You were sick a lot as a child. Flu season attacked you viciously every spring. You were never allowed to stay home and rest. Your parents told you it was because the real world wouldn't take it easy on you.
Good old Baby Boomer rhetoric.
The real reason was because they didn't want to be around you longer than necessary. It took you longer than you'd like to admit to realize why. (Too much time spent wondering why they didn't love you; what was wrong with you that even your own parents harbored little to no affection for you. Why couldn't you just be better— why was there something so fundamentally wrong with you that the people who brought you into this world couldn't love you).
Your parents were old when they had: an accident turned obligation. A last chance to have a child and the picture perfect family. But a baby is more than a photoshoot and prop to show off to friends. They realized they didn't really want to deal with the reality of raising a child.
A realization that came too late for you. You were messy and needy and all of the things children should be allowed to be. All things that intruded on their pristine life.
(You thought that maybe they would miss you once they didn't have you anymore. They would realize the gap you filled in their lives. They would change their minds.
They didn't).
They made you go to school when you were sick— to work, as a teenager. You don't know how to take care of yourself. You've tried to change. You know, rationally, they were wrong— no one deserves needless, habitual cruelty.
Knowledge doesn't always lend itself to healing.
You suppose the Mikaelsons are proof enough of that.
Rebekah hovers as you lay, miserable, on the couch. Aftershocks of adrenaline still spark your nerves. Every few minutes she offers to get you more water, or food. Nausea prevents you from eating. You accept just to make her stop worrying.
But every time she leaves the room the walls start to close in around you and every time she returns you start to feel like you're going to claw out of your skin. You don't know what you want. (Other than to sleep; to be alone; to be held and comforted like someone cares about you until you forget the spirits and memories haunting you).
You say none of those things. You accept the tea Rebekah brings you before she settles back on the couch, curled around you like a sleeping dragon. She stays tense at your side. Blearily, you recognize the tension in the air, but you don't have time to deal with whatever apology Rebekah's been concocting for the past month.
(You're also too tired to tell her that you forgive her.
It seems to be what you do best).
You wait in sick anticipation for the rest of the Mikaelsons return. You lock onto Finn's face instantly. He's alive. One of your concerns, at least, is resolved. Finn is here: healthy and undaggered. Relief sweets over you.
(Even if Klaus had betrayed him again, you wouldn't have let him stay like that. Lying vampire or not. Finn is your friend. You'd go against Klaus for him— for any of them. They're yours).
Possessiveness strong enough to rival Klaus's rises and shocks you all at once. You realize you've been staring at Finn too long when you catch a subtle shake of his head. Later, he says.
You still haven't quite accepted the fact Finn is a Mikaelson. He better be prepared for the argument of a lifetime once you no longer feel like you're on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
"What's going on here?" Klaus inquires, steps slowing as he spots you covered in blankets with Rebekah on the over-sized settee.
"I suspect," Elijah says, walking in step with his brother, "Our beloved baker is finally going to tell us why she looks half to death."
You make steady eye contact with your cooling cup of tea.
"There's no need to be so direct," Rebekah snaps like she hasn't been telling you the exact same thing.
"Does this have anything to do with you staying up all night?"
They all stare at Finn.
"You knew about this?" Kol accuses.
"All I knew is that she hasn't been sleeping."
"And you didn't think to ask why?"
"Of course I asked why," Finn snaps, "I just didn't pressure her for an answer— I know that must seem strange to you."
Klaus snarls at him before Elijah cuts in.
"Why don't we allow her the chance to explain?" He suggests steadily. You look at him gratefully— at least until you have five pairs of eyes all trained on you. Your fingers stroke shaky patterns on your teacup
There's no good way to explain what's been happening to you.
You take a deep breath and do it anyway.
"I've been having nightmares," you finally say, "Of a spirit. She's in an asylum full of witches somewhere."
Kol stills, but doesn't speak.
"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Klaus argues, "We could have helped."
