Chapter Text
She had left his house almost immediately, rushing to Caroline’s.
“Sheriff Forbes.” She said as the woman opened the door.
“Elena, Caroline is upstairs. What-“
“I got the cure for her.” She said holding up the vial as the sheriff ushered her upstairs, looking relieved.
When she reached her room, she saw her friend looked pale and clammy, not unlike Damon had, with Matt next to her.
“Here,” She passed the vial of blood to Caroline who downed it in a go.
The effect was almost instantaneous, her colour improving, her stance relaxing, as she settled into the pillows.
“How did you get it?”
“I made a deal, he gave you a little blood, I’ll give him some for his hybrids.” It had struck her as odd, the deal, he had taken her blood before without even telling her, so she had been shocked when he had agreed.
“Lena-“
“It’s nothing Care,” she sat down on the bed next to her friend, in the space Matt made for her, throwing an arm around the blonde. “I would’ve had to give it to him anyway. I was actually surprised he agreed.” She said frowning.
“He’s the reason this happened at all.”
“I know. But it’s over now. Some birthday huh?”
“Yeah,” she said with a weak smile, all four of them relieved.
She sighed as she knocked on the ornate door for the second time in two days. She didn’t want to be there exactly, but a deal was a deal, and he’d sent one of his hybrids to her school in the morning, wanting her to make good on it as soon as possible.
She didn’t have to wait too long before the door was opened and she was led inside. In the light of the day, she looked around the giant house, she was almost awed at how quickly he had renovated the house. She wondered briefly what he had thought about their conversation the previous night - they were enemies after all, so it wasn’t really a surprise that they had both hit each other where it hurt, but that didn’t change the fact that she was alone in a house surrounded by hybrids, and that she would prefer if he wasn’t angry with her.
When she reached the room, it was different than the one from last night, rich carpeting and leather couches in front of a fireplace that was adorned with intricate artwork, a bar tucked off at one end. She hated that he had such good taste, even if it was a bit ostentatious.
“Good, you’re here. Let’s get on with this shall we?” She heard his voice before she saw him, still taking in the room and her head snapped to where he had appeared by the bar. She expected the familiar feeling of fear to fill her, but that wasn’t what she felt when she saw him. Her mind was protesting, telling her that this was dangerous, that he was dangerous, but there was a small part of her, one that was treacherous, that didn’t believe her to be in any danger at all.
Maybe, she thought bracingly as she walked towards the couch, it was because he had already done his worst. He had already drained her of life once, he had already killed her, already caused Isobel’s death, and John’s indirectly, already taken Stefan, and put Caroline in danger. Maybe it was because she didn’t know how much worse it could get. Maybe that was why, despite mountains of evidence, she wasn’t afraid of him.
Or, she was going crazy.
“Okay.” She realised a young girl had followed her in the room, red headed, a couple years older than herself, likely a nurse and she motioned towards the couch for Elena to sit. The other girl started prepping her for the donation, an act that was now becoming familiar to her, somehow. She expected him to leave, to send one of his hybrids to make sure everything was done while he kept a ear on everything from elsewhere, like the control freak he seemed to be, but to her surprise, he sat down opposite her, nursing a glass of scotch.
A short while later, she felt a slight stinging sensation and there was a needle going through her arm before her blood was being collected into a bag as he stared at her neck. She was slightly taken aback at the intensity of his gaze, which, she realised, was fixated at the scar he had left during the sacrifice. He looked up suddenly, his eyes finding her, knowing that she had caught him, and he had the gall to smirk at her.
“Where are Stefan and Damon this fine afternoon?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice, but she had an idea as to what he really wanted to know. And she didn’t want to be in the middle of it.
“I don’t know.” She answered honestly, resisting the urge to squirm away from his piercing gaze.
“If they keep playing this game with me, taking my family, someone is bound to get hurt.” He said leaning forward, almost like he was trying to threaten her.
“I don’t think Stefan particularly cares about that anymore.” She couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice as she said it, and he smirked at her words.
“I see that’s something you blame me for.” He sounded as if he didn’t care particularly if she did, gesturing at her with the glass in his hand, reminding her of Damon.
