AN: Witch Side Part 3. Don't let anything confuse you. The point of the chap is just to show a less smarmy version of the K-man.

"Who let the vampire in?" Klaus muttered as he glanced through the window at the impending storm assailing the Aventine. Warm and snug in the Capitoline, he swallowed bile flavoured saliva at the thought of Damon wreaking havoc. Some people you need to kill twice and three times before you get some peace of mind.

"You apparently," Dr Martin replied stiffly, handing him a robe.

"Not me," Klaus replied lightly, accepting the robe to cover himself. It was no fun at all being naked with Greta's father, only uncomfortable. "Actually, I rode coattails this time. It was Bonnie. You know Bonnie Bennett – prodigy of the Bennett witch dynasty – tried to kill me a couple of times? You tried to help her kill me?"

"Sure did." The man sank into a chair, and stirred his cup of tea or milk or whatever it was he was drinking.

"Here's the thing though," Klaus took a seat opposite from the man and leant forward, "Remember Greta?"

"My only daughter? The one you kidnaped and brainwashed?"

"So you remember…" he smacked his lips, preparing himself to deal with the moral condescension he knew was coming. Judgmental didn't begin to describe the man. That PhD he had was in horse riding. High horse riding. Funny how even dead, he'd not softened into something a little more amiable. "She and I have come to a little hiccup."

"Dead, you mean?"

"Not dead, or she'd be here with you sad lot. And she's not. How's your dead son? By the way."

"Still dead."

"Wasn't me that killed him. Accept my sympathies. Anyway…" he leant back in the chair. No wonder the Aventine witches were always so meddling – the reward was pretty decent. The Capitoline had houses, carpets, frosted windows and teacups… Only imagine what the Viminal could boast – golden palaces with milk in the canals, maybe. Geraldine, his would be slayer, doing the doggy paddle. "My point is… that it's brought my attention to some matters that I've overlooked. I… never liked you and the only reason I didn't kill you myself is that somehow, I grudgingly respect you. I respect all witches, they've been kind to me in all sorts of ways and I think it's time I return the favour. Give something back to the community, so to speak. How does immortality sound? I can give you that."

"Huh," the man sighed. "If this were coming from anyone beside you, it'd be good news, but you are an abomination, Klaus," the lean man uttered casually as he wiped his glasses in his sleeves, squinting a bit. "You are a blight on our existence. A disease of magic that we just can't seem to get rid of. You're only good at destruction. Greta's had it coming since she sided with you. People who consort with evil like you usually end up dying horribly… I listened to Elijah and look where that got me. Look where it got my son. Vampires," nd he spat over his side.

"Technically, I'm a hybrid."

"And technically, I don't give a fuck."

"Ooh. Language, love." Hard to keep a smile going when someone calls you a disease to your face, but Klaus managed.

"What do you want, Klaus? A spell? This is my afterlife, and I don't want to spend more than a minute of it with you."

"I want your cooperation, really. Think about your son. We shouldn't be enemies… We're practically family… pops. We should work together. You love witches, I love witches. Why are we on different sides in this?"

"I don't know what happened to Greta. Since you changed her into an abomination, it's harder for me to watch over her. Any decent father watches over his children and you robbed me of that. You robbed me of both my children, Klaus, and there won't be a day that I won't hate you for it."

"This isn't about Greta. Greta's my concern now, not yours. And she's not dead. I keep my people alive."

"Good for you."

"It can be good for you too. I've got a favour to ask." The chair was decidedly uncomfortable. Asking for favours in general was an uncomfortable thing to do. "I'm working on something… that might be big for you witches."

Martin leaned forward. "Are you now? Involving what exactly?"

"Involving human sacrifice, and setting up a revolving door between the real world and these planes of murky, second rate existence. As soon as you die, you skip all these planes of enlightenment, or atonement, or whatever it is you witches do over here, and return to life good as new."

"You lost me at human sacrifice."

