Hi guys! I am resuming this story. I'm so sorry for dropping it suddenly, a while ago. Life happened as it always does, and to be honest, my muse left. But now it's back. Perhaps it's the end of the series. But I did miss Elijah, Klaus, and the rest of the gang!

I wanted to post a longer chapter, but at the same time I was impatient with myself and just wanted to post a new chapter. I'm working on the next one and I hope to update again soon. I hope you like this one. I'm proud of it. I'm really looking forward to continuing the story. I originally had an outline, but I've changed some things. Perhaps, it was a good thing that I'm revisiting it now. I realized how to make the story better, more exciting and effective. I hope that you guys will end up agreeing. There is lots more to come!

If you like, please review. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Knowing people are reading always spurs me further. But even if I know only a couple of people are reading it, I'll be motivated to continue. I really want to get all of my ideas into words! I promise you won't be disappointed.

Till next time!

###

The sun was setting. It was a beautiful sight. The skyscrapers of downtown, the direction of which they were walking in, were silhouetted with a deep orange. The light glinted off cars that sped down Lake Shore Drive. The lake itself was darkening, but the rays hadn't disappeared just yet, so Niklaus still had his sunglasses on, a pair of classic wayfarers. He and Elijah were strolling along the lakeshore path. Bicyclists and joggers passed them on the left.

"I've got an idea," Klaus began dramatically and didn't wait for his brother to prompt him to go ahead, "Why don't I book a redeye flight to Los Angeles and pay a visit to the little psychic boy, snap his neck, and you take care of the witch? Or, you can wait for me, and I can help you since there's her werewolf roomie to deal with, too. At least, you and I will get some fun out of it."

Elijah had ended up telling his brother most of everything. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Klaus had left him with no choice after he'd showed up by Liza's apartment.

"We will do no such thing," Elijah said sternly.

"It seems to be the best solution," Klaus argued.

"It is not. Absolutely not. You will kill no one. We will kill no one."

"Witches and their prophecies. They never go right, 'specially when our family is concerned, so the best thing to do is get rid of the prophets. Have you learned nothing over the years? This is how you deal with them, Elijah."

Elijah hardened his voice like the scolding older brother that he was. "That boy is innocent. He was just delivering a message. Killing does not get rid of it. In fact, all that killing will accomplish is setting the spirit off—and it's a witch's spirit, no less."

Klaus rolled his eyes, which then followed a fit, young woman who was jogging past them. She had a nice, tight ass, even though he didn't comment on it.

"So, what do you propose we do?"

"What I wanted to do was monitor the situation—to do things my way. And you know, this wasn't really a prophecy. There were no eloquently written words, as there usually are. It was just a message, which connected this girl to our family."

"Right, which involves me, brother. And Rebekah. How long did you plan on keeping this from us?"

It was Elijah's turn to roll his eyes. "As long as I saw fit—until I knew more about it."

Klaus turned a glare on him. Elijah ignored it. "You had no right."

"Well, now you know, Niklaus. I don't want to argue about this. If you were a more rational person, I would've probably included you in on this from the start. But alas, all of your actions in the past have proven otherwise. You don't think before you act."

"I don't need an analysis of my personality," Klaus snapped.

"Then don't ask me why, if you already know the reason," Elijah said coolly.

Klaus was silent for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides. He watched the people around them through his shaded glasses, looking from a pair of adults and their toddler, who was running across the grass, giggling; to an elderly couple on a stroll, hand in hand. How cute. A group of bicyclers passed. The momentary distraction of listening to heartbeats and pumping blood at various rates helped calm him. Elijah indulged his brother's silence as long as Klaus needed it in order for his mood to level out.

"Perhaps one of us knew this girl's grandmother at some point," he suggested eventually.

Elijah answered in stride. "I've thought of that, but I did not recognize her name," the older brother said. "No witches from the Soviet Union jog my memory. What about you?"