“You were the one who compelled him to turn off his humanity.” There was no accusation in her voice now, just the ease that came when laying down facts. She pushed away memories of the night when it had happened, knowing she needed to stay sharp around Klaus.
“I did, but I didn’t think he’d go after you. And I was right, even at the bridge, he couldn’t really kill you, could he? He fed you his blood.” There was something in his voice, some strange emotion she couldn’t really figure out, and she broke eye contact, looking away from the blue of his eyes to the far wall.
She wasn’t sure what to say to him, part of her wanted to rage at him, but she knew that the person she was really hurt by was Stefan. The enormity of what he had done was weighing down her, had been all night, and she didn’t want to dwell on it any longer. Instead, she focused at the art on his wall. It was the painting of a landscape with a horse that was looking away, and maybe she imagined it, but there was something almost wistful about it, like it was an ethereal being.
“You’re ignoring me, how mature.” His voice broke through the temporary silence that had fallen over them.
“I don’t want to talk to you about Stefan.” She said turning to face him again, more because she didn’t want him to know that he had affected her, than anything else.
“Very well, let’s change the subject, shall we?” She narrowed her eyes as the false cheerfulness was back. “How is your brother?”
“You tried to kill him.” She doubted he’d care much about that though, “what about your sister, how is she?” She could sense his anger at her question and felt vindicated at it.
“You told her about my mother.” He said accusingly and she shrugged.
“Yeah, she was pretty angry about your partiality to matricide.”
“You know, doppelgänger, there is something different about you.” He got up from his place on the couch and she watched with bated breath as he rounded the centre table to sit next to her, his arm thrown over the back of the couch as he leaned towards her, a mockery of intimacy. It surrounded her senses with the smell of his cologne and she tried not to pay attention to it, or the way her spine was tingling.
“I have a name.” She was surprised when her words came out breathy instead of angered.
“Yes, Elena.” She had thought her name sounded rich when Elijah said it, but it was nothing compared to how Klaus said it now. She knew he could hear the sound of her heart as it betrayed her. “But it doesn’t change the fact that something has changed. You’re different. If I couldn’t smell your blood right now, I’d say you were Katerina, like the night of the homecoming dance.”
“You knew.” She said, her voice wavering slightly.
“I knew the moment I saw her. But I wanted to know what plan she had up her sleeve. I must say, I didn’t think you would get Mikeal.”
“We were running out of options, and figured if you had been on the run from him for a thousand years, then there must be something dangerous about him.” She wasn’t sure what she was trying to do, but it she knew enough from Damon and Rebekah that Mikael was a sore spot for him.
“I had. But thanks to your friends he’s dead and I can finally settle down now.” She could feel her hackles rising at his words, the way he dismissed a plan that had taken them so long to come up with.
“Oh is that why you’re taking my blood? You want to turn your girlfriend into a hybrid?” She bit back.
He smirked at her, clearly entertained, as he finished his drink.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous love.” She scoffed, but couldn’t help the anger rising in her.
Before she could say anything though, the needle was being taken out of her arm, and she winced, sticking on the bandage that was offered to her.
“Did no one offer to heal you?” He gestured at the bruises on her wrist, and she blinked. It was ironic that he would care about them at all, since he was the one who had given them to her, having encased her hands in his tight, almost unforgiving, grip.
“No.”
“And here I was thinking,” he walked towards the bar at one end of the room, filling his glass, “that you had many people to protect you.”
“I didn’t exactly go around showing people.” She said as she pulled down her sleeve to cover her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her when his face changed and he bit into his wrist, before coming to take a seat beside her, offering her his bloody arm.
“Go on then, wouldn’t want you passing out while driving. You’re worth more to me alive than dead.”
“Don’t I know it.” She took a deep breath before she lowered her mouth against his bleeding wrist. She had expected the coppery taste, so she wasn’t really surprised when she felt it, what did surprise her however, was how easy it was for her to drink it. It slid down her throat easily unlike the time Damon had forced her to drink his blood, which had made her choke. She pulled away after a little longer, when his wound had healed, licking her lips. She could see his eyes follow the movement of her tongue, almost like he couldn’t look away. She was pulled out of her reverie when she heard her phone alert her with a message.