"Trick is, I need someone on this side to work with me and I've settled on you. It's either you or Gloria and I'm giving you first dibs. Even if you don't trust me, that shouldn't matter, because it's not my spell. Witches came up with this. Your ancestors – the Bennetts, the Martins, the Underwoods, the Hales and the Calicorns. Your people. All I need is the Bennett girl to cooperate and the pentagram is complete. Greta and the rest of my people are working out the details. Wouldn't you like to see it to completion?"

The man's face twisted into something not even Klaus could recognise. A haunting silence filled the room.

Finally Martin spoke. "That spell?"

"That spell indeed." That ancient piece of magic so long forbidden it made his Sun and Moon curse look like child's play. The Godmaker, he liked to call it. Necromancy and magic at its very best.

It had first come to his attention at the turn of the thirteenth century when he'd met Anastasia. The original Anastasia. She'd been something all right, a real cauldron of power. He'd met her at a river, giving birth to a child at midnight. Morbidly enough, five minutes after the thing was out of her, she'd snapped it's neck. And that's how he'd started to learn about human sacrifice and gates to the other world. Evil, sick, and borderline satanic, maybe, but very practical he'd come to realise later on.

There's nothing in the world more precious than human life. Ergo, you live like a god once you start trading in it.

"No sane witch would ever agree to do that."

Thank the Fates that he'd managed to put his hands on some mentally unstable ones then. He'd run in to some difficulties with his hybrid army plan, sure enough. But when a door closes, somewhere, an interdimensional gate opens. No hybrids, no problems. He'd turn his people into gods. Limitless. Boundless. No more death. No more other sides.

"And who's going to act as the energy source for something like that?"

"Yours truly." Oh, he more than had that covered. And besides, Magwyr's little show of power would keep his living room active for the rest of the year, no doubt. Sure, having a gaping hellmouth in your eating area could be inconvenient, but he'd work around it. There was also his demonic little friend, Jack, who'd love to help out.

"You're never content are you?" the man snorted. "You're like a child who can't keep a goldfish alive asking for a shark tank."

I already own a shark tank. In my Australian bungalow. What are you implying? "When a man lives forever, he needs hobbies."

"Like becoming the sovereign lord and ruler of both the living and supernatural planes of existence and turning you minions into mini gods to wreak havoc on mankind?"

You make that sound like a bad thing. "There's a space on my minion roster for you. I'll make you unkillable. You want power? Real power? It's at your fingertips, warlock. The power of these realms. The power of human blood. The moon. Magic like you've only dreamed. It's time to break some walls down."

"Huh," Dr Martin shuffled in his seat, "I'll think about it."

Well, you win some, you lose some. Next up on his list, Edith. A less powerful, but less scrupulous old Underwood granny. "Don't call you, you'll call me?"

"Something like that. Expect Gloria to turn you down as well."

"Well either way, I'm sure there's another dead witch around here who'd be more willing to oblige."

The man sighed listlessly and his body sagged. "One thing there's no shortage on is dead witches."

So, that hadn't gone as well as it could have. Most the witches had been in a state of panic, scampering for cover. He'd met up with Edith on the sixth plane and had all of five minutes to try to hem her in. She hadn't been too resistant to the idea of breaking every single law of nature in order to get her youth and life back and free passage back to the living realm… except they hadn't gotten time to hammer out the details…

He stumbled out of the haze and candle smoke of the other side and set his feet down in the familiar surroundings of his recently invaded home in Halifax, Canada. He threw himself into an armchair fatigued. Anastasia was there at the foot of the couch gazing out a window at a butterfly on the sill oblivious to his return. One Underwood, check.

Maddox was hovering over him, the scent of burning candle wax ridiculously strong, with a faint hint of mint.

And so, the prodigal Calicorn witch returns… when the dust has settled. Thanks for pulling me out the hellhole, pal, but I'd been in the middle of a conversation…

The first glaringly odd thing he noted was that Lucy was still around. Good. Another witch joins the nest. Hale, check.

Just a Bennett to get, and his evil five-man army of witches is complete.

His eyes darted to the calendar on the wall.

Three weeks.

Wow.

