Dana was not in a good state of mind when she woke up.

She kept seeing flashes of her father yelling. The vervain stained knives dragging down her face in slow, painful arcs. They had ravished her face, nearly destroyed her eyesight, and nearly destroyed her mental health.

That witch had perhaps done more harm than they had. Under the command of the Chasseur's she had shown Dana mental images, scenarios that had hurt her more than their knives. And the pain that the witch had inflicted; unbearable. She had melted her insides, turned them to stone, and Dana had been unable to comprehend just what that witch had done to her. Just that itself had been unbearably painful.

She woke with dark eyes, equally dark veins that seemed to pop from her skin, and her lips parted just enough to display a set of sharp fangs.

A body was pushed towards her. She jumped without questioning it.

Kol watched in a corner, as she buried her fangs in the neck of the man he had brought for her to feed on when she woke up. Because any vampire who had been drained of so much blood and tortured would be famished when they woke up.

And really, he was not in the mood to deal with a grumpy Dana. Sometimes, normal Dana was too much for him.

By the time she finally lifted her head, blood staining her mouth, her jaw, her teeth, she charged Kol.

Kol, who had not been expecting that, was taken off guard. Especially for what she was doing to him.

Hugging him.

Dana was hugging him.

As if he were some sort of fluffy teddy bear meant to be embraced and coddled.

Her arms were wrapped around him tightly, and surely, if he were human she would be crushing him. Her face was pressed against his chest, probably leaving bloody marks, and he could have sworn he even heard her sniffle as if she were crying.

When the hell did she cry?

He returned her hug. He wasn't sure what to do other than that. It reminded him of a time Henrik had found himself upset when they were younger. He had been just about five and had run into the arms of Kol, looking for comfort.

So Kol Mikaelson wrapped his arms around this shaking and odd of a girl who was once a hunter. He tucked her head beneath his chin, and rubbed his thumbs in circles on her shoulders. It was almost like providing comfort to his younger brother, only more intimate. The sort of hug that was perhaps meant for someone more than family.

Finally, he asked her, "What did they do to you?"

She seemed to choke up. Never had she thought she would end up on the other end of her family's torture methods. Especially the new ones they had required. "That witch. She showed me…awful things. And…so much…it hurt."

That was all she could say.

He tried a different question. "What did they want?"

This she could answer without hesitation. "A way to kill you. Your family. All of the vampires."

He thought about this. They must have caught on that when one vampire was killed, their entire bloodline went with them. If they could get their filthy hands on a white oak stake, there was no telling what they could get done.

"Kol?"

Dana had pulled from his embrace without him realizing it. He stared at her for a moment, not realizing until now that there was something not quite right with her being farther apart.

"Yes?"

"Would it be alright if I stayed here for a while?"

He was surprised, but there would be no way he would show that surprise. However, just a few weeks ago he would not have even been capable of conjuring up with the mere thought of Dana Chasseur asking to stay at the Mikaelson home.

"Of course."

She nodded her head. Then she turned slightly, her brows creasing. "I'm going to go get some of my things from Gran's…"

Then she was walking away, out of the bedroom, leaving Kol with only the invitation of him coming along. Because perhaps she was truly afraid, although at that point they couldn't even guess just what it was she afraid of.


Dana was sure it had to be at least a little odd for Kol stepping over into the Quinby household. It didn't hit her until then that her grandmother must have invited him inside the house during the time that they were all being held there.

She greeted her grandmother quietly before heading upstairs. She avoided the kitchen, and didn't even dare glance at the door that led down to the basement. She could still smell blood there, in that house, despite however many times Stacey had dared to bleach it. Bleach and blood. It was quite the unpleasant smell. One that seemed to linger in the back of her mind as she started gathering a bag of clothes.

Her hands hovered above the knives neatly laid out on her desk. The last time she had seen them they had been a scattered mess. Which could only mean that her grandmother must have let Caroline or Stefan rest in the room (she could still smell the blood up here), and that a guest of their's must have decided to rearrange them.

She snatched a dagger, one that had been given to her when she was younger. One that Val had given to her as a birthday present. Tossing it in the bag, she spun on her heels and marched downstairs to where her gran was waiting with Kol Mikaelson.

"It's perhaps in your best interest to stay with the Mikaelson's for some time…" Stacey murmured as soon as she laid eyes on her granddaughter. "I did not think-"

"I'm sure none of us did Gran," Dana interrupted with a frown. "They are awful people."

She nodded in agreement. There was much more Dana could say about them. But she couldn't for several reasons. One being that the smell of bleach and blood was utterly overwhelming. The second being that at that moment she was had a one-track mind. She had to stay focused on the task at hand. She could deal with excess emotions later on.


