Cherry Wine Chapter 4: Francesca Part I, a vampire diaries fanfic

Warning: Use of language in this chapter, as well as canon-typical violence and temporary character death (and Klaus threatening his mother for hurting his dearest Elena.) Lyrics from Hozier's 'Francesca.'

'Do you think I'd give up

That this might've shook the love from me

Or that I was on the brink?

How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?

Now that it's done

There's not one thing that I would change

My life was a storm, since I was born

How could I fear any hurricane?'

Over the course of his long life, Klaus had been fortunate -or unfortunate, depending on how you looked at it, if you were a glass half empty kind of person, or the kind who didn't bother with a glass altogether and simply drank straight from the bottle- enough to meet an elaborate array of people from all walks of life. Kings, queen, dukes and lords and knights, peasants and politicians, artists and thinkers and dreamers, some who looked to the stars for inspiration and guidance, and others who couldn't see two feet in front of their face, blinded by the veil of their chosen vices. But, he had to admit, Damon Salvatore made a considerable bid for the oh so majestic title of 'Biggest Idiot Alive' when he took one look at Elena and growled in a tone that was most likely supposed to be dangerous, but was more in the vicinity of petulant and annoyed -a diluted, distorted after-image of threatening- "Katherine, if this is some game..."

"That's your first thought?" Unable to keep the scowl off her face, her mind no doubt operating on a similar train of thought, Elena's knuckles tightened on the armrests of her chair, hard enough to almost splinter the delicately crafted wood; it was a nice chair, went well with the Persian rug -he hoped Stefan had picked it out, and not the elder Salvatore, for Klaus would never be caught dead complimenting that bastard on interior decor. Honestly, the depths of the vampire's stupidity was baffling, near-inconceivable almost. How could he not tell? How had Damon not picked up on the human heartbeat, at the very least, noted the scar on her neck -put there by Klaus himself- or the way she sat, head tilted slightly, yet her eyes still alive with her daring, darling compassion, even as he flung such a torrid insinuation at her?

Or, most notably, if it were in fact Katerina Petrova staring the brothers down with an assemblage of Mikaelsons at her back, she'd have been dead before she could utter a single word?

...Fine, perhaps not dead, but definitely dismembered in some way, with an unspoken guarantee of various tortures to come. She'd been the one to lure Elena's aunt to the sacrifice, after all, had come up with the idea in the hopes of impressing him -as if her diabolical, sociopathic disregard for humanity was something to be proud of, an ambition worthy of his praise- exchanging Jenna's life for her freedom like she was swapping out a pair of shoes that hadn't fit. But then again, no one had forced him to implement it, had they? It had been convenient, and he'd been so desperate to break his curse, once and for all, after so long...

"I don't fall down at the sight of you, so I must be Katherine. God, is that what you really think of me?" Elena accused, the flames of the fire behind swirling in her eyes, molten brown and cherry red and citrus orange, a melting pot of conflicting emotions. Anger, betrayal, resignation, the same song with the same dance partners, the tempo forever frozen, unchanging as their features. Even now, with Klaus' hand curled possessively over the back of her chair, his thumb brushing her neck in a silent reminder of, 'I'm here, you can do this, sweetheart,' she had still held on to a glimmer of hope that they might not react as she'd anticipated, that even with how distant their relationship was at present, at least some of the strings that had tied them together, the three of them, for this past year would remain attached, unchanged.

Elena was still disappointed, because they had let her down.

It must have been so hard for her. To be here, surrounded by these men who had claimed to love her, for her, and yet be so readily compared to her malicious, manipulative, murderess of a twin. For every conversation to be imbued with such history, like they were telling a joke at her expense, a secret club she couldn't get into. Klaus might have had the advantageous benefit of knowing both doppelgängers as humans, had spent five hundred years tracking down Katerina, studying her patterns and preferences and tendencies, he the hunter and she the prey...but these people were supposed to know Elena, had spent more time with her than they ever had Katherine; why was it so hard for those around her to discern the differences, yet so easy for him to do?

"Forgive me, Elena, but you're not usually one for the whole Blowfeld routine," was Damon's terse response, making sure to put careful emphasis on her name. Prick. Oh, how he'd love to pluck that treacherous, traitorous tongue from his head, to not bristle at the way the Salvatore so openly appraised her now, frosted blue gaze sweeping over ever inch of her, a half smirk warping the edges of his mouth into something dark and twisted and loathsome.

Klaus had seen many men give his sister Rebekah similar looks, right before they lost their heads. And then their other body parts, with a little help from him.

This had been Elena's plan, to gather them together, lay everything out on the table. He'd been more than happy to follow her lead, to trust her and her instincts, but he wouldn't be Klaus Mikaelson if he hadn't had any doubts whatsoever. Some people just wouldn't listen to reason, not even from someone as well-meaning and loyal as she; didn't want to admit that there was more than one way of thinking, one way of doing things, that the hard way was not always the right way. He'd once acted in such a manner, ignoring logic and sound reason -usually from Elijah- and insisting he knew best, that his way was the only way.

Elena had made him see things differently. Made him want to see things differently; he wouldn't have her insulted by a pathetic weakling like Damon Salvatore, a vampire hardly worth the gift that was her attention, or her forgiveness.

Bless her glorious heart, Elena didn't bat an eye, merely straightened her spine and surveyed the Salvatore with a look of her own, flicking her lashes up as if she found him wanting, unworthy. Like she'd finally realized that there was more out there for her, someone she would never have to hide how she felt, or be forced to hide behind. Like she'd finally realized that, yes, life was hard, and love harder, but one should not be covered in a litany of bruises from it, external and internal, trying to hold yourself together through sheer force of will. That promises shouldn't break like bones and that safety didn't always mean settling with what was familiar.

Like she'd finally found herself, where she belonged: with him. "Sorry, left the cat at home today. Doesn't like to be around arrogant vampires with control issues."

Across the room, Kol let out an appreciative snicker, drawing everyone's attention to him like a black hole, sucking out some of the tension in the room. "Nice one, darling. Kitty really has sharpened her claws; I'm impressed."

Damon's face grew even darker, storm clouds coalescing threateningly, so unused to her using that wicked little tongue of hers on him, as if he'd poked a bear and only now realized that it has claws that could shred him to pieces, scattering him like so much paper on the wind. "What do you want, Elena?"

"A truce," she said simply, hands folded nearly in her lap, calm and in control. And loving every minute of it, no doubt. "For today and today only, you get the grand prize of staying alive in exchange for a little bit of assistance."

"Why?" the youngest Salvatore finally spoke up, showing the first bit of interest since the two had entered the room, hazel eyes sweeping over them, lingering longest on Elena, on Klaus' proximity to her, a feeble attempt at trying to ascertain her motives, that if he could reason with her, use her morals against her, he could gain the upper hand. Which was ridiculous, seeing as she was doing this because she had morals, because Klaus knew that, even in some parallel universe where they weren't together, she would still try and stop the sacrifice in whatever way she could, would want to spare them, stay their mother's raging hand, if only because of what Elijah had done for her, saving her life, making deals to protect her loved ones. Because she knew how important family was, and didn't want anyone else to lose theirs.

Which the Salvatores, of all people, brothers for all eternity, should have understood

"Because Esther Mikaelson did a spell last night with my blood, linking every Original together," Elena explained, gaze straying to Rebekah when she turned her head away slightly, gaze lost in the flames of the fire. "If one dies, they all die."

Damon's expression became that of a boy who'd just been told Christmas came early, crowing with excessively jubilant glee, "Fantastic! Stefan, get the champagne; this needs to be celebrated in style."

Elena carried on as if she hadn't been so rudely interrupted, "But, if she succeeds, she won't just kill them, but every single vampire in existence. Including you, and Stefan, and Caroline."

A record scratch, wonder turning to worry. It lasted only a second, thought, before the vampire sauntered down the steps, claiming the chair across from her, sticking his feet up on the coffee table, a blatant sign of disrespect as he insisted, "You're bluffing."

Raising a brow, Elena replied evenly, "Am I? If memory serves, it's never worked out well for vampires when they've claimed that." She tilted her head, smile saccharine-sweet, honey and vinegar and vengeance, as she grinned at his brother inquiringly, "Isn't that right, Elijah?"

The Original inclined his head, a smile of his own dancing in his coffee-brown eyes. Gods, family holidays were going to be hell if they decided to turn that little act on him. "Quite right, Miss Gilbert. My Armani suit never did recover from that encounter."

"And we mourn it's loss deeply. As it so happens, I recorded my conversation with Esther this afternoon; I knew you wouldn't take me at my word, no matter what I said. You never do."

Holding out her hand, Klaus reached into his jacket pocket where he'd been keeping her phone since her dress, as she'd frustratedly grumbled to him on the way over, didn't have any pockets. With a smile of thanks, Elena unlocked the screen, and a few seconds later the haughty, holier-than-thou voice of their mother proclaimed, dripping with movie-villianesque satisfaction, 'If one Original is killed, so is everyone they've ever sired, a glorious domino effect. And since all my children shall be linked...every vampire on the face of the earth shall be dead by the time the moon rises tonight."

With a flick of her wrist, Elena tossed her phone on the coffee table near Damon's mud-caked boots, rattling the plastic device with a clatter as it skidded to a halt. "Need anymore proof?"

"No, we don't. Right, Damon?" Stefan interceded, dropping down beside his older brother, a crease already beginning to pinch his brow. Stefan was always the more cautious one, four steps ahead when everyone else was still at the start. He was often underestimated, overlooked in the face of his brother's striking looks and bombastic temperament. If anyone was going to care about ensuring their continued survival, even at the expense of working with the Mikaelsons rather than against, it was him.

And, somewhere, deep, deep down, Klaus still hoped that their friendship back in the twenties meant something to Stefan, as it had to him then, and all these decades later. He'd reminded him what it was like to have a brother, to find and cultivate a real connection with someone, someone who saw him as more than his rich-red history. Then again, Stefan's had been almost as bloody; he'd accomplished a name in fifty years that had taken Klaus a good century and some change to perfect; he hadn't had anyone to keep him in check, whereas Klaus had had not only a brother but a sister who still loved him and wished to hold on to their human goodness.

Perhaps that night with Elena was the wake-up call they needed -that they both needed- to help him get back to himself, the hero that everyone adored; Stefan was not made to play the Big Bad for long, his conscience wouldn't allow it. Neither would his supply of hair gell.

Circumventing his question, the elder Salvatore narrowed his eyes, arms spread out over the back of the couch as he demanded petulantly, "What do you need us for?" He stabbed a finger in their general direction before gesticulating it over the four Originals, Elena, and Bonnie and Caroline. "Your dance troop entourage back there should have enough juice to take out one lousy witch."

"But she'll be expecting a direct attack from us," Elijah stepped in smoothly, ever the mighty strategist -even though Elena was the one who deserved the credit for this particular scheme. She was a mastermind after his own heart. "What better asset than those she'd never expect, those who hate her children and want them gone almost as much as she does."

Damon rolled his eyes, the clink of glass as he poured himself a drink grating accompaniment to his disbelieving scoff. "I wouldn't bet on it."

