into my own body and while under usual circumstances I'd be feeling pain crush my body and try to drive me back into unconsciousness, these are no normal times. Instead of the physical pain, my body is being thrown in overload by emotions. Fear. Anger. Despair. Cluelessness. And while I try to fight the terror clenching my throat and preventing the oxygen from entering my body, the scene changes. One moment I'm on my knees, fighting for air, in the next I'm being held up and made to watch as werewolves rape my younger sister. Right in front of me. Showing no beginnings of tenderness what so ever. I feel myself trying to yell, to tell them to stop, but the words die in my mouth, not a single sound interrupting my sister's heart-shattering screams. It's slow and agonising as the time seems to have halted and I see my sister, my little innocent sister, being molested, and bled and tortured while I sit idly by, gaping like a fish. The tears run down my face like rivers, but their existence is pointless.

The next few scenes from that night pass in a heartbeat. My little baby, no more than a few months old, is brought out of the shadows by a wolf that has bitten into its legs. The air leaves my lungs with a whooshing sound and I try to move forward. A sharp pain in my arm, the digging of claws in my flesh, barely registers in my mind as my attackers try to keep me still. It's my little girl that's being carried like a rag. It's her meek cries when the creature tosses her in the legs of that monstrous man that make something me snap and I feel every cell in my body charging with electricity, the mother in me fighting to help her child.

"Let this serve as a warning, Healer, to you and all those who dare cross us!" those are the first words I hear, and the only ones that the attackers said, or at least that stayed engraved in my memory.

Then he buries his sharp teeth in my baby and literally, right in front of my eyes, rips her apart. The scream that rips through my body vibrates in the air around me, but doesn't leave my mouth. I can only stare hopelessly at the appalling scene, mute and almost lifeless.

I'm lying on my back, my blood watering the ground around me. Again I'm numb. The only sense I still have working is my sight. And to my right lie the corpses of the two most precious creatures in the world for me. Their bodies mutilated, covered in blood and hanging pieces of flesh. I can't watch it anymore. I have been watching it for some time, and I just can't do it. My lids close and for a second I dare believe that I'll either die or at least faint. Instead darkness swallows me. With my sight gone, I feel helpless and weak.

Then I hear it. A drop hitting the surface of water. In front of my closed lids materialises a small puddle, but instead of water, I see blood – thick and still fresh. Then a drop comes from nowhere and lands right into the middle, a loud dripping sound echoing in the grave silence. Suddenly, as if being overfilled, the puddle starts leaking. Gradually the little streams grow bigger and bigger and soon the whole space is immersed in blood. Warm blood. Innocent blood. The blood of my people. The blood of my sister. The blood of my baby. A loud splashing sound is heard and I bend over to see my reflexion in the blood. But instead of my own face, I see the face of my sister, twisted in pain, her eyes wide and staring into the oblivion and her lips opened as if to scream.

Rage starts rising up in me and the blood around me starts boiling and I can sense myself trembling. I see red. I want vengeance. I want that man and his fellows' heads on a spike. My spike. I want to kill them. Never has the urge to kill someone, to inflict physical harm on someone been so strong. So devastating. So searing. I see rivers of blood everywhere I turn and imagine it's those beasts' blood that flows around me.

Another splash attracts my attention and I look at a puddle that swirls at my left. In it I see that same man butchered like a piece of meat, his guts wrapped around his throat, his bloody hands gripping the soil, huge holes gapping there, where his claws used to be. His legs are twisted in an unnatural angle, his face distorted in a mask of sheer terror and pain. A word breaks the bubble and the little pond disappears, mixing with the rest of the still flowing blood. Kill.

Suddenly the whole space starts trembling and it's as if everything starts chanting that word. After every single time I grow angrier, more bloodthirsty, vengeful… I grow darker.

"Wake up…" a low whisper tries to break through the cacophony and reach me but I try to push it away.

"It's not real…." the next one is the slightest bit louder but I ignore it.

"You are dreaming….." again a little bit louder.

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up." the voice, distant yet familiar gains strength and volume and tries to rival the chanting of the blood.

