A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome back! Hahaha, I feel like a newsreader or a show host.

I'd like to take the time to thank everyone for their comments and their encouraging words. To DBZFAN45, like always, loved the recap^^

And, I've said it before, but I like to say it again, your words mean so much to me! Although, to the guest who wrote parts of Pretty Little Liars into the vampire diaries world in the comments, I'm not sure what you meant? Thank you, I suppose^^

Anyway, on with the chapter. Like usual, I'm very curious what you all think about this chapter.

Lots of love,

Anna

o.O.o

Chapter Forty-Two, Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

I awoke with a start, beads of sweat shimmering on my forehead and my breathing labored. For a few terrifying seconds, I had no idea where I was.

With bated breath, I lay in tense fear before all that had happened the last few days came rushing back.

I was still in Nashville, cooped up in the home where in canon two girls had been brutally murdered. I hadn't seen either of them. Nor the dog they were supposed to have. Yet, instead, the number of hybrids had increased over the last few days drastically. Klaus had set them up as guards in the hallways, the garden (no doubt were the neighbors compelled not to notice), and, even further up the street.

Yet, so far nothing worrying had happened. By some miracle I still had my Vervain bracelet — I guessed Klaus either hadn't noticed it, or simply didn't care — so at least I knew I hadn't been compelled— yet.

That didn't mean I didn't feel invalidated. Didn't feel voiceless or lost.

I'd told Klaus where to find the white oak stake (told him about the Wickery bridge sign, but left out that the entire bridge was made of white oak wood). After all, if needed I could use that as leverage. If I'd ever managed to use leverage the way leverage should be used, of course.

Klaus was out and about most of the time, leaving me alone with my hybrid bodyguards. Being the only human among the newly turned vampire-werewolves, kept me mostly to my room.

Ever so often, Greta came to visit, bringing books, magazines, and, her company with her. There had even been brief moments were Rebekah would grace me with her presence. At first, she was mostly entertained with my terror — I hadn't forgotten how much Rebekah liked to torture Elena in the original timeline — but after the second visit, I'd grown familiar enough with her antics.

Besides, after she established I had no interest in the men she was interested in — mainly Stefan — she was much more invested in keeping the air between us clear. Sometimes, she'd storm in, shopping-bags with clothes, jewelry and make up coming along with her.

And, sometimes, Klaus would be there in the morning to greet me. He would sit at the kitchen table, or even in the living room. Always noticing me. Always meeting my gaze and grinning that maddeningly grin. His eyes would light up with such intensity, it made shivers run down my spine.

But— I was safe. So very safe, if growing bored in the gilded cage Klaus had built for me.

And I had heard not even a peep about Mikael. It was as if he didn't exist.

Outside, the drone of insects and the shuffles of what I imagined were a dozen of hybrids keeping watch fluttered inside. It was a warm night and I'd left the window open, allowing for fresh air to filter inside.

The moon was almost full, and for a while I stared at its eerie roundness. Stared at the sea of hazy stars flickering at the horizon.

Turning onto my side, I cuddled deeper into my pillow, hoping to get at least a few more hours of sleep, when I heard soft footfalls moving closer to my bedroom.

Eyes widening, I stared across the room at the closed bedroom door. The steps stopped in front of it and I heard the bolt slide across.

Should I hold my breath? Should I pretend to be asleep? Should I look up? The door slipped open, followed by shuffling and slow, quiet footsteps. Greta's face doomed up in the grey darkness and my breath slipped past my lips in a harsh gasp.

"Greta?" I felt my fingers curl in tight fists. Recognizing her did nothing to loosen the knot of anxiety in my stomach and I sat up. My bare legs, cocooned under the duvet, shifting until I sat somewhat comfortable.

"Hi, Elena."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, flicking the bedside lamp on.

"To talk," she replied, her skin almost orange in the sudden light.

"It's— the middle of the night," I remarked lamely, but Greta only smiled.

"Yes," she nodded, plopping down on the edge of my bed and propped up a knee. "But I think we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Mikael," she decided.

"Oh, what about him?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light, but something bitter and terrified bloomed into my mouth, and, it came out harshly instead.

