Always Broken, Forever Loved

by Radioactive88

Fifteen years ago, a certain Amy and Jessica Kaslova were born and the world hasn't been the same since. They're trouble in every sense of the word, but everything takes a turn for the worse when they run from the police straight to New Orleans where they meet the Mikaelsons, and a certain Original Hybrid who finds his connection to them runs far deeper than anybody imagined.

13. Don't Look Back

A/N: Hey, all! Thank you so much for the continued support! This is the chapter where Klaus invariably screws everything up, and where the plot picks up. There's a big reveal at the end, and some interesting scenes in the chapter. An inevitable Klaus-Jessie confrontation, and a cringeworthy sex talk/interrogation between Elijah and Amy (that was a lot of fun to write).

Now, we have a message for you all. At the beginning of this fic, we promised Haylijah, but honestly, after a while we got tired of how Hayley strung Elijah along time and time again.

This story will now be Elijah X OC. So, starting next chapter, we created an OC named Belle Whitlock that we poured an enormous amount of time into, carving out her backstory and her placement into New Orleans. Hopefully, you will all like her as much as we do! But that's next chapter, anyway. So, please read, review, and enjoy! Thank you so much! :D

Chapter 13: Don't Look Back

Jessica's Perspective

I awoke to sunlight straight from the pits of hell. A jackhammer rammed itself repeatedly into my head and I moaned. Ugh, this was the worst hangover I'd had in a long time. The last thing I remembered from the night before was partying with Kol- everything else was a blur.

"Ah, so the beast has finally stirred." It sounded like Klaus. I did not need to deal with a British arsehole so early in the morning. Especially that British arsehole. "It's four in the afternoon, love. I thought you might sleep the entire day away." Holy shite, it was Klaus. What did I do to deserve this?

Groaning, I blinked away any residual blurriness, and was startled by my surroundings. A large, classic bedroom with mahogany furniture and tasteful decorations. I was draped by blankets and sheets that felt like silk, and the mattress may as well have been a cloud straight from the skies of heaven. But . . . how did I get here? "Where the hell am I?"

The smug bastard was slumped backwards in a wooden desk chair, his hands clasped together, and a wicked smirk blessing his equally wicked face. "You honestly don't remember?"

A pang of sickness made me pout. "No, I don't."

He leaned forward in his seat and propped his elbows up on his denim-clothed knees. "Kol allowed you to become so hammered you couldn't walk straight and unfortunately stayed up half the night violently emptying the contents of your stomach."

My cheeks burned bright, and I absentmindedly covered myself better with the sheets. "Why're you in here?"

His eyebrows steadily creeped up. "Who do you think held your hair?"

Holy shit. Niklaus Mikaelson, thousand year-old vampire murderous freakoid, held a teenage girl's hair as she barfed. I'd never been more humiliated in my entire life. Not even when I accidentally almost hooked up with the husband of half-sister's mother. This was not turning out to be a good week! "Um, thanks . . . Well, I'll get out of your hair, and head back to the motel."

He outright scoffed in my face. "Do you honestly think I'll allow you to live on your own after the unfortunate partaking of yesterday night?"

Wait, what? I balked, a flicker of my previous attitude returning. "Allow me? You and what authority?"

He stood straight from his chair, knocking it over backwards in his haste. His stormy eyes flared blue fire. "Normally, I would base that on my authority of being an Original, thousand year-old hybrid. But, in this case, I'm going to pinpoint it to the fact that I'm your father." The sarcasm dripping from his words was fatal.

Oh, so now he was my father? Y'all know I was never one to back down from an argument, so . . . He was practically begging to spark one up. It wasn't like I could deny him, right? He was my father after all. I stripped the sheets off me and hopped in front of him, slightly disappointed that he stood a good head above me and any intimidation factor I was hoping for disappeared into thin air. Whatever, I may have been a fifteen-year-old scrawny girl with severe abandonment issues and low self-esteem, and he may have been a thousand-year-old vicious vampire, but you know, I could totally take him. I'd fire my self-deprecating humor and defense mechanisms at him, and he'd be a decimated pile of ash.

Let me tell you something. I had a brilliant comeback. In fact, it was earth-shattering. But I refrained from unloading it, because if I did, it'd be such a excruciating burn, it would kill him. So, instead, I chose this: "I don't think that chair deserved that. That was unkind. It's a perfectly good chair. It never did anything to you. I think you should apologize to the chair."