Gracefully, Elena rose from her chair, coming to sit on the table in front of him, forcing the vampire to meet her gaze. "Damon, be reasonable. Do you really want to die just because Esther Mikaelson wants you to, because she can't face what she did a thousand years ago? Don't they deserve a chance to be happy, to be a family? To mend everything that broke, just like you and Stefan have been able to do? Do you really think anyone deserves to die at the hands of a parent, the one person they loved, and trusted to love them in return, no matter what? Can't you put yourself in their shoes and see how heartbreaking this must be for them?" she pleaded, soft and warm and persuasive, taking his hand in hers, doe eyes out in full force, shining like headlights in the night, earnest and so trusting, urging him to see sense, to make the right decision. "You of all people should know how much a mother's love means; I know I do."

Oh, she was good. So very, very good. She was making him see what he wanted to see, this ever-kind, ever-needing girl who wanted him to be better, who saw the good in him and found him worthy, who wanted him to life and be happy, telling him with the pressure of her fingers and the bob of her lashes, 'This is the right thing, Damon, this is what you should do, you should help us,' her own form of compulsion, fuelled not by magic but by something far more pure: love, and hope. She wanted to save them, wanted to save everyone, and would break herself to ensure it, a martyr to her morals, and would do whatever it took to make sure of it.

To anyone else, this would have looked like a rare, genuine moment between the two. But Klaus could see the stiffness in her shoulders, hear the way her heart rate had sped up since she'd gained proximity to him, her mouth tight with the effort of her smile as she put on her performance. She could have changed her clothes after her tea with Esther, could have picked something else, gone with a very different image, but Elena had known for a very long time that Stefan and Damon had never loved all of her, had picked and perused the many facets of her personality and only accepted, wanted, what they liked, wanted. The sweet girl next door who always saw the good in them, who was generous to anyone and everyone who crossed her path, who handed out forgiveness like a mother handing out cookies at a PTA meeting, dusted in hope and sprinkled with redemption.

That was not the kind of love she deserved, though: no one deserves to be loved like that. It certainly wasn't how Klaus loved her. He saw all of who she was, the parts of herself she tucked away and those she held on full display, and treasured every single one of them, even if she didn't herself, because they were all her. Just as she saw him for all of who he was, and had accepted it without horror or protest.

Damon snatched his hand back, but it was a slow gesture, a pretext all of it's own: everyone wanted to be loved, most of all the broken ones, and it was no secret that he had always loved her, had trailed behind her and Stefan (and Stefan's back) for scraps of her affection; Klaus had learnt of it even before he ever laid eyes on either of them, internally amused at history's deep desire for repetition. "Say we help you," Damon entertained, swirling the ice on his glass in deliberate circles, the epitome of the Lord of the Manor -i.e. wasting everyone else's valuable time. "What do we get in return?"

"Your head staying attached to your spine?" Klaus supplied, fangs snapping, veins crawling across his cheeks like tendrils of night. He was really going to play games, with them? Even when his own life, and that of his brother's, was on the line? Was he really that stupid, or was it arrogance that drove him, jealousy over the fact that Elena had sided with the Mikaelsons and abandoned their little trio, had finally had enough of being pulled between them like a bloody chew toy and found someone who would not only always put her first, but respect her choices and how she wanted to do things after living a life not of his own choosing, and knowing the scars such an existence could leave?

"Nik," Elena reprimanded him, head whipping around to give him a sharply-pointed glare. He merely shrugged his shoulders, claiming her unoccupied chair, fingers templed under his chin and a leg casually folded over the other. "What? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

Her mouth twitched, ever so slightly, the only sign of her amusement she'd let show -it was adorable how committed she was to being professional- as she answered honestly, benevolently, "What do you suggest?"

Damon bypassed Elena completely, the full might of his stare on Klaus. "You leave Elena alone," he said, holding up a hand when Stefan made a murmur of protest. "You don't call her, you don't talk to her, you definitely don't take any blood from her for your freaky hybrid army...and we'll make sure you and your psycho family stay alive, if only out of our own self-interest."

He didn't need to think about it. Didn't need to pause or weigh his options, Klaus just opened his mouth and spat out the truth like a knocked-loose tooth, blood and root and all, "I'd rather die."

Damon grinned, twisted and sardonic and gloating. "Then I'll guess you'll get your wish in a few hours. Bet that'll be a fun conversation in hell: sorry I let you die, I was hung up on a girl, who wants to roast some s'mores around a bubbling lava pit?"

"Damon, you can't ask her to do that! Their relationship has nothing to do with you!" Caroline yelled, crossing the room in a flash, pushing Elena behind her, protecting her. Klaus admired the effort, leaning back in his chair, content to watch. Waiting.

"She's right, Damon," Bonnie chimed in angrily, the pressure of the room dropping, her emotions bleeding out onto their surroundings. "We might not like it, might not understand it, but if she's happy, then it shouldn't and doesn't matter. Are you really so self-absorbed that you'd make sure Klaus and his family, and yours, died, all so he couldn't be with her?"

"The Bennett Witch is right." A raised eyebrow,a grateful nod; it was a rare moment when Rebekah Mikaelson agreed with anyone, let alone someone she had previously been so vehemently opposed to, if only by association. "I might have been in a coffin for ninety years, but that is no way to treat someone you care about, in any time. You're a possessive caveman, and I can't believe I slept with you last night."

Caroline's cornflower eyes went comically wide. "You slept with Damon?"

With as much reluctance as a thousand years old vampire could manage, Rebekah reiterated, "As I said, a lapse in judgement."

"I think we're getting a little sidetracked, there is a pressing matter at-"

"Elijah's right," Elena said, effectively silencing the mounting chatter, parting the waters of their escalating argument like Moses could have only ever dreamed of. "This is no time for arguing. Damon, Klaus will agree to your terms in exchange for your help."

And there it was.

And there he caved. "Cool! Jumping up from the couch, Damon poured himself another drink, carelessly dripping liquor on the carpet like blood. "Then let's get this creepy teamwork party started."

But Klaus didn't want to stay for the show. Instead, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was standing on the roof, the entirety of Mystic Falls stretching out below him, woods and building and shops and people, all utterly oblivious to his current plight. Taking a seat, his lungs pulled in an unnecessary, ragged breath, his head swimming although he hadn't been afraid of heights in a long, long time.

Elena has agreed. Elena had agreed, just like that, for him, because she knew he would never say so himself. Yet again, she thought her heart was worth less than protecting the people around her, that what she wanted was inconsequential up against the pressure and responsibility of making sure everyone came out unscathed. Klaus knew it was the only way...but it still hurt. To not have her fight it, fight them. To give in so easily to their demands, as she probably had a hundred times before, in ways big and small. She'd played them all expertly, but it appeared that he was the biggest fool to think that maybe, just maybe, she might put herself and what they had, this bright and amazing and wondrous and intoxicating and challenging but so gods-damned worth it thing, first.

Because in that moment, Klaus knew he'd rather die today, knowing he had her, than love for another decade, another century, another millennium, without her snd they light she had so unexpectedly brought into his life, the home and warmth and acceptance he'd found in her arms.

Distantly, the hybrid heard a window open, creaking like a world-weary back, a heavy sigh, the sound of someone taking off their heels and shimmying up onto the roof, a pale arm grasping for support as they hauled themselves off, dusting pollen off the hem of their skirts, cascading to the ground like specks of gold. Walking barefoot across the sun-warmed shingles to stand in front of him, haloed in a haze of twilight amethyst, they didn't say a word, didn't need to.

Klaus looked up, eyes the tragic blue of a defeated, broken hero at the final act, who had been so sure and yet had lost it all, as he rasped hollowly, every letter aching with a near unbearable anguish, "Elena..."

"If there's no other way, there's no other way," his love began without preamble, taking a careful seat beside him, her head falling naturally against his shoulder, the key to his lock, the last piece of the puzzle that was his once black and bitter heart, the one that now beat only because of her, for her, "You know that if it comes down between me and you...I will choose you, always and forever." It felt oddly surreal, to hear his sacred family motto falling from her lips, how the weight of settled between them, around them, cocooning them in the warmth of her promise, her devotion. To him. It still didn't make sense: this, her, them. He'd been so, so wicked, had committed almost every sin under the sun and then created a few more, just for hell of it, his hands were so red with innocent blood it was a wonder they didn't glow in the dark like those stick-on stars children were so fond of putting up in their ceilings, a warning to all who saw to stay far, far away from Klaus Mikaelson, lest your lifeblood be added to the tide.

And she...she was everything he was not. Brave where he was selfish. Kind where he was cruel. Gentle where he was impatient. Holy where he was damned. Klaus did not consider her a prize, or his redemption, something he could only earn if and when he changed his ways...but he still had to wonder. Why fate would pair her with such a monster. Why, with a slew of men who would break themselves just in the hopes of seeing her smile, it was he she chose to bestow them open so voluntarily, who she had just defended in a room of her closets companions.

His family had been like her, once upon a time. He had been like her: innocent. And with that knowledge came a fear, newborn but undeniable, inescapable, that the world -or, worse yet, he-would take that last thing from her, that thing she tried so hard to cling to, her decency and civility. If his darkness was a stain, a transmutable entity, corrupting her the more time she spent with him. While Klaus knew the strengths and depths of her goodness...not everything lasted forever, and his demons had such sharp and hungry claws. Maybe what Damon had suggested was the right thing to do. Maybe it really was better if he let her go, let her live a normal life, love a normal man, grow old and have children and everything her previous doppelgängers never got to have, had been deprived of because of him, and his family.

With shaking hands, she hooked a finger under his chin, turning his face, directing him to meet her wildfire gaze, leaving his protests as nothing but ash. She didn't have to; he couldn't keep his eyes off her if he tried, if he wanted to. "I won't be the reason you lose everything."

The words camed, unbidden, sneaking in like a thief in the night, robbing him if his senses and all previous thoughts as he cupped her face in turn and declared boldly, "You are my everything."

Immediately, she pulled away, folded in on herself, arms banding around her waist as if she needed to protect herself from this truth, his truth. "Klaus, you know that's not true," she insisted, voice carrying to him on the dying wide, jaw fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, beautiful and desperate for freedom. "You daggered your siblings to protect them and carted their coffins around for centuries; your family is your heart."

"Yes, once," he agreed swiftly, "but not anymore."

Elena shook her head, glossy curls spraying about her face in a shower of hazel. "You don't have to say that," she murmured, backing further away from him, lone tear sliding down her cheek hitting him like a (wooden) bullet to the chest. "Don't say it if it's not true."

"But it is! Elena, Elena!"

She was on her feet, so very close to the edge now, and Klaus felt like he himself was dangling from a precipice, clinging to a ledge of which there was no return from. Once he said this, there'd be no going back, no way to undo it. It would be out there in the world, forever, and she would always know that he had lain himself at her feet, that she had brought him to his knees, that she had indeed breached the castle walls and that she had bewitched the monster lurking inside, had made him fall for her with her broken smile and her lips of cherry wine.

"Elena Marie Gilbert, I love you."

Love.

Love.

He loved her. He did. It was such a small word, not nearly big enough for what he felt, but the truth of it rang through him like a bell, like a call home on a dark night, like he had not truly broken his curse until he confessed to her the very depth of his heart, his soul.