"From what I'd gathered, a dangerous person…"

"An understatement."

She let out a snort, "Sure, understatement. I was just hoping we could discuss him."

"What do you want to know?"

"Klaus doesn't talk about him. He has this whole plan set up, but he doesn't want to discuss it."

"With reason," I admitted. "Mikael was a dick to him."

"Oh, I get that he was a dick to him." Greta agreed. "And I know he's an Original."

"Yeah, but, Mikael— he's the strongest and the fiercest of the Originals." I tried, licking my lips. "In a way he is the father of the entire vampire race and has a deep hatred of Klaus. Perhaps not entirely undeserved, since Klaus was unwillingly responsible for his youngest son's death and he killed his wife. But I'm pretty sure he already hated him before all of this. Hated him— hates him the most, because Klaus is not his son. He spent a thousand years trying to hunt Klaus down— and I don't know what else I should say. Mikael is bad news. From what I gather he isn't so fond of werewolves in general. And I gathered he isn't fond of witches either. Although, I'm not sure about the latter."

"And he is powerful?"

"Extremely so," I agreed. "This plan? I know next to nothing about it. Fill me in."

"So demanding."

"I'm the most fun being demanding."

She laughed at that and I fluffed up my pillows, pushing off my comforter. The muggy heat of the independent arrival of a late spring morning heavy in the air.

"He's throwing a fancy dinner."

I snorted. "Right, what is it with that man and stupid party dinner thingies?"

"He's weird?"

"Sounds accurate enough," I agreed, picking at the stitching on my pillowcase. "This sounds like a fool's plan. A truly stupid fool's plan."

"I don't know. Having numbers to defend you? Sounds pretty smart."

"Sure, but Mikael is an Original. He can compel vampires and hybrids alike."

"He still doesn't know about the weapon, does he?" Greta argued, smiling drolly.

"No," I agreed slowly, "that he doesn't. Now, about this dinner? Who will come, beside the Hybrids I mean? There will be others, right?"

"I don't know all of them. Most of them really…" Greta shrugged. The faintest trace of pale daylight showed around the edges of the window. "From the scale of preparations, I think it's going to be big though."

I still didn't hate Greta. I wasn't sure why I was semi-comfortable around her at all — she had done her part in my sacrifice only four months ago after all — or mildly enjoyed talking to her.

I supposed it stemmed from not really having anyone to talk to.

Or perhaps it stemmed from not feeling comfortable around anyone since I'd gotten stuck in this reality. Perhaps it was the part of me that was starting to get numb to the deaths surrounding me? I hadn't been able to dislike Caroline, even after she'd attacked and inadvertently killed Bonnie.

They were all people. They were all more than the caricatures the series showed us.

And I had trouble distinguishing right from wrong. It was easy to think Klaus was wrong. Just as Damon was wrong.

But I could understand Caroline. Just as I could understand Greta's frantic need to be free. Her family had been smothering her. Not full out homophobic, or perhaps they'd been just that and—

"Are your father and brother still trying to find you?"

I hadn't heard or seen either Martin after the sacrifice. In the original timeline they died. But in the original timeline they only died because they tried to undagger Elijah from the Salvatore Boarding House. That part hadn't happened, so—

"They found me once Klaus drained you of your blood." She admitted. "Dad was using a lot of power. I think he wanted to take Klaus down when he was transitioning. Breaking his concentration, however, was childishly easy…"

"Is that when Elijah showed up—"

"Elijah didn't show up, Elena." Greta frowned. "In fact nobody knows what happened to him."

"What, so he's not with Klaus? Daggered and boxed up I mean?"

"Not as far as I know." Greta shrugged. "Not that I care. Life's easier without him on our scent."

"And your dad? Your brother?"

Greta let out a long, irritated sigh. "Klaus disappeared as a wolf and I told my father I didn't want to come with him. Luka wasn't there. I assume he followed our dad."

"You think they'll stop now?"

"After Maddox gave him a headache?" She asked. "And me saying the things I did? I hope so."