His previous anger melted into confusion. My new motto in winning arguments: confuse, don't abuse. If he was imprisoning me here for however long, which I was certain he was capable of doing, then it was my rightful duty to annoy him into kicking me out. A foolproof plan, if you will.

Until, of course, he uttered this with a perfectly straight face: "I'm torn between spanking you and strangling you. I suppose it depends on my mood." As I stood there, unable to move from the sheer shock value of that statement, he picked up the chair and plopped right back into it, a wicked smirk in place. "Elijah would vehemently approve of the former, that ol' disciplinarian." He barked out a laugh as the blood drained from my face. "In fact, I'm surprised he hasn't suggested it- or, more likely, taken the initiative himself." This was making me hella uncomfortable, and he knew it. That bastard enjoyed it. "The latter, I'll admit, might be a tad excessive for the circumstances."

I had the familiar sensation of wanting to puke my guts out again, out of sheer anxiety, but I swallowed down rising bile. "You're kidding."

There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, but also a surety in his posture. He wasn't entirely joking. I was about to snark if he was from the eighteenth freaking century when I remembered he was born in the tenth century. No fucking shit he'd be all weird and old-fashioned. And being fifteen didn't matter to him, I was basically a zygote compared to the time he spent on Earth.

But he was also toying with me and attempting to scare me, so I couldn't tell his true intentions. My mind screamed at me to remove myself from this situation. AbortAbortAbortAbortAbort! "Oh, am I? Ask Marcel what happened after his various misdeeds back in the 1800s. He has many interesting stories to tell."

He had to have picked up on my increased heart rate with his superior hearing, but I refused to display any more weakness. "You're not funny." And with that, I stormed from the room, him hot on my heels. "I'm leaving."

A manacle of a grip on my bicep screeched me to a halt. "Like hell you are." His breath was hot in my ear, burning with the thick menace woven between each syllable.

I ripped myself away from him, and hurried down the stairs. "Get your fucking hands off me." He flashed past me and blocked my path the second my feet hit the courtyard.

He was so angry he was practically growling. "You're not going anywhere!" he all but roared. I cowered away.

"Niklaus!" My suited uncle appeared out of nowhere, along with the rest of the Original siblings. Kol looked about ready to tear Klaus to pieces. Another man stood along with them, a middle-aged man with rugged good looks, but I didn't recognize him. "Enough of this; you're frightening the girl." His rich, deep dark eyes carried a warning for me, a warning not to rile Klaus up further. I squeezed past the both of them.

"Good!" he shouted in response as I made a beeline for the exit. "She's in dire need of a lesson in respect. Just last night she was drunk off her arse, and still, she thinks she's the center of the world." I flinched; that one hit home. My pace slowed.

"Sound a bit familiar, Nik?" Rebekah quipped. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Oh, keep your fruit to yourself, Bekah," Kol snapped at her. "Jessie is nothing like our bastard brother." I turned around, startled at the support he so readily supplied me with.

"That isn't fair," the middle-aged man said quietly, receiving Kol's full wrath.

"And who the bloody hell are you, then, Ansel?! You're a bystander, you don't get to weigh in on our Mikaelson senate meetings!"

I snorted, attention falling back towards me. "If this is a senate meeting, then Klaus is soon to be Julius Caesar. I call dibs on being Brutus."

Kol smiled bitterly at my remark. "Except he stabs all of us, instead."

"Enough of this!" Klaus bellowed, heading straight for me with Elijah attempting to buffer his rage by his side. "You aren't going anywhere! If I have to lock you into the dungeons, and throw away the key, then I'll bloody well do it!"

I froze. A flashback tore through me and I was no longer at the compound.

One time when I was seven, an eleven-year-old boy living in one of my many foster homes tried to get me to break into someone's house and steal something with him. I knew the people that lived there; they were nice to me, and had a newborn baby boy.

I refused. The boy had called me a coward. We proceeded to argue. He called me a coward about three more times. Long story short, I threw a chair at him. The group mother got to him right after he was groaning on the floor. He wasn't even that hurt, just a bruise on his side. On his ribs, actually, but that's besides the point.

Amy and I didn't live in that home too much longer.

After the incident, I was locked in a small, compact closet for over a week without food or any access to a bathroom. An entire week I spent in there- seven whole days- in the dark. The cold, never-ending darkness was enough to scar me for a lifetime.

