Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries.
Warning: This is intended for a mature and broad-minded audience due to my writing style, which tends to have a dark undertone.
A/N: Again, sorry for the delay. A massive thank you to all of you that have stuck around, I'm very grateful for your continued support! Also, I was nominated for the Klaroline Awards for Best AU Fiction, which I thought was very flattering, so thank you to all of you that nominated me for it! Unfortunately, I was unable to update in time to inform anyone, haha. Caitlin happens to be alseep, and I'm impatient, so forgive any errors, I'll fix them when she wakes up. Without further delay, enjoy!
Chapter Thirteen
"Klaus, open this damned door!" bellowed Stefan, his voice strong and commanding, despite having blurred over from his house at a dizzying speed.
In his haste, he hadn't thought to retrieve the spare key to the dungeon from his room, a choice he was now regretting.
By the time he had reached his home his nerves were close to snapping, the situation made even worse when he realized Klaus had taken the original key from the antique console table that greeted him as soon as he entered his house.
Stefan momentarily scolded himself for giving Klaus so much unrestrained access to his home, he knew how to deactivate his security system and had nearly every password needed to gain entry to most of the locked rooms in his house.
He had chosen to place his key on top of the console table out of convenience, but was now wishing he hadn't left his key in such a visible area.
Inwardly cursing for not having the foresight to know the key was obviously going to be missing, given how Klaus would not have been able to enter the dungeon without it, he had made his way to the backyard, without missing a beat, and began pounding on the door of his 'shed'.
To unaware onlookers, it would seem as if he was simply trying to gain access to the small, wooden storage shed located behind his house, when in reality he was trying to get into the secret dungeon hidden underneath.
The façade of the shed was used to cloak the true horror that was hidden just beneath the surface.
Although the thick, heavy door he was currently abusing was superficially made out of wood, the rest was composed of steel.
It only unlocked when the appropriate digits were entered into the keypad found above the doorknob, but the touchscreen keypad was only activated after the key was inserted.
It was one of the many security modifications he had made to his 'shed' a few years ago.
Earlier, when he realized Klaus had taken Caroline, he had called him to ask for his location and his intention regarding her.
Klaus only provided him with a single word and ended the call, but that word he had uttered had Stefan's stomach churning with trepidation, spurring him into action because he knew, completely and undeniably, without a shred of doubt that Klaus would not think twice before making use of the torture chamber.
The word "dungeon" kept replaying in his mind as he raced at a grueling speed toward the 'shed' in his backyard.
The wooden layer of the door began breaking and splintering, pieces flying all around him as he continued to powerfully knock on the door like a man possessed.
He was debating heading back to the house to get the spare key when he noticed that door was beginning to open.
"Any louder and you'll wake the dead," greeted Klaus, his frame filling the doorway, his face was seemingly devoid of emotion, but Stefan knew him well enough to read the small hints of amusement showing through the impassive mask he usually wore.
Not bothering to reply, Stefan quickly descended down the stairs, while Klaus closed the door shut.
He prowled through the dungeon, trying to locate his abducted friend, frantically calling out her name.
His gaze automatically went to the torture chamber, her name dying on his lips.
Mentally bracing himself for the horror he suspected he would find in there, he stepped in the room, and was relieved to see that none of torture devices had been used. There were rancid smells of blood and decay that assaulted his nose, but they weren't recent.
"You won't find her in there," announced Klaus, a mocking edge in his tone.
Knowing there were too many cells, Stefan whipped around and confronted him.
"Where is she?" he demanded, coolly meeting his amused stare.
Klaus nodded toward the corridor of cells.
"Which one?" he snapped, irritation finally coloring his voice.
"My favorite one," replied Klaus with a faint ghost of a smile that completely failed to add warmth to his unblinking eyes.
Instantly realizing which cell he was referring to, he now understood why Klaus had been amused by his greeting comment about him potentially waking the dead if he were any louder.