I couldn't understand how one could despise their parents so much. I understood Greta not wanting to go home, but to actually wanting nothing to do with a parent? Hard to imagine.

Even Grayson, who wasn't really my father, had gained my indulgent respect. Even after learning what he'd done, I hadn't been able to completely hate him— Oh, who was I kidding? It was because he wasn't my father that I could happily despise him. Now, my real father— I guess he could do now wrong.

Inhaling deeply, I let my head drop against the headboard, rubbing my hands over my face.

When I turned to look at Greta again, I was surprised to see her dark eyes widen, before sliding away from mine. The hint of a flush tinted her cheeks and I felt an uncomfortable shiver run down my spine.

"It's late—"

"Yeah," she agreed, jerking to her feet. I followed after her, rubbing my hands together.

"I need all of my wits when I'll have another row with Klaus."

A sly smile darkened her pretty features, waggling her eyebrows. "Yeah, you may even get him to let loose?"

"Bye Greta," I said and the door clicked close before her smiling face.

Exhaling loudly, I retreated my steps and flopped back on the bed. I had never considered a girl as a lover before.

Well, not for myself at least.

There had never been a girl liking me either, and, I had no idea how to deal with that. That was, if she even liked me in the first place.

Turning on my side, I turned off the bedside light (it wasn't like I needed it anymore). More sleep— that sounded nice.

Bright sunlight lit the back of my eyelids in a searing orange glow and the loud chirping of birds.

I groaned and rolled over onto my side, shielding my eyes.

A patch of spring sunshine was draped over the bed and over my back. It took only a few moments for the heat to make me uncomfortable, and, with a groan I sat up.

Finger-combing the tangles from my hair, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing against the sting of the cold floor against my bare feet.

I'd never been a great early riser, but at least I managed to roll out and stumble to the window.

The sky stretched on for miles around, brilliant blue with not a cloud in sight, and the sun was peeking out above the tops of the trees. If I had to guess, I'd say it was around nine-thirty and I rubbed my eyes groggily.

Beneath my window several hybrids were stationed, staring jadedly across the garden. Another pair were carrying boxes around. I could only assume in preparation of Klaus' party and I frowned, stepping back from the window.

I honestly could think of no good reason why I'd want to throw a party to get rid of someone.

Unbuttoning the top of my pajama top, I moved into the adjacent bathroom.

I was out of my sleeping wear in a matter of minutes and into a pair of denim pants who were a bit too loose around the waist, a simple T-shirt, and a dark-blue sweater with a stretched-out neck. It was worrisome how much weight I'd lost the past few months, but at least I felt comfortable in my baggy sweater and, with a sigh, I made my way out of my bedroom.

The twisting wooden stairs leading down creaked noisily beneath my feet and when I reached the landing, I passed an unfamiliar female hybrid, who scowled at me.

I ignored it — I'd gotten good at ignoring things I didn't want to face — and curling my fingers through the loops of my pants, I stepped into the kitchen.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the dust motes flying through the air and dappled the pale walls in shifting patterns of sunny radiance and— And I wasn't alone.

Klaus stood in front of one of the windows, gazing outside and I stilled in the door opening. I didn't doubt him already noticing me, and, took a slow step inside.

"Good morning," I croaked out, and, Klaus' blue eyes snapped to attention, fixing on me. His lips curled up into a smile.

"Look who's awake?"

"Yeah…" I agreed, crossing my arms over my stomach. "I see the preparations are in full swing?"

"Hm hm."

"You aren't really inviting Mikael and expecting him to come, right?"

"Of course, not. I left a nice trail for him to follow." He grinned.

I licked my lips, pushing past him to spoon ground coffee beans into the coffee maker's filter. Once the coffee maker was purring happily, I sighed loudly, and cut a sharp look over my shoulder at him. "You might want to get your hybrids on vervain."

"What was that, Luv?"

"Mikeal can compel vampires, can he not?" I answered, turning back to my coffee. "Your hybrids are part vampire. You don't want him to compel them."

"You really want to be rid of me, don't you?"

"I don't particularly like you lording over my life, Klaus."

