I do not own TVD or TO. There would have been some seriously altered plots if I did *cough* ELEJAH *cough* KLAROLINE

She had never wanted children. They were horrid little things.

The one before her was no exception.

The little brat had started crying the moment she had taken her from Finn. She would have liked nothing more than to leave the child to the Original but appearances needed to be maintained until opportunity rose. Surely a point would come where the girl was left alone with her mother.

She struggled to hold the squirming child, wincing as her arms were raked with sharp talons.

She suppressed her growl and knelt on the floor. With the child held tightly in her hands she set her on the mat and met her eyes.

"Now you listen to me, honey," she spoke over the baby's shrieks, "this needs to stop right now. It's long past the time for you to be asleep."

"No," Miranda shrieked. She twisted and pushed until she fell back on her bum and scooted away.

She crossed her arms and watched as the child crawled behind the loveseat. There was a tiny space just big enough to accommodate the girl as she made a mad dash to avoid sleep.

She added it mentally to the list she had been keeping: babies always fought at bedtime.

She sighed and glanced back at the door. It had yet to barge inwards with aid for the screeching girl and her exasperated mother so she had to assume there was some kind of spell around the room. It was probably for the benefit of everyone else in the house so they wouldn't have to listen to the girl screaming in the middle of the night.

She still found it impossible to understand why anyone would want to give birth. The appeal of sharing your body with someone else for nine months was lost on her, and at the end your body was left in shambles.

Though she had to admit, looking in the mirror that her body was in excellent shape. She planned on getting to know it well very soon, but first she had to deal with it's mutinous offspring.

Miranda curled into a ball behind the couch and screamed; fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted Mama not the cold lady with the hard eyes. She wanted Mama's sunshine smile and warm arms.

"Ma… ma… ma!" She sobbed between hiccups until she said in her most determined voice: "Mama!"

Her tiny hands slapped the floor.

She froze with her hand on the back of the couch. A wave of energy came close to knocking her off her feet. For a brief moment her vision faded to black before clearing.

She blinked and took in the gentle light of the nursery through narrowed eyes. She took a gasping breath and focused her attention on the loud sobbing behind the couch.

She pulled the plush sofa away from the wall and knelt on the floor behind. Her fingers dipped beneath the curled arms and lifted the baby up into her arms.

"Shh," she rubbed a soothing hand over the wayward curls and down the shaking back, "it's okay little miss; Mama's right here."

She moved to the rocking chair and placed the small body on her knee. Every few seconds the sobs were interrupted by heaving hiccups that made her entire being give a violent jerk.

She looked around the nursery and grabbed the fuzzy blanket from the edge of the nearby crib. She then raised her right hand and brought the neglected Ella flying towards her like Dumbo the elephant. She finished her summoning with the pacifier that had somehow ended up on the shelf.

"It's okay," she dried Miranda's tears with the edge of the blanket.

Miranda blinked up and opened her mouth for the pacifier. She was so sleepy that she didn't fight the warm arms.

"Now I know you miss Daddy, but that's no excuse for crawling behind the furniture." She wrapped the purple blanket around Miranda and held her as she would have held a newborn. "I know just what you need."

"Lullaby, and good night, in the skies stars are bright." She used her foot to rock back and forth. Miranda's big eyes gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the gauzy curtains; they started to droop as her voice echoed around the room.

"… May the moon's silvery beams bring you sweet dreams.

Close your eyes now and rest may these hours be blessed.

'Til the sky's bright with dawn, when you wake with a yawn.

Lullaby and good night, you are mother's delight.

I'll protect you from harm, and you'll wake in my arms…"

She barely noticed the door creak inwards. Miranda's eyes fought to stay open; her heart calmed, aided by the soft lullaby, gentle rocking and sunny smile.

"… Lay thee down now and rest, may your slumber be blessed.

Go to sleep, little one, think of puppies and kittens.

Go to sleep, little one, think of butterflies in spring.

Go to sleep, little one, think of sunny bright mornings.

Hush, darling one, sleep through the night."

He leaned in the doorway, afraid of entering and popping the enchanting bubble surrounding mother and child. He watched instead as the soothing voice drew his niece off to sleep. He watched the soft smile on her face as the child's mouth puckered beneath the pacifier.

Her voice faded to a gentle hum.

"I didn't know you could sing," Finn stepped into the room. "That's a lovely lullaby. Did you write it?"

"It's one of Brahms' lullabies. It's really famous." She shook her head and kept rocking for a moment before deeming it safe to stand. "I think it was written while you were asleep."

