By the time Claire walked through the front door, weighed down with boxes, she had managed to gain some degree of composure. She should have known better than to try and fool Oliver though. "Ah, there you are, I was wondering…" his voice trailed off sharply as he turned. She didn't know if it was written on her face, or in the fact she was carrying boxes with her things in, or if he smelled it, but one minute he was across the room, the next he was lifting boxes from her and effortlessly putting them on the floor to embrace her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the gathering tears in her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. He stroked her hair for a moment before pulling away and studying her intently. "Stop that" she said shakily. "I feel like I've got something on my face". The effort was wasted on Oliver, who picked up her boxes and proceeded to put them in the bedroom. As he came out, she saw his face was brooding. Brooding and angry. She could see the restrained violence bubbling under his carefully maintained exterior, and felt a stab of guilt. "This is my fault" she said unhappily. In an instant, he had crushed her in a breath taking hug.

"Don't you ever say that Claire. You are the least to blame here. It is not you who chooses to inflict suffering on others as a form of petty revenge, no, you are the gentlest soul I have ever met." She felt a wave of warmth wash over her at his words, and sighed. "Sorry, I've just come from a shouting match with Eve and I'm a bit… strung out." "Oh?" She heard lightness return to his voice as he perked up at this titbit of information. "I hope you caused irreparable damage" She smiled and pulled away, walking into the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. "I wouldn't exactly say that." Then, after a pause. "Although, I suppose we were evenly matched". Oliver watched her work, leaning against the doorway, a smile on his face. "Of course you were". He stated it like he knew it all along, causing her to blush.

As she turned to reach for a knife, he was suddenly in the way, making Claire crane her head back to look at him. "Excuse me" she said playfully "I was getting a knife". His lips twitched and he leaned down as she reached up, linking her arms around his neck as they kissed. It was full of love and passion, leaving her slightly light headed. "You have no idea how much I love you" Oliver murmured against her mouth, making her feel like she would explode with happiness. "Well then," she whispered back "I think you'd better show me". With that, she re kindled their kiss, and within moments, had been hoisted onto the bench, her legs wrapped around Oliver's waist as her hands twined themselves in his hair.

His hands were just pulling her top up when there was a loud knocking on the door. She felt Oliver growl deep in his throat, and groaned herself. "Let's ignore it" she suggested, but no sooner had she suggested it when the knocking resumed, even louder if at all possible. Pursing her lips, she sighed and swung her legs against the cupboards as Oliver straightened and went to answer it, looking deliciously rumpled. After a moment, she grew curious and went to investigate.

Oliver was blocking her view of whoever it was, but alarm shot through her as she saw the tenseness of his body. She walked towards the door, and glimpsed through the gap a person. Frowning, she went closer, and abruptly stopped in her tracks as she saw who it was. Michael was stood there talking to Oliver in hushed tones. Claires stomach turned and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. What was he doing here? Creeping closer, she noticed that he seemed too involved in his conversation to notice her. "…I just think it's better for everyone." That was Michael. What was better? She wondered. Oliver's icy tone gave her no clue but she could tell whatever it was had him riled up. "Better for you perhaps. Do not pretend that you care about Claire. You made your feelings on her quite clear today when she returned to that house to gather her belongings that you hadn't bothered to return after you threw her out." Michael shifted, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. "Look Oliver, I didn't come here to argue. Just make it clear to Claire that she's not welcome back. We can't –" Claire's blood had turned to lava as she had listened in to the conversation. She could feel her whole body shaking and wondered if she looked as murderous as she felt. "Oh really?" she cut across Michael, and as Oliver shifted to look at her, she saw something like appreciation in his gaze. That was unimportant compared to what she wanted to do to Michael at that moment. "Really?" she repeated, and saw surprise flit across Michaels face before a mask came down, shutting down any emotion he might be feeling from showing on his face. "You know what Michael? I was prepared to keep quiet, to clean the graffiti, to ignore the staring in the street, to pretend not to hear the rumours that could only have come from you." "I don't know what-" she cut across him a second time, not giving him time to respond. "I was going to wait it out, wait until people had gotten over me and oliver being together. But now I can see that as long as you and Eve and Shane have this- this delusion that you are all perfect and Im some sort of slut-" she spat the word, in true rage now that she had got going. "-then that's not going to happen. So let me set the record straight. Actually, you know what- let me set it straight for all of you" With that, she stormed past Michael, who out of surprise of wariness of Oliver, didn't move to stop her, and fished her keys out of her pocket before getting into her car, slamming the door, and driving to the glass house.

A small part of her was terrified, wondering what the hell she was doing, but mostly she was angry. Furious in fact. This had gone on too long, and she needed to get it off her chest. She didn't know if this would change anything, but she was damn well going to try.

By the time she got there, she glimpsed Michael slipping into the house. As she stormed up the stairs, she saw a curtain twitch and hammered on the door. "Open up!" she shouted. "I know you're in there- all of you!" It was getting dark, a twilight cast on the street, prime time for vampire activity, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting in and sorting this mess out.

The door opened suddenly as she was raising her fist, and she barged in before they had a chance to shit it in her face. She wouldn't do this in the street like some sort of outsider. "What the hell-" she felt what must have been Shanes hand try to grab her, but she made it into the sitting room before whirling round. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Shane was angry, and she could see resentment in Eves eyes and tenseness in Michaels body language. Good. This would be better if they all said what they meant.

"Right. I need to set some things straight."

Outside the house, directly opposite in fact, stood two vampires. Myrnin leant against a tree, whirling a pocket watch around on its chain as he and Oliver listened to the drama unfolding inside the Glass house. "You know" he said "I was never sure she had it in her, but these past few months she has been simply full of surprises." Oliver grunted, not exactly in agreement, but more like he was more focused on the argument that could be heard two streets over, vampire hearing or no, than insulting his age old enemy. Smiling slightly. Myrnin noticed how focused he was, thinking how a year ago, he would have never believed him possible of such devotion to one person, a human at that, and then promptly turned and disappeared into the dark.