I remembered my heart soaring whenever the door would open to push water in, about once a day. The crack of light was a reprieve from the overwhelming darkness.

The boy laughed at me through the door. I could have apologized to him, but the woman would have surely kept me in there anyway. And instead of apologizing, all I really wished was I had another chair to throw at him.

Amy had been kept away from me the entire time, being constantly watched. It was summer vacation, so she couldn't sneak off to school to make a phone call. Her power, or magic I supposed it was in hindsight, raged out of control and she almost killed the foster mom.

Amy had been walking down the hall, supervised, when she heard me slump against the door. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was our foster mom hurtling through a wall.

Seven days with no food, and not much water. That foster mom went to jail, and we were placed into a new home that wasn't much better, but at least I wasn't locked in a closet for a week.

A lot stemmed from that day. One, I have severe claustrophobia. Two, I despise hospitals; I was admitted to one after I fainted, and I was feeling so horrible that a bitter taste in my mouth bubbles up if even the word "hospital" is said. They couldn't understand why or how I healed so quickly. Three, I never trusted a single adult after that.

Klaus just stepped on a pressure-sensitive bomb in the middle of a minefield. We both heard the click. I was so, so angry. I hated this, all the fury and dark emotions I kept bottled up all the time. No wonder I was unraveling thread by thread. No wonder I ended up on that rooftop. Which is why I played a card I never thought I'd play. It disgusted even me. "You ever even threaten to lock me away again, and I'll slit my wrists the second you aren't looking."

The room was even quieter than silent, if that makes any sense. It did to me, but you had to be there. Any semblance of his self-control vanished without a trace, and it took less than a second for him to invade my personal space, all ferocity and intimidation. The other Mikaelsons blended into the background; I could only focus on him. "Don't you ever say that to me again, or you will regret it."

I was shaking out of fear, but I still found enough courage to deliver the killing blow. "Dead girls can't regret anything."

I don't quite know what I expected. Some fierce banter in return, a few hasty threats, but no matter how much I already loathed him, I never expected him to back-hand me across the face.

Hard, too. His knuckles crashed into my cheekbone and split open the tender skin, the force of the blow knocking me right off my feet and onto the cold, unforgiving ground. Pain blossomed across my face and tears sprung to my eyes. Klaus looked from me, to his hand, and back again, his eyes as wide as planets and his lips slightly parted. He was as stunned as me. Petrified, even.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Kol slammed into Klaus, the two of them a blur as Kol rammed him into the staircase, black veins stretched beneath his reddened eyes and his canine teeth sharp and deadly. "I will fucking kill you, Nik!" Elijah pushed himself into the rumble along with Finn and the middle-aged man, and Freya stood to the side in a daze. But it sounded like white noise from where I lay.

Rebekah was by my side in a flash, sitting me up and cradling my face between her hands. "I'm sorry, little one."

Hot tears spilled over the brims of my eyes too easily. I was so weak. So what, he hit me? I used to be hit all the time. Leon still hit me all the time. And I healed quickly, too, so the gash would close up soon. And yet, when Rebekah hugged my head to her chest and wrapped her soft arms around me, sobs racked my aching form.

I always had a distant hope that if I found my biological parents, they'd be different than the arseholes I dealt with in the system. I think I was crying mostly from shock. He was my real father, and after a ten-minute conversation with me, he already hit me hard enough to knock me off my feet. There was no hope left.

But I let her comfort me, because deities above, I needed it. She murmured sweet nothings in my ear as I helplessly watched the violence play itself out before me. Klaus didn't even try and defend himself as Kol pounded on him without an ounce of mercy. Elijah and the middle-aged man were attempting to split the two of them apart, but from my angle, it appeared that Finn was helping Kol.

I winced as Rebekah screamed at the top of her lungs, "Stop it, all of you! Can't you see what this is doing to her?" And they had the decency to stop. Klaus was a bloody mess, much worse than what he inflicted on me. I would never forget the look in his eye as I stared at him through moist eyelashes, my tears wet with a fountain of tears and blood. He looked nothing like the vengeful vampire I saw only moments ago.

No, he looked like a broken little boy who hated himself more than anything else in the whole damn world. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking at the second word. He couldn't stand it. Which is why he raced past me at vampire speed. He threw such a fit at me leaving the compound, yet it was easy enough for him to do so.

