PFWW/N: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. Work is kicking my ass with a ridiculously dumb project that I want to punch in the face. I also struggled with the plot of this chapter, since it revolves around Abhi, and who the hell cares about OCs? Luckily, a good friend offhandedly commented the other day that she loved him as a character and it helped motivate me to finally put down what was in my head. I really needed that validation.

Delhi is a city of over 18 million today. In '84 it was merely 5.6 million. Which is an absolutely insano growth rate. There's your interesting factoid for the day.

Also, sorry Klaus is an asshole. Also, also, also, thank you for reading, as always. I cannot tell you enough how much I appreciate those that take the time to read.

"What are we doing here, Nik?"

Klaus stood back from the painting he was working on, brush held low and away from his body. He was losing the quality of light and would need another day to capture the weight of the fog on the morning streets, the sun peeking through like a shy lover. He wiped his brush on a stained cloth rag, blotting the excess paint off before kneeling and unscrewing a small glass jar.

Rebekah made an impatient noise behind him.

"I heard you, sister. We're here because the spell used on Caroline is something I am very much interested in."

"I don't doubt that, but there's more to it or you would have already gotten it from her witch, before Bonnie temporarily trapped her in this world."

Klaus cleaned his brush carefully before responding, the scent of turpentine overwhelming even outdoors. "Perhaps I simply want to see this through. The cure must be a powerful magic item for it to be protected by demons." Klaus waved his brush to illustrate his point. "Not to mention the existence of demons in the first place, and the mystery proposed by Caroline's mentor's book."

Rebekah's eyes had narrowed at his speech. "I can't find any holes in your logic, but I know this is about more than just magic to you. If you're not ready to admit it, then fine, we'll just see how this all turns out." She looked sideways at Klaus, a grin pulling at her lips.

Klaus rolled his eyes internally. Rebekah was so obvious sometimes. "How what turns out, exactly?"

"Well, specifically the fact that Caroline's mentor, as you call him, wants you dead. The brother I know would have eaten his heart already. Yet you refrain. Funny, that."

"He's harmless," Klaus countered, defensive.

"And when has that has ever stopped you?" Rebekah's brow lifted high on her forehead and Klaus made an exasperated noise. Reaching down to roll up his brushes in their caddy, he thought for a moment on how to respond.

"My decisions are my own, Rebekah. I don't need to answer to anyone for them, that includes you."

Rebekah burst out laughing. "Oh no, dear brother, of course you don't. Run along now, Caroline should be up!" Rebekah twisted a finger in the dimple of her cheek, miming a bright smile.

Klaus ignored her, folding the easel under an arm and carrying it down the hatch that led to the second floor of the bungalow. When he emerged on the ground floor free of painting supplies, Caroline was in the living room, head buried in an English-language paper, the section folded back to the editorials. Noting the latest headline campaign to return the Koh-i-noor to India, Klaus commented on it as he strode quietly into the room.

"i-noor...of light." Caroline glanced up at his words. "Actually I think the Daria-i-noor the more valuable of gems - the palest pink to match the flush on your cheeks. It's held in a museum in Tehran, I should take you there."

Caroline's lips twitched as Klaus adopted his professorial stance, hands clasped behind back, eyebrows high in the forehead, a thousand years of bemusement.

"Although the legend surrounding the wearer of the Koh-i-noor is intriguing. It was said that, should a man wear it, he would be cursed by misfortune, but a woman…Klaus paused for a moment, memory splaying an impish grin across his face, "I'm honestly surprised Rebekah hasn't yet remembered her insistent wish that the jewel be held in the rightful hands of the only woman that could realize its prophecy of power bestowed."

"Always too busy eluding dear father's dogged pursuit." Rebekah's voice rang from the stairs. "But thanks for the reminder." Entering the room, Rebekah sat down in her customary wingback chair. "When will we be done with this cesspool again? It's time to make a pitstop at the Tower of London. I'm definitely throwing that dreadful crown away though, or..." Rebekah tapped a finger to her lips, "perhaps I'll give it to Kol. I'm sure he'll find something amusing to do with it."

Caroline hid her eye roll behind the paper and it was all Klaus could do not to grin.

"I don't need the power of the Koh-i-noor to know you're making some sort of plebeian rejoinder, Caroline." Rebekah uncrossed her legs and leaned over, picking up a candle from the coffee table. "Where is the witch, and Jonas?"

Caroline flapped the paper in irritation. "Bonnie and Josh are still sleeping. Oh - and don't tell Josh about his Sharpie 'stache when he comes down. I want to go out today and see how long it takes him to figure out why everyone's staring at him." Caroline folded the newspaper and set it aside, glancing up curiously at Klaus who was still standing. "What are your plans for the day? Bonnie still needs some time to recuperate, so it's pretty much a free-for-all."

