You wake in the middle of a strange dream. (Something about a mausoleum? Or was it a coffin?) You forget it instantaneously. Klaus's side of the bed is cold. You're alone in his bedroom. You take a moment to breathe.

The unease that coated you yesterday hasn't quite dissipated. It languishes, unresolved, in your bones. You remember Klaus's rage and then the strange way he clung to you after. You thought you would feel better after sleeping. You stare up at the ceiling and wish, not for the first time, that your life was different.

It isn't, though.

(It never is)

You get up. There aren't any other clothes, so you stay in the pajamas Klaus gave you. You do steal some of his face wash and toothpaste, though. There are no vampire siblings waiting to accost you outside his door. About five minutes later you wish there were. This house is enormous. You're starting to think you're not smart enough to navigate it.

Somehow, you find the kitchen.

There's coffee in the pot. It's still hot. It takes a minute to discover where they keep their mugs. You'd feel bad for ransacking their kitchen if the Mikaelsons didn't regularly go through your medicine cabinet. Klaus can handle a little missing coffee. It's the least he owes you.

You pull up a seat at the breakfast bar. They're an expensive-looking leather. Better than the wooden Ikea ones you have at home.

The coffee is good and more importantly, warm. It burns going down. You take another sip. You don't even like coffee.

You stare down at the steam coming off your mug and contemplate what your next move is going to be. Klaus won't let you go back to your house. (You wonder if it's actually unsafe, or if that was a ploy to keep you here. You think it says something when you genuinely don't know the answer).

Next step then, you suppose with grudging acknowledgement, is apartment hunting. You hate moving. And packing. You hate moving-cleaning more than anything. Though, your home is cleaner than it has been in years thanks to being trapped inside for weeks. You have more money than you have in years too. You had thought that Elijah had was just going to compel your bills, but you never stopped getting paid. You could even hire movers.

You've never been able to hire movers. It's a giddy feeling.

But, you deflate, this is assuming that Klaus lets you leave at all. You're walking a tightrope of his affections. At least you haven't fallen. Your old psychology professors would get a kick out of this. And then, you're assuming, would advise you to find a therapist.

You know, maybe that's not such a bad idea.

"I thought I would find you here," Elijah comments. He smiles briefly before brushing past you to get to the coffee. He has a newspaper tucked under his arm. It's in Greek. "It's been too long. My condolences for being forced to stay in the Salvatores' cellar.

You duck your head. "Thanks. I wouldn't recommend."

"Wouldn't you."

He says it like it's not a question, but you can read in-between the lines.

"No, Elijah," you snipe, "I wouldn't recommend getting kidnapped."

"It's remarkable that you managed to escape unscathed. Many haven't been so lucky."

Your fingers clench on your coffee cup. You haven't been awake long enough to deal with this.

"Don't you get tired of never trusting anyone?" You shoot back. Elijah hums.

"Often."

His response takes the wind out of your sails. You take another sip of bitter coffee and wish they had tea. You wish you had your own kitchen. (Maybe you just wish you were home. An odd feeling considering how long you couldn't leave).

"Don't be so dramatic, Elijah," Klaus says as he enters the kitchen, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Were you just listening in the hallway and waiting for an opportune moment to come in?"

Klaus rolls his eyes.

"Quite a lot of back-talk for so early in the morning."

"I work better with caffeine," you answer. Elijah, surprisingly, laughs.

"What is this I hear about you not trusting our dear baker?" Klaus asks, pointing his attention towards his brother.

"She knows I mean nothing by it," Elijah says calmly, "I am simply being cautious."

On an intellectual level, you understand why Elijah is suspicious. A thousand years is a long time to build enemies. The Mikaelsons seem to have a contest to see who can create the most. (You suspect Klaus is winning that particular gamble). On a personal level, though, you think it's ridiculous.

Klaus, evidently, agrees.

"Well," he says, grinning through curled lips, "In that case, I think some bonding is in order."

Elijah looks nearly as taken aback as you.

"Our dearest baker is out of a home," he continues, "Elijah, you like redecorating. Why not find her a new place to live?"

Both of you look at him startled, for different reasons. Elijah looks at his brother with glittering eyes before sweeping his gaze towards you. You suspect you look something like a deer in the headlights. His lips curve into a slight smile.

"I would be honored."

Oh boy.

"Sounds great."

Klaus grins. You get the feeling he's getting revenge for last night. As revenge goes, it could be worse.

"It'll have to wait, though," you say. You couldn't care less when you go, but you want to see Kol and Rebekah. You heard them last night, you know they're okay. Part of you needs reassurance.

Klaus cocks his head.

"Why?" He asks.

You can't admit that you still don't quite trust him, so you deflect. "Do you have any idea how long house hunting takes?"

"Actually," Elijah says smoothly, "We should be ready to go in an hour."

You could hit him. Klaus just grins.

Your clothes are filthy from the day before, so you borrow something from Klaus. (You double check that it's not Rebekah's and very carefully don't ask why he has clothes in your size). He doesn't mention the previous night. You don't either.

Elijah's waiting for you by the front door. He doesn't comment on your clothes.