Kol was the first to blur over to me besides Rebekah, and he tenderly wiped my tears away. "He's a bastard," he murmured, the embers of rage still burning in his chocolate brown eyes. "He's a fucking bastard."

I couldn't speak. Something broke in me, then. I was so, so tired of being abused. I was everybody's fucking punching bag and I couldn't take it anymore. Sure, I was a first-class bitch extraordinaire. But I couldn't stand being hit anymore.

I broke free of Rebekah's loving hold and ran. I didn't leave the compound, though. Klaus' message to me was loud and clear. Instead, I made it for the staircase, my legs burning as I took the steps up two at a time. They didn't stop me.

My room evoked a sense of misery in me, so I chose the bathroom instead, making sure to lock the door behind me I stared at myself in the mirror and despised what I saw. Makeup smeared across my bloody and tear-stained face, green eyes bloodshot, hair a mess.

My life was spinning out of fucking control and there was nothing I could do about it. I needed control, but I never had it before, and I didn't know how to achieve it now.

In a trance, I stepped in the shower, turning it on and turning the knob until the water was boiling hot. It barely registered that I was still fully clothed. My knees wobbled and gave out, and I sank into the bathtub, letting the painfully hot water pour on me from above. I collapsed to the side, pulling my knees up to my chest, and sobbing my heart out. I needed control.

That was when the bathroom door slammed open, quite possibly breaking the lock and breaking through the plaster of the walls. I tensed, hoping with everything in me it wasn't Klaus, but it wasn't. "Jessie!" It was my uncle/best friend/partner in crime. He ripped open the curtains and garnered a good look of me. "Oh dear. Look at you."

He knelt besides the tub and fingered with a lock of my soaked blonde hair, a strong mist of shower flowing against him, dampening his hair and clothes. "Come on, darling. Don't take any heed of Nik's assholery. You don't need him. You have me. Always and together, remember?"

My tears were as relentless as the shower stream, and my hand fumbled for Kol's. "I-I don't want to be h-hit again, Kol. I-I . . . can't."

He reached over and stroked the side of my cheek, his fingers trailing against the smeared blood. His jaw was set with determination. "You will never be hit again, Jess." That was the first time he ever called me that. "I will never let you be hit again."

I shifted over to accommodate his comforting hand. "I trust you . . . Ollie." Since he awarded me with a new nickname, I decided to return to the favor.

His lips curved up into a gentle smile, foreign to his face. "I'll cheer you up." I sat up as he held up the baggie of marijuana I stole yesterday as well as a couple of joints. "Darling, why be down, when you can get high?"

The sun was slipping below the horizon in fiery streaks of red and pink as Kol and I lay back on the roof of the Abattoir, blowing smoke up to the purple-tinged clouds. Spending time with him calmed me down, let me think about something other than Klaus. "What is it like to kill somebody?" I probably wouldn't have asked that if not for the murkiness swirling around in my head. But ever since I found out what they were, I'd been wondering. They were ruthless murderers, but there seemed to be something . . . enticing about their lifestyles.

Kol nudged out the joint and flicked it to the side, still keeping his eyes glued on the darkening sky. "Exhilarating. I've killed thousands upon thousands of people, and I've enjoyed every second of it." He glanced over to me, a little wary. "Does that scare you?"

I honestly considered it. He was a mass murderer, with no regard for the human existence. We were prey to him. Toys. Means to an end. Walking sacks of blood. I was right next to him, and he could hear my thudding heartbeat, my constant pulse. He could tear into me, rip my throat apart with his supernatural, and I'd be dead in less than a second.

And yet . . . "No," I told him truthfully, and he looked relieved somehow. "It should, shouldn't it?" I smiled weakly, flickering my gaze up back at the slowly revealing stars. The city lights made them appear faded and distant. "It would bother most people. But I'm not most people."

His chocolate brown eyes glimmered with an emotion I couldn't read. "No, you're not, are you?" A shadow of nostalgia blackened his countenance. "You remind me of my little brother." I tilted my head questioningly. What little brother? I thought Rebekah was the youngest. "Henrik," he clarified, closing his eyes in remembrance. "He was only thirteen when he died, a thousand years ago. He accepted everybody, no matter what." A muscle tensed in his jaw, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Werewolves slaughtered him. It was Niklaus' fault, yet nobody talks about him anymore. They've forgotten, perhaps. But I haven't."