A flash of renewed panic speared through him as he blurred over to the cell in question, his searching gaze finally landing on the crumpled form on the floor.
Relief flooded through him when he realized she was still breathing, mercifully unconscious, and seemingly oblivious of her surroundings.
If she was awake, she would be terrified and disgusted.
Klaus had clearly chosen to put her in that specific cell for his own sick amusement.
It was the last one in the dungeon, unique among the rest because it was untouched by modern technology.
The only reason Stefan had decided against updating its ancient and rustic design was because he used it as a storage unit as opposed to a functioning cell.
He had hardly made any use of it prior to transforming it into his own personal storage unit, mainly because it was too far away from the torture chamber to be practical.
Up until two weeks ago he had kept his most treasured belongings in old, wooden boxes inside of it.
Unfortunately, some of the wooden boxes had begun to severely erode due to neglect, which had forced him to unveil his personal belongings that had been hidden away for many decades.
He had only meant to transfer his belongings from the wooden boxes to sturdier, plastic ones, but somewhere during that transitional phase, he found himself simply remounting his trophies, whilst foregoing any future intentions of storing them away again.
The cell contained all of his trophies crowdedly mounted on the walls, similar to the way hunters sometimes mounted the animals they hunted, but unlike human hunters, Stefan's trophy walls consisted of human memorabilia.
His trophies ranged from preserved heads to various items crudely bound in leathered human skin.
As his eyes left Caroline's form to possessively drift over his trophies, his mind clouded, a shiver of pleasure traveling up his spine.
It didn't matter how many times he looked at his collection, he always reacted to its brilliance.
Transfixed, he remained motionless, his mind traveling back in time.
Flashing memories of feeding, of feeling power rushing through him as sweet, warm blood overwhelmed his senses slammed into him, making his jaw clench.
An insidious, familiar voice whispered to him then, asking him if he missed the power he once had, promising him the full regainment of it if he gave into his dark urges.
He knew he was nowhere near close to a relapse, but even with his new outlook on humans he couldn't deny that a lingering part of him did occasionally miss his old, addicted lifestyle.
It was made even more obvious by his inability to get rid of the physical reminders of his past.
He liked to believe he kept them to remind him of his days as a ripper and to strengthen his resolve in never allowing bloodlust to rule over him, but that was only partly true.
Deep down, he was still proud of his trophies.
After all, they had been magnificent kills.
Forcefully tearing his gaze from his macabre collection, he redirected his concentration to Caroline, using her as a focal point to block the haze of temptation in his mind.
With a clear, no longer distracted mind he was immensely grateful to note that Klaus had not caused her further harm.
Her wrist was clearly broken, but her breathing was steady.
Ignoring Klaus' snarl of displeasure, he went into the cell, and carefully picked up her small form, mindful of her injury.
. . .
Klaus studied Stefan's face, interested by the amount of concentration he saw in his gaze as he continued to stare at his trophies, frozen to the spot.
He could tell from his harsh, nearly unhinged expression that he was reminiscing.
As he watched, he could've sworn he saw a predatory glimmer beginning to surface in the depths of his unfocused, green eyes, but it vanished as soon as his gaze fastened on the mortal yet again.
The severity of his face quickly melted, his eyes filling with concern as they fixed on her still broken wrist.
Now, he just looked soft.
Pitifully soft… and weak.
Something like melancholic disappointment cut through him at the thought.
There was a part of him that was pleased to find out his former accomplice had not destroyed every facet of his previous lifestyle.
It gave him a small flicker of hope that he would one day renounce his advocacy for human rights in the supernatural world, and embrace his true nature.
However, his hope dashed as his gaze, too, settled on the mortal's form.
He had initially been accepting of Stefan's connection to the human, mostly because he assumed Stefan merely felt indebted to her from having slaughtered most of her descendants.
He had expected Stefan to care for her general safety, but the way he had frantically rushed to her rescue, desperately calling out her name as he practically ran around the dungeon without any forethought made him realize how much he had underestimated the bond Stefan had with her.