She stopped, turned. She was like a ghost, an apparition, and yet he'd never felt anything more solid as she walked towards him, as she put a hand over where his heart was, as she gripped his chin and looked right at him, in him, examining for any traces of a lie, of deceit. "You do?" She'd find none.

Klaus nodded, almost on the verge of tears himself as he replied, "More than I ever thought I could love anything, more than I probably should. More than my heart can sometimes take."

"I-"

Saving her the trouble of coming up with a reply -or breaking his heart and rejecting him, although it would be the most sensible cause of action, and Elena's intellectual capacity was nearly as deep as the passionate depths of her heart, and really, how could he ever expect her to love him, to need him as much as he needed her, to long for her and her goodness and the light she brought out in him when he could do none of those things for her- Klaus brought her in for a kiss, long and soft and lingering. "There's no need to say anything, sweetheart," he assured her against her parted lips. "It was a rhetorical exclamation, if anything. I just wanted, needed, for you to know, in case things don't go our way tonight."

She smiled, and it made his whole chest spark, and his mouth was inches from hers again when he heard Rebekah holler, "Nik! Elena! Get your arses back in here! We think we've got a plan."

"Is it a good one?" Elena called, eyebrow arched with deep-rooted suspicion. Klaus chuckled, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

He could almost hear his sister shaking her head. "Not at all."

A sigh left her lips, warming the air between them. "So, no different from usual, then."

Klaus held up his hands, walking backwards along the length of the roof, darkness fully upon them now. "Your words, not mine, my love."

Reaching out, Elena pulled him in by the tangle of necklaces by his throat, voice powerful and assured, projecting a confidence even he himself didn't feel. "It'll just have to do. Cause I want to hear you say that again, and again, and again."

Inclining his head, Klaus kissed her once more. "As my queen wishes."

As the nine of them began putting their plan into motion, splintering off into various groups to go about their tasks, Elena felt incredibly removed from it all, like she was observing everything through a warped pane of glass.

Love.

Love.

Klaus loved her. Was in love with her.

And he hadn't let her say it back. She would have, would have told him in a heartbeat, and the admission itched at her throat, as if she'd swallowed a million cotton balls, had had too much cotton candy at a carnival, leaving her mouth sticky and dry. This might not work. He might die tonight. He might die not knowing she felt the exact same way. That, against every instinct, every rational reason alive, she'd been swept away by him since that very first night, that he'd been able to give her something to hold on to, a life raft in the storm of her life, had made her feel like a human being who mattered, despite seeing her as nothing but a human blood bad before then, a pernicious obstacle always thwarting his grand plans, ruining his partner in crime with her love, the doppelgänger that just didn't seem to stay dead, no matter how many times it came calling for her.

Waving to Rebekah and Caroline as she got out of the car, Elena vowed that she'd tell him, tonight. Before everything happened, she'd make sure that she told him, that he knew that he was loved.

Slotting her keys in the door, she went up to her room to finally get out of her pink monstrosity of a dress -although it had served its purpose twice over now- flinging it into the laundry basket with unnecessary vigor, watching as it missed it by a good foot, fluttering to the floor like a petal-pink flag of defeat. Awesome.

After a shower and putting on her usual winter wardrobe of jeans and sweater ans boots, Elena felt much more like herself. Untangling her rose necklace from the collar of her sweater, she was in the process of reaching for her phone to update Ric on what was going on when she heard a knock at the door.

Her heart stopped. Stopped, and restarted, jackhammering against her ribs like it could hide somewhere while the rest of her was brutally torn apart. Because no one knocked, not ever. Klaus would have just walked in, Caroline would have texted and Bonnie was on her way to the old witch house. Every other vampire in her life had an invitation. All, except...

Finn.

An amalgamation of adrenaline and panic flooded her system, making everything around her spin. Think, think, think. She couldn't tip him off, couldn't let him catch even the vaguest hint of what they were doing, what they had planned.

Another knock, another year off her life with the stress boiling in her gut like roadside tar.

He was here for her. He was here to take her; it was obvious.

Esther hadn't believed her, or she'd had her own suspicions beforehand and was using her as a bargaining chip, leverage against Klaus, the one who, given his hybrid status, posed the biggest threat to her.

"Come along, Miss Gilbert. My mother doesn't like to be kept waiting."

So she went? Because what other choice did she have?

Whenever she walked to her death, she always had to be escorted by a Mikaelson; it was the rules, and she could do nothing but follow them and hope for the best.

The clock on Klaus' phone ticked closer towards nine o'clock, the eerie white-blue light filling the car, bouncing off their carbon-copy expressions of apprehension and regret, each second an excruciating eternity, counting down to the possible end of theirs. Silence prevailed, the four Mikaelson siblings unable to form a single word. What was there to say? What words existed out there in the cosmos of creation that could possibly make any of this better, take away any of this pain? Platitudes and promised would not work on them, they never had. All their lives, they'd always known better than to lie to each other, even at the expense of sparing the other's feelings; life was not made to be sugar-coated, a frosted sugar-spun confection that looked good on a plate but would crumble if you so much as breathed on it. Since the night their mother cursed him, since Klaus looked into her eyes and saw only seething hatred, a glisten of vengeance rather than that of tears, Esther Mikaelson had been dead to him, had become a stranger he no longer recognized despite sharing so many of her features, her blood.

He would not be who he was without her, and not just because she'd given birth to him, raised him. She had been the one to set him on this path, all those centuries ago, had hid her indiscretions from Mikael rather than telling her husband the truth. Perhaps if she had, things might havs been different. Mikael never would have accepted him, loved him, of that there was no doubt, but maybe his other father might have. Perhaps he would have grown to be a different man, a better man, had he not been consumed by his burning hatred of the man he'd called father, yet who had never cared for him as a son.

There was nothing to be done about it now, of course...but Klaus still wondered. It was hard not to, after hundreds upon hundreds of sleepless nights, of looking up at the stars and wondering if his heart, his soul, would ever know true peace, if the waters of his anger would ever lie still, if there was still a man behind the myth, how he could look back on the events of his life and wonder what tiny alterations could have made such a drastic difference, what was and what should never be. They never should have lived this long, any of them. Klaus shouldn't have been able to be a hybrid. He never should have fallen for Elena, a thousand years younger yet a thousand times brighter and better, the vibrant star he'd hold close to his chest, always and forever.

They shouldn't be walking to their deaths tonight, hoping for even more borrowed time than they'd already stolen so greedily. But forever was not a long time, not nearly long enough, not when the world was still so new, and so was love.

Above them, the wind howled in the trees, a melancholy, mournful ballad, whipping about the branches in a violent frenzy, a precursor, a warning of things to come. Eyes skating to the rearview mirror, Klaus locked his gaze on Rebekah, then Kol, back to Elijah, and offered his family what he could. "I'm sorry, sister, brothers. I never thought it would come to this."

Rebekah smiled wanly, cheeks sallow as she fought to hold in her tears. "It's okay, Nik. We have each other; that's all that matters."

Kol smiled, sharpened edges rubbed raw, sanded down by the pain of betrayal. "Always and forever?"

Elijah nodded, then Kol, then Klaus. "Always and forever," the four of them echoed gravely, before getting out of the car, the sound of slamming doors like that of coffins falling shut.

Twigs and fallen leaves crunched under their collective heels as they made their way towards the clearing, feeling the heat of the torches before they saw them, five points of light shimmering in the dark, their light making long, mangled shadows against the denuded trees, surrounding them, cutting them off. The stage was set, all it needed now was the actors to fill it, or more accurately as the case was, the puppets, sacrificial offerings to absolve his mother's guilty conscience.

Why couldn't she just build an orphanage or adopt a rescue dog like everyone else?

Reaching into his jacket, Klaus checked his phone, one last time, heart sinking when the screen remained dark, reflecting the silvery sphere of the waxing moon overhead. Still nothing from Elena. It worried him. Almost as much as the sight of their mother, standing tall and proud in the nucleus of a pentagram, the torches creating an impenetrable ring around her, detailed with a generous line of salt, head tilted back towards the sky, strawberry-blonde hair reflecting the flames around her -it was still so strange, to see her like this, with the short hair and the dark coat flapping like the wings of some great beast, so at odds with the picture of her he'd carried in his mind, his heart, all these centuries.

Five torches, one for each of them. For the children she planned to murder tonight.

Kol shook his head, taking a step back. 'Boundary spell,' he needlessly mouthed, as if they didn't know what one looked like by now, after a thousand years, after growing up with a witch for a mother. Hands tucked casually into his pockets, it was the youngest brother that spoke first, making their presence known with a typical taunt. "Where's Finn? I thought your little sacrificial lamb would be eager to get in on this ever-so-touching family gathering."

Expression like marble, cold as a corpse, Esther seemed unaffected by the four of them, making no attempts to hide her machinations. Good; the time for games was far past. "He has been otherwise occupied, collecting a very special item for me," she supplied vaguely, eyes hardening as she gave her wiley fox a piercing look. "And you'd do better than to speak of him with such disrespect, Kol; your brother knows virtue of which you could never imagine, is making a noble sacrifice for the good of nature, maintaining the balance."

"Is that what you're calling it? That is your excuse for killing your own children, committing such a vile atrocity, all out of preserving your precious balance?" Elijah shook his head, disgust dripping from every line of his body, the impenetrable wall of his emotions laying in broken shards in his eyes. "Niklaus was right to end you as he did."

"No, Elijah, it is I who should have ended you a thousand years ago. I never should have upset the balance, but I have learnt from my mistake, and tonight I shall set you all free."

He heard it before he saw it. They all did, zeroing in on the sound, the only human heartbeat in the vicinity. Steady, strong, enraged, but trying to keep calm.

Like they'd been in this situation before. Like getting kidnapped was just a regular Tuesday. Like everyone in the supernatural world wanted her, the ultimate bargaining chip, the winning spread of any card game, Queen of the deck.

That sound, that heartbeat that he now knew better than his own, that had once irked him but now was the sweetest kind of music...it almost sent Klaus to his knees, his name dying in her throat, a ragged gasp, a plea.

No, no, no. Not... "Ah, and there he is now. Finn, why don't you bring over our special guest? She deserves to have a front row seat to tonight's offering; her blood made this all possible, after all."

Face flickering menacingly in the torchlight, Finn hauled his beloved Elena inside of the circle, where none of them could reach her, pushing her roughly to her knees. Bound and gagged as she was, she landed awkwardly, unable to brace herself as her cheek connected with the dirt, the rest of her body following. She didn't cry out, didn't make a single noise, but her eyes connected with his, and the fear in them...

Klaus saw red.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, hauling her upright, Esther brushed her fingers across Elena's face, a mocking caress, digits coming away wet with his love's tears. "Such a pretty, pretty face," she crooned, and in that moment there was nothing human in her, not a single speck of that mother he had once adored, who had made him feel so special, who had given him a necklace and told him that she would always be with him, would always come for him, no matter what. "And such a pretty liar. Did you really think you could fool me?" Esther cried, backhanding her across the face, a gruesome parody of Klaus' own actions on Senior Prank Night, and now he knew the agony Stefan must have felt, seeing the woman he loved being hurt, being helpless to stop it. God, how had he not killed him in that moment, hybrid or not? How had he withstood that kind of volcanic, corrosive rage? "That I would fall for your silly little act? You underestimated me, Elena, to your own peril."