His head was spinning. He pulled out the mini notebook from him back pocket and started scribbling down every detail he could remember of what Edith had instructed back to him before the amnesia set in. A little forgetfulness was nothing too bad most times, but when trying to circumvent nature and rule the world, you need to be sharp.

Lucy cleared her throat, "Nice to meet you face to face."

He spared her a smile even though he wasn't particularly in the mood. Lucy Hale. He'd need her. "Same here, love. Decided to stay, did you?"

She shrugged. "Your guy here gives a hell of a sales pitch. He says you're recruiting."

"Uh huh," he squinted down at the page wondering if he got all the words right. Had he forgotten something? He felt sure he had. Something that might be important?

Fucking amnesia spell.

How pissed off was he supposed to be at Maddox? Sure the guy had left him high and dry, but had he been in any real danger? No. And it had all worked out in the end, hadn't it? Damon was dead. Elijah… soon to be daggered. He hadn't had to kill the Bonnie girl thanks to Jaxxon and he'd got a free ride to the other side as well.

Oooh, I feel sleepy…

Fucking witches.

Could it not be enough that they were on a separate plane of existence? They had to add an amnesia spell too? What next, blindfolds? He grunted.

Fuck.

He'd have to cross over again, and re-find Edith. Just to double check it. He looked up from his scribbles, studying the woman whose body he'd recently been in… in a spiritual way.

Can I?

Will it be weird?

Yeah…

He could go right on and scratch her off the list of potential people to sleep with. He was a little too familiar with that body for comfort. "You looking for employment, love? Have a resume? What's you're thing? Annie does negative magic, Maddox is the go to guy when I need to do something extra forbidden. What do you bring to the table?"

"Well," she settled into the chair, rather comfortable with herself. She must not have heard about him. Sure he doesn't kill witches, and sure, he might need her for a certain arcane spell, but that doesn't mean he has to let her squat in his house. She gesticulated at the candles littered all over the place. "For starters, seeing as you obviously have an interest in crossing over to the other side, I can help you out with that."

The way she said it…

As if he were crossing over to go bugger livestock.

"For starters, this isn't any of your business."

"For starters, as I'm a witch, and as you're crossing into my domain, I'd say it isn't any of your business."

The woman reminded him of his mother. So much for not killing witches, this one would wear his nerves to ash if he let her.

Whatever. Three weeks was indeed a long time to spend in between worlds. Last time it had taken him a month and a half; Maddox was improving but if the woman could promise something more efficient… "You can get me across and back in less than a fortnight?"

"Depends."

"On?" Her time of the month? The tide? Tea leaves? An ancient prophecy? What?

"On what exactly it is you're trying to accomplish."

He sighed. The air left him all on its own. "What I'm trying to accomplish…" Anastasia rapped her fingers on the window, still fascinated by the butterfly.

How much to divulge?

Everything?

Nothing?

Kill her?

Kill them all?

Suffice it to say, he was feeling a touch… disoriented.

"I'm going to go out and find a werewolf lady who has mismatched eyes and is exactly thirty nine weeks pregnant. Then I'm going to go convert her to a hybrid. Then I wait for her to give birth and when that finally happens, I feed the hybrid monster baby the heart of the doppelganger. Then without cutting the umbilical cord, I slit the mother's throat. Then I burn the body and make the child eat the ashes. Then I drain the baby's blood out of the umbilical cord which at this point acts as an Elixer of Rebirth and Rejuvenation. Just a drop and you get inherit the mother's hybrid legacy and 'gain dominion over the Otherwrold'." He consulted the notes he'd made. "That's it… more or less."

"Gruesome," she said after a minute, her eyes trailing away to the circle of rotting intestine on the floor.

Maddox coughed. "I thought I'd leave it down to mark off the area. So people know where not to step."

Right.

"Not that," Lucy looked away. "I was referring to draining… the…"

"No, I don't kill the baby. I just set up an IV..." Klaus craned his neck around, taking in the place that used to be home. At first it was familiar, but now… the walls were swirling together.

He hadn't eaten anybody on the other side. Hadn't taken so much as a nibble.

So why the deliria?