When he opened his eyes, they were swimming with an unshed layer of tears. "I miss him."

What was it about substance abuse that ended up turning us so emotional? "I'm so sorry, Ollie," I murmured, burying my face into his shoulder. His arms paused, then hesitantly wrapped back around me, his hold tightening to the point where I couldn't breathe. But I didn't mind; Kol needed this.

"Let's leave," I whispered into the scratchy fabric of his shirt. I knew he heard me from the way he stiffened around me. "I'm not joking." I turned my head and rested my chin against him to form eye contact. "Let's leave. Let's get Davina, and leave this bloody town. I don't know how long, but let's just go."

He sighed; a deep, rumbling noise inside of his chest. "Are you sure, darling? It's no secret that I prefer to separate myself from the lot of them. But your sister's here. You would be leaving her too."

"Good," I mumbled. "Fuck her. She has no problem leaving me."

He stood the two of us up in a flash of movement. "Now?" He was beginning to sound eager. I knew he wouldn't say no to that.

I nodded resolutely. "Now. Let's get Davina, get your car, get my crap from the motel, and get the hell out of here."

That's why, twenty minutes later, we sped out of the French Quarter in Kol's new convertible black Mercedes. Leon was in the motel room, that I'd entered alone, but he had no protests to my exodus. He never cared about me in the first place.

I smiled as the wind pelted my face, and as Davina swayed in her leather seat to some catchy pop song on the radio. Kol laughed out loud as she waved her arms in the air, giggling. "Where should we go?" he chuckled, barely even keeping one finger on the steering wheel.

I stretched my legs across the backseat of the car, draping my arms over the car door and back of it. Tossing my head back, I allowed my hair to dry in the rippling breeze around us. "Another country. Somewhere far, far away."

Kol and I shared a wicked smirk, and he shouted for all of New Orleans to hear, "Next stop: anywhere!"

Amy's Perspective

We shared the bed all night and all day, wavering beneath sleep and sex. I felt guilty for leaving my twin right up until the moment Leon drove me into ecstasy, pushing all other thoughts from my mind. He moaned my name in my ear, his fingernails clawing into my back, arching me forward. We were one.

He shuddered and shouted out as he finally reached his climax, rolling off me and panting besides me. "I love you," I whispered, trailing my fingers against his bare chest. "Do you love me?"

His smile was blinding. "Of course I do, my sweet Amy. I love you more than anybody else. You mean the world to me." Satisfied, I snuggled close to him, relishing in his musky scent. He then promptly fell asleep, as he often did after a particularly rough round of sex. I loved him so much.

I felt as if I belonged here, laying naked beside him. He was my soul mate, the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I knew it ever since I was thirteen years old. It was bliss, having to worry about nothing of my old life, just being able to press against him . . .

And then some motherfucker knocked on the door. Talk about a mood-killer, even though Leon was already asleep. "Who is it?" I hissed, assuming it to be the front-desk lady who finally realized our cover story was bogus.

"It's Elijah." Oh shite. "May I come in?" You've got to be bloody kidding me.

"How important is it?" Stupid question. If he was here, it had to be important. But a girl can dream . . . !

"Quite." His tone was clipped. "Amy, do you have someone else in there?" Oh, so that's why he sounded pissed. Of course, he could hear the two heartbeats. "I suggest you come out here right this very second, because at the moment, I'm not entirely happy with you."

My temper spiked as I pulled on his boxers and his undershirt, simply to rub it in Elijah's face. In fact, I mussed up my hair even more. I was about to walk away from the mirror when I noticed the delicate bruises that had formed on my arms. It wasn't uncommon when we had sex; he was rough, it was hot, and the bruises just showed his passion. I smiled as I slipped the sleeves a little farther down my arm and plastered on a smirk as I opened up the motel door. "You rang?"

None too gently, he yanked me out into the hallway, and closed the door behind me. I crossed my arms over my chest when I remembered I forgot to put on a bra. Welp, this was awkward. "Hey, hands off the merchandise!"

A muscle twitched in his jaw, the only outward sign of any negative emotion. "Amy, did you have sex with him?"