He laughed and suddenly my back was pressed against his warm chest, an arm leisurely wrapped around my stomach. "Such a strange girl, you are. But also so refreshing. I'm so glad I let you live."

"Is that why you did it?" I asked, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"You're very amusing."

"So glad to be of assistance."

The stubble of his chin felt scratchy against the bare skin of my throat. His warm breath tickled over my collarbone and a shiver curled in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sure why he was trying to push my buttons again (or at least so I assumed).

His closeness was unnerving, his body-heat like a furnace against my back.

I bit my lip. "What are you doing now?"

"Why, luv, are you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

He laughed and I tried to slip my hands under his arms, to pry him off of me. I'd possibly had more luck lifting a car and finally let my shoulders sag.

"Giving up already, sweetheart?"

"Seems like more trouble than it's worth." I muttered, even as my cheeks remained warm.

"Not playing ball, hm?"

"No," I grumbled and turned my head to glare at him.

He merely seemed amused and after a short moment, he dropped his arms from my waist and stepped back. Cocking his head to the side, moving his arm in a wide arc. "Pity."

I watched him with mixed feelings and crossed my arms over my chest, pressing my back against the counter. "Why, did you expect I would play along?"

"You never do what I would expect, Luv."

"Right," I grumbled awkwardly.

He flashed a quick grin. "I did have Greta shop, by the way."

"No— No, you didn't." I mumbled. Because I was not going to be there.

"Of course, I did. You sure have to look the part, sweetheart."

A dull sort of horror creeped up my spine and I shivered. "Am I going to be the bait?"

"Oh no, Sweetheart, you're to be my honorable guest."

"And I suppose everyone going to this dinner of yours will be aware of that."

His grin was menacing now, "Of course."

"Yeah, not coming."

"Oh don't be so difficult, Sweetheart."

"I don't want to be your honorable anything. I can entertain myself up in my room and—"

"And have Mikael break into this house, creep up on you and use you against me?"

I let out a snort. Right, good point.

"So, the bags are up in your room. You can choose your dress."

"Great," I muttered irritably and cupped my coffee in my hands. "Just great."

The feast — so it wasn't a dinner, my bad — was held in a building twice as large as the place we stayed in and, stood at the other end of the city.

Owned by a human (if the verbal invitation was any indication) every vampire and hybrid had to be invited inside, which meant Mikael couldn't just waltz through the front door.

Klaus smiled when he led me up the path, towards the house. Fairy lights hung from the trees and willow fences. The place was packed already.

I felt very self-conscious. Greta had helped me prepare, dragging me into her room and hexed me stuck to the vanity for hours (or it felt like hours) as she stuck at least a million bobby pins into my hair and later wrangled it up into a possibly stylish updo, I would never able to copy. All I knew was that it looked nice but in fact was heavy and painful.

Klaus, however, was in his element.

He charged into the house, opening his arms wide to receive and bask in all the attention.

Apparently we were fashionable late and most of the guest had arrived already.

He turned to me, tapping my cheek, instructing (still not compelling) me to stay in the perimeter of the house. I could venture out into the vast gardens behind the house — protected by a witch not Greta — and waved me off to take my seat at the dinner table in the middle of what was some kind of a conservatory.

They were serving food— human food. I wasn't sure why, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

Most of it went by in a blur of me scooping shaved Parmesan on the heaped beets, staring at the braid-bottomed decanter full of red wine, which Klaus didn't allow me to have, and awkwardly tugging at the plunging neckline of my dress.

Apparently I was truly to be the guest of honor (I really wished I could punch Klaus in his face for that one) and the hybrids around kept near me. To me it seemed all of this was just a show of power.

It was deliberate, flashy and in-your-face and I just didn't understand what Klaus hoped to gain with any of it.

When the dancing started, I hid in one of the corners near one of the lavishly decorated substance tables and I happily helped myself to a glass of white wine. Finally, unsupervised when it came to consuming alcohol.

Thank God!

The room the dancing, and, the drinking, was held in what must have been something like an old disused ballroom.

Champagne flowed like water and behind the make-shift bar in the back, top-shelf hard liquor was served.