Klaus kept his face even, knowing that Rebekah was watching like a hawk for the most infinitesimal of reactions. "I thought perhaps I would visit your mentor, see if I could ask him a few questions."

Caroline looked nervous. "I don't think that's a good idea Klaus, you two don't seem to get along. I'd rather we both go, or have him come back here."

"Well that sounds a bit ridiculous. Abhi's a grown man, he can certainly speak up if he has a problem with me. We should be able to have an unsupervised conversation. Or are you just angry that you won't be able to go shopping with Josh until I get back?" He was deliberately riling her up, seeking a quick end to this line of questioning. He shouldn't have said anything, but he had wanted to show Rebekah he wasn't taking Abhi's threat idly. He just was unsure how to handle the situation quite yet, because Rebekah had been right about one thing - any other time and Klaus would simply have freed the man's heart of its human confines. What she didn't know was this..wasn't really about Caroline.

DELHI - October 1984

Klaus knew it was a poor excuse, but he was desperately lonely, and he deemed a city of five and half million people safe enough for all of them to hide in for a time. While the threat of Mikael loomed as large as it always did, Delhi had always been a favorite of Kol's, and he missed Rebekah's sharp wit. The coffins slid easily on their tracks as Klaus shuttled them out the windowless room just off the unused kitchen. He had stared for a moment at Finn's and his mother's enspelled coffin before leaving them to loom darkly, shutting the door with a resolute click.

Rebekah had woken first, skin warming from the grey-veined slow death of the white ash dagger as she slapped Klaus with a blow that sent his whole body reeling from the force. Kol stumbled in a few moments behind, wearing a hurt, bewildered expression that reminded Klaus so much of their childhood that his heart ached with it.

Now, days later, Elijah had been called in by Rebekah, who would still not say more than three words to Klaus at a time, and Kol was just returned from reveling in the simmering violence of a city perched on the razor's edge of upheaval. They stood as a united front in front of Klaus who faced them with a mulish expression.

"I dagger you to keep you safe," Klaus repeated. How did they not get it? "Kol's behavior attracts attention and you," he waved an imperious arm at Rebekah, "reveal too much because you let your heart get in the way."

"That's not for you to judge, Nik," Rebekah's tone was pleading.

"'We hope for faithfulness from the one who doesn't know what faithfulness is', Bekah." Klaus' eyes flickered to Kol . "Oh you're shocked I can quote an Urdu ghazal, Nik? A thousand years does get a bit boring here and there without a spot of culture, yeah?" Kol was tossing a cricket ball as he spoke, the solid smack of the leather hitting his palm sounding in the air.

Kol's insouciance always tested Klaus in the best of circumstances. Right now it made him livid. "Am I the only one who cares about this family? About keeping us safe from your beloved father who is hellbent on ensuring our death?"

"What kind of life is it, to be trapped in a box?" Rebekah retorted, leaning forward, her face inches away from Klaus'. "Oh how I wish it worked on you Nik, for you to see, to feel that undying pause of the coffin."

"That's not and never will be the point, Bekah. None of you have any intention of keeping this family together, of upholding the true meaning of 'always and forever'. It is up to me, just as it has been for the past thousand years." Klaus tried to push through his siblings who stood between him and the door, Elijah stopping him with an iron grip circling his upper arm.

"Always and forever is a pledge, Niklaus, not an excuse." Elijah's composure remained unbroken, the clipping of his words the only signal of his emotion. "For hundreds of years you have wielded that phrase like a clumsy squire on the practice field. And we took the blows, from our coffins, from our pity." Klaus glanced up sharply at this and Elijah spotted the reaction. "Yes, our pity Niklaus. For father's treatment of you was horrific, but it will never excuse your behavior now. The scales have long since been balanced on that account yet you persist in wearing the martyr's cloak and expecting all of us to just walk single-file in lockstep behind you. That is not what the PLEDGE IS FOR." Elijah's voice grew to a roar, his suit pulling as muscles bunched before a strike. Klaus caught the blow, white-knuckled grip straining with the effort, and Rebekah pulled Elijah back and towards the door with a muttered "He was, and is, not worth it," the last three words shot out as if from a pistol at Klaus who remained immobile, an unreadable expression on his face.

They left the house with the door echoing a complaint and Klaus looked up at Kol, who quickly erased his surprise at Elijah's fury. "Well go ahead, why are you still here, what with the clear familial bonding against me?"

The bitterness in Klaus' tone made Kol grin. His big brother always made it so laughably easy.

