"You put up walls so high that only the crazy would climb them to be with you. Well, here I am."

—K.K. Meade

———

Chapter Four

Cremations and Homecomings

———

Blowing and popping the watermelon chewing gum dancing across my tongue, I drum my fingers on Ric's steering wheel as alternative rock slowly croons from the speakers of his running car. Amusedly, I think about how Damon snapped Tyler's neck earlier; the poor sap finding himself to not only be the very first created hybrid, but also to be the very first created and sired hybrid.

Since I was not trusted to be around Rebekah during the mission, I was relegated to Stefan-transport-duty, much to my dismay, so I was waiting for the pair to come back with the imbecile's corpse.

Is that gasoline I smell? I briefly ask myself.

Must be from the bonfire. Major bummer that I missed that.

Unlocking the car doors as I hear their stuttered footsteps get close, I promptly hop out of the car as Ric and Elena drag Stefan towards the vehicle and open the trunk. Helping the two weak humans out, I heft Stefan into the back seat with an arm as Ric and Elena take a breath of air. After a moment, the doppelgänger moves to sit in the passenger's side as I go back to the driver's, her turning back towards Stefan's unconscious form laid across the lowered back seatsonce we're settled.

Closing the back hatch, Ric moves up to the driver's side window to tell me something, but when I move to open the window, it doesn't work. Like, at all. Frowning briefly, I proceed to press several buttons, Elena looking over at me in confusion when I move to try and jiggle the door handle itself urgently, slightly alarmed when it doesn't open but instead snaps off with my vampire strength.

When Elena and Ric realize that I can't open the door, they both have different reactions to different things.

While Elena proceeds to start trying to open her side of the car with increasing levels of panic, Alaric turns his head to the right, his eyes nearly popping out of his sockets, and that's when I see the first few licks of flames climbing up the back tires. Eyes widening in surprise, I squeal in surprise at the temperature inside the car increasing at an accelerated rate, the flames licking up the back of the car like there's... gasoline on it.

Whoopsie.

Alright, I'm woman enough to acknowledge it. Our deaths might've been on my shoulders.

The flames have licked up both sides of the vehicle unreasonably fast making me move to drag Elena to the back where I could kick open the trunk and get her and Stefan out at once. There's an unnatural yank on my hair from nowhere, bashing the back of my head back against the windshield.

I'm officially panicking because a goddamned invisible force just pulled out a clump of my hair in order to halt our escape. Alaric is panicking because he can't continue to get through the wall of fire to very helpfully yell at us to open the magically-locked doors. Elena is panicking because, not only has she also seen said-magical force drag me like a rag doll, she simultaneously spots Stefan blearily waking up in the quickly roasting backseat as well.

A red glow has overtaken the car as Stefan wakes up fully, asking what's going on, and all-around still being useless until I snap at him while struggling against the force.

"Stefan!" I growl over the sound of roaring flames, and his clueless green eyes snap to mine. "Unless you feel like spit-roasting in here, get a goddamned move on!"

Groaning, Stefan throws his leg out at the back hatch door, firmly kicking it off its hinges before helpfully laying back on the floorboard. The force holding me back is suddenly removed, like someone pulling off a blanket, and I quickly scramble to catch up with Elena into the backseat and out of the trunk, catching my breath in time to turn and see Stefan still in the quickly burning trunk.

"If it's a vote, I say we leave him," I say breezily as I watch the embers consume the car, seeing Elena's head snap towards me in disbelief before she moves to heft the young Salvatore out of the back of the burning vehicle.

I'm glad that I decided not to volunteer mine.

That night, Damon conveniently forgets to inform me on what exactly I'm to be helping with.

———

"Rebekah," I groan four days later, leaning my leather jacket-coated shoulder against the locker besides hers with puppy dog eyes as she gives me a frosty glare.