"That's a nice way to put it," Finn scoffed.

"Isn't it like sleep?" She plucked a wipe from the package. "That's what everyone else always said."

"They were not 'asleep' as long as I," he straightened. His eyes tracked the movement as she wiped the salty tears from Miranda's cheeks. The only indication that the child felt anything was a slight twitch of her nose. "I heard everything as if from a distance until a tiny little voice demanded I rise."

"She can be very determined when she wants to be," she smiled down at the baby. Moving to the crib she pressed a soft kiss to Miranda's brow and inhaled the gentle smell of the baby shampoo before laying the still body in the crib and setting the elephant with her in the corner in case she woke up.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Finn. "You shouldn't have been left like that. If I'd known you existed I would have taken that steak knife out myself."

"You know," he tilted his head and chuckled, "I believe you would have. That must be where your daughter gets it from. That compassion is certainly not from the other side of the family."

"I don't think you give them enough credit," she held the sides of her neck and massaged the muscles at the base of her skull.

"Are you okay?" Finn frowned.

"I'm fine," she smiled, "just a little headache." That was the nice way of describing the pounding in the back of her head. "She didn't go down easy tonight. She used to Elijah being here."

"That's enough to set her off?" Finn looked down into the crib.

"I think…" she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. "I think part of her, subconsciously, remembers Dahlia and the daggers and those three days where he wasn't there, and then the week Klaus daggered him. She went from seeing her dad every day to not knowing if he was coming home."

"Speaking of him…"

"Don't tell me," she groaned.

"How do you know it's anything bad?" Finn cocked an eyebrow.

"Because Klaus is out for Rebekah's blood and he's not here," she turned her head and gave him an incredulous look.

"Fair enough," he nodded. "The witch Celeste… her last act was to seal Original vampires in the cemetery until the next moonrise."

"So morning?" She reached down and smoothed back a wispy curl.

"According to the phone," he held up the device, "that will be a little after six in the morning."

"Great," she sighed, thinking it was anything but.

"Will you be alright on your own?" Finn held the side of the crib and watched Miranda's chest rise and fall.

"You're leaving?" Her eyes focused on the even breaths of Miranda.

"I'd like to help if I can," Finn nodded. "I'll stop by the church and see if Freya can't lower the spell to let them out."

"Just don't get stuck inside."

"You're sure you'll be alright?" He turned his head to meet her eyes.

"I'll be perfectly fine," her lips lifted in a smirk, "it's hardly the first time I've been alone with my own child."

"What made us think we could take him on?" Kol felt the angry bite along his arm. Vicious red streaks showed the inflamed veins beneath his skin.

"Two against one," Elijah rolled his neck. An identical mark marred his throat. It would have been three against one but they had both told Rebekah to run and hide.

The sharp click of heels echoed through the dark.

"Oh, bloody hell," Kol muttered. "What part of run and hide did she not get?"

"Are you already hallucinating brother?" Elijah slipped his folded tie into his pocket and loosened his collar to take pressure off the bite. "That is not Rebekah."

Kol turned his attention to the opening between the mausoleums they had taken shelter in. The moonlight made the blonde hair glow in the night, but that was as far as the resemblance went.

"Where is he?" Caroline fixed the pair of them with a glare.

"Follow the deranged muttering," Kol waved his hand in a general eastward direction. "How'd you know where to find us?"

"Ran into Finn," she tapped her foot against the stones. "He's at the church with Freya discussing ways to break the seal."

"Waste of time," Kol snorted, "by the time Freya can lower the seal the moon will be rising."

Caroline sighed. She had thought that might be the case when she left Finn outside; it was just their luck.

"That way, you said?" She pointed to the left. When he nodded she spun on her heel and flashed off in that direction.

"Should we stop her?" Kol turned to share a look with his brother.

"I feel confident that she's the only one he will not bite," Elijah shook his head. He broke eye contact to pull his vibrating cell phone from his pocket. "Elena."

"Elijah," she sighed in relief when he answered the phone.

"Is everything alright? How did she go down?"

"Not easy," she peeked in on the nursery, "but she's asleep now. Shouldn't I be the one asking you if everything's alright?"

"Niklaus is on the warpath."

She frowned at the strain she heard in his voice.

"What's wrong?" She rubbed the back of her head.

"It's nothing, lovely."

Her eyes widened when she heard Kol's drawl in the background.

"He bit you?" Her voice rose to a small shriek.

"He bit both of us."

"But that's…"

"Elena, breathe. The only thing that can kill us is white oak; you know that."

"I know," she closed her eyes, "I know."