He didn't just ask that. Please tell me he didn't ask that. And he expected me to answer? Kill. Me. Now. He was my uncle, he wasn't supposed to ask those kinds of questions. His eyes flickering upward in a show of exasperation at my lack of an answer, he said, "Amy, I was not born yesterday. I've been on this planet for a thousand years. I can assure you, I know the mechanics quite well." Wow, yes, I did not need to hear that. "Did you use a condom? You are fifteen years old. I can't imagine you're ready for motherhood."

This could not be happening. Leon didn't like condoms. And, well, I never got pregnant, so . . . He said it restricted his pleasure, and when he didn't receive his pleasure, he grew upset. "Um, no." My cheeks were burning something fierce.

Another twitch of his jaw. "Is this an isolated incident?"

I liked him, I really did. But this was stepping over a line I'd yet to draw. But the next time I stumbled upon a marker of some sort, I would be drawing that line. I couldn't look him in the eye. "He doesn't like condoms."

His index finger nudged my chin up so I was forced to look into his burning brown eyes. My heart sank deep into my stomach. "Is that so? He doesn't like them?" His tone was dry, sarcastic, and mocking.

I stepped away from him, indignant on Leon's behalf. "Well, you don't have to deal with that, 'cause you're dead! You can't knock anybody up!" An elderly couple exited their room at that very moment, radiating severe disapproval. "Yeah, move it along, nothing to see here, just your average round of necrophilia."

Elijah ground his teeth in irritation and clapped his hand on my shoulder, squeezing a tad harder than she deemed to be necessary. "Ow," I growled, but he didn't lessen his grip.

"Move along, and do not remember this exchange," he told the elderly couple, his pupils dilating, as well as theirs. Nodding, they moved along on their merry way.

"Are you on birth control?" he asked the very second they turned the corner.

"No!" I shouted, fed up with his relentless interrogation. I pulled my arm free of him. "No, I'm not on birth control, because I think it's a hassle. That guy in there? I've never used a condom with him. Not once." His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and I took that as a sign to continue. "Do I know if I have any STDs? No, because I haven't checked! I could be walking around with bloody HIV right now, and I wouldn't be any the wiser! Hell, I could even be pregnant."

He stuck a finger right in my face, and I suppressed the itching urge to flinch away. No, he didn't scare me. Not one bit. Was I intimidated? Nope, not me. He wasn't intimidating. His quiet authority didn't phase me one bit. Yup, I was going to let myself believe that. "Get changed, and come with me. Now. It's urgent."

"No!" I chirped, perfectly happy barefoot and in her boyfriend's underwear. "If you're gonna drag me wherever the hell you want, then I'm going like this. And there isn't anything you can do about it."

And so, we marched in a tense silence out of the motel. I knew he was quite furious, but he had a good handle on his temper. It was a curious thing, really. How far could I push him, I wondered? There was only one way to find out.

"People of the world!" I announced as we exited the motel onto the grimy, trash-littered streets of the French Quarter. "Or more specifically, New Orleans! My name is Amy Kaslova, and I am a whore!" Strangers stopped in the middle of the street to balk at me. Good. "A dirty, filthy whore! In fact, I'm basically a prostitute! A good, old-fashioned street-walker. Look here, I'm wearing my boyfriend's underwear- who is, might I add, at least ten years older than me!" Some I-phones were raised and recording me. "I've had sex with, like, half the population of Manhattan! And I'm only fifteen, too! Yet I lost my virginity when I was thirteen, but technically I started giving hand jobs since I was eleven, and blowjobs since I was twelve, so I'm not sure which one really counts-"

Elijah's arm flung itself around my neck, and his hand clamped down on my mouth so no more words could slip out. He literally dragged me along, my bare toes barely skimming along the dirty surface of the concrete. Strangers laughed, pointed, clapped, cat-called, and whooped, and I lifted one of my hands to wave in acknowledgement. "Enough," he hissed in my ear, and he might've cracked a rib or two with how tightly I was pressed to him.

"Do you not accept me for who I am?" I mumbled into his hand.

"Niklaus hit Jessica." My entire world went screeching to a halt, and if it weren't for his tight grip on me, I would've crumpled to the ground. "She threatened to commit suicide if he ever threatened to lock her away again, and he lost his temper."

Of fucking course she didn't want to be locked away! Jesus Christ, after that time when we were seven, she hated small spaces. "No shit!" I yelled, ducking out from underneath him so I could face him. "See, this is another example how you all don't know us at all, even if you think you do. One of my foster parents locked her in a bloody closet for a week. She almost died. If Niklaus ever locks her away, I'll fucking end him."

