Hey guys! So here's the next chapter! Whatdya say? Think we can we make it to 400 reviews? haha okay, maybe that's expecting a little much... but hey! give it your best shot!

Loooove hearing what you guys have to say-and though this isn't exactly an action packed chapter, I think it's still an important one :) And as usual, I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar errors! ENJOY and TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! 3

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Klaus's point of view

The door to the school is ajar; as if it had been pulled too roughly and the hinges had become bent and crooked, prohibiting the door from closing properly.

I slip into the building silently—the halls of this small high school seeming to be familiar. I remember being here before—but I don't remember the details; the chipping paint or the graffiti on the lockers. I try to think back to the last time I came into this place... But the memory is blurry. An angry, hazy, rage-driven blur.

"Please no more... no more..."

Heat creeps from the pit of my stomach, weaving up my spine and into my palms as Caroline's tortured voice reaches my ears. She sounds far away and in pain. Tilting my ear, I hold my breath, listening harder. Nothing but my coarsely beating heart.

Following my instincts, having little to go one, I begin making my way through the halls; posters for dances and debate teams and swim clubs line the walls. I take a minor note as I walk by a locker with the name Matt Donavan in small capital letters.

After a few minutes of wandering, I decide waiting is the best option. Leaning against a wall close to the gym, I push my hands in my pockets, closing my eyes.

I haven't yet counted ten breathes when a man's yell pierces the otherwise quiet building. My eyes snap open, my body pushing off of the wall and down towards the noise in less than a second.

Slowing around a corner, her sent immediately penetrates the air around me and I know that I have to be close. I can hear more voices now, and I stop walking, listening for movement.

Her feet are moving fast; good. She's running, but not in the right direction. Her footsteps come to a stop and then start again, as if she's as unfamiliar with her surroundings as I am. More banging and yelling comes the classroom down the hall.

Turning the final corner, I see her. She's stopped, glancing back where she came; probably worrying about her friends.

Can she really have such poor self preservation instincts?

With my unnatural speed I come up behind her. I'm sure I'll startle her, but we can't risk another minute.

Clamping my hand around her mouth, muting the inevitable scream she will release when she things I am Alaric, or one of his minions. I pull her flush against me; her hand nearly claws my arm that I've wrapped tightly around her, as she instinctively tires to free herself from my grip.

"Sshh," I say into her ear, hoping she realises quickly who it is. Although, as I do this, it occurs to me that she may be just as frightened once she's recognized me. "It's okay, it's okay, it's me. It's okay." Somehow, her body relaxes a minimal amount, as if she's relived. That's good I suppose. The vervain on her mouth stings against my palm, "You're safe." I add; my voice barely above a whisper in her ear.

Letting loose the hand around her mouth, hoping the initial surprise has worn off enough that she won't feel the need to scream or yell for help. Because as horribly as she thinks of me, I'm the only one in ear shot capable and willing to help her, I turn my head, listening for any signs of Stefan before bringing my mouth back to her ear.

"We'll save Elena, go straight home, stay inside; do you understand?"

Taking hold of her shoulders I turn her around, looking her directly in the eye. They're wild; and they bore into mine. There is a pale line burned to the skin of her cheeks, as if a gag drenched in poison has been places in her mouth for hours on end. My throat burns just thinking of it. Her tear-stained face looks pained and shocked and most of all; confused.

"Do you understand me?" She needs to understand.

She nods, ever so slightly, her wide eyes never leaving mine; as if she can't believe what's happening.

"Thank you." Her voice is so small and hoarse, the vervain clinging to her lungs. I'm sure it's even painful for her to breathe.

Focus.

Her torture scars are still visible, even given the time she's had to heal. How long has she been here?

Klaus. Stay focused.

There are round wounds through her palms. Stabbed?

Klaus. Leave her. Go.

And without another word, I run past her, towards the classroom. Away from her. Against my every instinct, I leave her in the hall to find her own way.