A text from Jenna asking her when she’d be home.
“Well, I should get going.” She stood up quickly, regretting it immediately when she felt the room spin. She blindly reached out and held on to something, someone, she realised as Klaus placed one hand on her back to steady her while she was holding on to his other arm. She looked up at him, directly into his eyes, and was taken aback by how blue they were this close.
“Careful there, love. I already told you that I need you alive.” She bit back a scathing reply as he guided her into sitting down again, and she wanted to protest that it was nothing but a head rush. She couldn’t though, because her eyes and her mind were playing tricks on her; she could’ve almost sworn that there was something like concern in his eyes.
She took deep, steadying breathes as she looked around the room again, noticing that all the walls and the floor were made of wood. Her attention was captured by the painting however, her gaze drawn to it over and over again until she got up, leaning onto the arm of the couch carefully, and walked over to observe it closely. She wondered when and where he had acquired it, a beautiful piece of the countryside. And the horse, it was almost as if someone had painted it with care, the careful brushstrokes, the soft angles, the striking beauty of it. It was breathtaking, even though she didn’t really understand art. She frowned when she noticed something in the corner and realised it was signed by the artist who painted it, her eyes widening at the sight.
“Here.” Klaus had returned with a plate of fruits and a glass of water. “You are human, even if my blood heals you, you still require sustenance.”
“You painted this.” She hadn’t aimed to sound accusing as she turned around but even she could hear it in her voice.
“Yes, I did.”
“You paint.”
“What do you think I do in my spare time love, torture children?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of vampire fight club.” She said as she walked back to her seat on the couch and took the food from him. She wondered how it had gotten to this place, but then again, she figured it was because of her blood.
“Yes, as fun as it would be to watch amateurs have at it, I do prefer painting.”
She could imagine it then, him painting, probably by a French window, fully concentrated on the easel before him. She had always seen him as someone who destroyed, so it was jarring to learn that he was capable to creating something so beautiful, something almost….human.
“I can see why. I’ve seen Stefan and Damon fight.” She said wanting to distract herself from the thought.
“Over you?” She gave an him an unimpressed look at the question, and the slight mocking tone of his voice, deciding to answer honestly.
“Yes, actually. Damon didn’t trust Elijah, so forced me to drink his blood before the sacrifice so I’d turn.” She saw a flash of anger over his face at her words, probably because of Katherine or at the thought of losing his blood source for hybrids, but it passed quickly.
“And what about Stefan? I take it he didn’t agree with Damon.”
“No, he wanted to respect my choice of not wanting to be a vampire.”
“So how did you come back human?” He tried to feign nonchalance, but she could see he was interested. She took her time before answering him, munching of the dragonfruit on her plate.
“Bonnie did a spell, my life in exchange for John’s - he was my birth father, but I didn’t know about it until after.”
They sat in silence for a while as she ate until her curiosity got the best of her. She licked her lips before she turned to him.
“When did you paint that?” She asked, gesturing to the painting.
“A few centuries ago, after Theo died.”
She frowned as she realised he was talking about the horse in the painting. The sadness in his voice was such that she could hardly believe he was talking about someone other than himself. And he must’ve meant it because he had taken the time and the care to paint the horse in a way that was almost caring. She wanted to go back, to not know about any of this, because suddenly it made her see him as a person instead of the monster she knew he was.
He tore away from it once he realised she was watching him, and something shifted within him, so subtle she couldn’t even tell what it was. But she knew she’d hear nothing more now.
“Well, if you’re feeling better, I think you should leave.” She put the plate down, he was right, she had to leave, to get away from him, and whatever sympathy she was beginning to feel for him, along with whatever else it was that was rising within her.
“Yeah. Try not to get another one of my friends bitten again.”
“I make no promises love.” She shook her head at him, infuriated by his smirk, and picked up her bag and left. It was there again then, the feeling that she shouldn’t leave, that it was something wrong, but she ignored it again, walking to the door and not looking back.