"The bite is more of a nuisance than anything."

"And there's little chance of us slaughtering any humans in here when the blood lust takes control."

"That's not funny Kol," she rolled her eyes.

"I thought it was hilarious."

"Clearly the poison has gone to your head." She toyed with a lock of her hair as her heart hammered in her chest in time with the knocking in the back of her head.

Elijah paused on the path towards Caroline and Klaus when he heard the uptick in her heart through the phone. He could practically see the way she was biting her bottom look and the furtive look that was most certainly in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" He waved Kol ahead.

"It's nothing."

"Elena." He didn't believe her for a second.

"It's fine," she insisted. "You just focus on keeping Rebekah safe and getting hold of some of Klaus' blood, okay? I'll talk to you when you get home."

"Elena, what's wrong? I can hear it in your voice. Something is bothering you."

There was something bothering her, but he already had a full plate, and it wasn't like she hadn't lost time before in the past. There were entire days she couldn't remember from when Miranda first came home; days when she had been so sleep deprived that she had merely been going through the motions.

She just needed sleep; that was all.

"Don't worry about it right now; it's fine." She took a deep breath. "I'll see you after moonrise."

She hung up the phone before he could say anything further and leaned against the wall outside the nursery. She slid down and propped her elbows on her knees.

"You just need sleep," she muttered under her breath. Sleep would ease her headache and make her feel so much better.

"You just need sleep."

That was all she needed, so why was she afraid to close her eyes?

A deep breath rushed into her lungs as she sat up. Her throat was raw after falling into disuse.

She coughed and hacked until she could easily draw air into her aching lungs. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed up onto her knees and saw the dark pool that she had been laying in moments before.

Gingerly she probed the side of her forehead and felt her matted hair, sticky with blood. Her skin was covered in a layer of grime and dried blood, but unharmed.

She stood and turned her eyes to the infirmary window. In the moonlight she saw the vague reflection of her face and recoiled.

She closed her eyes and tried to summon the last memory she had before entering the ancestral plain. Rebekah Mikaelson had been writhing at her feet, her shrieks had all but blotted out the sounds of the old gramophone, but then someone had pushed her. A sharp pain and a sudden feeling of fullness in her head were the last things she remembered; that had been her dying moment.

"What is the meaning of this?" She opened her eyes and peered up at the moon; voices whispered in the back of her head.

Marcel raced into the attic room of the church and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Davina standing by the window with another girl dressed all in white. He vaguely recognized her as one of the other Harvest girls.

"I didn't think I'd find you here," he turned to Cassie.

"I didn't really have anywhere to go," Cassie shrugged.

"I thought you'd be celebrating with the witches." Marcel looked to Davina. "All of the Harvest girls are back now. Monique and Abigail were telling anyone who would listen that the ancestors were with them while they were… dead: talking to them and teaching them. Is that what it was like?"

"The moment the knife cut my throat," Cassie nodded. They had all been together there.

"It wasn't like that for me," Davina shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the brief period of time where she had been dead. "It was cold, empty and dark; it went on forever."

Cassie bit her bottom lip. The ancestors had told her and the others that Davina would not be brought to join them while they awaited the Reaping as punishment for the way she had sided with the vampires and turned on her own people. She had never said anything to condemn Davina, but she had never come to her defense either.

Caroline flashed in his path when she saw him advancing on Rebekah. She had no idea how he had managed to locate his sister but she wasn't about to let him hurt her.

She heard Elijah behind her.

"You've been at this for hours," he said.

"I could easily get past all of you," he growled. His eyes turned to Elijah over Caroline's shoulder. "It might have to be over your dead body." He turned over the bone white blade in his hands. "You didn't stab me with this blade, and force me to endure hours of unspeakable pain, but since I've given my word not to harm young Jeremy perhaps I should turn my rage toward you, brother. Since you are the reason he's in our lives."

Klaus pointed the knife at Elijah; he threat was clear in the line of his arm.

"You should see yourself," Elijah shook his head: "the murderous expression, the self-righteous posturing…"

"You look like father," Kol looked his brother up and down.

"I'm not like him." His growl turned to a shout. He pointed the knife towards Rebekah, shaking behind her protectors. "Her betrayal justifies my anger. His was that of a madman. You were never the recipient of his cruelty," the blade turned towards Elijah, "none of you were."

"Put that down," Caroline curled her fingers around his wrist before he could lunge around her. "You're not going to use it on Elijah."

"You're definitely overestimating my character, love," he spun her into the wall of a nearby mausoleum. "I'll shove this through his heart and leave it there for a while before taking it out and using it on her."