Your eyes flit from sibling to sibling. Even Elijah and Finn's gazes are too intense.
"… I thought it would stop," you say after a long moment, "I was wrong. I didn't even fall asleep this time and the witches… If they can come when I'm asleep—"
There's nothing protecting you. You inhale a shaky breath. You can't live like this anymore. At the beginning— when they were just dreams, it wasn't so bad. Even when they turned into nightmares, all you had to do was stay awake. (The Nightmare on Elm Street movies, ironically, helped). With Finn and a dreamlike month spent away from reality and your other vampires, you felt like you could almost make it.
You know now you were living in denial. You couldn't. You can't. This isn't going away no matter how much you ignore it.
You swallow, thick in your throat.
The Mikaelsons leap into action, like you knew they would— like you feared. There were several times in your month with Finn you wished you could just lay your troubles down at their feet. You didn't. You think a part of you wanted to prove you could still be independent— you don't need them to pay your rent, or buy you a house, or even be your friends. But now that they're here, you start to forget why you ever fought against it. They can fix this; just like they fixed Damon, like they—
A connection snaps into place, something you nearly forgot.
"Bonnie."
Their rapid-fire discussion clicks to a halt.
"What are you on about?"
Your brain leaps into acrobatics. She warned you that day in the parking lot. She didn't have to. She must know something.
"Bonnie Bennett is the one who told me that a spirit was reaching out to me," you say, color returning to our cheeks, "If anyone can help, she can."
"We're never going to be free of Mystic Falls," Rebekah groans.
Klaus, as he is wont to do, ignores her.
"We'll get in contact with her. Kol?" He says without asking, "Would you be so kind as to make the trip to see our favorite witch?"
He looks up at Klaus incredulously.
"I was practically dead for two centuries and I can still think of a dozen witches I could get in contact with that don't require me returning to Mystic Falls. Did we just forget how Jeremy and his lesser sibling tried to kill me less than three months ago?"
Klaus rolls his eyes.
"Water under the bridge. You'll be fine."
"And here I thought you'd be less callous with my life," Kol argues, baring his teeth, "No offense, Finn."
"Quite a lot taken, actually."
"I'll go with you, Kol," Elijah says, straightening his cuffs, "I have a somewhat less-murderous history with them."
Klaus snorts.
"You have a history of betrayal," he mocks with a cruel grin, "Or do you forget how you didn't go through with your plot to murder me? Does it grate on you that your reputation as a man of your word has been tainted in their eyes?"
Elijah's jaw flexes. You feel another headache coming on. Strangely, you don't think this has anything to do with the spirit.
Rebekah notices.
"Everything get out," she orders, "You lot are stressing her out."
Klaus balks, but then takes one look at your face.
"Fine," he grinds out, "Let's get you to bed."
"No—" The reaction bursts out of you before you can stop it, "I don't want to sleep. I— I can't."
Exchanged gazes pass over your head in a silent conversation.
"I'm sure the boys can find something else to entertain themselves with," Rebekah cuts in, "I'll stay."
Panic ekes out of your body. Your stress doesn't dissipate entirely— but it's enough to alleviate it. You tune out their arguing. They don't need your input to insult each other.
Maybe when you feel up to it.
Kol and Elijah leave for Mystic Falls. Finn fiddles with something in his pocket while Klaus lingers in your peripheral.
"I thought you might need these," Finn starts, handing you a pill bottle.
"I thought you got rid of them?"
Finn shrugs, a slight gesture.
"They are yours," he responds dryly, "I keep them just in case."
Your lips twitch.
You're not getting out of this that easily, you project telepathically. Despite not being a witch, Finn seems to get the message.
"We'll get this figured out," Klaus interjects, like he can't stand not having your attention on him, "I promise."
You shrink, but nod anyway. Finn's eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary before leaving with Klaus. The door clicks behind them and you're left with Rebekah once more.
She turns to you, eyebrows arched.
"Finn too," she questions in disbelief, "Really?"