XXX

The memories haven't stopped. It's as if they are old films, playing on a never ending loop. The moments that used to cloud over my mind, forcing me to take a minute to enjoy them, now have a bitter edge to them as I watch them play over and over. Like my mind is caught in a heavy smog that won't lift no matter how hard I try to push it off and away from myself.

Enough. Stop it. Stop.

"Maybe it's because I'm pure evil, and I can't help myself."

"No. It's because you were hurt..."

XXX

I hear his shouting. I crouch in the corner, making myself as small as I can physically manage. What I have done this time I do not know. I've finished all my chores, plus most of Fin's and Rebekah's... I've done everything that has been asked of me. I don't know what else I can do.

"Where is that little bastard?" His bellow's echo through the thin, dry walls. Sweat pricks on the back of my neck and my heart hammers painfully in my chest.

Because this is the only hiding place I have. And he knows where it is.

"Please," I hear my mother's feeble attempt at calming him, but I know he will find me. And she will do nothing to stop what comes next. "Darling it's his bir—"

"WHERE IS HE!?"

I press my eyes closed, as tight as I can. So tightly that I don't see the light under the door flicker when his boots stop in front of it. I press my hands over my ears so I can hardly hear the door swing open, and his heavy footsteps coming in; coming after me.

"Get up you coward!" his hands close around the collar of my shirt, it's damp with sweat; he hoists me up until I'm looking him in the eye.

"Father—" I wish my voice didn't shake. I wish my face wasn't sweating and there weren't tears in my eyes.

I could close my eyes. I could cover my ears and pretend he wasn't there... But he was. And no matter my siblings in the next room; no matter my mother standing in the kitchen—I think she was baking me something; no matter the farm hands outside... When he had me cornered, it was as if we were the only two people in the world...

He could hit me as hard, and as long as he wanted, because no one was coming in to stop him. I taste blood, and my ribs ache and my head is pounding but only when I can't stand, and my fingers are sticky with the blood flowing from places I don't know, does he finally spit on the ground in front of me, and leave.

Numb, be numb. Don't feel, just be numb.

It was an odd kind of happiness. Those moments when I was bruised and bleeding on the floor. Sometimes I would smile, sometimes I couldn't stop sobbing—but those were rare. Mostly it was just overwhelming relief. Because I knew I had lived through another one, and he wouldn't be back for at least twenty-four hours. Oddly enough, it was in those moments that I was most at peace.

And that night, I was lying in my bed, examining the dried blood on my shirt, breathing through the pain of my lungs. The smell of burnt pastry floating from the kitchen, I guess she had given up on the celebration like the rest of us.

Small, cold hands touched the back of my neck.

"Nik?" her voice was so little, I nearly didn't hear her.

I didn't want to turn over, I knew the pain in my ribs would ache too much, so I just turned my neck as much as I could—looking over my shoulder at my sister; her blonde hair glowed in the moonlight.

She didn't say anything, she just reached out her hand, placing something cool in my otherwise warm palm.

I looked down, examining what she'd given me.

It was a long, beaded necklace, different shades of black and brown, held together on one long thread.

I blink down at the gift; don't girls wear these?

I was going to say just that; but decide against it, instead I closed my hand around the small gift. I swallow hard, and roll over, away from her.

"How old are you today?" She whispers.

I blink at the moon that shines in through the window, flooding our bedroom with silver light.

"Fourteen," My voice is scratchy; I'm thirsty, "I'm fourteen."

XXX

I can't explain it. It's as if someone turns the lights on in eternal darkness. Like the sun has finally peeled through the weighted fog that encapsulates a city.

I feel the air around me. It's cool, but the rest of me of warm; boiling, are they trying to smother me in blankets?

I can hear close sounds first. Like the whooshing in my own ears, my own breathing—the sound of the chilled air filling my hollow lungs almost sounds loud in comparison to the utter silence that has enveloped my ears for the past... How long has it been?