"No you won't," Caroline's eyes narrowed.

"And why not?" He cocked an eyebrow. His eyes darted to the right every few seconds to ensure his siblings hadn't scattered into the depths of the cemetery to disappear among the stone angels.

"Because that will affect Elena and with nobody else in the house to keep her from clawing out her heart you'll leave Miranda alone in the compound and without a mother." Caroline tightened her grip on his wrist.

"How the bloody hell do you know that?" Klaus turned his full attention on her and raised a sceptical brow.

"Because it's what happened to her," Kol checked the bite on his forearm. "I had to hold her down both times you were stabbed."

His eyes narrowed when she remained silent. His gaze flickered from her to Kol and back as he tried to figure out the connection.

It took him a moment to fit the pieces together, signs that had been there since he left for New Orleans: the heartache, the reluctance to part again, and now the blade.

The carved bone slipped from his fingers and clattered against the cobblestones as the picture completed.

Caroline kicked the knife aside with her toe as he stared at her.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," Kieran ran a hand through his short hair. "A century ago, you betrayed Klaus, the most dangerous vampire in history, and the only one that can save you is the girl that you kept locked in my attic?"

"Technically Freya," Marcel nodded to the Mikaelson witch, "could help too, but I doubt she'll side against her own brother."

"I could try," Freya looked up from the book in her lap, "but the odds are that Klaus will catch up with you in the future. Do you really want to spend your life looking over your shoulder? I've done that Marcel," she shuddered, "I spent years hiding from my aunt, and let me tell you it's no life. You'd be better to face him."

"What makes you think I can help you at all?" Davina rubbed her arms. "I don't have any magic, you know that."

"D," Marcel turned his eyes to her, "all of the witches are dead. You've got your magic back."

"No," she shook her head. The hole was still very much present in her soul. "I don't."

"We're you planning on staying out her all night?" Jeremy tipped his head back to stare at the stars. "I'm okay with that, but I should probably call my sister."

"You really think Klaus is gonna hurt you?" Hayley stretched out her feet. The heat from the bonfire licked up the length of her legs.

"No," he shook his head, "I don't, and if he tries to I think I can take him."

"A human against the Original hybrid?" Hayley smirked, tilting her head.

"Hunter," he corrected.

"Right," she nodded, "how could I forget? You do come with that nifty little curse."

"Exactly," he chuckled. "I'm more worried about Rebekah." He slapped his arm, killing a mosquito.

"And you wanna put your sister's mind at ease," Hayley tilted her head. She got to her feet when he said nothing and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. "Come on."

Her eyes flickered to the bed and the inviting pillow. It beckoned her and she found her resolve weakening, slipping. She wanted nothing more than to slide between the soft sheets and drift off to dreamland for the few hours it would take Miranda to wake up.

She wanted to lie down. The rising sun was making the bed look warm and cozy, like a lover waiting to envelop her in its arms, but as much as she wanted to sleep there was a niggling sensation in her mind that told her she couldn't give way to dreams; not yet.

Her drooping eyes lifted at the sound of the opening bedroom door. Her shoulders sagged when he shuffled in; a glance at his face told her he was just as weary, if not more so, than she was.

She flashed to him when he sat the blade on the dresser and ran her fingers over his throat; blood stained his collar, but she could find no sign of the wound that had inflicted it.

"Klaus…"

"Healed us both," he held the sides of her face. "You look exhausted."

"And here I was going for drop dead gorgeous," she managed a small smirk.

"Elena," his hand slid down to her throat.

"I haven't been to sleep yet," she admitted. "I couldn't, not while everything was going on."

"You can rest now, lovely," he sighed. "Your brother has been guaranteed his safety, and Niklaus will not be harming Rebekah."

"They made up?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," he shook his head. "I said he won't harm her. That knife will be locked away as soon as Freya has a chance and without the actual means to cause her harm he will have to let it go."

"Klaus," she snorted, "let it go?"

"Rebekah pointed out that he was the one that drove her to the action," he closed his eyes, "and I can easily see her side of things. He'll have to…"

Elijah took a deep breath and focused on her tired eyes.

"Smile, Elena," he managed a small one of his own, "Celeste is dead, the Harvest girls are awake, Freya thinks she can help Kieran, and Niklaus and Rebekah are at an uneasy truce; it's a day to celebrate."

"And how shall we celebrate?" She slid her arms around his neck.

He dipped down and pressed a slow kiss to her lips, teasing the seam of her mouth with his tongue before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers.

"I've a thought?"