"We may need an umbrella," he comments, "It's supposed to rain."

"Better hurry, then."

He inclines his head and opens the door for you. You slide past him and belatedly think this is going to be a very long day.

"Where to first?" You ask when you're strapped in the passenger seat. Elijah backs out of the circle and onto the Mikaelsons' long driveway.

"I put together a list of houses in case this happened," he says, "They're a few towns over. Best to get some distance between your old residence."

Your brow furrows.

"Why?" You don't care about leaving your town. Luckily, Elijah knows which part you're asking about.

"One must prepare for every eventuality," he answers cryptically, "Besides, I knew you wouldn't want to live with us forever."

"Tell that to your brother."

"Niklaus…" Elijah hesitates, like he's afraid to speak ill of his brother in your presence, "Sometimes labors under the delusion that he can have everything he wants."

You lean your head back on the leather seat and let out something that's either a sigh or a laugh. "I can tell."

Elijah's eyes glint with amusement. "You don't enjoy feeling like everyone's favorite toy?"

"I was going more 'over-loved childhood stuffed animal that's missing an eye'."

"I'm sure we can patch you up," he says. He brushes his too-long hair out of his eyes and you have to force yourself to look away. You suddenly remember why you liked him so much at the beginning. (You still like him. Too much, if you're honest).

"I'll send you the repair bill."

"I'm sure we can just compel it away."

You laugh and you think Elijah smiles.

"You're a good older brother."

"Oh?"

He looks at you through the rearview mirror. You bite your tongue until it bleeds.

"You care about them a lot," you say despite remembering what Damon told you that evening, "You're protective."

He's quiet for a moment. Somehow, you think you're both thinking about the same thing.

"I do my best," he says.

He pulls into a neighborhood that looks so suburban you don't think a vampire has ever set foot here. They would burst into flames immediately.

"Here we are," he says. You open the car door before he can and jump out.

"Elijah," you comment, eyeing the house "This is out of my budget."

"I expect it is," he says pleasantly, "Lucky that you have the mortgage compelled."

"Mortgage?"

He ignores the horrified look on your face and opens the door.

"At least come look before you make any rash decisions."

You place one deliberating foot onto the porch.

It's not the cookie-cutter architecture that exists in most suburbs nowadays. This part of town is old enough that there's a bronze plaque on the front of the house, proudly stating it's historically protected. You trace the wood door frame, fingers finding painted-over nicks. It's bigger than any place you've ever lived in. There's a dining room and two extra bedrooms. A guest room and… something. (Maybe you'll follow twelve-year-old you's dreams and finally have an art studio. Or an office, if you want to be boring. Or maybe just another guest room. You've never needed one before, but you've had enough guests lately to warrant one).

The house is so perfect you suspect Elijah never had a list at all and only had this one picked out. The kitchen appliances are stainless steel. That's really all you needed to see.

You check the shower pressure. It's blissful.

"Elijah, you've seen my garden," you say when you reach the back yard, "Why on Earth would you think this is a good idea?"

It's winter, so everything is dead, but you can tell by all the garden beds that you're not going to be able to take care of everything. You've been wanting to become a gardener. You thought you would start off with maybe an herb bucket instead of four and a half raised beds. All the research in the world couldn't help you here. Elijah shrugs.

"We can hire it out if it's truly too much."

You've killed every houseplant you've ever had.

"That's probably best."

You go back inside and Elijah holds the door open for you.

"What do you think?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "It's perfect. You knew that already."

His lips twitch.

"Something like that," he agrees. He checks his watch. "Niklaus won't be expecting us for hours. Would you like to get lunch?"

You say yes.

Elijah starts the car and takes you to a faux-French bistro where the menus are in English and the food is more French-inspired than actually French.

"Espresso?" The waitress asks. She is very carefully not paying any more attention to Elijah than she has to; assuming, incorrectly, that the two of you are together. You can't think of a way to correct her without it being awkward.

"No thank you," you say politely, "Do you have tea?"

They do. You get chamomile.

"Is this your favorite?" Elijah asks.

"One of them," you agree. You don't say which one you prefer over it. He already knows. The waitress brings your drinks over and Elijah barely glances at her, eyes focused on you. You try your tea and take the opportunity to avert your gaze.

"I feel as if I should apologize for my treatment of you these past few weeks."

You don't point out that is very much not an apology.

"It's okay."

"That's another reason," he says, "That lessens my trust in you. You are far more forgiving than most would be in your position."

"I'm aware," you say dryly, "It's a character flaw."

He bites back a laugh.

"What has Niklaus told you of our mother?"

Your heart stutters.

"Almost nothing," you admit, "Just that she… well—"

"Killed us," Elijah finishes, "Although it was not at her hand, she did plan it." He pauses for a moment, as if he's not sure how much he intends to say.

"Niklaus is our half-brother," he eventually says and it's not anything you expected to come out of his mouth, "Our mother had a brief affair with a werewolf from our village. It came to light when she cast the spell on us that turned us into vampires."

You almost don't dare to interrupt, afraid Elijah will remember he's not supposed to trust you."I thought Klaus was a vampire?"