Most disturbingly of all, he had seen this type of reckless, emotion-led behavior from Stefan before. Granted, not to this extent, but it was still much too similar for his liking.
The type of bond Stefan once had with the survivor of the Monterey Massacre was similar, but far less extreme. It was a strange bond he had tolerated simply to appease Stefan's remorse, but it had more lasting consequences than he ever thought possible.
A frisson of anger and revulsion coursed through his veins. Now that he saw the resemblance she held to her ancestor, it was the only thing he could see whenever he looked at her and it sickened him.
All of the resentment and pent-up hostile emotions he held for the dead survivor were being transferred over and directed at his living relative.
That small boy had been the catalyst that led to Stefan's downfall, his views on humans had been forever altered because of him.
He didn't even want to think what would become of Stefan if he continued his association with the girl, and there was no way in hell he was going to let her live long enough for him to find out.
It was not lost on him that Stefan's acquirement of the mortal coincided with a sharp increase of arguments between him and his sister, and a more noticeable opposition to the mistreatment of humans.
He suspected she was the reason why Stefan had become an even bigger apologist than he already was, and that thought caused something lethal and dark to burn in his gut.
She's making him soft.
His lips drew back in a snarl, a growl of displeasure erupting from deep within his chest at the realization.
His eyes burned through her with venomous hatred as Stefan gently picked her up, and kept her close to his chest.
A sort of disgusted shock marred his features at the sight.
Soft and weak, repeated a voice in his head.
The need to kill her rose with every accusatory thought he had about her involvement in Stefan's recent metamorphosis as a more committed human sympathizer.
The more his mind raced, the more reasons he found her death to be a necessity.
Her demise would surely put an end to his disturbing compassion for humans.
The arguments based on Rebekah's suspicion of him being unfaithful would cease as well, which would spare him from having to play the exhaustive role of an elder, caring brother consoling his distraught sister.
His reputation would not be questioned, and the rumors of his declining strength would cease because he had a strong feeling that his new, animal-only diet was directly linked to his involvement with the girl.
Really, with him killing the girl he half-expected Stefan to be grateful for his intervention.
He would be doing him a great favor, even if he didn't initially view it as such.
Despite his own logical reasoning, he knew Stefan well enough to expect his anger for causing her death, but he was willing to put up with the aftermath.
So what if he refused to speak to him for a few decades out of spite? It was a small price to pay.
Soft and weak creatures were not known for their longevity, he'd be damned before he allowed Stefan's guilt and misplaced regret to cost him his life.
A small part of him regretted having discouraged his brother from ending her life earlier, but if there was one thing he knew he could always rely on his brother for, it was his tenacity.
One way or another, she was going to die.
He promised he wouldn't kill her, but his promise had many loopholes.
A small, cruel smile lifted his lips.
As an extra precautionary measure he was going to kill any immediate family members she had, he was going to put an end to Stefan's fascination with her bloodline by ending it.
. . .
"The girl won't leave the dungeon until I find out whether or not she can be trusted," announced Klaus, enjoying the way Stefan stiffened as he blocked his path, effectively trapping him in the cell with his body.
"Trusted with what, exactly?" questioned Stefan, tightening his hold on Caroline, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"With keeping quiet about our existence," he explained, "but since you've been supplying her with vervain, there are only two choices.
Stefan's defensive stance faltered, a confused expression crossed his features as he shook his head bewilderedly.
He must have misheard what Klaus had said because there was no way he knew about the vervain.
Unless…
"You fed on her?" he tersely bit out, nearly speechless with shock as he stared at Klaus for a long moment.
Unexpectedly, a blaze of fury slammed into him along with a kind of helpless indignation.
Klaus remained silent, his eyes glinting like ice, until he looked away and gave him a curt, confirmative nod.