The sustenance tables were set up around the edges of the dance floor and from what I gathered filled with whine at the right, and, the most delicious appetizers at the left. Of course, there were several large decanters of blood in the midst of it all, an aperitif to the vampires among us. It was what kept me away from the appetizers and I held my glass tightly.

People still littered around and through the French doors even though the evening had long since settled.

I'd even spied Rebekah with her prominent cheekbones, her blue eyes, and her mean little grin wrapping some nameless boy around her little finger. She did it with the kind of ease I was slightly jealous of, and, after watching a dopey grin lift the corners of said boy, I moved to the bar.

If I was going to get through this night, it needed some serious booze. Some. Serious. Booze.

Sliding onto a stool, I tapped my fingers on the counter, letting my eyes glide over the wall of alcohol. When the bartender finally spied me, looking inconspicuous as I did, she offered me a smile.

"What can I get you?"

"A Vodka soda, please."

The girl, human obviously, nodded dreamily and in no time returned with my drink. I shot it back with the practiced ease of a college student who'd learned how to drink while clubbing and she slid a slice of lime to me on a saucer.

"Shitty day?"

"Shitty week," I corrected absentmindedly, biting down on the sour flesh of lime and grinned balefully when she dropped a shot of tequila in front of me, pouring herself one too.

"Guy trouble?"

"If only I was so lucky," I muttered, before frowning. "Well, that's actually not completely wrong either. Let's say I have a very protective artist friend who is in the habit of throwing temper tantrums." I continued, drowning the bite of lemon away with the satisfying burn of liquor.

"Ah," she nodded, "sounds irritating."

"Hm," I agreed, "it is."

"Your boyfriend does seem like he is a bit much." The girl admitted, a bottle of Tequila in one hand.

Drowning my shot of tequila I snorted. Great, so all the guests thought I was his— girlfriend? Human blood bank? Lover? I had no idea what the vampires or hybrids thought I was, but if this human girl thought we were— dating, I could only imagine what the others thought.

The girl swigged back her drink and with a small smile placed the bottle on the counter in front of me. "There, I think you could do with this."

"Thanks," I grinned and poured myself my third drink in under the twenty minutes.

Downing shots of tequila, it took five glasses before I was laughing freely. While I hadn't been enjoying the party before, I was enjoying it now, nursing my bottle with a pleased smile.

I certainly loved the girl behind the bar. She had purple dyed hair, a piercing in her ear and through her eyebrow, and, she kept feeding me interesting concoctions.

From what I could tell all the people I knew where having a good time. Although Klaus looked erratic, I guessed there was no sign of Mikeal yet.

Rebekah and even Greta seemed to have too good of a time for it. Greta was surrounded by several girls, all from whom I guessed where witches, while Rebekah had cornered her newest beau into the nook of the room, feeding from his neck. The boy's face was turned up in ecstasy and with flaming cheeks, I turned to look at my glass again.

"You look like you're letting loose, sweetheart?" Klaus drawled, sliding in next to me and I sighed.

"Hello Klaus."

"Getting drunk?"

"Just a pleasant buzz." I muttered over a sip of my drink. "I can handle my liquor."

"Last time you indulged yourself, you were a mess."

"Hm," I grinned and turned to him, feeling lighter than I had in days. "Well, you're one to talk."

"Oh?"

"You know, vampire and hunting for blood and all."

He barked out a laugh and stole a sip of my drink. I vaguely thought I should feel more offended by that, but in the end just ignored it. He held out his hand expectingly. "Say, would you like to dance?"

"No," I answered flatly, painfully remembering the awkward prom night I'd tried my hand at a bit of dancing and had made an absolute fool of myself.

After that horrendous moment, I usually positioned myself strategically whenever I'd gone to some party with friends or family.

Often, that meant settling behind some large column or seated on a barstool faking an injury I managed to successfully avoid any dancing. After the first hour most people didn't try getting me away, or simply didn't notice me loitering on the periphery of their little alcoholic induced bubbles.

"Ah, come on, Luv, live a little."

"No," I decided again, daring a little glance over my shoulder. "Besides, I'd think you wanted to keep your toes intact? I promise you, even with your healing ability, I'd maim them in a degree even vampires would find terrifying."

