PFWW/N: Here is a chapter because I hate New Years Eve and I wanted to get SOMETHING out this week. You're welcome, hopefully.
Still not caught up on timelines here. Klaus is behind Caroline, but definitely gets closer to caught up in this chapter, which is New Orleans-centric and starts touching on some themes that I really wanted to explore. Not much in the way of action here, but a lot of different perspectives and progression.
Hope you dig it. Let me know with a review, if you would. I love hearing from people!
NEW ORLEANS, LA
Bonnie was still shaking with anger when she opened the door of the modest New Orleans home she shared with Grams.
"Don't you dare bring that hate in here, child. I could feel you from all 'way down the block. You best calm down before you kill my plants." Grams called from the living room, where a hard-backed dictionary and several crossword sections from the Times-Picayune were strewn across a card table set in front of the couch.
Bonnie took her time hanging up her military jacket, idly checking the pockets as a means of stalling and calming down.
Grams fixed Bonnie with a shrewd look as Bonnie turned to face her. "Do you want to tell me what Klaus did or just let it eat your insides up?"
Bonnie's jaw clenched, loosened before she replied. "How do you deal with it? Him killing innocent people? How do you live with it? I don't think i can."
"Oh child, it ain't easy, I know. Lemme tell you the way i see it." Grams patted the sofa beside her. "Come on, this is gonna be a long one. Actually, I'm gonna put on some milk. Gotta chill in my bones." Grams pushed herself off the couch with a small effort and shuffled into the kitchen before starting again. "Everyone who can think, who has a brain, from humans to werewolves to vampires, they all gonna have some bad apples." The gas burner lit with a hiss and a click, Grams setting a saucepan down on the flames. "So there's that. Some heads just ain't right to begin with. Then you look at power. You see how it changes people. Sometimes the best people got something in 'em that flips the switch to bad when they get a taste of power. Of getting what they want." The lid to the cocoa powder made a sucking noise, two spoonfuls, a pause. "You want cocoa?"
"I always want cocoa, Grams." Bonnie smiled, the anger starting to drain, sinking into her bones instead. Never forget.
"So you got the crazies and the ones who go bad at the first taste of power, which is a lot more than you think. Then you have another thing, and this is where supernatural folks start having a problem, if you ask me." Grams nodded at Bonnie. "You think about it now, being on this earth hundreds of years. You think you're a good person, but you see people live and die, you stop getting close to protect yourself, and you start losing what makes each day different. I haven't even lived 80 years and I feel it sometimes. The boredom." The wooden spoon scraped along the bottom of the pan as she stirred.
"You just see the same shit day in and day out." Grams took the spoon from the pot and leveled it at Bonnie's shocked face. "I'm an old lady, I can curse, you don't say a word, child. Anyways, you get like that, you need a reminder of what's what in the world. You're that reminder to me." She was still using her spoon as a pointer. Bonnie watched a drop of milk cling for dear life. "You what I got here and it keeps me right. Some people don't have that. You remember Agnes?" Bonnie grimaced in response. "She wasn't always like what she became, she just stopped caring, stopped seeing people as people. I saw it happening too. Still regret not speaking up." Quiet descended for a few minutes, both Grams and Bonnie lost in their own thoughts. Grams gave a start, shaking herself from her reverie before walking into the living room and handing a steaming mug to Bonnie, who took it with a smile.
Easing back into her seat on the sofa, Grams picked up where she had left off. "And then you've got the vamps. So you take what i just said about age, how it can change people. Add in that they're predators. Then remember that they live MUCH longer lives than most, if they don't get deliberately killed." Grams raised her brows, waggled a finger at Bonnie. "Now you think about being a vamp. That first kill you make, probably an accident. You're full of shame, don't know what to do." She paused for a long gulp of cocoa, bringing the mug to her mouth with both hands before smacking her lips in contentment. "You push it out your mind, 'cause you gotta live life and move on. Then it happens again, and maybe you think, 'I'm a monster'. But part of you likes it, because that's what you're made to do. You're made to kill, it feels good, you stop fighting it. You add all that up." Grams circled her finger in the air.
Bonnie quirked her lips. "I get what you mean, but then isn't it just better to just kill all the vampires?
"Who are you to play god, decide what I say is the gospel truth? You think it's right to just kill em off before they become a problem? You be willing to give a death sentence to that sweet boy Josh because in 500 years he might not be as sweet? You gonna be the one to kill them? Have that on your conscience, have all that death do the same to you it did to them? And where does it stop, child? Gonna kill the wolves and witches too? Hmmph. It's like you didn't even listen." Grams shook her head sadly. Setting her mug down, she turned her whole body to face Bonnie, that piercing hawk gaze aimed straight and true.