"I've only spent time in the satellite states—and Moscow, of course. And after the fall, it was a clusterfuck." Klaus smirked at the memories of the time he had spent in the early 90s. "Perfectly chaotic. Humans, reveling in new-found freedom, made their blood taste especially ripe."

"I meant during the height of the Soviet Union," Elijah clarified.

Klaus glanced at him. "No. I tried to avoid post-war Russia. The scenery was quite boring...and I don't like military regimes."

"So, nothing jogs your memory either."

"No, I suppose not," Klaus said indifferently. He stopped all of a sudden, looking at something across the grass. Elijah followed his line of sight.

Klaus was looking at a group of people doing yoga, a group of twenty. Smirking, he watched. Elijah paused beside him but didn't let his brother's thoughts carry him away, thoughts which were morbid more than likely.

"Are you going to meet with Marcel?"

"Later," Klaus replied distractedly. The group switched to downward facing dog and he was fascinated. Yoga and the meditational arts were something that had never interested him, though. He didn't have the temperament. But there were mostly women in the group. Their asses were in the air.

"I'll join you," Elijah said, watching him watch them. Instead of answering his older brother, Niklaus returned to their previous subject.

"So, if this girl has no idea what the spirit of her dead grandmother meant, then how will you go about finding out?"

Now who looked like a stalker? The yoga enthusiasts switched to the cobra pose and those asses clenched up. They didn't notice that they had an audience of one. Elijah resumed walking. Klaus had no choice but to follow him, albeit a few seconds behind. He caught up with several long strides, huffing impatiently.

Elijah answered once he was beside him again. "I don't know yet, but I do know it entails keeping the girl alive." He'd left out the part of the spirit's message that had mentioned their family's "salvation," because he had no idea what to think of it and knowing Klaus—he would jump to his own conclusions. "Perhaps we need to find a way to contact the spirit again."

"I was just about to suggest that, Elijah. Perhaps the girl herself can do a séance, and we can all sit in a circle and hold hands."

"You're being a smart aleck, Niklaus."

Klaus spread his arms in a shrug, a hint of a smart-ass smile on his face. "I agree with you. Let's go back and see the girl. Her bedtime isn't in a couple hours, right?" He looked at his wristwatch.

Elijah dismissed the idea. "We are not going back tonight. Let's go meet with Marcel. We'll see the girl another day."

Klaus deflated. "Why not tonight?"

"There is no immediate urgency," Elijah answered simply.

Klaus hated when his ideas were shut down. "Do you not want to find out why our family should give a shit about this girl?" he questioned.

"We will bide our time and we will go about this rationally," Elijah explained. He had to be patient. They had to be patient. He also didn't want to rile Klaus up. Elijah wanted him to understand his reasoning. "I need her to trust me first, and right now, I am far from that goal."

Klaus couldn't help but turn mocking. "She doesn't trust you, Elijah? Why, this is a surprise. You're usually good at building trust with humans. And you said you saved her from a couple of rapists, didn't you?"

Elijah sighed. "Also, that same night, I had barged into her home, questioning her about her grandmother. Liza lost her a mere few months ago. Of course, she doesn't trust me. And her roommate even less so."

This perked Klaus back up, gave him an idea, which Elijah saw brewing behind his sunglasses. "See, that's why you need me. The wolf girl. I should talk to her. I can get her to trust me. She'll see that we're…basically kin."

"Not quite, Niklaus, and you know it." A hybrid wasn't the same as a werewolf.

"Ah, but I am handsome and charming."

"Charming when you want to be," Elijah emphasized. "Let's cross to the other side through there." He gestured to the pedestrian underpass they were approaching. They'd walked around the whole of Lincoln Park and were nearing the Gold Coast.

"Yes, and let's get a cab," Klaus agreed.

"I was thinking we'd walk to Marcel's. It's a beautiful evening, and downtown is magnificent at night." Elijah loved his walks, he really did, and he couldn't get enough of the city. Klaus, on the other hand, wasn't a talk-a-walk type. Walks didn't exhaust him—he just didn't like them. Plus, he was being difficult. And sight-seeing wasn't his thing. He much preferred Europe, if he had to pick, like the city of Paris. He was very much a snob that way.