"Oh?" She closed her eyes as his hands slid down her sides.

"Mmhmm," he nodded. "A nice nap before our beautiful child decides it's time to begin the day."

"I like the way you think," she lifted her chin and smiled.

"You get started," he gave her a quick kiss. "I'm going to take a fast shower and join you."

She rolled her eyes when he walked her backwards and pressed her to lie down.

The tiny voice that said stay awake grew quiet when he pressed another quick kiss to the corner of her mouth and promised to join her in a few minutes. She watched him walk into the ensuite through heavy eyelids before finally succumbing to sleep with the feeling of safety beginning in her chest.

She wasn't asleep for more than a minute before her eyes snapped open. She watched the fluttering curtains for a moment and then stood up.

Her feet padded over the floor to the dresser. She traced the lines of her face in the mirror before running the tip of her finger along the edge of the blade. Dark energy hummed up through her arm.

She fingered the knife for a few seconds while scrutinizing her features: smooth skin, dark eyes, and lips that begged to be kissed.

The sound of running water drew her eyes over her shoulder to the door along the far wall. Turning on her heel she crossed the room and pulled open the door.

She lifted the oversized t-shirt over her head and dropped it in the bedroom before sliding into the steam filled room. The condensation wrapped around her body like a second skin.

His voice came through the fog and she smiled; a wide smile that made her eyes glitter like diamonds.

The sliding door moved easily for her slim fingers, opening to reveal the large walk in shower; it was large enough to accommodate several bodies at a time and still have room.

The tile was warm beneath her toes.

His chest was slick beneath her fingers.

His surprised gasp was cut off by her lips.

She swallowed the sound and ran her hands over his broad shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath. It shifted and knotted as his hands grasped her wet skin.

She gasped when her back was pushed against the shower wall. The water rained down over her shoulder, warming her skin and sticking her hair to her neck.

"What are you doing?" He held hips back.

"I thought that was rather obvious," she blinked innocently and trailed her hand down his chest through the remnants of soap.

He was mentally and physically exhausted after the long night and before the door had opened he had been in true danger of falling asleep beneath the hot spray of water, but he felt himself twitch to life beneath her fingers.

She leaned forward, arched her neck, and nipped at his pulse. Her fingers ghosted over him, teasing every sensitive inch of silky skin. She could hear his heart pounding and smell the sweet desire flowing through his veins, making her gums ache in a new way.

His breath hitched.

He snatched her wrists and lifted, holding both her wrists in one of his hands above her head. His eyes roamed down the length of her body; there was something about the way she was holding herself that seemed off.

Her spine was straighter than normal and her shoulders stiff, but perhaps the most telling feature was her eyes. The light that always seemed to reside there was gone, the compassion replaced with something else; it was almost calculating.

He glanced up to the engagement ring on her finger. He looked down to the faint scar above her right hip from her childhood appendectomy, barely visible but plainly in place.

If not for those two things and the certainty that it had been her in the bedroom he would have thought Katerina had found her way into his shower.

The sudden sound of crying came from the bedroom through the video monitor's speaker. He saw something pass through her eyes that shook him to the core, and every instinct he had screamed at him to keep her away from his daughter, but he didn't know why.

"She's crying," he said instead, releasing her arms.

"She'll soothe herself back to sleep."

That was the fifth sign that something was off because the cry rising from the speaker was indicative of coming trouble. It was Miranda's scared cry, her 'I need my Mama and Daddy right now' cry; the cry he hated his aunt for instilling six months earlier.

"I'll get her," he let go of her wrists.

He flashed from the shower before she could say a word, did a quick dry, pulled on pajama bottoms and grabbed the monitor.

"Hello, sweetheart," he set the monitor down and lifted Miranda from the crib. She calmed down when he held her against his chest.

He moved about changing her and grabbing her fuzzy purple blanket before settling in the rocking chair. That was where he sat when she stepped into the nursery dressed in pajamas with her wet hair pulled into a messy bun.

"She's practically asleep already," she nodded to the baby.

He was too busy watching Miranda's reaction to see the brief flash of distaste around her mouth.

Miranda turned her head and blinked up at the hard eyes.

She made a small sound of protest and turned away, hiding her face against Elijah's chest.

Six, he covered Miranda's shaking body with the blanket and looked up.

"Could you grab Ella, darling?"

She raised no objection to the nickname only Kol called her.

Seven.

Eight, he thought when she passed her the stuffed animal; a purple zebra that had yet to be given a name by his rambunctious daughter. He took the animal without a word and stole glances at her while rocking Miranda back and forth.

Who are you?