"Where's Bonnie again?" his voice hitched. She'd pushed him, and he'd come pretty close to killing her, but in truth, another Bennett would be a bit difficult to come by.

"Mystic Falls," Maddox answered.

"Good riddance." He'd pick her up when the time was right. "You give some people a chance and… they… they rip you a new asshole." It certainly felt as if they'd ripped him a new asshole. Speaking very literally. "And Damon? I want to tap dance on his brain."

"His body, you mean?" Maddox asked, still making smoke circles with the candle, looking every bit the classical voodoo man. All he needed was a bone necklace and one white eye.

"Yeah, the body."

"I burnt it," Anastasia spoke up with a smile, "Then I put the ashes in a jar, and mailed the jar back to Mystic Falls."

A touch sociopathic, but creative. An 'Accept My Condolences Gift Basket' with an assorted arrangement of his internal organs with his infernal blue eyes mounted on toothpicks would have been more perfect, but say what? A FedEx delivery of his brother's body in a jar would do. Poor Stefan.

"You saw my sister?"

Your whole fucking family tree. "She says hi."

Anastasia pushed open a window letting in an unwanted, unappreciated breeze. "Marie? You actually saw her?"

"Yes."

"How is she?"

Didn't ask. I was preoccupied with hunting down your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother Edith. She's still dead… "Oh, she's fine." Or even more dead… Damon's got loose on the Aventine and he's working through the witches like a biblical Egyptian plague. His back hurt, almost as if someone had broken it. Muscle spasmed, nerves tingles and radiated pain through every inch of his body…

He should really start taking better care of it; he only had the one, after all. He needed cushions, and someone to hold him and smooth his hair out…

Why do I do this, Klaus wondered. There was no particular reason why he let Damon and Bonnie get away with it… except that he'd needed Bonnie alive to bridge the gates between the Other Side and the real world. Anastasia had suggested it and he'd said, why not? Why not let them hack his body to pieces and rip his guts out? He glanced at her bubbly face and felt a little sick to his stomach.

Did he need them?

Any of them?

Maybe Damon had the right of it. What if a witch's purpose didn't extend beyond being his evening meal? A witch-a-day diet could do wonders for a guy like him. Why should he repeatedly subject himself to torture for the sake of one hare-brained scheme after another? Did it matter who lived or who died? He wasnever goingtodie. Ever. Wasn't that enough? Show of hands on who'd want to live forever with a pack of parasitic, judgmental balancers of nature in tow. Fuck balance. Fuck nature. Fuck–

"You told them that we're going to resurrect them all?"

"I'd thought we'd surprise them." It'd surprise him.

At the point he was in his life, he couldn't even get excited about it. Somehow, some way, somebody'd was going to throw a monkey wrench in his plans.

Don't put too many eggs in my basket, because it's very likely they'd break. I bring nothing but destruction, haven't you heard? I'm an ulceration on the heel of the world.

And besides, if it actually worked, he not actually resurrect all of them.

Anastasia was beaming, as long as we have the five–"

"Where's Greta?"

They gathered around the body like a pack of mourners at a funeral. At least there was a body, which was more than there'd been three weeks ago.

See, he wanted to tell her. Being a witch vampire werewolf hybrid has benefits. It's not all bad.

Maddox spoke first. "We're still working on it."

"Working on what?" His eyes focused on her dead mouth. His fingers twitched in his pocket. "What is this?" he gruffed. Truth be told he was just the littlest bit angry. He wasn't in the mood for complicated. Maybe three weeks ago when he'd let them rip his guts out through his mouth, but not now. He was sore, tired, hungry and pissed off. After all the blood he'd pumped into them he shouldn't even be having this conversation. Death should be something vague and unfamiliar to him, like diarrhoea or athlete's foot.

"The first thing is that Bonnie killed her," Maddox started in his voice that he reserved for his more esoteric conversations. "Turned to dust. They just disintegrated her body…"

"Obviously it wasn't permanent?"

And if she'd been turned to dust, who put her in the sundress? Of course, it wouldn't be right to just leave her there naked… But who put her in the dress? Greta wasn't the type of girl to be caught dead in a sundress.