Stefan was going to demand an explanation, but he caught the passing hatred and disgust that smoldered in his eyes as they burned over Caroline's small form before resettling on him.
He choked down the angry words swirling in his head, his momentary bemusement and fury morphing into concern.
There had been something eerie about his brief, hate-filled gaze that gave him pause.
For as long as he had known him, Klaus never fed on humans. He didn't actively hunt them like his younger brother, Kol, did, but he didn't hide his disdain for them, either.
However, the anger he had seen in his eyes when he looked over at Caroline unnerved him. There was something about the strange look he had given her that perturbed him. It was too personal, too intense.
What could she have done to inspire that much wrath? And how had he missed it back at the club? Had he been so concerned with Rebekah that he failed to notice how much real danger Caroline had been in when he left her with him?
His green eyes searched his pale ones as they stared at one another, watching his expression carefully to see if the burning hostility would resurface, but it never did.
Klaus merely stared back with cool indifference.
It seemed that his dangerous anger was solely reserved for his unconscious friend for reasons unknown to him.
Caroline, what have you gotten yourself into?
. . .
"What are my 'two choices'?" Stefan finally asked him, breaking the silence that had ensued.
"I never said they were yours to make," he responded with deceptive calm.
"She's my pet," argued Stefan.
"A pet you don't feed off of or use? That doesn't sound like much of a pet to me," he countered.
"Is it set in stone somewhere that a human has to be used in that manner to be a damn pet?" heatedly replied Stefan.
"Unwritten rules, perhaps," he said.
"Then if I am not in violation of any rules, she's still my pet," argued Stefan.
Klaus looked pensive for a moment, overtly so, and then he smiled.
"Stefan, Stefan," he scolded shaking his head slowly and deliberately.
"Your pet has no identifying jewelry or tattoos indicating your ownership. You've been supplying her with vervain somehow, and I doubt you've registered her," he stated, keeping count of Stefan's rule violations with his fingers.
"That's three violations that I know of," he added, holding his hand up to show the other enforcer.
"She is registered," Stefan objected firmly, feeling an overpowering need to discredit the veracity of Klaus' assumed violations.
"Is that so?" he queried, his aristocratic mask of indifference firmly in place. Only his eyes betrayed his curiosity.
"Under your name?" he pressed, his curiosity quickly surmounting as Stefan failed to provide him with an immediate answer.
Stefan hesitated, and then admitted, "No, not under my name, but that doesn't change the fact that she's registered."
"It does, however, negate any claim of ownership you thought you had," he pointed out.
"Her registrant and I have an understanding," quickly defended Stefan, growing increasingly uncomfortable, and wishing he had kept quiet regarding Caroline's registered status.
He tried to think of a change of subject, anything to hopefully lead the conversation to safer ground, but Klaus was unyielding.
"You can't even call for my head for having fed on your precious pet," he acknowledged, his eyes alight with mockery.
Stefan appeared briefly affronted before sharply replying, "Of course not, Mikaelsons are above the law, aren't they?"
They both knew it was true, but Klaus did not like relying on his family name to earn him respect. Stefan knew it, and immediately regretted rising to the bait.
He'd been doing that a lot lately, acting without thinking.
Predictably, Klaus ignored the jab, and simply watched him with an unnervingly steady, cold gaze before rewarding his obvious discomfort with a nonchalant shrug, not bothering to confirm the obvious nor learn the identity of the mysterious registrant
Stefan had unintentionally provided him with more evidence to support his argument in how to proceed in dealing with the girl. Any further information about her life as a pet was unnecessary to him.
"What are you going to do?" wearily asked Stefan, needing to break the sudden tension.
"I intend to give her as much incentive as possible to ensure her silence. If I feel she is untrustworthy, I'll proceed accordingly," explained Klaus studying the crumpled form in his arms with a dark, disconcerting look.
Stefan once again found himself concerned for Caroline's safety and well-being.
It was the same, disturbing look he had given her a few minutes ago.