I feel her before I hear her. I'm still counting my own breaths when I feel her body shift in the space next to me. Is she asleep? Does she know that I've finally risen from my stupor?

How could she you vegetable? Move something.

I try, though my body seeming to still be paralyzed. And for the millionth time, I want to yell, throw something, feel something underneath my hand and shatter it into a thousand pieces. I try to recall the power I felt only, how long ago? Days?

I can't recall.

At least when you're daggered in a box, your mind goes with everything else, and you're not continually tormented with you're past.

Caroline's point of view

I shift, turning over on top of the blanket. I'm cold, someone left the windows open last night. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, breathing in deeply. Another day of this.

"Caroline."

He sounds so awake it startles me. I jump, nearly falling off the bed, I have to catch myself. I get a head rush; I think I'm in shock.

I blink at the now awake man next to me; unable to comprehend.

Yes. He is. Those blue eyes are... open. and on me.

"Sorry," He murmurs, his expression blank.

"Wha—" I sit up. He still hasn't moved, and I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming.

But as I stare at him, he blinks, and I know I'm not hallucinating.

And then I throw myself at him.

"Ohmygod," I'm straddling him—I cup his face, running my thumbs over his cheekbones, his eyelids, his lips, every perfect surface they can find.

"Car—"

Lowering my lips to his, I plant kisses everywhere my fingers touched. The trail of tears that I leave, dampen my lips as I kiss his feverish skin.

"I thought you would never come back," I say in between my frantic kisses.

"Caroline?" He murmurs against my unyielding lips.

"Yeah?" I kiss his eye lids and his temple, running my nose along his hairline.

"I'm warm," He says, his voice is winded, "starving."

"Oh!" snapping out of my daze, I push myself off of him, "I'm sorry," pulling the layers of blankets off of him, I chuck them on the floor. Grabbing his hand; jeez he is warm, "Do you want to sit up?"

"Well I sure as hell don't want to lie down anymore." He's starting to sound more like himself.

Pulling him into a seated position. I've never seen him so weak; it's unsettling. My stomach twists as I twist my fingers with his.

Just then the door bursts open and Rebekah is standing in the doorway, her eyes filling with tears. After a second of her frozen on the spot, she runs into the room and is at Klaus's side in less than a moment, throwing her arms around her brother.

"Nik thank heavens!" She exclaims; Elijah, the Salvatore's, Elena, and even Bonny enter behind her.

A dark look crosses his eyes, so quickly I would have missed it if I hadn't stopped staring into them since they opened. It's as if a memory fogs over for a short second; before his expression softens, his blue eyes clearing minutely. God I missed that colour.

He lets the embrace linger for a few seconds, though he only returns it with one arm, never once letting go of my hand.

"Welcome back." Stefan nods from the end of the bed.

Leaning away from Rebekah, he nods to both brothers.

"Good to be back." Rolling his shoulders, he shrugs the rest of the blankets off of him like they were diseased; exposing his bare chest, "Christ, get me out of this bed." Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stands, pulling me along with him.

It takes him a second to balance properly.

He's wearing the same jeans he was wearing the night we found him on the floor of the living room. Though his dark long-sleeve had been drenched with the toxic scotch, it had stuck to his burning skin; I felt sick when Elijah pulled it off of him, exposing the huge wounds, that are now non-existent.

Elijah reaches for him next, pulling him into a sturdy hug, smacking him on the back, gently, as Klaus's weak state is obvious to all of us.

"Good to see you brother." And for the first time in a long time, Elijah's voice has an edge of relief to it.

"How long was I gone?" Klaus looks at everyone; his hand is crushing mine, keeping me close by.

"Nearly a week." Rebekah answer quickly, and I wince, taking in a sharp breath. Is that all? It felt so much longer.

Looking down to where I cling to his side, it's as if he reads my thoughts. He finds the pain that rests in my eyes, tears stinging hot behind them. His brows pull together gently.

"Good?" He asks me quietly, his voice is low and personal.