"All we got in this world is how we carry ourselves. I made the pact with the Mikaelsons because I see a little bit of everyone in them. I see the power corrupted, I see the carelessness, and I see their desperate need. I never want it, but i see it, and I," Grams waved a hand at Bonnie, "and you too, we keep it in check. Cause there's something else coming up right behind if we don't." Grams smiled a moment. "What's that you kids say. Don't get it twisted?"
Bonnie shook her head as if pained. "Grams, please don't ever say that again. I mean ever."
Grams' wrestled her smile off her face and turned back to her crossword puzzle. "You feeling any better about that fool vampire now?
Bonnie sipped her cocoa, nodded. "You always know what to say, Grams. And cocoa always helps," she finished teasingly.
"Good. Now then, what's a six letter word for plans?"
A quick google search will lead you to theories and speculation on the existence of wolves in Louisiana. The red werewolf packs had done a pretty good job at hiding their tracks, but there's only so much one can do to keep away from humans on the outskirts of a major city. Werewolves like the night life, after all, and any given evening Bourbon Street is alive with them. Tonight, however, Klaus was in the mood for a run.
The shudder and slide of bones, tendons pulled taut and straining against their confines, releasing - Klaus took a moment to breathe a ragged breath, the eye of the storm. A heartbeat. Two. The true agony wasn 't in the snapping of bones, but rather this shifting and stretching and no one is beyond this pain so it was ok to scream it out as a badge of honor. To his knees, the shoulders out of socket, don't worry, it'll just be a mo', the humerus shortened and thickened and the muscles compressed. His scream turned rougher and the lengthening jaw turned it into a howl. Klaus sat back on his haunches and scented the air. Pack was close.
Klaus glanced up and saw an image wavering in front of the great oak he planned on marking later. A human female, no scent. Wait. Faint scent. Good smell. She was staring, he did not sense fear but her eyes were wide. She slowly crouched down, bared her teeth, hand out. Klaus placed one paw then the next, slow in his approach. She felt like pack. He continued his snuffling approach, pawed at the air where she was but was not, a high whine in the back of his throat. Oh! Maybe it was a game! Rump high, head low, legs stretched out in front, Klaus wagged his tail once, twice before he pounced. He heard a raspy-voiced laugh as he scrabbled for purchase in the damp leaves. The whine returned with a hint of a growl. She spoke - human language. Her voice was soothing. He knew it was important to remember the sounds she made, so he concentrated hard.
"Don't be such a grumpypants." Klaus cocked his head in response. "Oh my god. I thought I was crazy at first but you totally have to be him. You're him aren't you? In wolf form?" A stiff-tailed wag was met with laughter. "Well, you're certainly sweeter like this. Wait. Do you understand me?" Klaus' head cocked more, tail wagging tentatively. "OK. So... God I wish i could pet you, you're SO fluffy." Something about her excitement had him backing away, letting out a small chuffed warning.
"Boof."
"Ok ok geez! Look. For the record I'm not trying to attack...more human you, I don't even know who the hell you are, ok? I'm trying to save my mom's life and this weirdo spell keeps sending me to you so it's like I have no clue so you can totally be a little nicer about it the next time. You got it?"
Before Klaus could growl she was fading, going, gone. He sniffed the spot where she was, where the faint scent of home lingered. He dug a bit with his paws, snuffled. His head raised, hearing a noise from somewhere in the forest and he ran off distracted; his loping, confident gait bringing him deeper into the woods.
"I'm busy, Rebekah." Klaus glanced at his palette, daubed some cadmium red with the tip of his brush. He had tried painting with blood once, but it tended to brown and flake with age, certainly not a vibrant medium to last the ages.
Rebekah's voice again interrupted his idle train of thought. "Nik, I think you'll want to listen to this. Marcel has been way too quiet these past few weeks."
Klaus raised his brows at Rebekah. "I'm well aware of Marcellus' movements. When he strikes, I'll simply crush him underfoot."
"Not if he has a white oak stake."
"Which he doesn't have."
"How sure are you?"
"If Marcel has gleaned the closely-guarded secret that white oak can bring about an Original's demise and then gathered it from a world that has been swept clean of said tree then I will refrain from placing you in a coffin for 2 centuries."
Well now. Klaus' dismissive tone wasn't going to stop Rebekah from a good barter. "Six."