The rest of the way I high-tailed it, not caring where Elijah was. When I strode into the elegant courtyard, I had little care of my attire, I was out for blood. In the center of the courtyard awaited Finn and Rebekah, but I had little time to deal with them, I instead reached for the first think of alcohol I saw, threw it back, and then proceeded to smash the cup. The glass smashed into millions of shards around my bare feet and echoed throughout the house. The sound was followed by an eerie silence of anticipation.

He took his sweet time making his way over to the balcony, walking with a swagger as he often did. It added to my rage as it appeared he seemed perfectly content with himself after what he had done. Looking back, I was too angry to notice the despair and self-loathing set deep into his ocean blue eyes. Looking back, I hadn't realized he'd only just returned from the heart of the city, where he'd internally torn himself to shreds.

Resting his elbows upon the guard rail, he spoke, "Hello, Amy, how lovely it is that you grace us with your presence. Although, first and foremost, I believe that we do need to discuss what you are wearing, and what activities allowed led to this outfit decision. I thought you were better than that."

"Niklaus, we have many things to discuss, my outfit is most definitely not one of them. Where is my sister?" He dared hesitate in his response. I could swear my face was begin to turn a deep shade of red to portray my fury.

"Gone."

"What do you mean gone? Where the hell is she, Niklaus, and I recommend you answer well, I am in no mood to deal with this facade of yours, so do not test me." I was ready to tear through this house and seek her out myself if he choose to play this game with me much longer.

Elijah spoke before myself, sharing my state of displeasure with Niklaus' game. "Brother, you have done enough damage today, where is Jessica?" However composed my uncle pretended to be, even now anger broke through his picture of indifference.

He chose action over words in response as he sped down the stairs and reached out with a paper in hand.

With a swift gesture, I swiped the paper from his grip and slightly turned my back to him, telling him I did not desire him in my presence at the moment. At a glance I could tell that the note was written by my sister. Her handwriting wasn't as neat as my own, some may even call it sloppy, although that wasn't not the case. It was simply that her thoughts passed through her head fast and she wrote quickly to keep up with her ever running mind.

The note read:

Dear my psychotic father, my bitch of a sister, and the rest of my family;

After being slapped by my father and thrown out like a piece of trash on the side of the road by my sister, I have decided to take a trip with the only family who understands and cares about me, Kol. Oh, and Davina. Anyway, I have left and I will not be returning anytime soon. Thanks to my kind-hearted uncle, we packed quickly and will have left by the time you arseholes receive this. Because we all know you'll be siding with my dear old dad. Believe me, Kol warned me. Don't try to stop me, don't try to follow, just leave me be. Bye, bitches!

My jaw gaped slightly open as I reread the message. I understand that it was cruel of me to neglect my twin, but she should know it wasn't for lack of love, but simply out of need to be with Leon. I had made a mistake, I couldn't negate such fact, but she left, without even telling me personally. Instead, I was left to be called a bitch in a note to our so-called "family" whom of which we barely know. That was plain rude and a line that we vowed not to cross. We did not leave each other, that was our deal, yet it was discarded over a petty encounter when I decided to give some of my attention to my lover rather than her. I admit I may be overdramatic, but I was wounded.

Handing the note to Elijah, he proceeded to read it aloud, for his siblings benefit. I glanced around and saw a slight hurt cross Rebekah's features. She was kind enough to us, and I could tell she didn't like being discarded, like myself. Finn couldn't care less, but for what time I had known the man that had seemed to be his general status and it seemed the family returned the feeling when it came to anything regarding him.

Once Elijah was finished, Klaus began, as if he had some earned stance in this matter, "It seems our insolent brother has made haste to escape with his newfound friend and seeing as we know how our youngest brother is, I recommend we discuss matters later and seek them out before they leave the city."

Believing everyone would agree, Klaus made his way for the exit. It seemed the other members of our family didn't agree with him either, but made no move to speak. It appeared they were awaiting my response.

"No."

Freezing, Klaus turned on his heels, taking long strides to stand before me. "I dare ask you why you would allow you twin sister to run off without you and why would I allow my daughter to run off and do God knows what with my sad excuse of a brother?" His words were clipped and sharp, and anger, of which he had no right to, surrounded him.