"You know I'm sorry about the bonfire! Damon had something he needed me to do," I whine childishly, attempting to wear down her frigid defenses. She had been rather cold to me since that evening, rather set on being upset with me for not accompanying her at the last minute. Rebekah Mikaelson narrows her sapphire-blue eyes at me as her blonde ponytail whips in parallel with her closing locker door, all sass in her pink cardigan, white undershirt, and jeans.

"You know I love Stefan," she growls out, "You're lucky I don't rip your heart from your small chest."

Gasping in offense, my mouth drops at the insult, subconsciously looking at my chest.

"I told you that in confidence!" I whisper-yell at her, self-consciously crossing my arms over the blue crop-top beneath the jacket in an effort to soothe my ego. "And besides," I continue, cocking a hand on my hip when she crosses her arms, glowering at me, "The sooner Stefan goes 'prodigal son' and comes back to his sweet, downer self; the sooner you and him can get to reconnecting and have him dropping that mousy low-budget third installment."

I can see her fight a smile on her pretty face at the insult to the doppelgänger, licking her glossed lips in an effort to hide it. Twisting her face slightly in thought to make me squirm, she finally rolls her doll-like eyes.

"Fine. I'll forgive you just this once, since you were being loyal," she says with a superior tilt of her chin, and I know a small part of her is being both teasing and high-maintenance.

"But, don't push your luck, Eleanor. We Mikaelsons are not known for our mercy, or for giving secondchances," Rebekah adds, and I roll my eyes at the threat-posturing, like I have any intention to do anything to her family.

"Uh huh. Okay, Rebekah," I say in what she likes to call my 'Southern Bitch Accent.' Apparently, it's sugary-sweet, but extremely patronizing, which I hadn't really noticed until she had pointed it out.

She gives me a rather confused look, like she doesn't understand why I would answer that way, and I briefly wonder why.

Maybe I should've wondered more.

———

"WHAT?!" I yell, standing from my seat on the Salvatore's living room couch in panic. Damon's blue eyes are somewhat narrowed in annoyance at my reaction, like I shouldn't be reacting this way, and, quite frankly, it makes me want to beat the crap out of him.

I had been fully informed on just how dangerous Damon's favor was, and just how much it would cost me. A hybrid? An Original hybrid?! What were they thinking?!

This isn't some vampire nest that can be wiped out easily with a couple of high noons— these are the Original vampires. Literally the beginning of our entire race spanning back over a thousand years. Who knew what the ramifications would be for trying to kill Klaus Mikaelson, whether you succeeded or failed.

Failure would result in the obvious: Klaus Mikaelson wanting your head, and the heads of all of your loved ones on his wall. It was obvious in the way he behaved at the gym that the man had quite an ego, and any slight to it would result in him lashing out for god-knows-how-long. Success, on the other hand, would most likely result in an even greater lash out from the rest of his family, who, even if what Damon said about Klaus staking them was true, would most likely want brutal, Viking-style revenge for their fallen brother.

As much as it annoys me to say, Damon would do the same if someone actually killed Stefan, and the brothers hadn't been together half as long as the Mikaelson siblings.

This could only end badly.

Not just badly. Horribly.

Which is why I was downright pissed that Damon had even called me here in the first place.

Obviously, I had really needed somewhere to go, and I don't particularly care about dying, per say; but what I do care about is being in pain for forever before dying. I haven't experienced much pain in the last century as time has increased my strength, and I don't intend for my death to include torture foreplay.

Messing with Klaus Mikaelson was a sure-fire way for me to be tortured for an extended period of time before a rather painful death, according to Rebekah.

Walking over, I look down at Damon in front of me on the other couch, him returning my look with an amused glint in his eyes. As if he's amused by my reaction to him telling me he's going to die for some brunette floozy.

"Damon, sugar," I say, pleading with him to see reason as I cup his cheeks affectionately, brown eyes sparkling with immense concern as I look down into the icy blue eyes of my good friend-with-benefits.