An eyebrow arched up and he looked at me as if I was a puzzle. Perhaps from his perspective I was and I began to pick at my cuticles. "You're so odd." He finally settled on and I had the distinct feeling he wanted to say something more, but a dark haired man appeared at his side, whispering something in his ear.

"I'm sorry, it seems I have business to attend to." He told me. His voice brooked no arguments.

"Go right ahead."

"Do try not to look so glum."

He was gone a moment later and the giddy waitress returned offering me another glass of— something amber colored. "Here, can I get you something else?"

"No," I mumbled and licked my suddenly dry lips, "I think I need some air."

The sun had set hours before, leaving the expansive grounds dark, intimidating, and, drenched in an eerie silver haze of moonlight.

As soon as I stepped into the garden, I felt calmer, more at ease. Even though, the scent of cigarette smoke, cannabis and something irony (blood I presumed), filtered through the air.

Inhaling deeply, I settled on an iron park bench, dropping my head back and stared up into the sky. It was hypnotic, a sea of hazy, white stars, glowing brightly in the inky darkness.

I shivered slightly in the evening breeze, barreling across the grounds but I didn't make a move to get up again.

Peering into the dark midnight sky, I intertwined my fingers on my lap. For a while I was perfectly content sitting there. I would have been content to remain there, but a buzz against my thigh broke me from my lonely reverie and, sluggishly I reached for the phone, I'd strapped against my leg.

Looking at the caller ID, I bit my lip. John.

Shit!

The only reason I'd managed to keep my phone— well, that was because Klaus didn't seem bothered by me keeping it.

I suppose it was kinda sad I, nor my friends weren't even deemed enough as a danger, to perceive them with caution. Of course, I hadn't given Klaus much reason to make him worry about me or them. I'd gone along with his plans well enough (what choice did I have), making up an excuse for my family and friends as to why I wasn't in Mystic Falls anymore.

Of course, I had planned flying out visiting colleges — but how long was that excuse going to work? — which meant no one was really worried as of yet.

The phone continued to hum and, licking my lips, I hit 'accept' and lifted it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Elena?"

I breathed in loudly, closing my eyes I leant back. His voice was high, terrified and I could just tell something was terribly, terribly wrong. It seemed my excuse had stopped working already.

"Uncle John, are you all right?"

"You have to come home, Elena."

"What's wrong?"

"It's Jeremy," he whispered.

"Can I get a one-line version?" I asked slowly and John's breath hitched.

"He's in the hospital, Elena," he explained, his voice cracking. "They got to him."

My fingers felt cold, and, my face lost all color, "who got to him? Who's they?"

"The person— the one who killed Grayson," John answered, "the same person went after Jeremy."

"Oh my God— Is he okay?" My voice was starting to take on a slightly hysterical edge.

"He— Elena, he's in a coma—"

"What?"

He cleared his throat, the sound weirdly cracking and distorted by the connection. "He was attacked when he came home. Someone stabbed him. Honestly, it's a miracle Jeremy could even get away."

"I don't—"

"But he rushed away, Pastor Young accidentally hit him with his car—"

I shook my head, not understanding how something like this could happen and stiffened. "Fuck!"

"Elena, you have to come home."

"I, yes! Of course!"

I sat frozen long after the phone went quiet, listening to the loud beating of my heart in my ears. And then I was on my feet, moving towards the French terrace doors. My mouth felt so dry and my breathing labored as I tried not to panic. I had to find Klaus—

(To be continued…)

A/N: I will admit, I have no real knowledge of strong liquids. I wouldn't know how they taste, how you feel after you indulge, or, how fast it goes, so… I took some liberty with it.

Also, the only reason Non-Elena got to keep her phone? PLOT-ARMOR! Let's face it, that was always a fine reason to keep characters on the show alive, wasn't it. But — then again, it's not impossible for Klaus to ignore Elena's phone. In a way, he has come to trust her, hasn't he?

Anyway, I needed a reason to get plot three up and completely running!

Like always, leave a review and enjoy the ride. Next update Friday next week.