Yet every following word is louder than the previous one.

"This is not real! Wake up!"

I try to shake it off, to push the voice away, to silence it.

"IT'S NOT REAL! WAKE UP! ANGELIQUE WAKE UP!" the shout is loud and I feel someone shaking me.

My eyes fly open and I jump to my feet, ready to protect myself from whoever was shaking me so fiercely. A pair of clean blue eyes stare at me and I see lips moving, but words don't reach me. I try to pull away, to fight, to save myself. The chant is still fresh in my mind, the screams of the burning people audible and the blood warm. I can even feel blood in my mouth, its metallic taste stinging my tongue.

"It's alright, Angelique. Calm down. It's me." his calm voice manages to break the barrier of voices that surrounds me and I recognise it.

"Klaus." my own voice scares me, as it sounds so foreign, so hoarse.

Yet after realising that it's him, a small wave of relief washes over me, before panic settles in. I push him away and take a few steps back, looking around. I'm outside of my house and the rising of the sun is painting the grass in a nice hue of red and pink. It would have been nice to just sit and watch, but the terrifying scenes in my mind are still fresh and I can hardly keep myself standing. As I try to calm my beating heart and over and over remind myself that it had all been a dream, a hallucination, a nightmare, I start shaking slightly.

"Hayley!" my eyes widen and I look at Klaus, silently begging him to tell me she's alright.

"She's fine, don't worry. Shaken up, but fine." his body is still tense and by his posture I can tell he's being cautious, trying to not set me off with a sudden movement.

I simply nod and wrap my hands around myself. In some distant corner of my mind I notice that I'm naked, but at the moment that thought seems to not want to be registered by my brain.

"Did I… did I hurt…" the unknown sounding of my own voice makes me grit my teeth.

"You hurt no one. Put one hell of a fight, yes, but no one is in grave danger." he smiles and his compassionate gaze shows no sign of falsehood.

And then, as if just noticing his presence, I see him, notice him. Not just the messy hair, the torn clothes, the dried blood over his chest and the dimples on his face, but the man who seems to have been able to tame me, to keep me away from hurting others and myself, managed to bring me round, and was now trying to calm me down and offer some kind of solace and reassurance that, indeed, everything was going to be fine. 'They were telling me about a heartless monster, cruel and unforgiving, a beast, feeding off from fear and death. I don't see this beast now. I see a man who wants to help me get back of my feet, rather than push me back in the dirt. '

My eyes soften and that animal fear vanishes the moment his baby blue eyes look at me without judgement or fear, or anger, but with understanding and something else. Something warm and welcoming, yet foreign to us both. Deciding not to dwell of it, at least not now that is, I give him a small, genuine smile and nod in appreciation.

"Shall me go in?" his cockiness is back in a flash, his accent making him sound like he's purring.

It takes some time and a lot of persuasion to make Nicklaus leave and let me shower and get changed. By the time he's finally out of my room, thanks to Elijah who eventually was forced to drag him out, the sun is already up in the sky. With a tired sigh I shake my head and try not to pass out on my own bed.

"Little, brat, isn't he? And quite the protective one." states Rebekah while casually leaning on the wall, her blue eyes fixed on me almost expectantly.

Yet I feel too exhausted to fall in the sloppy trap she is setting for me, or at least tell her to grow up. Moreover, tiredness is usually accompanied by its dearest friend – hunger, and right now I feel like only by eating a whole cow will I be able satisfy this carnal need.

"You look like shit." another statement that is left ignored.

Instead I try to channel the leftovers of my energy into getting up, untying my robe and taking a freaking shower so that I can finally go to sleep. As ironic as it may seem, after spending the whole night sleeping and dreaming of past events, I feel like I haven't slept properly for over a week.

"Look, Becks, I just wanna shower and sleep so don't be so pushy." my voice is a poor excuse of a hush, yet I know the blonde heard me because she immediately pouts.

Thankfully, she stops talking and the awful headache that is splitting my brain in half starts subsiding. The silence drags long enough for me to finally reach my destination – the shower. Unfortunately, Rebekah follows me into the bathroom, oblivious of the death glares I shoot her way.