There's not enough time in the world to discuss your friendship with Finn— not when you didn't know he was a Mikaelson until tonight. Not when you haven't discussed with him the implications of that particular revelation.
(You confessed to him what the Mikaelsons want with you back when you didn't know he was one. When he was blissfully unaware you were speaking of the family that betrayed him).
You're caught between two devils: not wanting to assume Finn intends to take part in his family's debauchery and knowing you're not misinterpreting the way he acts with you. You hadn't been sure with any of the Mikaelsons at first. Klaus's introduction to you left much to be desired. Kol's flirting came off as teasing. Elijah's suspicion. Rebekah…
When Rebekah kissed you, she ripped away your plausible deniability. You have nothing to hide behind so you do what you do best. You deflect.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Rebekah huffs a laugh and then immediately sobers.
Here it comes.
"I didn't get to apologize to you," she says with hesitant, halting words, "After I—"
"Rebekah," you interrupt, because you're tired and it's been long enough that it's fine— you have bigger problems, "It's fine. I know."
"No," she insists forcefully, "Let me explain."
You blink and quiet.
"I shouldn't have kissed you, then," she continues, "Please understand, I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you already knew about our… inclinations. The gifts, the house— you stood up to Nik for us and he listened. No human has ever managed that."
"You thought I was just toying with you," you realize and Rebekah nods, shame written in-between the freckles on her face.
"I didn't think anyone could be that oblivious."
"You're half right," you admit, "I suspected. I think I was just trying to ignore it as long as I could."
"You're a better person than most. We forget that sometimes. No wonder you started crying the moment I kissed you."
"I probably would have taken it better if I knew you and your siblings were swingers beforehand."
Or hadn't had a very, very bad day the day before.
Rebekah's laugh is sharp.
"There's not really a word for what we are," she muses, "Besides old and jaded. And very, very apologetic."
"Your family does seem to do a lot of apologizing. Or am I just special?"
Rebekah's lips twitch.
"The latter."
You wonder how special you actually are. (Despite the fact that the Mikaelsons seem to bend over backwards for you, your earlier doubts still linger with you. They've had a thousand years on Earth. Elijah told you that they've never met someone like you. You can't accept that).
Rebekah must see something flicker across your face.
"What is it?"
"… You told me yourself that this isn't the first time you've…" you struggle for the right word and come up empty, "… Shared."
"Correct."
"— What happened to the others?"
Rebekah grimaces.
That's not a good sign.
"Uh-oh."
Rebekah shakes her head, cutting you off. "It's nothing all that terrible," she ays, "We've only done something like this a dozen or so times. And never quite like this."
"Elijah said the same thing. What does that even mean?"
Rebekah's pause lasts for an eternity.
"Most of them were what Kol refers to as 'Original groupies'. They were humans who wanted the honor of being turned by us. We would trade them between ourselves until we got bored."
Uh-oh, you repeat internally.
"What happened to them?"
She shrugs.
"Sometimes we would turn them."
She doesn't say what happened to the rest. (Abandoned, murdered, sacrificed. You're not sure what option is worse).
"… I see," you say and your voice barely even trembles. Rebekah's eyes swivel to focus in on your pulse point.
"We can hear your heart beat, you know," she states casually, "We would never do that to you."
She says it reassuringly, like the thought is supposed to bring you comfort.
It doesn't.
(You also can't summon up much sympathy for ghosts. Not when it's so horrifically obvious that the Mikaelsons are predators and the only reason you haven't run for the hills is that you've been lonely every year you've been alive).
"I'm sure they thought the same thing."
Something dark and hungry passes over her eyes.
"Not in the least," she murmurs and then her gaze clears, "They knew where they stood. We enjoyed a purely carnal relationship. Others were romantic, at least in part. Witches, vampires. They all ended up betraying us eventually. The last time we ended up in an… arrangement, they summoned our father to kill us."
"Why?"
Rebekah's eyes flicker upwards. You remember Klaus and Finn are still in the house. Vampire hearing.