"Oh, but then I would miss this dramatic performance, Nik. Please, show me how the knife twists in your heart, perhaps mutter a line or two about betrayal. I can take notes for the next time I compel a personal performance of Julius Caesar. The last one didn't quite get the pathos down right."

"Get OUT!" The snarl in Klaus' voice held more wolf than man.

"What? You want to be alone with your feelings? Paint it out? Oooh, perhaps an abstract that speaks of your inner pain and betrayal? Please, don't let me stop yo-"

Kol was too slow, too out of practice. Klaus snapped his neck with ease, letting the body drop unceremoniously to the floor.

He was going to draw, not paint, thank you very much.

And so Klaus found himself in a tea shop, nursing a chai and his wounds. He sat in a corner facing the windows; the instinct of the hunted. A young couple sat facing each other in the opposite corner, their heads wreathed in light and their conversation barely audible above the electric hum of a cooler lodged against the wall. Klaus could only see the face of the man, eyes bright under a heavy brow, a smile that lifted higher in one corner as he laughed at something the woman said. Klaus was simultaneously irritated and fascinated, pulling out a sketchbook and starting to draw the curve of the woman's hip, the fall of dark hair. He imagined her lips full and wanting, dark eyes filled with promise under an elegantly arched brow. He began sketching in her lover's face too, the eyes that never left her own, the visible restraint as he held himself back from touching her arm where a red bangle slid up and down as the woman illustrated a point.

Ah, newlyweds, Klaus thought.

He found himself lost in their conversation, the teasing and familiarity, the concern and passion. The man's eyes danced in humor, face stretched in a grin as the woman groaned exasperatedly at a particularly horrible joke.

A 2H pencil then, to begin darkening the brow. The woman remained a tracery on the paper as Klaus kept his focus on the man, something...something about the look on this man's face did more to break Klaus than his earlier sibling's rejection. He could picture the fault line across his heart spreading, the shell cracking as the heart lurched to spread the poison of life through his veins, the scream of a name to the cold, unanswering sky and oh, oh no, his thoughts would not go there today. Klaus slammed his sketchpad shut, the young man looking up at the noise, meeting Klaus' murderous gaze and dropping it in confusion at the hatred he saw there. A minute or two more and the man leaned across the table, resting his hand for a moment on his wife's, before getting up and heading towards the rear of the tea shop, studiously avoiding Klaus' gaze.

Klaus glowered a moment more, picking up his now tepid tea and draining it in a single gulp, delicately placing the cup down on the saucer as he stood. He was in control again. He was always in control. His siblings would come around, maybe not soon, but he knew they would. Rebekah would be first, a shy smile she only gave to him accompanying a private joke from centuries past. Kol - well, he would just need to find a diversion for Kol - something entertaining and perverse. Elijah remained the question mark, his resentment still burning in Klaus' gut like vervained blood. Klaus shoved the emotions away behind a door in his mind.

He approached the woman and gave a small cough. She turned and Klaus held his shock in well, for she was no beauty. Somehow this angered Klaus even more, for he could understand the aesthete's love of human beauty, but the man...oh how his eyes had drank her in, this average woman with her hooked nose and thin-lipped mouth.

Ah well. Klaus thought as he sat on the bench seat next to the woman, pupils constricting as he compelled her not to scream. He felt the panic rolling off of her in waves as he drew her into a mockery of a lover's embrace and tore into her throat, going straight for an artery and taking deeper pulls than he normally would, he was running on a clock after all. The hissing of her blood grew faint, her heart a staccato beat as it strained faster to push through vessels collapsing from the loss of blood. A few more deep pulls, swallowing as quickly as he could; this wasn't something to savor. This wasn't a meal, this was control, this was power, this was the only truth there was. Love was merely a hooded stare in a coffee shop. Power was the choking flow of life down his throat.

He heard what he was waiting for just then, the scuff of leather on the sandstone floor of the teashop. His lips curved against his victim's neck as he sucked a final time, hard, feeling the moment when the heart stopped, letting his teeth recede with a well-oiled snik. He laid the woman's head down reverently on the glossy table top, smoothing away strands of hair sticky from the blood that had escaped down her neck. With a final, reverent brush of the hand across her shoulders, Klaus turned. The man was rounding the corner, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His brow knit in confusion as he took in Klaus' bloody grin, his wife's sprawled limbs. Klaus was surprised by how quickly the man reacted, lurching forward with a cry, an inhuman noise erupting from his throat as he shook his wife's shoulders and the head thunked sickly on the table, baring the mortal wound.

The proprietor of the tea shop shook awake at the noise, falling from the stool where he, had he simply opened his eyes, would have witnessed a murder. He looked towards the door, which seemingly opened and closed of its own accord, the bells attached tinkling in an absurdist mockery.