"You vowed you wouldn't kill her," he reminded him, annoyed by the ambiguity of his explanation.
"I won't," relented Klaus, a wicked gleam surfacing in the depths of his pale, merciless eyes.
"You won't," concluded Stefan and then there was a short pause on his part as Klaus' words finally sunk in, followed by a curse, "but someone else will."
He released a hollow laugh, his mind awhirl with countless thoughts and feelings, mainly amazement and blood-boiling anger at his own foolishness.
Really, what else could have he expected from Klaus? He abided by his own code of honor that much was true, regardless of how warped it was, and he went to extreme lengths to refrain from dishonoring the credence of his given word. However, he was ultimately infamously known for being manipulative and strategic. If he wasn't completely convinced that Caroline could keep the existence of vampires a secret, he wouldn't hesitate to command someone else, whether it was a compelled vampire or human made no difference, to kill her.
He would orchestrate her death, without a shred of regret, but possibly some mild annoyance at having to go out of his way to guarantee her death without compromising his so called 'honor'.
Sure, he appreciated his predicament or at least appeared to, and even seemed to understand, but Stefan knew better than anyone how limited Klaus' comprehension of emotionality was, how he was sorely lacking in both empathy and remorse, how incredibly skewed his moral compass was.
Truly, if he was honest with himself, he wondered if his friend's moral compass was ever intact to begin with.
Thinking back to their earlier conversation at the club, he vividly recalled how careful Klaus had been in choosing his words to placate him when he feared he would attack Caroline.
The thought of something like this happening had briefly struck him then, but he had miscalculated Klaus' ruthlessness.
While he had accurately presumed Klaus wasn't going to dissuade any future attacks on Caroline or guarantee her safety, he hadn't thought of the possibility of him commanding others to kill her.
"Let me talk to her first," he quickly protested, "I can make sure she keeps quiet."
. . .
Klaus pondered Stefan's request. While his suggestion didn't sound anywhere near as fun as what he had planned, he ultimately decided that he would allow Stefan to make an attempt. He would most likely fail given how futile is was to try and reason with mortals. In the end, he was going to ensure her death, one way or another.
Besides, how funny would it be to see him try to explain their world when she was in his trophy cell?
Her terror would amuse him.
He looked forward to seeing her wide-eyed, and pale with fear.
"I'd like to talk to her inside the manor," added Stefan.
Klaus' mood instantly darkened.
He didn't outwardly display his disappointment, instead giving him a slight nod, which he almost regretted giving when a blissful look of satisfaction flittered in Stefan's eyes as he acquiesced to his request.
"Fine, but I get to watch," he firmly stated, enjoying watching the hopeful gleam in his eyes dim.
Stefan stopped dead, trying not to react negatively to Klaus' stipulation
"I don't need your help," he protested.
"I'm not offering you any help," corrected Klaus, giving him a long, assessing look before dismissing him.
Stepping aside to give him room, he pulled out his cellphone, debating on whether to call Kol or to simply rely on his brother's tenacity to eventually kill the girl for rejecting him.
He knew his brother was going to kill her sooner or later, but he didn't want to wait.
He wanted her to be dead as soon as possible, to sever the link that tied her to Stefan.
As always, he had more missed calls than he cared to return and unread text messages he was too irritated to deal with.
He didn't even have to glance Stefan's way to know he was struggling to formulate an answer.
For now, he was going to play along with his game, or at least pretend to.
"I'll meet you there then," finally responded Stefan, squaring his shoulders as he sped past him with supernatural speed.
Intending to follow Stefan's lead, Klaus stilled when he saw that most of the unanswered calls and text messages were from his mother.
Whew! I feel like that took an eternity to write. I do hope it was enjoyable to read. There will be Klaroline interaction in the next update, I promise. keep in mind, Klaus is not exactly a nice guy in this, and this is a dark story. Bye for now! Reviews are always treasured, super treasured. Until next time!