"It doesn't matter," she eventually says and her eyes find their way back to you. She looks like she wants to say something.
She doesn't.
"I do not mean to be presumptuous," she says instead, "But does this mean you're open to our sort of arrangement?" Rebekah asks instead.
A heartbeat passes.
"Yes," you say, after months of obfuscating, "I think I am."
Rebekah's thumb lingers over your thundering heartbeat in your wrist.
Elijah and Kol return with Bonnie in tow. She resembles a marble queen with her proud stature and less-than-pleased expression. (You think she'd rather be anywhere else other than here). She relaxes minutely when she spots you.
"Hi Bonnie, long time no see. I would have called, but I don't have your number."
Bonnie bypasses your banter.
"Wow, that spirit really got its hooks into you," she says, gaze sweeping over your now-baggy clothes and sallow, sunken skin, "Are you alright?"
"Does anything about me scream 'picture of health' at the moment?"
"… Not particularly. Did you ever find out what it wants?"
You shake your head.
"No, but she never hurt me directly. It's everyone else in the asylum who's violent. It's like…" You struggle for words. You don't know how to explain this to someone who hasn't seen your dreams. You never see much of the ghost itself. Glimpses here and there. Blond hair and a glass coffin. But sometimes you get this feeling like you know her.
(Sometimes, you think you can hear her soft sadness and longing so thick you could choke on it).
"It's like she needs help," you finish.
"Or she's trying to trick you," Klaus says as he enters the room, Finn following behind him, "You can never be too careful."
Bonnie blanches.
"What the hell is he doing alive?"
Finn sighs.
"Calm yourself, I'm not going to hurt you."
"You should be more worried about yourself," Bonnie spits out and whirls around to Elijah, "Did you lie just to get me here?"
You're getting that feeling again.
"Would someone like to explain what's going on?"
Rebekah hums.
"Let's see," she drawls, "Little Bonnie Bitch helped our mother in the attempt to kill us. Her friend is the one who murdered Finn."
"Don't be so crass, Rebekah," Finn says, wrinkling his nose, "If you recall I was actively trying to kill myself at the time."
"How are you alive?"
Klaus interrupts before Finn can respond.
"You should know by now that death cannot keep us for long," Klaus lies with a cruel smile. If you were capable of getting past the fact that Bonnie helped kill Finn, you'd wonder why they're avoiding any mention of their mother's involvement. (The worst part is, you don't think you can even blame Bonnie when you don't know the full story. You're not sure what you would do if you were involved in this world without the Mikaelsons' affections).
It doesn't stop the lick of iron-hot rage that coils in the base of your spine.
You keep your mouth clamped tightly closed.
"Well now that's over," Kol says brightly, clapping his hands together, "May as well get started."
The location spell is surprisingly painless.
Bonnie sets you up in the middle of the floor, hands cupped around yours. She uses a small knife to cut your palm. You purposefully try not to wince. You don't need the Mikaelsons rushing to your defense. (Not when they're on edge already).
"You couldn't have done somewhere with less nerve endings?"
Bonnie rolls her eyes. Your blood drips onto the map. For a moment, nothing happens. Then trails of tacky blood roll their way South-West, leaving rust-colored streaks in their wake.
"It looks like it's in New Orleans," Bonnie announces after a moment.
Klaus halts.
"Are you sure?"
Something knocks itself loose in your head. "She's right," you say, blinking, "The asylum is just outside the city."
Surrounded by woods and old cemeteries. You don't know how you know that. (Didn't know it until this very moment).
Klaus examines you evenly before turning back to the witch.
"Can you be more specific?"
Her eyebrow twitches before she answers.
"I'd need to be in the city to get you a better answer."
"… Well," Finn pronounces after a long moment, "I've never been on a plane before, but I suppose there's no time like the present."
"Oh wonderful," Kol says, "I always love family road trips."
Early update because I'm going to the beach tomorrow :) Hope you guys liked the chapter!