DELHI, India PRESENT

Caroline slid the key out of the lock and pushed the door open, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Hearing Abhi's raised voice from the courtyard, she held her breath and snuck around the corner as she listened.

"...and I held her in my arms, her body cooling, while you strolled away into the streets of Delhi, her blood lacquering your mouth." Klaus stood motionless, having heard Caroline's approach. He closed his eyes.

"What's going on here?" Caroline stepped into the room, a tremor in her voice. "Abhi?"

Abhi jumped visibly, his eyes nervous. "Caroline, I -

"Who were you talking about. Who was he talking about, Klaus?"

Klaus' expression was solemn. "His wife."

Abhi's rattling breath echoed in the shocked silence that followed.

"Oh my god. That's why...that's the tension between you? Did you kill his wife, Klaus?"

Klaus turned to face her, heart lurching at the hopeful question in her eyes. She wanted him to say no, so badly. All for the best to rip the band-aid off then. "Yes."

Caroline let out a breath, her body visibly deflating.

"Just. Just go, Klaus. Get out. I don't know what you had planned but you're not causing Abhi any more pain. Get out. Now." Caroline shoved at Klaus' chest and he stumbled backwards in surprise.

"I came to -"

"Out."

Klaus' mouth turned down in a grimace. No one dismissed him like that. "You'd do well to remember not to speak to me like that again."

"Or what, Klaus? You'll kill me? Kill my mother's chance at life? For what, because I told you to leave? That's ridiculous. Grow up."

Klaus was unwilling to cede the point but somehow found his hand on the doorknob anyways. "We'll discuss this later."

Caroline didn't relax her glare until she turned back to Abhi who now sat at the courtyard's café table, back ramrod straight and gaze far away.

She hunched down, hand gripping his shoulder. "Hey, Abhi, come back to me. Please." His face was haunted, a thousand yard stare that took a terrifying moment to narrow and refocus on her. Her breath stalled at the pain in his gaze and her own eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I swore," Abhi paused, cleared his throat to chase the hoarseness away. "I swore that I would find a way to kill him, find a way to hurt him one day. I studied, with my aunt. I learned about their twisted family, their mother and father, their invulnerability to almost everything. And then you come along, the pishachas, the secret of the cure, and he comes with all of it. Hand-delivered back into my city, into my waiting hands. And I can do nothing. Nothing. For even though I could," Abhi shook his head slowly, back and forth. "It would condemn your mother to death, condemn those of his sire-line to death. Good vampires, like you, like young Josh. I never knew." He said the last part wonderingly.

"Oh, Abhi." Caroline surged forward, turning Abhi bodily so that she could wrap her arms around him in a proper hug. It was still a bit of awkward with him sitting, but she managed. Abhi shut his eyes tight, face turned into her shoulder; he could feel his own dampen with her tears.

Caroline pulled away first, pulling a chair close and taking a seat. "I know it's probably not the right time, but what do you mean about sire-line?"

"Killing an Original means that all vampires that spawned from them, from the first sired to the last, would die as well." Abhi lifted a hand, circling in the air. "So killing Klaus would kill all vampires that he sired and any vampires he sired and so on and so forth down the line." He finished dispiritedly.

"So what you're saying is I can't kill him for you." Abhi shook his head in response. "Well there goes that plan." Caroline grinned and nudged him with a shoulder. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm turning this into a joke. I can't believe you lost your wife because of Klaus. I can't believe I still have to work with that murderous asshole in order to help my mom."

Abhi sighed and shook his head. "But Caroline, that is the other thing." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "It is obvious he cares for you. Even in the little time I've seen you tog-."

Caroline bristled, interrupting Abhi in her haste to deny. "Well that means nothing to me."

"It doesn't have to, but it does mean something to me. I can no longer demonize him. I will always hate him, regardless of my beliefs, but right now…" Abhi paused, gaze turning inward. Caroline craned her neck to try to meet his eyes, encouraging him to continue. "Right now, I'm resentful. I'm angry that this...this has been taken from me. That I have lost the righteousness of the monster's death." Abhi closed his eyes tight, the lines cutting deep between his brows. With a sigh, he opened them again, the sadness in their depths causing Caroline's heart to contract and release with an aching pang.

"Whatever your future holds with him," Abhi held his hand up to stop Caroline's protest. "Whatever it is, for it will be something - it flickers between you like the lights of Diwali." Abhi stood abruptly, pulling up the tail of his kurta and reaching inside the waistband of his churidars. A stake veined with silver clattered on the table and Caroline looked at Abhi, confused.

"This is white oak, the only thing that can kill an Original vampire. Today I could have tried - with my aunt's magic, with this stake - but I chose instead," Abhi's voice shook, "to forgive."