"I honestly don't know why you like this city," he groused when they entered the tunnel, which was lit by yellow bulbs. It was empty, save for a dog walker going in the same direction ahead of them.

"I don't know why you don't," Elijah returned.

"Well, it's the Midwest, first of all. I hate the Midwest." Their voices echoed slightly.

"You should've been there at the World's Columbian Exposition. It took place here in 1893. It was a marvel. I was with Rebekah. She enjoyed it immensely with me."

Klaus felt like he had to one-up his brother. "I was at the Exposition Universelle in Paris four years before that. The Eiffel Tower was its grand opening. I highly doubt this place had anything more impressive than that."

Elijah didn't fall into the trap of possible argument. Niklaus loved to argue. It was draining. "I'm not trying to compare which city is better, brother. I'm just explaining why I love Chicago."

"Good for you," Klaus said shortly. He just wanted to get to the other side of Lake Shore Drive.

"Rebekah and I met H.H. Holmes," Elijah said lightly. "But the most exciting part was seeing all of the new inventions in action. You know, during the course of our long lives, we tend to miss the little details that might not seem so important in the moment. For instance, electricity was used to power the fair, did you know? And the "clasp locker" was first introduced." Elijah could tell that his brother was tensing as Klaus quickened his pace, trudging ahead, and this was amusing, but Elijah kept his smile to himself. "That was the predecessor to the zipper, Niklaus."

"How fascinating," he said flatly.

"Many artists exhibited too," Elijah said matter-of-factly.

There was one thing that had peeked Klaus' attention. "Did you say you met H.H. Holmes? The murderer?"

Elijah pretended that it wasn't such a big deal. "The serial killer, yes. What about him?"

Klaus looked back at him. "Did you kill him?"

"No," Elijah said. "Why would we? It would've been too easy. We did give the human authorities a few leads on him, however."

"It's said that he killed more than 200 people, even though he confessed to killing 27," Klaus said. He was a fan of serial killers. In a way, he was one himself, if he was in the mood. Naturally, humans that had a lust for blood and murder intrigued him. Sometimes, they even impressed him.

When they got out of the tunnel, he took his sunglasses off, put them on the edge of his collar, and shoved his hands into his pockets. Finally, something interesting to talk about. Elijah humored him.

"I always had a theory about Holmes," Klaus was saying.

They made their way south. Cars on Lake Shore Drive whooshed past. The sun was almost set by now. The Gold Coast was a neighborhood filled with mansions, row houses, and high-rise apartments. It was historic and once compared to Manhattan's Upper East Side. Elijah looked up, taking in the buildings as if for the first time, marveling at them, while Klaus explained his theory.

"I believe that he was the Whitechapel Murderer. Now, I tried to find out who he was myself, at the time, to no avail. At first, I thought that he was like us, but the blood of his victims was never drained. He was without a doubt human. And I believe that I almost found him once. I chased a man. The bastard narrowly escaped on a boat that was headed toward America.

"I'm not the only one with this theory, you know. Many disprove it. But their shortcomings result from a lack of understanding the two men. Their killing styles were different, sure. The Ripper was a messy, unorganized. While Holmes was calculating and clever. But what I know about humans is that they are forever evolving, slowly, but evolving nonetheless. Perhaps it's one of their few positive traits.

"The Ripper was able to evade capture, did he not?" Klaus didn't actually want an answer, though Elijah simply nodded. "He was even able to outrun me. Means he wasn't a complete idiot. He could've very well gotten smarter. He was young then. I could tell. He later could've become the architect of the "Murder Hotel.""

"Interesting theory, Niklaus," Elijah said. "Could be possible, perhaps."

They continued walking. Klaus didn't bring up flagging down a taxi. He enjoyed hearing himself talk, and he knew that Elijah was a good listener and would listen to him. And this way, Elijah got his walk, so it was a win-win.