"Tonight was worse." her whisper is almost completely muted by the sound of falling water.

"That bad?" slowly but gradually my voice is returning, and now it sounds more like I have spent the night drinking rather than yelling.

"Yeah…" she looks at the mirror, her reflexion worried and obviously quite bothered.

'So it wasn't just me being critical. It was actually bad.' I muse while shampooing my hair. 'Probably shouldn't be surprised. At least not for now. I have yet to go around the house and in the basement…' washing away the foam I feel my body tensing. 'The cell. This time I broke it.'

It's been a week or so since the incident and since I last saw any of the Mikaelsons. The only one who totally neglected my request for some privacy was Hayley. She came by two days later, with a huge bag filled with random things – from my favourite type of chocolate to a book that I was dying to read but still hadn't bought. Of course I tried to send her away, using the poor excuse that I was still feeling tired, but she just looked at me with her 'spear-me-this-shit' look and walked by me and into the house. Eventually we sat down in the garden with cups of steaming tea and the biscuits she had brought. The silence prolonged for at least two minutes before she almost ordered me to tell her everything about my curse. I was rather irked by her show of bossing and she sensed it, immediately apologising. After that I told her everything. Firstly she was looking at me but the more I got into the story the more her gaze drifted away. By the time I finished she was biting her bottom lip, her eyes glassy.

"He told me… he saw something while he was trying to stop you…memories... mentioned you had your reasons to hate all werewolves and that now he understood… but this…"

Hayley looked genuinely shaken by all the information I had thrown at her; not only about the curse but also why I had grown so hostile towards her kind.

"Klaus told you?!" taken aback I almost choked on my tea.

She just nodded and shook her head, as if refusing to believe such vile creatures ever existed.

"He… he told us to let you rest and calm down. He even forbade Rebekah to call you and ask you what had…"

"What had what?"

"What had snapped in you this time, making you so violent. She said she had never seen you so bloodthirsty and dangerous."

A sad smile was all I gave her, the warm wind blowing a petal in my lap. I took it and spun it between my thumb and middle finger.

"Life is full of mysteries, Hayley. It's also a continuous cycle of turning points. It's rather hard to pinpoint what exactly set me off this time or if it will happen again. But one thing I know for sure – in the end, if you fight hard enough and believe in yourself, no matter the obstacles life throws at you, you'll somehow overcome it. All of it."

"Personal experience?"

I nodded and smiled, still mesmerized by the leaf in my hands.

Hayley left an hour or so later, not without thanking me for the files I had given her. She didn't tell me whether they were helpful or not, but I decided not to push her either. Before leaving, though, a worried look set on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure if I should tell you this, but… the mansion has been a warzone ever since that night. Klaus has gone rampage. Elijah and Rebekah are trying to reason with him but his paranoia of being left alone is getting out of control. I'm not sure how far he is willing to go… "

"You are worried?"

"He'll go insane if all this keeps up. And he'll become even more dangerous."

"I thought you hated him?"

"Now I pity him – he seems to have always been left behind, or at least he thinks that way."

I nodded but said nothing more, letting her leave.

Now I find myself in front of the Abattoir, the sound of ripping and crashing greeting me at the door. 'This sounds promising…' I muse sarcastically and enter… and duck just in time as something big and heavy flies my way, only to collide with the stone wall behind me. When I stand up and glance over my shoulder I see that it's a chair… or it was a chair, as now it's just a pile of firewood.

"Is that a way to welcome a guest?" I shout as I enter the living room, or at least what's left of it.

Only to stumble upon a fight between the brothers. Looking at Rebekah for explanation she just groans and shakes her head, the words 'gone insane' the only thing I manage to hear over the shouting and breaking of furniture.

"Ok, enough is enough." I mutter and pull my daggers out.

"What are you doing?" Rebekah's voice seems to have reached new heights.

"Parting your brothers." I reply and literally walk right between them.

The fists are stopped in mid-air and the growling is halted. The dagger in my left hand is poking the flesh over Nicklaus's heart and the one in the right is pressed against Elijah's throat.