Scrunching her lower jaw, Elena was able to get the gag out of her mouth, inching it down so that it hung like a noose around her neck, a necklace of tattered handkerchief. Lips curving in a vicious snarl, Elena spat at her, saliva dripping down his mother's porcelain-pale cheek like a tear. "Rot in hell, you bitch."

Esther tutted, flinging Elena to the dirt once more, circling her in predatory circles. "Such language from one so young, it's very unbecoming." His mother raised her head, gaze on him now. "Isn't that right, Niklaus?"

"I will kill you," he vowed, not caring when Rebekah flinched, when Elijah looked away, when Kol grinned as if his declaration where the world's most amusing joke; he meant it. "I will take my time, make it slow, make it agonizing. You will beg for death. But I won't allow it. I'll cut you open in ways you couldn't imagine, will flay you until you bleed, I will laugh as you beg for my mercy..."

Flicking her hand, the Original Witch brought him to his knees, pain exploding through his head, expression bored like a teenage trying to find something to watch on Saturday night TV. "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before from you, my son. You and your idle threats. I am your mother: you cannot kill me. Mikael, yes, but me...I was the one that raised you, that loved you, I protected you from his rages and his fists whenever I could, tried to better shape you into a boy he could love...my efforts were for nought, however; he never could have loved you, he senses the darkness in you long before I ever did. I was blinded, blinded by my love for you, and your true father, Ansel. How he would weep, to see you like this."

Every breath was agony, every twitch of his muscles sending torrents of fire through his veins. Moving his head was impossible; Klaus did it anyway, he wanted, needed to look her in the eye as he said, "Elijah raised me with more love and compassion than you ever did. While your love waxed and waned, his was a constant, for over a thousand years. He raised all of us when you were too busy locked in your workroom with your spells and your secrets. You may be the author of everything I am, mother dearest, but Elijah was the one that believed i could change my narrative, that there was still goodness inside me, inside all of us, that none of us were behind saving. Unlike you."

Esther smiled, a wicked slice in the dark. "How touching. Now, shall we get on?"

"No." It was Rebekah who stepped forwards, tears streaming down her cheeks, hitting the forest floor with an audible splash, as if the whole woods around them amplified her grief, felt it, too. "No, please, don't. Mother, it's us, you're children. We love you."

"As I you. But this must be done, Bekah. Now please, be quiet; you're distracting me," she chastised her, before sending her to her knees as well.

Finn shook his head, a glint of a knife in his hands. "Mother, please, there's no need for that. You said you wouldn't hurt them."

Kol chuckled, a disbelieving, bitter thing. "Oh, so it's alright to kill us, but a little boo-boo is unacceptable to you? That's rich. Stupid and hypocritical: two of your most discerning traits, Finny."

Finny. None of them had called him that since they were children, it had always wound him up, he'd always considered it a sign of disrespect.

It seemed time had but changed that.

"I am doing what is right!" Finn cried, chests heaving with unnecessary breaths, someone else's words spoken with his voice, the voice of a zealot, manipulated and warped to be what Esther needed him to be. "We are a curse, brothers, sister! We must be stopped before more people die because of us. We were never supposed to be in the first place. In death, we shall all find peace."

"Is that what you think?" Getting woozily to her feet, Elena stared the eldest Mikaelson sibling down, daring and defiant and so very, very brave, and Klaus had never loved anything more than the sight of her, blazing with her own righteous fire, raining down a hailstorm of truth, piercing the veil of his ideology and despairing conscience. "Take it from someone who's actually died; death is no picnic. It's hard, and messy, and it's a fight. But so is life. No one wants to die. No one wants to look back on their life and have regrets, experiences they missed out, things they never said." Her eyes latched onto Klaus', as if she were trying to say something to him, communicate something with the force of her stare, but what, he wasn't sure. He held it anyway, like he'd held her every time she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

"I know that being a vampire is hard, that it's a life you never wanted. I know that being in that coffin for all those centuries must have been unbearable, right? To feel like you were forgotten, that you were unloved? That after everything you and your siblings went through, they left you, their eldest brother, who was supposed to protect them, so you feel responsible. Am I right?"

Finn nodded.

"And that's okay. That feeling will never go away. You hate them so much only because you loved them so dearly, and always will. But this isn't just about them, Finn, this is about you, what you want. So, I'll ask you this: do you want to die tonight? Do you want to, after nine centuries in a coffin, finally wake up only for it to be all over in a matter of days? Isn't there anything, not even a single thing, that makes you want to stay alive?"

"Finn, my boy, don't listen to her," Esther warned, pulling him back from the circle, tone frenzied and desperate. "She's a Petrova; you know their ways."

Elena shrugged, an elegant move despite her bonds. "Everything I've said is the truth, it's all sage advice I'd want someone to give me if I was in the same situation."

Sage.

How the hell did she...

"And it will be the last words you ever speak," his mother insisted, taking the dagger from Finn's outstretched hand. "I don't like the idea of having you around much, another doppelgänger being born to meddle in the affairs of nature in the future. You are as much a blight on this world as my children. It seems only fitting for you to die as well, an end to the Mikaelson dynasty, once and for all," she said, and began to chant.

Last summer, before everything happened -everything being vampires and werewolves and witches and doppelgängers and impossibility she had never fathomed- Elena had tried out to be a lifeguard. She didn't pass, the job went to Bonnie instead, because she'd applied months before, before her parents died, before she hated anything to do with water, but she still remembered all the breathing techniques she and Bonnie had gone through, ways to stay calm, to hold their breath. And as the flames grew higher, as Esther's changing intensified, Elena cycles through them as her panic spiralled, as seconds passed with her connection to the Bennett line remained intact.

What the hell were Stefan and Damon doing, playing 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'?

She was running out of time. They all were. Her gamble with Finn hadn't worked. It had been a long shot, but still...

Elena trampled through the borders of the woods, Rebekah walking along beside her, the silence easy now that everything was out in the open. Unexpectedly, she turned to her, blue eyes open like a still spring lake, reflecting nothing back but clouds and endless waves. "*Love has never come easy to those of the Mikaelson family. Being what we are, Original vampires with short fuses and long memories, we build enemies quicker than it takes for you humans to build condominiums. With Elijah, there was Tatia, Celeste, and Aya, and Katerina of course -I don't need to tell you how that story ended. Finn loved only woman, Sage, who was also the only vampire he ever turned. He was besotted with her, utterly enchanted, and she the same in turn. She hated us vehemently, by the way, just in case you ever happen to run into her."

"Because you've kept him daggered for nine hundred years?"

Rebekah smiled appreciatively. "You catch on quick. That will serve you well. Nik had Aurora-"

"I know, he told me all about her-"

"He did? Christ, he must be gone on you, and then there's little ole me and my tragic string of paramours, each a tiny firefly in my otherwise dark and dreary existence..."

If this was it, if Elena really was going to die, she didn't have any regrets, except one. Luckily, it was in her power to fix. Inching across the circle, Elena got as close as she could, cheek pressed right up against the barrier, feeling the sizzle of magic on her cheek, heedless of the flames around her, tremors raking her body like earthquakes as she whispered, "Klaus."

He didn't say anything. He was arguing with Elijah, gesturing to the dilapidated house behind them, face contorted in a snarl...

"Nik. Nik."

That got his attention.

In a flash, he was before her, kneeling like a repentant knight, broken sword in his hand, nothing to give now that everything had been taken.

"Sweetheart..."

"It's okay," she promised him, fingers stretching towards him like vines searching for sunlight, desperate to feel the warmth, his warmth, once last time. "It's okay, Nik. It's not your fault. We tried, okay? We tried and it didn't work. It's not important now. What is important is what I need to say to you, before it's too late."

Elena wished she could take his hand, touch his face, feel his heart beat under her palm and count the flecks in his heartbreak-blue eyes as she sobbed, "I love you. I love you, Niklaus Mikaelson, and I can't die without you knowing it, without you knowing how I feel. That no matter what, no matter what she thinks of you, I think you're worth something, I think you're worth everything. You are worth all of this. And I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry that we had to end like this, that we had such little time together, but I loved every minute of it, and I'd do it all again, even if we ended up like this again, I'd still do it, I'd still choose you, I'd still love you, and I will, I will love you always and-"

The words died in her throat. Died, fell to the ground, crushed by the weight of someone pulling her up, gripping her, and she couldn't think, couldn't breath over Esther's chanting, the heat of the flames, suffocating her, and the screaming, so much screaming, she'd never heard anyone make a sound like that, like they were being torn apart, eviscerated, at an atomic level.

It was all screaming and screaming and her name and her love and his blue eyes as Finn raised his hand, blade shining high, cresting like a wave, falling like a comet, down, down, down, all the way into Elena's chest.

Klaus' vocal chords gave out long before the knife hit home. They healed instantly. He did not. He almost didn't notice when Esther stopped her chanting, when her screams replaced his own, echoing with a primordial wrath that shook the very earth beneath them.

He didn't care. Didn't care that the Salvatores had held up their end of the deal, that they'd broken the link to the Bennett line, he only cared about Elena, bleeding out, the sound of her heartbeat slow, slow, impossibly slow, too slow.

Klaus didn't look up when Finn pulled his mother back and disappeared into the trees, didn't blink when Rebekah put her arms around him, cradling him, tears on her own face. Didn't make a sound when Elijah tried the barrier but found it remained intact. His gaze only flickered when Kol disappeared and returned seconds later with a crying Bonnie Bennett, obviously grieving the loss of her mother. He wanted to tell her to get over it, that at least her mother would come back, that she knew she'd be okay, when Elena was dying and he couldn't reach her, hadn't been able to hold her, kiss her, and she'd told him that she loved him, the first person to do so in over a thousand years, in all his life that had ever mattered, and now her lifeblood was spilling out onto, into, the same land that had tasted his blood ten centuries ago, a growing pool of crimson he couldn't stop looking at, even as Bonnie dropped to her knees beside him and worked her magic...

Elena, Elena, Elena. Love, love, love. Blood, blood, blood. Broken, broken, broken.

His fault, his fault, it was always his fault...

Gasping, Bonnie tipped forward, a steady stream of blood dripping from her nose, mingling with the collection splattering the forest floor as she choked out a harsh, "It's down."

Faster than light, faster than thought, Klaus was beside the doppelgänger's body, teeth tearing into his wrist, cradling her to his chest as tipped back her head, parting her lips, every second a long-suspended agony as he waited for her eyes to open, her heart to beat, her face to break out in that wondrous smile that never ceased to amaze him, knowing it was for him.

Nothing happened.

Nothing.

There was too much blood, staining her coat a deep purple-black, sticking the ends of her hair like the bristles of a paintbrush, carelessly maintained, oversaturated with too much paint, too much blood...

"Where the hell is Elena? Is she okay?"

Over the body of Elena, Klaus' eyes, a lupine, predatory gold, shone darkly into those of his eldest brother. "Get him out of here."

And so he did, taking the Salvatores and leading them back into the house, murmuring to them quietly, explaining the situation, the fact that the woman they both loved so dearly was dead, and there was nothing they could do.

They'd give up, but Klaus wouldn't.