Huh.

Maddox mouth twitched.

Maddox my favourite… Always the man with the plan. The guy who put a whole new meaning to white magic. His diabolical brother in arms. More occult than any horseman of the apocalypse could ever dream to be.

Maddox – a man so lacking in morals he'd steal candy from a baby just to hear the baby cry. Then he'd kill the baby, just because it was crying.

Oh sweet Maddox… my right hand bandwagon-rider. Let's switch bodies. You raise the army and I'll just do whatever it is you do…

"Basically, the body healed on its own. It reformed if you will..."

"Except…" Klaus prodded.

"Except there's a fundamental flaw in us witch hybrids. When you get your heart ripped out, it regrows. Your natural Power will keep your body intact for all time."

"And?" The suspense was killing him. Not literally, but…

"Our hearts don't grow back. Our hearts are the only part of us that remain completely witch, while the rest of us gets converted. To bring Greta back we're going to have to get a new heart for her–"

And I look like the fucking wizard of Oz? "Don't we have one in the refrigerator?"

"That one was from a normal human. We'll need one from a witch."

"They aren't so hard to come by–"

"From a witch in her bloodline."

"Shit."

"Oh, no…" Maddox braked, "That isn't the problem. I dug up the brother's and I'm going to use his. The problem is that… since it's a dead heart it'll suck up all her magic in about… nine years."

His face twisted, and he could've almost tasted what Maddox was about to say. He could put a patent out on the flavour – Disappointment.

"And the spell is a little tricky." He gestured at the body, "Mostly, I'm operating on guesswork. If it all goes perfectly, giving her the brother's heart should bring her back." Maddox continued. "I'm not exactly sure what happens when her magic runs out."

"She's a hybrid. We pump her full of Elena's blood and everything is right as rain."

"It's more complicated than that," Anastasia contributed.

I need her… "We need her, because last I checked there aren't any more Martin witches. You need to bring her back exactly the way she was before." He kicked the leg of the bed. "I don't have time for this sleeping beauty nonsense."

"We can't–"

"What can you do, girl?" His brain twirled. He was not going back to this… "A witch who can't do what needs to be done is worse than having no witch at all." Unfair maybe to launch at the child, but he'd had enough. "I don't want excuses! I've had it up to my eyeballs in excuses. When I give an order I just want it done! Is it so hard?" he rounded on Maddox. "Is it so hard what I ask of you? I don't want you to bring me the moon. Keep each other alive. That's all I want. And you persist in dying, despite everything I do! I feed you my own flesh and blood and all I ask is that you keep each other alive! How fucking hard is it to stay alive?"

Maddox flinched.

Anastasia was in tears. "Why are you angry? We're trying to–"

Oh God.

The monkey wrench.

And he'd barely even begun.

"Don't bother…" he sighed in defeat, his eyes shifting to where the sheet had raised off her toes. "Don't bother!" He knocked over one of the candles they had lit. Watched it roll across the flow and out itself. Bad sign, that.

"Don't bother?" Anastasia grabbed at the tumbling candle. "We can fix this!"

"To what end? To what purpose? She'd been perfect before – witch and hybrid all rolled up nice and neat. I don't want some…" he pointed to the deathly still corpse in the sundress, "some Pet Cemetery Version of her running around freaking everybody out."

"No, but–"

Back to the drawing board.

"Let's say all your little spells don't go according to plan, because, and let's face it, you witches tend to fuck things up more than you fix when you meddle. Can you reassure me that you can bring her back with her magic intact? You bring her back without the magic and she's just some freak with a bad nosebleed, Annie. Even if you do it perfectly, if it only last nine years, what's the point?"

"You could give her Elena's blood," the girl suggested again, sniffing furiously.

"I hate the Elena-hybrids. They're weak, and the worst of both worlds. Doubly vulnerable. Don't bother. Just–"

"Don't bother?" she screeled, her face turning plum red. "We're not bringing back a zombie! It's not like if she's going to keel over and die the very second she comes back! Nine years is plenty!"