###

"It seems that you've established yourself quite well here, Marcellus," Klaus said, smirking. It was his way of expressing praise. He was impressed with his progeny's new pad and position with the Chicago vampires, but he wasn't going to say this directly. Klaus also wasn't sentimental, so when he saw Marcel that night for the first time in years, he'd gone for the mere clasp-on-the-shoulder. Marcel was a hugger. He'd been affectionate since he was a little boy.

It wasn't that Klaus wasn't happy to see his progeny, his "son." He just didn't get all emotional. Marcel, meanwhile, regaled him and Elijah with what he'd been doing in the city over a very fine scotch. They sat comfortably on the large, modern suede sectional before the large, floor to ceiling windows.

Marcel had a gorgeous view of River North. It was an area north of the loop, full of fine dining, galleries, and a lively nightlife. Tall buildings stood all around—boasting regional offices of companies such as Google, Yelp, and Motorola. Countless lights lit the streets outside.

The condo was modern and had two floors, a spiral staircase leading up. The walls and ceiling were white. The floor was a sleek, light brown wood, and the décor was very contemporary. Marcel was always more modern than the Mikaelsons. Sure, he appreciated the old world, but he was the one that stayed up to date with the times. He had the latest everything.

The kitchen and living area were connected, and other rooms branched off from them. There was a loft space upstairs with a glass railing, but the bedrooms were hidden. The wall behind Marcel had a massive collection of records. The opposite wall had a large flat screen and stereo system.

"I'll go back to Nola eventually, but I'm going to enjoy my time here right now," he was saying, his arms spread on the back of the couch.

The brothers were on the longer end of the sectional. Elijah sat with his knees crossed. Klaus was sitting somewhat like his progeny, completely relaxed, only with one arm on the couch, not both. Elijah didn't seem too easily impressed, but that was fine with Marcel. He could tell that Klaus was proud.

"As I was telling Elijah the other day, Chicago runs like a well-oiled machine. There's no curfew for the vampires, but there are strict no killing laws. Those that break them get punished accordingly, but honestly, if you follow them, you otherwise do whatever you want. Klaus, more scotch, my man?"

Obligingly, Marcel stood and reached for his maker's now empty glass.

"Why thank you," Klaus said.

"Elijah?" Marcel looked at the older Mikaelson.

"Still savoring this one. Thank you," Elijah said as he glanced down at the bit of liquid bronze left in his glass. Marcel went around the couch to the bar tucked into the wall by the records.

"It's good for a 30-year Macallan, huh?" He grinned at them both. Pouring Klaus a new glass, he went on. "So as I was saying, the vampires mind their own business, the weres mostly roam the suburbs, and the humans are in the know if they need to be. They got a helluva lot of their own issues to deal with. We stay away. If one of us intervenes, there's got to be a good reason for it. Daylight rings are allowed. If you got 'em, you got 'em. If you don't, you don't."

"What is it that you're working on, Marcel?" Elijah inquired.

Marcel returned to them, handing Klaus his glass and sitting down with a refilled one of his own. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and eagerly answered the question. "Right now, we're making sure the blood bank operation goes smoothly. It's with LifeSource. The CMO is one of us, and so is the COO. Believe it or not, only 40% of the vampire population actually hunt in this city. There are plenty of willing donors, but a lot prefer blood bags nowadays.

"LifeSource gives the option of getting the blood without having to compel anyone at the local collection center too many times. Draws zero attention. The company provides free delivery to your home, or wherever you're staying."

"You've memorized the sales pitch," Klaus teased with a chuckle, taking a sip.

Marcel grinned and leaned back. "The council members—they wanted me to take over PR." He also took a sip, looking carefully from brother to brother. "So I accepted the offer. I told them I'd stay for a couple years at least. A decade or so. Of course, I have to do well. But they like me here. They like how I'm with people."

"You always were a smooth talker, Marcellus," Klaus said with a faint air of affection. "But I always thought you had an interest in law."