Interlacing his fingers, he put them to her chest, pumping away, willing her heart to start beating. He was Klaus Mikaelson, fearsome hybrid, loathed brother, hated monster. He was the phantom in the dark, the shadow that quickened people's step, made the hairs along their neck stand on edge, knowing they were being watched but not knowing who or why or how, he'd survived battles and brutes and brothers and betrayals and lost almost every single part of himself that mattered, looked in the mirror and saw only the ghosts of everyone and everything that had gotten in his way, that he'd dealt with so horrifically.

He was not a good man, or even a man at all, but he was going to be damned if he wasn't the one to save Elena Gilbert's life.

He couldn't live with any other alternative.

Life was not kind, only cruel, Klaus had wanted to tell her that night. But he'd have been wrong, so very wrong, because Elena had reached out her hand to him, had trusted and loved him when he could not love himself, had seen goodness in him that he had not know or ever hoped still existed, and he was far too selfish to ever let her go after hearing her say she loved him only once.

Ten, twenty, thirty. His mouth on hers, breathing into her lungs, his tears coating her face, his sobs breaking his own chest, but he didn't stop, couldn't stop...

And there it was. One, two, three, beat. Chest rising and falling, eyelids fluttering, surging upwards as she coughed, struggling to breath.

And for the second time that day, Klaus cried like he had not done in over a thousand years.

Weakly, Elena's hand rose up, gingerly cupping his cheek, shaking like a leaf but she was there, she was alright. "Hey, sweetheart. You alright?"

Klaus chuckled thinly, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks, biting into his other wrist. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

Elena shrugged, taking his arm without protest. "I like to be contrary."

"I'll have to change your name to Mary, then."

She grinned around a mouthful of his blood. "I don't like silver bells, and I'm not much for the pretty maid thing, either."

"You two are so bloody weird."

Glancing up, Elena caught Rebekah's gaze, a tired smile gracing her face as she acknowledged her with a soft, "Maybe. Or maybe I just get him like no one else does."

Sweeping her up into his arms, sweeping a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her hands twining around his neck, feeling like he could finally breath, was finally home, Klaus couldn't help but agree.

Dressed in one of Nik's charcoal-grey t-shirts, all traces of blood and mud erased by a heavenly warm shower, back propped up by a mountain of pillows, Elena stared down at her phone, re-reading Bonnie's text over and over until her eyes blurred painfully.

Elena, I'm glad you're okay. I know what we did today was to save you, and I know you've been through a lot...but so have I. My mom's in transition, and I need to be there for her, and let's face it, you don't need me, you have a whole family of Mikaelsons who adore you, pretty much. I'm all my mom has. Caroline's gonna be helping me get her settled. Please, I know you'll want to fix this, apologize, and I know you mean well...but the best thing you can do for me is just stay away, okay? I need time.

I love you, and I'm sorry. Watch your back.

The words settled within her, each one a stone through the fragile glass house of her mental state. Even as she was saying how much she cared, Bonnie still had to throw in a dig about the Mikaelsons. She knew that Sheila had told her to always be wary of vampires but...they'd saved both their lives. They very well could have chosen Bonnie over Abby, not that Elena would have ever stood for that of course, yet the fact remained that they were both safe, and breathing, and Bonnie hadn't been used for a spell that very well might have killed her.

At least her mom got to come back. It was a horrible, selfish thought but...Elena had no one, not one single parent left, especially now that Ric hadn't even returned any of her calls, not even when she told him about Finn stabbing her under orders from Esther. She held no animosity towards the eldest Mikaelson sibling, no desire for revenge or reparations; he loved his mother, and that was not a crime. She only hoped that, one day, he'd be able to find his way back to himself, build a life that was solely *his, come out from his mother's monstrous shadow and find out who he wanted to be.

Distantly, she heard the faint strains of conversation, Klaus' full of a bone-deep, weary ache, Elijah's composed but pulled taught, thin, on the verge of breaking. She'd almost had to physically shove him out of the room, so determined was he not to leave her side, possibly for the rest of forever. But Elena had understood that they needed to talk, things that needed to be said, decisions to be made. She had a feeling that Esther's betrayal had affected them all in different ways, ways that may not present themselves until later, riding on the coat-tails of shock and anger.

For so long, Mikael had been the monster to their family, the wicked to their mother's wounded yet nurturing presence. Now to find out that neither parent no longer held any sort of love for them...that was so much to deal with, to absorb, whether you were human or not, ten years old or a thousand. Elena considered herself lucky, in a way, that she had had such love in her life, that her parents had passed, but left behind no shred of doubt that they had loved her. Even after learning she was adopted, that John was her biological father, it had not dampened that love in any way.

And she felt just as strongly about Klaus, simply in a different way. When Damon and Stefan had come out of the witch house, seen her covered in her own blood like she was Haloween-ing as Carrie, looked at the way she clung to Klaus, the way he carried her so close to him, like it was as natural as breathing, how he hadn't even looked up, hadn't taken hus eyes off of her, not for a nanosecond...they'd known. That it was over, what they'd had. The battle for her heart was over, and in the end neither one of them had gotten it. It was for the best; she had never, ever wanted to come between them, it had just...happened. There was bits of them both that she loved, and likely always would...but she loved all of Klaus, and that made all the difference in the world.

What was wrong with that? To her, absolutely nothing. He had killed her aunt, after all; only she could decided if she could forgive him, and she had. She'd forgiven him the moment he took her up to the bathroom not five feet away, had looked after her with such care, like she was precious and important but not breakable, something rare and unique but not fragile. He saw the steel in her eyes not as something to frown upon, but applaud, saw her love for her family and friends not as some martyred death-wish, but a primordial need to protect, to defend, to stand at the door and let no one pass, no matter what, even at the cost of her own life, underlined by a selfish need to shield herself from further grief, further loss.

She just wished she could help Bonnie see that, too, and then merely wished that her friend could trust her, or not make an apology into a dire warning that made her angrier than ever, set her teeth on edge until her jaw pulsed like a second heart, sharp enough to cut.

Hurtling the phone across the room, Elena watched as it bounced off the closed ensuite bathroom door, thudding to the carpet with a tiny crash.

"My, my, it seems someone's in a mood," Rebekah greeted her breezily, setting a cup of tea down on the bedside table, the crystal-cut glass cradled in her other hand filled with a dark liquid that Elena guessed was definitely not chamomile.

"Sorry," Elena murmured contritely, running a frustrated hand through her still damp-hair, pulling at the strands like they could relieve her of some of the tension still strumming through her veins like a live wire, insistent and buzzing and unavoidable, despite the danger having passed. She knew from experience that the adrenaline unceremoniously dumped into her system during and after events like this took a long time to dissipate, as if, even though she knew that she was safe and intact and the love of her life was one half-shout away...she was still scared to let her guard down. And she should be. Esther and Finn had vanished, leaving no trace behind; it wasn't exactly the comforting 'slaying the beast' ending she'd been hoping for. "I just...had a moment of helplessness, is all."

"Bonnie won't talk to you?"

Shaking her head, Elena inched back towards the headboard, making room for the blonde Original. Something flashed in the other woman's eyes -gratitude? Kindness? Sympathy?- as she took a seat, staring deep into her glass with a carefully contemplative look, no doubt weighing the benefits of being open, vulnerable, with Elena, given their dismal history in similar moments. Rebekah didn't want to be betrayed again; Elena had every intention of gaining her trust properly -since she doubted she'd ever really had it in the first place, not in the way she hoped to have moving forward. She was Klaus' sister, and not only that...Elena had felt a kind ship with her, two young woman who had wanted nothing more than to be normal and protect those they loved, only to be forced into things, choices, they never could have dreamed of themselves making.

Besides, if she was really intent on staying in Mystic Falls, then Elena wouldn't want her to do so friendless.

"Friends are awfully complicated, in my experience," Rebekah began, tone slow and measured, melancholic, so at odds with the sneers of disgust and hateful quips she'd previously subjected her to. "Especially when it comes to witches. They always seem to get so easily swept up into all our supernatural drama, and yet they have none of our imperviousness. They also judge more harshly, being brought up the way they are, the preciousness of their gift and maintaining nature's scales of justice or whatever.

"About a hundred years ago, I was friends with a witch, in New Orleans. Her name was Genevieve. We were both nurses, looking after wounded soldiers coming in from the war. That kind of experience, being around so much pain and suffering and death...it bonds you. I also didn't have to hide who I was like I had to do with the other girls; everyone knew who the Mikaelson family were, that we were the rules of the city and had been for over two centuries. She took quite the fancy to Nik, I must say, but after Mikael came in 1919, I never saw her again. I don't even know if she's still alive," Rebekah admitted sadly, shaking her head like she could banish the tangled cobwebs of her memories. "Anyway...Bonnie was your friend long before she knew she was a witch, correct?"

Elena inclined her head, reaching out to take a sip of her tea. "Right. We've been best friends since forever. Her mom was best friends with my mom; we've never lived in a world without each other," the brunette explained, a pang of regret searing her like a solar flare, an influx of guilt pummeling her from all sides. Her best friend's mom, her own mother's closest friend, was a vampire because of *her, could never do magic again because of her, so soon after reconnecting with it and her daughter...

"Her loyalties are being tested, but I'm sure, with time, she'll see that you mean far more to her than any spell or incantation or whatever. Friendship is its own kind of magic."

Shaking her head, Elena snuffed out the kernel of hope the blonde's assurances evoked, revoked them as she argued back, "Even more than her own mother? The one she's been missing for so long, who she's spent the past decade wondering about?"

"But you were there for her; Abby is still a stranger. Family is, after all, more than blood."

"Why did you say it like that?" Elena frowned, leaning forward slightly, careful not to jostle the cup of still-hot tea in her hand.

Rebekah blinked at her innocently. "Like what?" Faux innocence more like.

"Like you're trying to tell me something," Elena accused, albeit lightly, discarding her tea and crossing her arms, pining the Original with her most inquisitive, abrasive stare, as if she could pull the truth out of her like a magician pulling a rabbit out of their hat; through sheer force of will and belief, and knowing when the audience isn't looking.

But Elena wasn't the only one with a few tricks. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Who am say?" She may have looked like a teenager, but those eyes, that mind...they spoke volumes of how old she truly was, how much she'd seen and done and learnt, most of which she'd no doubt shared to few others. Once your guard went up, it was infinitely harder to bring it back down, had a lot in common with the saying, 'It takes a lot less time to fall apart than it does to put yourself back together.'

She might not ever say it, not outright, but still... "Rebekah, if this is your way of giving me your approval, I must say, its pretty unorthodox. And convoluted," Elena added for good measure.

"We Mikaelsons like to play with our words as well as our food," Kol announced dramatically, opening the door and flouncing onto the bed, making himself comfortable -even though he couldn't be, draped over her blanket-covered legs like that.

"Kol! Get the hell out of here!" Rebekah barked, swatting at her brother like he was a bothersome fly, only to have him expertly dodge her attempts, laughing all the while. God, she saw so much if Jeremy in him; she'd been just like that with him. He'd never listened, not when she told him to pick up his toys before their parents got home or to not try and press his luck with an extra slice of cake or an extra ten bucks of pocket money. That teasing, exasperated, 'You annoy me so much sometimes but in truth I wouldn't want you to be any other way.'