I nod, pressing my lips together tightly. I don't think I can answer without crying. "Good." I was right. A tear spills over and onto my cheek.

Before I can reach up to wipe it away, he releases my hand, only to seize my face, pulling my mouth to his. It's a molten kiss; deep and soft—with an edge of desperation.

And for a second, I don't care that we're in front of my friends, or that this is still something I'm supposed to be uncomfortable with. I forget that he used to be the bad guy, and that there are people in this room who still don't like the two of us together; I forget that I'm supposed to be self-conscious. Instead I let relief flood me, wrapping my arms around his waist, and let him kiss me like he never ever wants to stop.

Unfortunately, our moment is cut short. His hunger for me is overwhelmed by something stronger; primal. A hissing breath comes through his teeth as he suddenly breaks away. I see a flash of his long, sharp, fangs as he leans away from me; and when he looks over my head to the back wall, the veins under his eyes are pulsing, and his eyes burn yellow. Everyone except me takes in a little surprised breath.

Klaus makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

"Yeah, okay," Stefan steps up, his hand raised in a defence, Elena comes to my side protectively, "How about we get some blood into you before you eat her." Rebekah chucks him a white t-shirt; he catches it easily.

Klaus's hybrid features slowly fade, and he tries to let go of my hand, put space between us, but using my superior strength, I hold firm.

"Don't you dare."

XXX

"Honestly, I'd prefer something a little warmer." Klaus holds up his hands, his face twisting a little at the thought. "Warmer." Damon doesn't seem to care about Klaus's discomfort as he chucks not one but two blood bags his way.

"Come on Mr. Picky-eater, drink up."

Klaus's eyes flash once again, he's definitely on edge; but he brings one of the bags to his lips, pulling the top off with his teeth he finishes the bag in one, long, hungry pull.

Holy shit.

Raising an eyebrow at Damon, he lets the empty bag fall to the floor.

"Good boy." Damon patronizes.

"That's right; get it out while he's weak and defenceless." Elena says sarcastically, shooting a glare at Damon before grabbing two more bags from the cooler and walking over to Klaus, "This stuff's fresher."

Klaus looks at her for a second too long, blinks, and then takes the blood from her hands.

"Thank you." Taking as seat on the large couch, he pulls the top of the bag open and drinks deeply.

We watch as Klaus takes in pull after pull of deep crimson blood, emptying bag after bag—it occurs to me, though I'd never voice it allowed, that it would be much easier just to find someone for him to feed on.

We watch as his hybrid features flare and fade, ruled by his out of control hunger. I want to stay close by, but it seems whenever I try and get closer, be puts some space between us. I don't think I've ever seen himself be so careful with himself around me.

Eventually, he's slowed down, nearly a dozen empty blood bags at his feet, and he's starting to look like his old self. Holding himself taller, the muscles in his back and shoulders pulled tighter.

Dropping the final bag onto the pile, he lets his head hang forward, leaning into his elbows on his knees, he lets out a long, laboured sigh.

"Satisfied?" Rebekah asks, she looks a strange mix of annoyed and worried.

"Not hardly," Klaus says to the ground, breathing deeply, in and out, in and out.

"So Klaus," Elijah steps closer, his curiosity gleaming through his concern for his brother, I can tell he's hungry for answers. We all are. "What happens now?"

Klaus grabs a fist full of his hair at the nape of his neck, sighing loudly.

"First, I'm going to find something a little less stale to drink;" There's shift in his voice. It's harder, stronger than before. This can't be good. "Second, I'd like a few minutes alone with my fiancé." Lifting his head, he scratches the back of his neck, pushing himself off the couch, his movements much more fluent than they were twenty minutes ago, walking towards the large window on the far wall. My heart clenches in my chest; from nerves or fear... I can't tell.

"And third," He turns to face us again, his eyes dark. They cloud over in a vicious expression; half man, half animal. "I'm going to hunt Clara down and tear her heart from her chest."

Oh shit.

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