"Well, there are some similarities with PR. Strategy for one. Predicting outcomes, making sure all your bases are covered. And you know what, I like working with the public. I like being around people. Our kind. Doing some good."

Klaus looked over at Elijah to see what he thought—Elijah listened, one eyebrow slightly raised—before looking back at Marcel. "I raised you well, didn't I?" he said boastfully.

"You had some help," Marcel said. His smile all the way up to his eyes, which looked at Elijah over the rim of his glass. Elijah nodded, his own dark eyes flitting over to Klaus. "Don't give yourself all of the credit, Klaus," Marcel said. "Your brother had a hand in it too."

Klaus scowled dramatically. "Elijah gave you your schooling, while I made sure that your childhood was well rounded in other ways. Right, Marcel? Did I not? Who did you get your charisma from? Why, me, of course!" Marcel threw his head back and laughed, a warm laugh, compared to Klaus' slightly maniacal one. "And all of those endless talks about life as I passed on my invaluable wisdom to you."

"All right, all right," Marcel conceded.

"Depends on your definition of wisdom, of course," Elijah commented.

Klaus thumbed at him. "Imagine if it was he who raised you. You would've turned out to be smarter, sure, but what a prude you'd be!"

"Intelligence don't make one a prude," Elijah said pointedly. He finished his glass but simply held the glass in his lap.

"Hey, now, I'm smart. I did go to law school," Marcel argued, chuckling. He was standing again, ever observant. "Let me get you that refill, Elijah."

As he went about doing so, he listened to his maker.

"Of course, you are, my boy. What I mean to say is that I'm glad you turned out more like me and less like my boring brother," Klaus said, a jab in his voice, which was directed to his brother, who shrugged it off his shoulders, his gaze drifting across the condo. Klaus liked to ball-bust at other's expense—nothing new.

Marcel regarded them over his shoulder, at the bar, still smiling. He was an expressive man. Since he was much younger than them, he might've been more human than either them, figuratively. But it was also his personality. He was honest and genuine. He certainly had an egotistical side as most vampires did, and could be quite vicious, but he also wasn't bothered by showing his feelings.

"I missed you two. It's been too long," he said, returning with Elijah's glass.

Klaus didn't echo the sentiment, but he raised his own glass in a toast. "Far too long. Here's to our unexpected reunion, my son."

Elijah gave a somber nod. "It's good to see you doing well, Marcel," he said, sitting forward. He always carried himself unaffected, but Marcel knew his words were genuine, and they meant a lot to him.

Standing before them, Marcel held out his own glass to clink with theirs. "I hope you two stick around for a while."

The three drank. After, Marcel decided to put on some music and went to the record player. As he did so, he changed the subject. "So, what is it that brings you guys to Chicago anyway? Elijah mentioned business."

Elijah was quick to gloss over the answer. "Nothing important. Just some matters," he said and stood. He wanted to see the view out the window and approached it, looking at the lights, the street below.

"Something like that," Klaus added cryptically, and his gaze twinkled, mischievous. He reclined in his spot. "Really, I had no idea about these matters until earlier today," he confessed.

Elijah's back stiffened.

"My brother wasn't going to tell me about them. I had to pry it out of him. Really, they concern me, too. The whole family, actually. Perhaps even you, Marcellus."

Marcel had turned on some light blues, which he kept at a volume that would allow them to continue to talk. He turned around, first looking at Elijah, who'd looked back at them, standing at the window, appearing absolutely disapproving; then Marcel looked at Klaus, who seemed like his diabolical self.

"It doesn't concern him, Niklaus," Elijah said, caution in his tone. Marcel knew it was serious when Elijah used Klaus' full name. Marcel's obsidian gaze bounced between them. He took a drink.

"What's going on? Something serious?" he asked lightly.

"Potentially," Klaus said.

Elijah had spoken over him. "No. Nothing to worry about, Marcel."