Later that evening Dana had her clothes unpacked in the bedroom she had been shown to by Kol. As soon as she had lain down on the bed, she had almost immediately fallen asleep. It was perhaps the most comfortable bed she had slept on, much better than the creaking mattress at her grandmother's. However, it certainly did not fend off the nightmares.

Never had Dana thought she would endure the torture her family inflicted on vampires. But she had and it kept playing repeatedly through her mind. She had had her arm broken, sprained ankles, and endured plenty of wounds that left scars behind. This pain had been different.

It felt as if that knife were digging beneath her skin, scraping against her bare skull all over again. She jerked awake, her fingers curling in the soft, down comforter. Her eyes were wide, darting around the room before she fell back, relaxing back into the bed. She pulled in a deep breath.

Dana rolled out of bed, and moved at a human pace outside of her room. She could hear the slightest movement downstairs, almost like a brush moving against paper. Or a canvas perhaps. Pencil on paper? She wasn't sure, so she headed in that direction. Her fingers trailed against wooden rail as she moved downstairs.

She didn't know where Kol was at, surely off wreaking havoc somewhere. She couldn't even fathom were Elijah could be, but Rebekah was supposedly off at the high school taking care of something.

Dana found Klaus in the room she had found during her second visit to their home. He was currently working on a painting, one of Caroline. She tilted her head to the side, wondering if Klaus was perhaps as infatuated with her as he seemed.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare, love?"

His voice jolted her. His accent was strong, and she could easily understand then that it probably didn't take much for him to coax a woman into his clutches. His tone was almost endearing, but Dana knew well that it could be very deceiving indeed.

"Do you paint?" he questioned, his upper half turning towards her when she was close enough.

"No," she answered bluntly with furrowed brows, "I never had time for hobbies growing up."

"Ah, of course. Too busy chopping off the heads of unsuspecting vampires?" Klaus mused with a signature smirk.

She didn't mention that she had beheaded a vampire once. "Can I try?"

Slight surprise registered across Klaus' face. Then his shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "I don't see why not. There's a smaller canvas and some acrylic paint in that cabinet over there." Klaus pointed to a corner of the room almost untouched by paintings.

Dana eyed the different colors of paint, picking a few out and snatching a small canvas up before walking back towards Klaus at a normal pace. It was very odd seeing him doing something like painting to pass time. Then again, if she had been alive for one thousand years, she was sure she would have had to find a pastime too.

He assisted her in getting everything set up, getting her a paintbrush, and the small necessities she would need to get started. Then, when she was ready to begin painting, she stared at the canvas for several moments with nothing but a blank expression.

Finally, "What do I paint?"

Klaus laughed at her. Then made a gesture with his hands. "Whatever comes to mind."

She thought. Then she thought some more. What could she paint? She had no idea, really. Then she had an idea. An image of a sickly boy sitting by a window, staring out at a younger girl tending a garden. It was a memory she recalled particularly well.

Dana set out to start painting, ignoring the curious look Klaus was throwing her way. Every now and then, she would ask a question, a simple one. How did she blend the paint? How colors would make the appropriate color for blonde hair the color of dirt? What was the best way to portray the boy as sickly?

He instructed her with surprising patience. He occasionally glanced over as she ran the brush over the canvas with slow strokes. He would give her tips every now and then, better ways the hold the brushes, small things like that. Soon enough hours had passed and she had finally finished the painting.

"Not too bad for a first try. Once you've had at it for a few hundred more years and you'll be much better," Klaus said.

Dana looked at the canvas. It wasn't the best and a few hundred more years? Surely, she could find something that she was good at that didn't take so much practice. Maybe she should take up reading. Nope, she thought. She didn't have the patience for sitting down and reading a book.

"I'm sure I'll find a decent hobby…"

He chuckled and clapped her on the back. "Well love, you have plenty of time to figure it out."

He was certainly right about that. She would eventually have to find something to do in her spare time. And perhaps painting wasn't her calling. Not that she hadn't found it enjoyable, but it was fun to do.

She opened his mouth, meaning to ask a question, but paused before she could get the words out. There were footsteps coming from the front porch. She narrowed her eyes. A heartbeat. The sound of lungs expanding as the person on the other side pulled in a deep breath. Then, a knock.

Klaus beat Dana to the door. She watched as he pulled it open only to reveal a familiar, fifteen year old girl.

"Valerie?"


A/N~ Thanks a ton to those who reviewed/followed/favorited! I really do appreciate it :)