"I think you have destroyed the house enough. Let's take a break, shall we?"

It's not a question as I press the sharp weapons more firmly against their bodies, indicating that 'no' is not an option.

They part, Elijah going to Hayley and Rebekah and Klaus staying alone near the wall. I pretend to be following the movements of the oldest sibling but am actually looking at the youngest with my peripheral vision. And the thing I manage to glimpse makes my heart ache. The pain, the betrayal and the sorrow swirl in his blue eyes for a second or two before his jaw clenches and he pushes all emotions away, letting anger and hate take their place. In an instance he is gone, the loud banging if his door indicating his current mood.

Ignoring the chat behind my back I look at the staircase and wonder what would be the right thing to do. My Huntress side tells me to stay away from the half-werewolf and his family drama as it's none of my business, but the Healer in me saw the pain written all over Klaus's face and wants to help in any way possible.

"I'll go and talk to him." I hear myself say.

"What!?" shrieks Rebekah, "Have you gone nuts as well. He's out of his mind right now."

"Leaving him alone will only make things worse." I try to reason with her while making my way to the stairs.

Yet she blocks my path, her hands on her hips.

"No way I'm letting you anywhere near him!"

I look her straight in the eyes and see what makes her act this way – fear. Primal fear. That's the look of a deer that just realised that a hungry wolf is lurking around.

"I know what's like to be alone, Rebekah. And, truth to be told, I owe him at least this much."

"You owe him nothing!" she argues even after the realisation that she has lost this argument struck her.

"He was there that night and saw what happened. And never judged me, or left me alone for that matter. All I can do is offer my support and see how things work out."

She gives me her stiff upper lip but I smirk and pat her on the shoulder.

"Let me do this."

His room is huge yet kind of empty looking. The king-sized bed, the wardrobe and his 'art' corner barely take half the space provided for furniture and personal items. As I look around, mostly at the painting he's currently working on, I don't fail to notice his absence. The sound of running water tells me that he's at least trying to cool himself down, so I enjoy a few more minutes of calmness, while examining the painting.

"What are you doing here?" he doesn't sound angry or bothered, just curious.

"Came to keep you company. Guessed you needed it." I state while still with my back to him.

I hear his steps as he walks around, then the sound of the opening of the wardrobe, its closing and the shuffling of clothes. With the corner of my eye I catch a white thing, his towel, flying across the room and ending on a chair.

"You guessed wrong. I don't need your company. Or anyone's for that matter."

I snort and roll my eyes.

"Drop the macho look. I'm not an idiot and surely you aren't as well. No need to keep pretending."

He laughs, but the last fake sounds make me believe that he's forcing himself.

"Oh, really? And what exactly am I pretending to be?"

"Unfazed by the fact that you feel lonely even surrounded by masses of people."

I manage to glimpse at his body stiffening and decide to finally turn around.

"I know what's like to feel forgotten, left behind, unwanted. And I'm telling you that most of it is in your head."

"You know nothing!" he grits out the words, anger fuelling his more aggressive side.

'That one side I'm sworn to kill. C'mon Klaus! Don't make me do this.' I frown and feel my body getting ready to attack.

"Don't think you know me! Nobody knows me!" he is at the verge of breaking and I fear that the things will take a bloody turn if this keeps up.

"Just let me help you." trying to reason with him is almost impossible, yet I try.

"I. DON' .HELP!" he roars and charges.

His Hybrid form would have terrified me if sorrow hadn't preoccupied my heart at that moment. But even the sadness is pushed away by rage – the same red, blinding rage that controls him.

My daggers are out in an instance and my body goes autopilot as I duck, attack, step back, step forward and try to land a hit that will stop him. But when rage and pain position your arm, it's easier to kill rather than stop.

We meet in the centre, his claws against my daggers, and I relive my nightmares in a single instance. I don't know whether he wanted to grab me, or slice through me but I acted first and drove my dagger deep into his chest, to the hilt.

Only when his warm blood washes over my hand and his yellow eyes disappear do I realise what I just did.

"Klaus." his name, for all I care, could have been either a low whisper or a shout.