"You know I like you. I'm your friend, and I think you are a fantastic man. But you are a raging dumbass. Why, oh why, would you call me here to get Spanish Inquisition'd for a girl with the personality and fashion sense of Wonder Bread?!" I finish angrily with a couple light smacks to his cheeks. I wasn't even that upset that it was over some human girl that looked like his ex, but having met Elena, I could very easily say that her personality is equivalent to the personality of a music store standee. He responds with a playful glare, grabbing both of my hands and yanking me forwards onto his lap, pulling my legs to straddle him in my jean shorts.

I pout down at him, not super happy about him changing the subject, but also being quite fond of the new subject.

"Aren't you trying for something with Wonder Bread, Damon?" I ask softly as he moves my hands from his face to his chest, shooting me a wicked smirk as his own hands start to wander up my tanned thighs.

"She's still 'undecided,' so, therefore..," he doesn't finish, instead peppering my neck with slow kisses as his hands fit around my lower back, smooth lips tracing a familiar trail down the column of my throat that he knows makes me smile.

Moving my hands through his raven hair, I let him continue his pleasant kisses along my jaw before sharply tugging back on his locks and making him look at me.

"Damon Salvatore," I call seriously, looking deep enough into his crystalline eyes to know he's feeling lusty and a bit hurt, and sitting close enough on his lap to feel the proof of it. "If you're not serious enough about Elena that you can debate sleeping with me, we shouldn't be risking our necks for the random teenager. That's all I'm saying."

His eyes harden slightly; Damon not really mad at me, but definitely annoyed at me for telling the truth and calling him out.

"And all I'm saying," Damon growls out, one of his hands tangling in the curls at the nape of my neck as the other reaches under my ass and scoots me closer to him, "is that we should stop saying and start doing."

When his lips press on mine angrily, I know that it's not really me that he's upset at— it's the truth. And the truth of the matter was, the Salvatore's obsession with Elena Gilbert would get them all killed.

And I also know an ugly truth; that I'm not dying for Elena, the doppelgänger.

So, when Damon nips my bottom lip to make me open my mouth, lowering me down onto the couch, I try to remember it fondly, since I'll miss him. I try to remember Mystic Falls fondly, since I'll miss it despite my short stay.

Too bad I'll miss the dance. Rebekah will have a fit.

———

It's been a week since I vanished from the town of Mystic Falls, disappearing to the sandy coasts of Myrtle Beach.

I sit alongside the lifeguard stand, it being too cold to be swimming, but very pleasant to read in.

However, not for me.

Huffing, I throw down my crappy romance novel along with my Chanel sunglasses in frustration, glaring at the phone and phone battery sitting besides me under the umbrella.

It had been unceasingly annoying that I continued to feel an actual connection to the town of Mystic Falls, unable to really enjoy any new place in the States— and I had tried three. Of course, I had said that I'd miss the place, but I had meant in the dramatic way you hear people reference with nostalgia in movies. I didn't think I'd actually miss it after the curtain fell; but there I was, on a beach with a sangria in hand, debating whether or not to put the battery back in my phone or flip the switch so I'd quit feeling the incessant prodding of guilt.

What was the big deal with Mystic Falls?

Was it that I felt bad about ditching Damon to deal with saving his doomed heroine on his own?

No. No, I did not. At least not that bad.

Was it that I felt bad for abandoning Rebekah?

...

Okay, yes. Yes. It was driving me nuts that I had left prime best friend real estate in that shitty town, alone, right before what was to be our first homecoming together. And all because I was/I am scared of being flayed by her brother for unwittingly helping Elena almost take out his minion, who's also Damon's brother.

Not to mention, today was the day of said homecoming dance?

Jesus Christ, this is a lot of information to take in even a week after the fact.

Rolling my eyes, I groan, finally reaching for the blackberry and putting the battery in, promptly turning it on. The buzzing is immediate, and I have to wait several minutes for the phone to pause, seeing notifications from both Damon and Rebekah blur by at break-neck pace.