My gaze found the ceiling as took a breath, analyzing my words, before they were spoken. "She is not your daughter." Looking deep into his eyes, I added, "I am not your daughter."

It almost escaped my notice, but he flinched in response to my harshly flung accusations. "Love, however angry you may be, that is not a position one chooses to have. You are my blood, and whether I care to have you or not, you are my daughters." He was mad. Klaus wasn't hard to read, and the more time I was in his presence, the more the story was explained. He didn't like be told anything he didn't want to hear.

"A person who dares strikes a child of their blood or any child at all doesn't earn the right to call himself a parent. That is an act of a human bound for hell, who deserves never to feel love, nor to be loved, and who has no worth to this planet. You don't hit kids." My tone was cold and crisp.

I had wondered until that point if the man before me had emotions, but then I looked into those eyes. He agreed with me, of that I had zero doubt, and that was the first time I saw either of us in him. It was that look of vibrant and unspeakable despair, that very look, the one Jessie had in her darker moments. He said nothing.

"I am glad my sister left because that means she will be nowhere within your reach." I gripped his chin and made him look straight into my eyes and to my utmost surprise, he didn't resist. He knew he deserved this. "Should you even think about seeking out my sister, there is nowhere you can run that will be far enough. You're powerful as hell, yeah, but I don't care. She's my twin. I will hurt you in every way that exists because she is my true family and there is nothing I wouldn't do for family. Let her be."

After that, he and I had nothing to say to each other. He looked somewhere between ripping my heart out and stabbing a stake into his own chest. But I didn't give him the chance. Even with the regret twisting inside me over the cruelty of my words, I couldn't take it back, so I left, without looking back. Nobody followed me. Not even Elijah, who went through such trouble to bring me here. Any ties I had with my newfound family, I just burned.

Whatever, I was going to hell anyway. Might as well bring everybody with me. And it's not like I needed a father anyway. I had Leon to take care of me.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Leon asked once I reentered the motel room. Unable to speak, I collapsed onto our bed and forced back a violent wave of sobs. Oh, how I loathed myself. Jessie spurted out crap without thinking. What I said to Klaus was utterly intentional and meant to hurt. I wanted him to hurt as much as I did when I found out my twin left me. That must've been how she felt when I abandoned her at Rousseau's, I assumed. "Does it have something to do with Elijah Mikaelson and your family?"

I snapped my head up and stared at him in shock. How did he know about Elijah Mikaelson? His brown eyes twinkled and his scratchy chin met with my cheek as he kissed me on the head. "Oh, you stupid little fool." I flinched, but said nothing. "You think I don't know what you've been up to here in New Orleans? I have my contacts. Hell, I've known all along you and your sister were witches, along with whatever the hell lets you heal so fast."

I scooted away from him, feeling betrayed. "You know about that supernatural bollocks and you never bothered to tell me? How could you do that to me?" He rolled his eyes, beginning to throw our possessions into duffel bags. My heart rate began to quicken. "W-What are you doing?"

"Dammit, Amy, we're leaving and there's nothing you can say to change my mind!" he shouted, and I waited for him to hit me. Thankfully, he didn't this time, and I allowed my body to relax. "Have you never wondered how I've never been arrested for all the shit I do? Why I'm stronger than other people, faster?" I began to tremble. "I presume you know about vampires now, from meeting the Mikaelsons, so I guess that saves me some work, huh?" No, no, don't let this all be a lie . . .

Bulging black veins began to form on Leon's cheeks and red spilled into the irises of his eyes. No, no, no! "I'm a vampire, my dear Amy. I've always told you I'm twenty-five years old, yes? I was, when I was turned." My stomach twisted into a thousand knots as a wicked smirk overtook his face. "Five hundred years ago."

Leon blurred over to me, faster than I'd ever seen him move, and rested his hands on each side of my face. I couldn't move. "We're leaving New Orleans tonight, my love. But before that, now I can do something I've always wanted to do, ever since I first met you when you were eleven years old. Hold still, this won't hurt at all."

He sank his elongated fangs into my jugular, and I screamed as he ripped into my throat.

A/N: Dun dun duuuuun. So, yeeep, Leon's a vampire. One with more resources than you might think (that'll be explained soon enough). Jessie left with Kol and Davina, and Amy's going to be taken away with Leon, leaving Klaus to face what havoc he's caused. Next chapter, we'll be introducing Belle, and we really hope you'll like her! :D We loooove feedback!