"One..." Klaus had turned to face Rebekah, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Actually, zero. What do you know Rebekah? Did you tell Marcel about white oak during a lovestruck dalliance?" He brought his palm out from under his chin in a flowery gesture, mocking. "Did you think holding confidence with dearest Marcellus would bring the love you so desperately crave? Did you endanger our family to assuage your insecurities?" Klaus all but spat the last words.
Rebekah was well-versed in the game; not a twitch of a well-groomed brow revealed her reaction. In a practiced, bored tone, she responded. "Don't pretend these aren't the same things that drive you, Nik. I won't have you mock me for that which you lick off the paws of your new 'packma-"
"ENOUGH!" Klaus roared, eyes yellowed with the rage of vampire and werewolf revealed. "Tell me why you are so concerned with Marcellus."
Rebekah stood her ground, replying stonily. "He does know about white oak," she said with a raised chin and defiant glare, "but actually - I don't think that's it, or if it is it's not all of it. He has shut me out lately, his attentions focused on some common blond bar trollop," Rebekah wrinkled her nose in distaste before rolling her eyes at Klaus' impatient growl. "But... from what I was able to gather, he has some sort of powerful magic on his side." Rebekah and Klaus' locked stares filled the space with tension a few moments more before Rebekah's words changed the air in the room.
"Always and forever sometimes takes the long path, Nik. I question why sometimes, but I'll never truly betray you."
Rebekah vamp-sped out of the room as if unable to remain in the same space as her confession. Klaus stood a few moments, eyes darting in thought, before he turned back to the canvas and picked up his brush anew. Marcel could wait, powerful magic or not. He was feeling particularly inspired.
MYSTIC FALLS, VA
"Hmm...I don't know any sort of creature with grey skin and red eyes. I'll ask Rastha, it may be some niche Asian creature something like that." Myrna's gruff voice sounded tinny coming through the laptop's speakers.
Caroline had resorted to staying close to home; the trips too unpredictable to chance driving to Richmond and disappearing from her car en route. Yeah, that would be a bad scene. So, Skype it was.
"Abhi's looking into it as well."
"Been meaning to ask you, how does he know so much? You said he's not a witch?" Myrna asked curiously.
"Yeah, no, he's not. His aunt was though, and she was also Zoroastrian, which is some really ancient religion with a bunch of its own myths. So he grew up with stories about vampires and Ahriman and other weird things." Caroline shook her head, pushed her bottom lip out in thought. Her bracelets clacked together as she readjusted her position on the couch. " I'm just...I don't know. I guess a spell really can't be lucky, but still, I'm so glad I met him."
"Right, the spell is definitely beating around the bush with getting you to the cure, but I have to assume it's by design. Any more trips to New Orleans?"
"Nope!" Caroline said almost brightly. "It's been a week. I'm beginning to hope it was just some really, really weird fluke. But I know it wasn't. Too many coincidences. Speaking of which - do you know how someone can be both a vampire and a werewolf?"
Myrna grimaced and pulled her round face back from the screen. "That's not possible. Werewolves die if they're killed with vampire blood in their system. And the werewolf gene is inherited, so it's not like you could be a vampire fir-"
"Oh! Abhi wanted me to ask about that! What's like," Caroline made finger quotes in the air., "the vampire origin story? Where do I come from? Stefan wasn't too clear on the details, said it was something way older than he had ever been able to dig up."
"What, there's no Vampire 101 class?" Myrna teased with a shocked expression. "Ehhh, Stefan's right, vampirism is very, very old. There's some debate on it too, but if you ask me my money's on Lamashtu." Myrna continued at Caroline's raised brow. "I'll email you some links. Ancient Babylonian goddess. Lovely woman, drank the blood of children, ate adults bones and all. No age discrimination, just that the kids were more tender I guess? I don't know, crazy gods are crazy." Myrna muttered, waving a hand dismissively.
"Anyways, there's no record of the first...spawn of Lamashtu, but I mean here we are." Myrna opened her arms wide. "Clearly vampirism is transmittable." She dipped her head down, looked up at Caroline through the screen with an almost apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, being tactless again. What were you, 17 when you were turned? Pretty sure you asked for none of that."
"Honestly? I'm a much better person as a vampire than I ever was as a human. It's made me grow up a bit. You kind of have to be mature about the fact that you could totally tear out the spinal cord of Alexa Bennett for taking the cheerleader captaincy." Caroline's eyes grew. "Did I say that out loud? Anyways, yeah. it's ok. Don't feel bad about it. Really." Caroline reached her hand out to comfort, hit the screen.