She'd missed it. Maybe, now that things were better, she could think about bringing him home, if he wanted. If he'd even want to be around her once he'd learnt the truth, that she'd gotten Damon to compel him, had taken away his choice, just like Bonnie had said on Caroline's birthday...

"Sorry, did I interrupt a girly moment?" He steepled his fingers under his chin, elbows digging into Elena's shins. She let him; the guy deserved some fun after the day he'd had. "Want me to go away so you can braid each other's hair and do facials and you can tell Elena about how dreamy you find that Donovan boy..."

Rebekah knocked him upside the head, jaw clenched murderously tight. "You git! You swore you wouldn't tell!"

"Didn't you two used to date, Elena darling?" Kol inquired mildly, a tell-tale smirking dancing across his lips, clearly aware of the facts already put having too much fun playing with them.

"And you know that how...?" Elena trailed off, promptly answering her own question after a seconds thought: "Caroline." Of course. She just really like him. Elena could see why, with his dark wit and easy charm, the shadow to Care's sunshine. She'd be a good influence on him, and he'd no doubt get the notorious control-freak to lighten up, to live a little like she'd been so eager to do now that she'd acknowledged that her human life was over. Oh, the possibilities for double dates...

"She told me quite the tale of your romantic history, full of twists and turns and-"

"Alright, alright, we get the bloody picture." Rebekah was suddenly quiet, twiddling the glass of blood between her palms in...nervousness? "You don't...mind, do you?"

"Of course not!" Elena insisted, moving Kol off her legs so she could embrace her properly. "Why would I mind? Matt deserves to be happy, and so do you. I think he'd be good for you, help you feel a little more settled, connected here. I know you didn't get the warmest of welcome's and I know this place isn't exactly high up on excitement outside of all our supernatural drama, but it was your home once. I'd like to help you find that again."

"I'd like that. Besides, someone needs to stick around and keep our arse of a brother in check; we all know you certainly won't."

Settling back, Elena let out a laugh, ringing bright with defiance. "Hey, just because we've declared our undying love for each other doesn't mean that I'm afraid to give him a piece of my mind if I think he's wrong or doing something stupid or dangerous or just plain immoral. That's not how we work."

"And I wholeheartedly second that." Leaning in the doorway, taking in the scene with an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs -like he'd just walked in on a perfect moment, like he wanted to paint it, like he wanted his future to look just like this- as Klaus smiled. "Hello, love. My siblings being a nuisance, are they?"

Shaking her head at his antics -there was no way he hadn't been listening in on the entirety of their conversation, even as he conversed with Elijah- Elena defended them fervently, "Perfectly nice, actually."

"Yes, Nik, must you really assume the worst of us?" Kol frowned, the picture of scandalized hurt. Okay, maybe that was a bit much.

"It saves a lot of time and energy better spent elsewhere..." Klaus remarked, gaze snaring on Elena's, endearing her, those gorgeous blue eyes she could never summon enough willpower to look away from, and now never wanted to.

"Gods, you're disgusting. Seriously. Come on, Kol, I need a drink after seeing that," Rebekah declared, hauling her brother up to his feet and exiting the room, his disgruntled voice carrying through the hall..."Just one? I need five, or possibly a whole damn bottle."

It was just the two of them. Just the two of them, once again, in his room, only this time there was no awkwardness, no concealment of how they felt, how much they wanted each other. He was standing right there, and she was right here, and she'd told him two hours ago that she loved him and he hadn't brought it up, yet still he asked her, "How are you?"

"Better, now that you're here," was her sweet reply as she set her cup aside, expecting something equally saccharine from him, but...Klaus raised a brow, clearly unimpressed.

"What?" Elena sputtered indignantly "It's the truth." There wasn't anything to worry about; she was fine, better than fine, even. Yes, she'd had a traumatizing day, but honestly...getting stabbed hadn't been the worst of it. The fear, the worry for him, that had cut her deeper than any blade, damaged her more than any blow ever could. Tissue could heal; her heart could not, would not, without him.

"Very well," Nik relented, taking a seat again the foot of his bed, seemingly strangely ill at ease, fingers drumming absently on his thighs like his hands itched for a paintbrush, an outlet for his emotions, jumbled as they were. "I was...worried, I suppose," he began, eyes not on her but the carpet, flecked here and there with paint like he'd been dripping it and hadn't noticed (or most likely bothered to clean it) "that after tonight, and the last two days in general...that you might change your mind."

Elena sucked in a breath, readying herself for what she was about to say, all she needed to tell him, assure him. "Nik? Nik, look at me." He did. And there was such unshaded vulnerability there, such fear that this was it, she'd had enough, that she was going to abandon him, that she'd deemed him too dangerous or their love not strong enough. As if that would ever happen. Clambering over the bed, she settled in his lap, straddling him, holding onto his face so that he had no chance of looking away as she poured her very heart and soul and spirit out to him, "I love you. I am not going anywhere. Do you really think that some psycho witch with a god complex is enough to scare me off? That getting stabbed is all it would take to make me change my mind about you, about us? To give up on this amazing thing that we have? I'm the doppelgänger; my fate was decided the minute I was born. Dangers always gonna be around the corner, they'll be more people like Esther trying to get my blood or get to you, and all we can do is live our lives in the quiet, in the peaceful in-betweens."

Her lips ghosted against his, once, twice, three times, each one an affirmation, a promise, a plea for him to listen, to take her words as the truth that they were. No, she had no doubts. No, she wouldn't walk away, wouldn't give up. Yes, she knew it likely wouldn't always be like this, that he had a temper and that she could be as stubborn as a boulder in a creek, but that was life, that was love. And all of it was worth it, worth fighting for.

She'd forgotten that, in the months after Stefan left, when the memory of their love faded like a sepia-worn photograph, almost unrecognizable, once beloved features now indiscernible. But Klaus, he brought it all back, with startling clarity. Her fire has been dimming, on the beege of dying out, and with one night, one look, he'd brought it back to life, brought back her. So now, when she saw her face in the mirror, she saw her: the girl who had loved, and lost, and still reached out. Who had bluffed with Originals and tangled with vampires and was still here, still had people she would do anything to protect. All hope was not lost, just misplaced, held in the wrong pair of hands, sequestered in the wrong heart.

All along, it only should have ever been with him, only he saw her for everything she was and everything she could be. And with him, she could be so very, very much.

"Come on, Klaus, have you ever known me to scare so easily?" Elena wondered of him, smoothing a hand through his hair, settling it on his cheek, wanting to reassure him with her touch as well as her words. "To run from a fight when I know something's worth fighting for? That I'd suddenly decided I wanted a normal, apple-pie life after dating a vampire, and a Ripper at that, and everything that happened with Damon? All this stuff is a part of me now, and I can't, and won't, walk away from it. I wouldn't change anything about us, not for anything in the world. This is where I want to be, with you. As long as you want me."

"Forever," he murmured into the heart of her palm. "I want you forever."

"Then forever it is," Elena said, convicted beyond doubt, pressing her lips against his one final time as she tried -and failed- to suppress a yawn.

Prying her off his lap, he twisted her so that she was back under the covers, him resting on top of her, the tip of his nose caressing hers as he urged her, "You should sleep."

Elena shook her head, peppering kisses along the line of his jaw. "I'm not tired."

"Right, says the woman who almost cracked her jaw like an egg with that yawn."

She stilled, stopped. Took a breath. Considered hiding it from him but then decided not to, shw knew he'd understand, and if she didn't she'd just make sure she explained it really, really well..."I-I always have nightmares." She carded her fingers through his hair, letting the motion calm her, drawing strength from his (tantalizingly, temptingly) close proximity. "I never really talk about it with anyone -we seem to just sweep stuff like this under the rug, you know? Move on before the next show starts and we do it all over again, going through the motions that is life in this crazy town of ours- so I usually just tire myself out, doing homework or catching up on things that need doing around the house until I literally can't stand up anymore-"

"There's no need for that," he murmured, one hand gravitating to her waist, the other resting over her heart, eyes impossibly earnest as he asked, "Do you trust me?"

She could have said, 'Of course I do.' Could have said, 'Duh, I wouldn't have been kissing you and sitting in your lap and confessing all my deepest feelings to you if I didn't,' but she knew, instinctively, that wasn't what he needed to hear. What he did need to hear was, "I trust you," and so she did, because she did, trust him. Had trusted him long before she'd loved him, even if it had only been his desire for hybrids, which required her whole and hale.

"Close your eyes, my love."

Elena closed her eyes, melting into the pillows, the heat of him along her front, searing every inch of her, but in a good way, the best way. She felt his hands skating along her neck, reaching behind her head, there and then gone. She leaned into him, feeling utterly safe, as his amused chuckle rasped in her ear, her mind, "Alright, you can look."

She did, and her gasp died in her throat, mainly because she was asleep, and Klaus was in her mind. He'd taken off her necklace, then, and with the amount of blood lost she'd suffered, all the vervain in her system would have gone. Standing in a field of wildflowers, nothing but trees and rolling green hills stretching on forever, Elena tipped her head back, basking in the imaginary sunlight. Glancing down, she noted happily that he hadn't tried to put her in a fancy dress like someone else might have, she was in her usual sweater and jeans, trusty Converse on her feet. Flinging out her arms, Elena caught him to her, almost sending the hybrid tumbling to the grass, kidnapping his laugh with her mouth. "This is incredible. Thank you."

Klaus smiled, the kind that lit up his entire face, setting it aglow like a sunrise, something being born rather than dying. "You're welcome, Elena."

"I love you." She wished she was saying it to his face, in real life, but for now, it was close enough. She'd have time to tell him tomorrow, and the next day, and the next...

"I love you. And I'm in awe of what you did today, how brave you were. I've never seen anything like it. I've never met anyone like you."

It hit home. With her insecurities about Katherine -let alone finding out that there'd been another before that, Tatia, whom both Klaus and Elijah had loved- it meant everything that he saw her for who she was, not who she looked like. Who saw her soul, and wasn't distracted or intimidated by the packaging -in this case, reused thrice over (that she knew of).

"You're pretty Original yourself, Mr Hybrid," Elena teased, giggling when he he spun her around again, grass swaying around them like a round of applause, like an eager audience that got the ending they wanted.

"That was truly terrible. Really."

"Yeah, but you love me for it."

"That I do, Elena Gilbert. That I do."

Content in her field of wildflowers, Elena let her body relax, drifting off to sleep.

Only...she didn't wake up.

He never should have gone back downstairs. Never should have spent the rest of the night arguing with Elijah over their next course of action, over what to do about their mother and eldest brother. If he had, Klaus knew he would have noticed sooner, might have been able to do something...

Because when he tried to wake Elena up in the morning, she didn't stir. She hadn't moved all night, blankets still tucked around her the same way as when he'd kissed her forehead before he left, making sure to tuck her necklace in his pocket so he could give it to her when she woke. She was so, so still. A sheen of sweat darkened her brow, loose strands of hair sticking to her neck like tendrils of deep-sea seaweed, the chestnut brown a stark contrast to her increasingly pale skin, the high flush arching across her cheeks.

He didn't know what to do.

Klaus put a hand to her forehead, swearing at the heat that radiates from her like a miniature furnace. This wasn't an ordinary cold or flu. He knew it in his bones.