"Not to me! Nine years, nine minutes, what's the point?" he shouted back, intentionally putting out a good bit more candles. "I'm not giving her the Elena-blood to turn her into a drone, so–"

"There not drones!"

"They fucking are what I say they are, sired pieces of werewolf shit! I've had it with werewolves. I've had it with witches and I've had it with trying to raise this half-assed army!" He turned out the room back into the main living area. He knocked over the rack of wine glasses. The notebook he'd left on the chair, he took and started ripping pages. "I'm done!" He threw the book at one of the windows and got a twisted glimmer of joy at the sound of his bullet proof glass shattering. "I'm done with all the plans–" he flickered to the piano and sent it hurtling through the air out another window. With any luck it'll land on somebody. "I'm done with everything!"

Maddox jumped in. "Even–"

"Yes! Everything! What have I accomplished this entire year? How is my life any better for the lot of you? You!" he jabbed an accusing finger into Maddox' chest "You were all about self-preservation when Magwyr was ripping me piece from piece. Anastasia's ten years old and good for absolutely nothing. And Greta? Hmm? She's the worst of all of you. Leave the bitch alone for five minutes and she ups and dies on you, leaving Greta Dust to clog up my air vents. I try to make gods out of you people and you just spit in my face."

"I'm bringing her back!" the girl squawked. Just the same way chickens squawk when they feel fingers on their necks.

"Knock yourself out. You're a witch. She's a witch, or used to be one. Got nothing to do with me. You'll keep her downstairs with you, though. Top floor's off limits. Immortals only." To be extra spiteful he caught the butterfly she'd been so mesmerized with and ground it to dust in his fingers.

"I'm bringing her back!" She hefted one of the ornamental rocks to throw at him.

He growled. "I am not five years old, Anastasia. I'm not even five hundred and I'm in a bad fucking mood, so you best thread carefully."

"Next time I let them kill you!" she screamed, half crying, storming for the door. Ugly crying. Snot and everything.

"Next time I leave you in the streets!" he shouted back at her as she stomped away from him. "You'd make a good prostitute for the freaks out there."

God… he slumped onto one of the kitchen stools the echo of the slammed door finally started to fade. His head hurt. His throat was sore and he was beyond hungry. Flies were buzzing around his scattered intestines. He had eyeball juice and rank shark blood to shampoo out the carpet. Walls to scrub. He flung another glass at the wall, feeling just a little better to see the splinters fly.

Because of course, if he didn't clean it no one else would. Three weeks and his intestines were still on display on the carpet. They couldn't keep themselves alive… They couldn't keep the apartment clean… They never remembered birthdays… Not the kind of people you want to rule the world with.

"You know something's wrong when you get into a hissy fit competition with a sixteen year old and win." Maddox slid a sloshing glass of Royale down the counter.

"Oh, I won?" News to him.

The two of them toasted the shot and swallowed. Maddox hissed.

"What the fuck did you add to this?"

"Arsenic and cyanide." There was a warm tingle in his lips and tongue. "Adds to the sting, you don't find?"

"I think I just got throat cancer. Stop spiking the alcohol."

Klaus clapped the guy on the back.

Maddox refilled the shot glasses. "You know how I love me a good pity party."

I will not be comforted by a twenty-something year old.

I'm raging. Leave me alone.

Can't you see how pissed I am?

"I want to assume that we're still moving forward with Operation Hellgate."

"We have a name for it now?"

Maddox shrugged. "Seeing as we have an actual circle of gut in the living room, I thought Hellgate was apt."

"It is. It's still on a green light."

"Cool. Was your mother there?"

This conversation keeps getting better and better… "Yeah, and she promised to do everything in her power to bring about my destruction. Same old, same old."

"Moms."

"I wish Damon was here," Klaus groaned, letting his head drop to the counter with a thunk. He was feeling to kill something again. "So what, I apologise to the girl now?"

"And you have to have that talk with Lucy… You know, the conversion talk."

"Chirst…" he re-thunked his head on the counter. "Where are they? Downstairs?"