"Technically, a hybrid. Our mother cast a spell on him that bound his werewolf side away. He only recently broke it," Elijah says blithely, "Our father found out, of course, and my mother disowned Niklaus to make up for her marital failures. He killed her and blamed our father. We spent a millennia running from our father, who sought revenge against Niklaus."

You remember Klaus's brief slip the night before. He mentioned a curse. You were too distracted to ask any more questions.

"Niklaus lied to my face for a thousand years, and he's my brother. So you can see," Elijah continues, "My difficulty in trusting others."

You remember something else from last night. A thought pops into your head. A terrible, terrible thought, but it's the only way you see that will let you move forward.

"You can compel me."

Elijah stills.

"You're on vervain," he says. His eyes peel your skin back until he sees the inside of your brain.

"Klaus says I'm not," you say truthfully and your voice barely shakes, "He threatened to last night. I haven't had my tea in a few days."

Elijah looks at you over his espresso cup for a long moment. (Stefan said they erased years of his memory and didn't know. What else could he take from you, if you let him do this? Losing yourself like that… It would be worse than death).

Your hands tremble.

"That is not necessary," Elijah says slowly, "It is very brave of you to offer. I know your feelings on the matter"

The one time you manage to be brave, you think, tremors sending you sinking back into your seat, and you're rejected. Sounds about right.

Elijah looks at you differently for the rest of lunch. So maybe it wasn't pointless.

You don't see any more houses, there's no point. Elijah tells you he'll have the deed for you tomorrow. You think he's full of shit, but you humor him. Do any of the Mikaelsons have any idea how long things take, you wonder. Vampirism can't negate how slowly the real estate market moves. (You're struck by the absurd image of Elijah in a DMV). You stifle a laugh.

Elijah opens the passenger door for you when you get back to the manor. He even offers you his arm. You accept the olive branch. The soft fabric of his suit jacket presses into your skin and you have the incredibly odd feeling that something is finally going your way.

You cling to that feeling. Nothing goes your way for long.

Klaus is waiting for you in the foyer. He's either been there for a while or he heard the car engine quit. You smile at him.

He doesn't return it.

"I forgot to return this to you this morning," he says and he pulls your phone out of his pocket, "I found it at the Salvatores and though you might want it back."

"Oh, thanks."

You reach out for it and he pulls it away. Apprehension creeps up on you.

"Who's Kate?" He asks and you stiffen.

"… Just my coworker."

"Oh? Then why has she called you fifty-four times in the past two days?"

Fuck.

You definitely thought you would get away with this for a while longer.

"It's not what you think."

Klaus takes a deliberate step towards you. "Isn't it?"

You back into Elijah in your haste to get away from him. You crane your neck to look up at him, but Elijah ignores you in favor of staring, eyebrow quirked, at his brother. His hand settles atop your shoulder. You flinch, but he doesn't put any pressure.

"Niklaus," Elijah drawls, "Calm yourself."

Klaus's eyes glint yellow as he snarls at his brother. You flinch, but Elijah stops you from going anywhere.

"Get away from her, 'Lijah."

"Do you know what this young lady did this afternoon?" He continues, "She offered to let me compel her just to gain my trust."

Klaus breaks into a vicious grin.

"What a brilliant idea."

Vampires can move faster than you realize because you don't even blink and you still don't see him move. His hand forces your chin up and you remember that night in the bakery. The strange way he spoke. He's going to try to compel you, you realize with an all-consuming sense of horror.

You struggle in his grip, but you're sandwiched between him and Elijah.

"Klaus, don't you fucking dare."

"Why shouldn't I? You've obviously been keeping secrets."

You want to scream that you didn't choose to be enveloped in this world; that part of you wishes you never met the Mikaelsons. It's not your fault Klaus chose to break into your bakery that day and it's not your fault that Klaus has hurt so many people he looks over his shoulder like it's second nature.

"And to think I was beginning to trust you."

"You want to know my secrets?" You yell, "I'll tell you my secrets! I gave my only friend in the world a spare key to my house and told her if she didn't hear from me for a few days, I was probably dead!"

You can't see Elijah, but you can hear his sharp inhale.

"Why on Earth would you tell her that?" Klaus asks and you can't stop yourself from scoffing.

"Are you serious?" You ask, "Klaus, I've almost died half a dozen times since meeting you."

"So you told her about the supernatural."

"No," you snap, "I didn't. Because I don't want to get the people I care about involved with you."

He straightens, letting you go. He has such a melodramatic expression of hurt on his face that hysterical laughter bubbles up inside you.

"I see."

"Niklaus, that's enough."

He barely spares a glance for his brother.

"Fine."

He storms off in such a childlike tantrum you would laugh if you didn't think you were going to cry.

Elijah's hand is still on your shoulder.

"I think we have some chamomile hidden away somewhere."

He very carefully doesn't apologize for his brother. You think it would be worse if he did.

"I'd appreciate it," you say unsteadily.

Elijah makes you tea. You drink it and bitterly think you can't wait to get out of this house.

This chapter fought me a Ton. Hope you liked the Elijah bonding :-)