He tried calling her name once last time, gripping her hand tighty in his own. "Elena? Elena, sweetheart, it's me. Wake up." Not a blink, not a flutter. Her heartbeat was still there, but irregular, erratic, far too distressed for someone in the midst of sleep, especially with him controlling her dreams as he had been until an hour ago, when he and Elijah had finally called it a night -despite it being six in the morning.

What was wrong with her? Had there been something on that knife when Finn...

There was no time for speculation now. Letting go of Elena, Klaus did what he always did when he was in trouble and didn't know how to get out of it:

"Elijah! I need you!"

His brother was there in an instant, immediately on alert at his brother's panicked tone; Klaus never panicked, never worried when he had the power to change any situation to his desired outcome and had the patience to back it up. "What is it?"

"Elena won't wake up."

Elijah narrowed his eyes, ever so slightly. "Have you tried..."

"Short of upending a bucket of water over her head then yes, I have tried everything, otherwise I wouldn't be calling for you like the house is on bloody fire! Something's, wrong, 'Lijah. I tried to enter her mind but something shut me out." His voice cracked, impossibility small. He once would have thought it pathetic, to be so linked to another person, so dependent on their happiness and well-being for your own. Now, he only saw it as a strength, the strength of his connection to her, the love that had bloomed almost overnight and yet he couldn't be sustained without.

It only meant that Elena was too wonderful to lose.

Elijah frowned, gazing at Elena's still form curiously. "Did you notice this?"

"Notice what?" Klaus snapped, scowling when Elijah took a breath like he was losing his patience, cutting him some slack as he said slowly, "The mark on her neck."

Bending his head, Klaus inspected the area Elijah was alluding to, noticing for the first time a petal-shaped mark on the side of her neck, previously hidden by her hair.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...

Klaus' phone started ringing. He knew who it was before he picked it up. "It wasn't enough to try and kill me and the rest of our family? You had to poison the love of my life as well?"

"A counter measure," Esther Mikaelson replied smoothly, unruffled by the burning-the-world-down fury in her son's voice, "just in case things didn't proceed as I'd planned. There was always the possibility -albeit slim- that you would foil my plans. If that was the case, I intended to make you suffer for it. And, as you said: she is the love of your life. What better way to hurt you than through her? I knew you'd recognize it from when you were a boy -your birth father was the one who collected it for me, he was such a kind and gentle soul...but it's been such a long time since the Merlock orchid grew in that area. I doubt it still exists there. And I may or may not have given her the dose I usually poured out for Mikael...a grown man...twice her age, her weight, her strength..."

"I hate you." It was meant to be the worst thing a child could say to a parent, the ultimate kind of betrayal that was near-on-impossible to take back, and even if you did...it lingered, an after-taste of shame and regret, a line breached.

Klaus was not ashamed. He did not regret it. Not to her, never for her, not after what she'd done to Elena. Not after he'd promised to keep her safe, always and forever...

"I know," Esther replied, a mocking grin evident in her voice, gloating and ghoulish. What kind of parent delighted in breaking their child like this? Killing them was one thing, but dismantling him so irrevocably, taking out his parts like dissecting a watch, knowing how it worked better than almost any other because she'd made it...

"You took everything from me."

"And I'll take her, too. And I will keep on taking until you are dead at my feet, every single one of you, my wretched, wonderful children."

"Would you accept a trade? If I came to you, would you heal her?" He'd do it. He'd do it in a second, less than that-

"Even if you did, there's nothing I can do. Without the root of the Merlock...Elena will be dead by the end of the day, most likely sooner, after being injured as she was. That's why you're so scared, isn't it? She still has your blood in her system; she will die, and come back as a vampire, as one of you. No longer your sweet, brave girl, but a twisted, evil monster. It's almost like I planned it." She adopted awicked, taunting tone goading him, baiting him, belittling him. "Almost like I drugged her tea when she came to see me, then took the knife with her blood on it so I could activate the poison whenever I pleased, even from a million miles away..."

"She's innocent!" Klaus screamed, gripling the phone so hard it almost snapped in two; he knew the feeling, was experiencing it at that very moment, this fraying of himself, sanity pulling away at the seams. "She hasn't done anything wrong, not a single thing in her entire life..."

"Then you should have thought better of falling for her, of allowing yourself a weakness I could so easily exploit," Esther snarled viciously, before changing into a more sympathetic cadence, donning the costume of doting mother, "It's just good strategy, Niklaus, nothing you wouldn't have done."

Klaus shook his head, although if course she wasn't there to witness it. "That is not who I am, not anymore."

"And how long do you think that will last, after she dies? A week, a month? A decade? How long before you're knee-deep in blood, a parade of corpses of innocents all around you, all like your darling lover? I doubt it will be long."

"You know I will hunt you down for this. You know that coming for her means your death-"

Esther cut him off, an insidious swipe of her barbed-wire claws, "Then it shall be worth it, just to see you suffer. You just learn, my son, that nobody crosses me. Nobody makes a fool out of me. I have all the cards, and I shall always win. Give my best to Elijah and the others."

The phone fell from limp fingers, clattering to the floor. He resisted the urge to join it. "Get Bonnie Bennett."

Of course Elijah thought now was the most prudent time to be testing his patience, and his limits. "Niklaus, she won't see any of us-"

"Get her here! Break down the door if you have to!"

Unexpectedly, *his bedroom door blew open like a hurricane, emitting a whirlwind of blonde hair and high-pitched incredulity. "What the bloody hell is going on in here?"

Two words, a noun and a verb, a beginning and an ending, a hope and it's destruction, amd the end of all of Klaus's fleeting happiness, that dragonfly-wing-delicate thing he'd tried so hard to protect, to avoid at any and all and every cost. "Elena's dying."

After ensuring that Elena was in the capable hands of his sister, Klaus went on the warpath. Flashing down the stairs, he tore into his mother's private rooms, bypassing the neatly made, antiquated, four-poster bed and going straight to the armoire on the opposite wall, filled with bottles and tinctures and various spell ingredients, looking for any trace of the Merlock orchid. She had to have got it somehow, either found it here in town or procured it from someone; it didn't just appear out of thin air. He searched everywhere, broke every draw and box and satchel, upended every grimoire and candle, tearing through every possible nook and cranny like a man possessed -because he was, possessed by fear and horror and rage- but couldn't find a single trace of it.

Fingers digging through his hair, Klaus poured over every inch of their conversation, any possible hint or clue that could help him, but he could hardly hear himself think over the pounding of his heart, echoed by that of Elena's upstairs, irrevocably tuned in to her suffering...

Tea. Esther had said something about tea.

Crashing through the solarium, Klaus stopped dead when he saw the tea set, left out, like it was waiting for him, like she'd planned this moment exactly, a prophecy of old, Macbeth and the witches and his doom and his greed, because Klaus had been greedy, so greedy, all his life, with his need for love and approval then for blood and respect and loyalty and the terrified screams of others, and now this time with Elena, his love for her, and she for him...

Grabbing the cup, dusted with a trace of Elena's lip gloss, Klaus ran a finger around the bottom, a gathering of purple granules clinging to the pad of his finger. She wouldn't have noticed, wouldn't have had any idea that it wasn't just some herbal tea...

Biting down on his knuckles, dropping the cup to the table, Klaus repressed a sob. Oh, gods. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, he'd already lost her once, and now he was going through it again, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, a feeling of utter helplessness and rage clawing at his insides, tearing the walls of his self-control to shreds.

"Why don't you go sit with her? You look like you need a minute."

He hadn't noticed his youngest brother appear, too preoccupied by his spiralling thoughts, the control spiralling away from him like a lady in a dance, getting further and further out of his reach, taunting him, haunting him with memories of who he'd been, of he'd never let anyone or anything affect him.

Klaus shook his head at Kol, not even turning to face him as he growled lowly, "I'm fine."

A hand came out, forcing Klaus around to meet his brother's blazing gaze. "No, you're bloody well not. The woman you love is dying, and it's our own mum's fault, and we have no idea if we can save her or not." He took a breath, such compassion in his voice that it made him want to weep, made him want to fall to his knees and never geg back up, because it really must be bad if Kol Mikaelson of all people was trying to comfort him. "Nik, you have every right to not be okay right now."

"But I have to be!" Klaus insisted, too far gone to hide his tears. "I have to be, for her. I can't fall apart now! I have to find the orchid-"

"You're saying it like we won't help you, like we'll just bugger off and leave you to sort this all out on your own. Nik, I know we don't always act like it, but we are a family. And we all love Elena."

The hybrid shook his head, a dark, disbelieving laugh clawing itself up his throat, choking him. "Kol, you don't even know her! You've never cared for anyone if you didn't find some value in them, usually in whatever scheme you were concocting."

A blink. A smirk hiding a blow. A joke. "True. Hurtful, but true." And he almost wished he could take it back. "But...it didn't stop you, did it?" Kol inquired, expertly turning the tables, forever understated, underestimated, those bright eyes seeing everything, missing nothing, knowing what buttons to push to get Klaus to open up, to redirect him, if only for a moment. "You've been together for, what, a day? And already you can't live without her." He said it so easily, so casually, like Elena's presence was already a part of their life, their family. Like maybe his siblings had needed someone who understood them, supported them, as much as Klaus had. "And, for the record, I do know her: she's the woman you love, and that's all I need to know. Besides, anyone who manages to make you a half-way decent person most certainly deserves to be kept around," Kol added, jaunty smile firmly in place, a welcome reprieve back to familiar territory. "And she laughs at my jokes."

It shouldn't mean what it did. He'd never needed his siblings' approval on anyone, let alone Kol's, but the fact that he cared enough to be here, right now, for him, for Elena, without expecting anything in return, no tricks up his sleeve or metaphorical dagger to stab him in the back with -because thank god he'd never finished his actual one- brought tears to his eyes once again, spilling onto his brother's shoulder as he clasped him in a tight embrace, finally allowing the surge of terror and despair that had been cresting within him since Elena had not opened her eyes.

"I know, I know," Kol said sadly, but not without a slight essence of humour, given the sheer improbability of the moment, "let it all out."

Dragging himself away, Klaus swiped at his eyes, biting out a harsh laugh that echoed around them. "What are you, Oprah?"

"Nah, just emotionally invested. I like you when when you're not daggering me. I like it when you're happy. Reminds me of who I used to be, before all this. So. You, upstairs with your girl. Me, traipsing through the forest."

Striding into the room, Elijah's gaze immediately went to him, eyes softening at the obvious signs of his tears. Damn it; he'd wanted to keep this to himself, to pretend, at least externally, that he could handle this, could project confidence and clarity of mind even if on the inside he was so very removed from such emotions. "Bonnie's here."

The hybrid nodded, moving up the stairs in a blink, finding her outside his closed bedroom door, anger carving deep furrows in her face, along with grief. He knew that, of she were awake, Elena would give him hell for summoning her friend here like this, of depriving her of the time she both needed and deserved after everything she'd sacrificed. But Elena came first, and she always would; she could yell at him all she wanted when she awoke, and he'd take it all with a besotted, achingly grateful smile. "Hello, Bonnie. Thank you for coming."

She didn't bother with niceties, cutting right to the bone. "Elena's sick?"