Myrna gave a short bark of laughter. "Remind me to tell you about the time I hexed a bully in gym class. Sometimes it's ok to use your power. Buuuuut," the corners of Myrna's mouth pulled down as she pretended to consider, "ripping out a spine may be a bit overkill."
NEW ORLEANS, LA
Klaus had taken to avoiding company, setting his plans in motion without the usual pomp and circumstance he normally reveled in and keeping his conversations short. He didn't want others noticing his distraction and using it to their advantage.
After seeing her in the forest, he had stopped considering the blonde a threat, and had turned the intensity of his thoughts to finding out who and where she was. His wolf senses simply didn't lie - there was something different about the girl, something that felt strangely akin to the pack bonds he felt in wolf form. And if he was being honest, finding the source of whatever magic this was in order to manipulate it for his own ends was certainly an additional motivating factor.
This was definitely something he needed to keep under wraps as much as possible. Despite Rebekah's words of solidarity in the studio, he had refrained from telling her. Only Bonnie and Josh were a party to his obsession, having bore witness to his second encounter with the girl. Josh was harmless, and Bonnie was tractable as long as he kept slightly in line. The line was annoying, and he constantly skirted it, but he didn't want a war on his hands when subjugation was so much easier with a false smile.
He raised his hand to rap at the door of the witch in question when it opened inward with the screech of hinges desperate for an oiling.
"Bonnie's not here, Klaus. You'll just have to deal with me today." Grams' eyes were hard as she raised her chin to meet his gaze.
Klaus raised his brows in bemusement, clasping his hands behind his back. "Always a pleasure, Sheila. If you could tell me where your granddaughter is, we have business to attend to."
She blinked slowly at him, mouth drawn in a thin line. "Heard you killed that Labonair child. How's the pack feel about that, Klaus?"
Klaus' eyes hardened. "They feel just fine, Sheila. As the true alpha, the packs bend to my will. Just as the vampires do."
"And just as the witches do? Because if you think that, you've got another thing coming, Klaus Mikaelson. We may not be able to kill you, but we could certainly keep you from killing anyone else for a long, long time."
Klaus' eyebrows were still high on his forehead, somehow managing to appear amused and deferential all at once. "Now, Sheila, I wasn't going to say witches. I have respect for your tradition, always have. My mother was a witch. Now, we have different views on the value of life, I'll grant you that." Klaus gestured towards Sheila before his gaze broke like a wave, yellow flashing through the irises. "But I will not stand for threats. Either you decide you want to try to subdue me now or we continue with the mutually beneficial arrangement that has worked for the past two centuries." With a graceful turn of heel, Klaus slowly walked away with a dismissive air.
"Tell Bonnie to stop by the mansion tonight. We need to talk."
Klaus saw the blonde three times in as many days. The first was when he glanced up from a conversation of veiled threats with Marcel. Cursing internally, Klaus had tried to maneuver out of the conversation, but it couldn't be done without his old protégé noticing something was off. Marcel had learned from the best, after all.
The second time, he had turned to grab a sponge to smooth out his brush strokes, and spotted her just inside the studio door. Her face was reverent, staring past him, and he turned to glance at the canvas, a moment of pride flashing across his face at her appreciation. And just like that, she was gone again, not even a moment to speak to her, try to find her location, her name, anything.
The third time he caught her as she was fading in and didn't waste any time.
"What is your name? Where are you? Who is the witch that is sending you here? Who else has seen you?" His rapid-fire questions were the same as at their second meeting, except this time his tone was different; frantic in the need to find her instead of the need to diffuse the threat.
Her responses were barely audible, even with his enhanced hearing. Only fragments of sound made it through.
"Car-"
A wary expression, clearing as she saw him relax.
"...wolf!" At this she clapped excitedly, her eyes dancing. Klaus ducked his chin with a grin in response.
"... my mom." Her expression grew troubled and he noticed her bite her lip, guessing it a distraction to ward back tears.
The pseudo-conversation continued with interrupted answers, Klaus gleaning more from the myriad of emotions playing across the blond's features than anything else. Her face still wasn't clear enough to read lips and he was beyond frustrated. Why could he hear her so well in the forest and now...this?
What he could make out though? Very clearly, and with a sense of horrifying certainty, Klaus recognized that he was completely and utterly intrigued. The blonde, as if sensing her work here was done, faded away in the sight of Klaus' consuming gaze.