Marcel spread his free hand, as if to placate him. "Hey, if it's not my business, that's fine. Not trying to pry. I was just wondering what my adoptive family was up to."

Klaus was encouraged by his words, however, much to Elijah's chagrin. "Niklaus," he started.

Klaus cut him off. "Elijah found himself a witch," he explained brightly. "He's been watching her for the better part of the week, as a matter of fact." Marcel's gaze jumped to Elijah, who scowled. Uh oh.

"This doesn't involve him, Klaus."

Klaus looked at his brother over the back of the couch. He stood up, then, facing him. "It could, Elijah. He's family, after all. Besides, you said it yourself, you don't know why she's important to us. I say that Marcel should know. He could be of great help."

Elijah's hand was tight around his glass, not enough to break it, he wasn't a drama queen, but his knuckles were white, and he was restraining himself. "Klaus, you simply cannot help but run your mouth."

"Yes, so the cat's out of the bag," Klaus said smugly.

Marcel stepped toward them, his hand still raised, palm out. He didn't want them fighting. He hadn't done anything, but he was feeling culpable already. "Hey, I can keep a family secret. You know that. I won't say anything to anyone."

Elijah looked at him sharply. "Yes, I know, Marcel, but that's beside the point. I told my brother that this is something I was handling. And since the situation isn't clear yet, there was no reason to involve anyone else." He slowly looked back at Klaus, his expression hard and reproachful. "He's always had a fear of missing out. He simply cannot help it."

"I think Marcel can help us," Klaus repeated, raising his voice a few notches. The smile on his face turned tense as he approached his progeny and put an arm over his shoulders. "Perhaps not right this moment, but he's got connections in this city now. Chicago is his playing field. We're merely guests here."

"I want you to feel at home," Marcel assured him. Klaus kept looking at Elijah, trying to provoke him further.

"Come now, brother. Don't be cross with me. You think I can't keep my mouth shut, which may be true. In this case, I simply made an executive decision. It's only fair, since you hadn't been planning to tell me at all. Let's let Marcel in on our little plan and tell him about the psychic boy and the spirit."

"Psychic boy?" Marcel repeated.

Klaus turned his head, his arm still around him. "You watch television, don't you? I haven't got the time for it, but you must've heard of this lad. Apparently, he's got quite the gift if he's telling all manners of actors and celebrities their fortunes."

Marcel drew his brows together. Elijah had turned away, raising a hand to his forehead, his index and thumb fingers pressed against respective temples. He needed a moment, it seemed like, to compose himself. Klaus grated on the nerves. Half the day spent with him was already enough to bear.

"Are you talking about one of those reality shows?" Marcel clarified with a laugh.

"Yes, yes, those," Klaus said, gesturing with his glass. "One of those real-life series."

"Are you talking about….?" Marcel was thoughtful for a beat, grinning. "Are you talking about that kid? That ginger kid? What's his name?"

Klaus didn't know how he looked like, so he regarded Elijah, who didn't answer. He was downright aggravated and avoided Klaus' attention.

"Damn it. I can't think of his name," Marcel said. Klaus let him go, taking a swig.

"Benjamin Henry," Elijah said at last, grudgingly.

Marcel snapped his fingers. "That's him. I love that kid. I saw some episodes. Like that one when he's talking to the Kardashians."

"Who?" Klaus asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You know. The Kardashians. As in "Keeping up with the Kardashians.""

Silence. It didn't seem like it rang any bells with Klaus, so Marcel just waved his hand.

"Never mind. What's Benjamin Henry got to do with you?"

And so Elijah was forced to tell him. Klaus wasn't going to. He didn't know the details. It was all up to his brother. Klaus sat back down on the couch, satisfied and triumphant, and Elijah remained standing and pacing. He began with the psychic boy and the spirit, explaining as levelly as he could, only wanting to explain this once. He left out details, which he hadn't mention to Klaus, but Elijah said enough so that Marcel could wrap his mind around it.

Afterward, the bottle was almost finished. The young vampire spread his arms and said, "Let me know how I can help."