If only. If only it were that simple, that easy, that treatable. If only she had a cold and he could make her some tea and soup and watch all those historical dramas she secretly adored under the covers and know that in a few days she'd be as right as rain...how did he tell her that she was dying, slowly, in agony, and that it was his fault, for loving her, for having the audacity to even contemplate a future of happiness and light...

He didn't. Because Kol suddenly pushed him aside, arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he could protect his older brother from the simmering ire glowing in the witch's eyes like sparked coals. "Dying, actually," he corrected her with a lazy, sharp-edged grin. "But we wanted to see if you could help us. She was poisoned by a very old, very rare flower, the Merlock Orchid. My brother did a very thorough inspection of the house, but the only traces of it we could find are in this cup." He jangled the offending item in his hands, spinning it like a top between his palms until the sides blur, a rainbow of blue and pink and white. "We were hoping if you could do a locator spell, match the specimen to any that may be in the area, since they grew here in Mystic Falls we when were still humans. And...see what you can do for Elena. It seems she's in a lot of pain, and we want to buy her, and ourselves, more time to search."

"And you can't buy this plant off of eBay?" Bonnie huffed, bypassing the seriousness of the matter with pointless humour, setting Klaus' teeth on edge, a roar coalescing in his chest like encroaching thunder, wishing to eradicate everything in its path.

Kol tapped his foot, the only sign of his impatience and disapproval. "Would I be standing here if I could just FedEx it?"

"Alright, alright," the witch agreed wearily. "Can I see her?"

"Of course." Leading the way into the bedroom, Klaus had a front row seat as he saw Kol since at Elena's deteriorating state, the flushed cheeks amid paper-pale skin, her chest rising and falling in-between shallow breaths. He turned his head, ever so slightly, amd was every inch the psychotic madman history had made him out to be as he vowed, "Don't you dare make this harder for my brother, or there will be consequences. She may be your best friend, but she's his soulmate, and the heart of this family. He does not deserve your wrath, and I refuse to let Elena die because of it. Understood?"

With a tone like that, Bonnie could do nothing but nod in agreement, and Klaus was so very, very proud of his baby brother.

"I'll start in the woods where they used to grow. Let me know if you come up with anything more specific," Kol asked of him, squeezing his shoulder fleetingly before exiting the room, leaving the two of them in a hair-pin-drop silence.

"How long as she been like this?" Bonnie questioned him, laying a palm on Elena's forehead, frown intensifying, puckering the corners of her mouth with needle-pricks of worry.

His voice was hoarse, like he'd been screaming his lungs faw. Or crying his heart out. "An hour, maybe longer. She was fine before she went to sleep and then...I found her like this." Klaus' gaze flitted all around the room, an imprisoned bird looking for escape, unable to hover on the heartbreaking image on the bed. "How's your mother?"

Bonnie arched a brow, planting her hands on her hips, the pose so very Elena that it choked a desperate breath from him. "Elena's dying, and you're asking me about the mom you helped kill?"

"If I look at her any longer, I'll lose it, and believe me, that is not something you want to bear witness to, witch," he answered her honestly, hating to show weakness to someone he so vehemently disliked, yet more than willing to do it for Elena's sake. What was the death of his pride compared to that of his truest love?

"Okay, okay." Absently, she glanced at Elena's phone lying on the bedside table, screen still open to their last exchange, voice exposed like a stripped-down wire as she wondered quietly, "Was she...was she upset? About what I said?"

"What do you think?" Klaus asked, not unkindly. It was more than she deserved, more than he personally believed she had a right to, especially at that moment, but he wanted to prove, if not to himself than to her, that he is capable of goodness without promoting, that Elena really had brought out the best in him, that any genuineness on his part was not a show to impress her, trick her, lie to her.

Klaus was so very tired of lies.

Bonnie nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed, expression seeming as old as he was. "Yeah, most likely. I know I would have been. I said some pretty harsh things. I told her to watch her back, because I didn't trust you."

"I have never been an issue when it came to Elena's safety. I have always wanted to protect her, and she has always known that." He just hadn't known what if meant; forgive him for being a little slow on realizing the most important person in his whole damn life was actually the one he'd killed.

"Her blood, not her," the Bennett instantly corrected him, no doubt trying to convince herself rather than reprimand him in any way. Why did Elena have to value stubbornness so greatly? "Until a couple weeks ago, you didn't know the first thing about her."

A scathing insult, punctuated by the rasping breath of Elena behind her. And as much as Klaus loved a good argument..."We don't have time for this." Elena didn't have the time for them to sit around and squabble, squawking at each other like ruffled parrots. Bonnie thought he wasn't worthy of Elena? Fine. But it could wait.

"Make time for it, because I'm still not convinced it wasn't you or one of your crazy siblings who did this to her, using Esther as a convenient scapegoat since she isn't here to defend herself."

An interesting piece of fiction. Interesting, but wrong all the same. "I knew plenty." Arms braced on the footboard, face inches from hers, Klaus took savage delight on the witch's visible flinch, feeling like he was finally back in control, driving the conversation where he wished it, going on the offensive all the while defending himself and his love for Elena. "You forget I spent time in that History teacher of yours' body, saw how she was with you all. With you in particular, her very best friend, who she would have died for in an instant for, and still would. As would have you for her. The darling girl next door, friend to everyone, favourite of every teacher. I sat through many a tale in the teacher's lounge, listening to them all signing her praises, wondering just who was this girl I was meant to sacrifice, who was destined to give me everything I ever wanted."

"She didn't actively seem the attention like Caroline, but I'm sure she's always had her own kind of pull, hasn't she. Everyone either wanting to be her, or be with her. How it must have hurt, standing on the outskirts of all that, watching on, feeling left out and abandoned, then being delegated to little more than tech support when your friends needed magic done. Is that where all this has come from?" Klaus goaded her, a triumphant smirk marching victoriously over his features -there is a special delight in petty cruelty, one he has almost forgotten. It was swiftly coming back to him. "This distance from her, even as she lay dying?"

He could see it on her eyes, how she could not deny the truth of his words. So she made excuses for them instead. "It's different now. You don't get it, Klaus, we spent so long trying to get rid of you...and then she falls for you. Not just a crush, not just a one-time thing, but actual I-would-die-without-you love. I've known her almost her whole life, and I've never seen her feel so intensely about anyone. I was accepting of Stefan, to a point, and I never wanted her with Damon, but you...you're nothing compared to them. The number of people you've killed..."

"Is tremendous, and no business of yours," he cut her off, tone clipped, end of discussion. "Hate me all you want, Bonnie, I honestly don't care. But don't hate her, don't hate her for trying to be happy, for realizing that she deserves better that those idiots who were pulling her apart day by day without even realizing it. Or maybe they did; maybe they just didn't care. Or worse yet, they liked it, her fighting for both of them the way dear Katerina never did or could be bothered to."

"And who says you won't?" Bonnie challenged, hard and frustrating and unyielding and closed-minded as stone. "Just in a different way?"

The thought made Klaus pause, made a primal, soul-deep sense of wrongness, of no, never, I couldn't do it, not in this life or any other, not again, never again, filling every inch of his being. Grip tightening, almost splintering the wood under his callused palms, Klaus hung his head, looking at Elena, his words a gift to her and not the witch who'd asked, who anticipated such evil of him. "Because, if I ever hurt Elena...there would be nothing left for me, of me. No hope, no goodness, no light. I would be the monster you so desperately believe me to be, and I would be glad of it, because I wouldn't care. I really would be lost. I have walked this earth for centuries, each one spent more alone and broken than the last; you can't understand that. You've been surrounded by love your entire life, will always have people to call on in times of need, people who believe in you unconditionally. She is all I have."

"Hand me the cup. I'll set to work on the tracking spell."

Elena dreamt of cold hands, of fire and lightening singing through her veins, burning everything it touched, burning her from the inside out. Someone was taking to her, around her, a familiar sound, known since childhood, and she tried to reach for it, but it slipped through her fingers like sand.

So she held on to what she could. To the cold hands that made everything just a little bit better, the feel of them on her face so very far away, why was it so far, she wanted to go to them, knew that with them, she'd be safe, she'd always be safe...

"It's not working."

"Try again."

A roll of emerald eyes, shimmering with annoyance and a speck of self-frustration. "I've tried it four times now, even using her blood. Either this plant has a mind of its own and doesn't want me to find it, or Esther cloaked it with magic."

"But she would have done that when she was still linked to your ancestral line, correct? It would be within your powers to eradicate such a block," Elijah proposed, arms crossed neatly over his chest, posture casual but tone anywhere but as he lounged in Klaus' desk chair. Klaus was exactly where he should be, beside Elena on the bed, holding her hand, tidying the hair from her forehead when it tangled. When she trashed, like someone or something was burning her from the inside out, the purple petal mark blooming more aggressively as time ticked away, mocking their negligible progress.

"I'm not powerful enough to do something like that, not after she channeled me yesterday and all the days before that. And even if I was, she has a thousand years more experience with magic than I do; I wouldn't even know where to start on figuring out what spells she used, how to undo them in the time we have. All I can do is some spells for the pain, get her temperature down a little, hope it stops the spread of the poison some."

"That's not good enough."

Elijah held up a placating hand. "Niklaus..."

"No." The word was a growl, the word of the wolf, the one shining in his eyes, the Alpha, the threatened mate, the frantic man at the end of his rope. "You can't give up, you have to keep trying, you have to..."

Klaus trailed off, darting across the bed when his phone began to vibrate, hardly letting the thing ring once before answering. "Please tell me you have it."

"I'm sorry." It was a bad day in hell when Kol started a conversation like that, or said it to him at all. "I went to the field you told me to, but I couldn't find a damned thing. I couldn't feel any magic, either."

"Bonnie says they're cloaked."

"Than she'd either wrong or...I'm in the wrong place."

"They never grew anywhere else. She always harvested them from that same field. If there had been another source, she would have used it more. Sometimes there wasn't even enough flowers for her to make a single dose and she had to come home." And leave us to Mikael's wrath.

"I know." Kol sighed wearily, but all he said was, "I'll keep trying. I'll search the whole town, turn the whole thing bloody upside down if I have to."

"Don't." Klaus shook his head, although of course Kol couldn't see it. But Elijah could, could see the defeat, the death of hope. "Come back to the mansion, and bring Caroline with you. Just in case."

"I ran into Mr Saltzman on my way here. He wanted to know if I knew anything about Elena not answering her phone."

"Bring him as well," Klaus instructed, and hung up, letting the phone sit limply in his hands. Eventually, his eyes met Bonnie's. "Do what you can for her pain, then come downstairs."

"Why do we need to go downstairs?" she asked, hands already setting to work.

For the first time all morning, Klaus's smile was genuine. "Because we're going to need some space when you kill me."

Author's Note: Hi, everyone! So...dun, dun, DUUUuUUNnNn! Everything is going on, and going wrong, but I promise it will have a happy ending. I was originally intending on doing this as one chapter, but there's still SO MUCH that I want to put in, so there'll be another, then the epilogue. I've had such an amazing time writing this story, and i appreciate all the support you, my lovely readers, have so generously bestowed upon me.

Stay tuned!

All my love, Temperance Cain.