After a few moments of scrolling, I read just how severe things have gotten since I left, and a very small part of me was very smug at getting out of their before the circus came to town. Apparently, Damon and his old doppelgänger, Katherine, revived Rebekah's desiccated, vampire-hunting Original vampire of a father to kill Klaus. They had Rebekah call him after she discovered that Klaus killed their mother to tell him that Mikael had died, but in reality they were going to spring his abusive dad on him.

Stupid idea.

Damon hadn't messaged me any further on the plan outside of a few 'where r u' texts; but Rebekah had, along with several creatively-insulting names for my cowardice in leaving without a goodbye. Hopefully she would forgive me.

Well, perhaps she could forgive me if I made it in time for her first dance...?

With my mind set, I stuff my beach bag with my personal items and leave the beach, walking quickly back to my hotel just as the sun rises. I had a plane to find and catch.

———

Strutting up to Mystic Falls High School in my sequined, white-gold minidress, freshly straightened hair bouncing in a sleek ponytail with each step, my brows furrow in stark confusion when I hear fire engine sirens in the distance. As I approach, my eyes take in the full damage to the high school painted in flashing alarm lights.

Water pours vigorously out of the openings of Mystic Falls High; men in neon jackets carrying warning cones and large hoses into the bowels of the school to clear out more of the water. It was a mess. Listening carefully, I hear Tyler Lockwood speaking to Caroline Forbes several feet from me, preparing to explain what in the fresh hell had happened.

"The gym's flooded," Tyler starts, looking serious, "The dance is cancelled."

What?!

Pulling out my phone from my clutch, I look down and see that there are no new messages from Rebekah, despite the eight I've sent her since landing in Richmond. She either was really angry with me; she was dealing with this mess; or, the most likely option, both. Groaning, I stomp my pumped heel childishly as I grumble, preparing myself to drive home and just apologize to Bekah tomorrow.

At least that is, until I overhear more of their conversation.

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?!" The pretty blonde vampire reasonably whines, pouting up at the werewolf.

"Relax," Tyler says after clearly suppressing an eye roll at his girlfriend, "I've got it taken care of. We can just move the party over to my place."

Caroline angrily spins to glare at him.

"You want our homecoming to be some kegger?" Caroline Forbes asks with the same venom I'd expect from Rebekah if she were here to vote on the suggestion.

Tyler's eyes harden on his somewhat uppity girlfriend, and I arch my brow at the difference between this and his usual lovey-dovey, say-yes attitude. "Caroline. It's all we've got," he replies off-handedly, clearly a bit offended at her abhorrence of the idea.

Caroline's own look hardens briefly before she huffs, softening her blue gaze at her boyfriend apologetically as she wraps her arms around his suited shoulders. "Alright. I'm sorry. I'll let everyone know about the change in location, okay?"

He smiles back at her fondly, and I breathe a happy sigh at the sight of young love. It was absolutely adorable. Turning on my nude heel, I turn off into the night to go waste time and drive for another hour before heading to Tyler's, waiting until the party has actually started to make my fashionably late entrance.

Maybe Bekah already was aware of the change of plan and I could just meet her at the Lockwood's huge manor.

———

I have only been to the Lockwood's once, to drop off Caroline and Tyler after Damon snapped his neck for being Klaus' lap dog, but the place was very spiffy.

It met my standards, anyway.

The transformation of not only the house, but also the backyard, into a party hub had not only been dramatic, but also extremely successful, teenagers and many others I didn't recognize crowding the halls and yard. Flashing lights of many colors, red solo cups filled with cheap mixed liquor and beer, and the dizzying continual thrum of bass filtered through the house; and even if it wasn't a homecoming, per say, it was still a very fun new atmosphere altogether.

Albeit, a bit nauseating.

The constant shove of people pushes me down the main hallway, me breaking a boy's pinkie discreetly when his hand wanders a bit far down my ass to move the crowd to where I had some breathing room. Quickly adapting to the new wiggle space, I move to head out to the backyard, where instead of the blade of club hits, an alternative band plays to a large crowd of teens mingled with adults.

Weird, isn't this just high schoolers?

Oh well, don't care.

I'm so distracted by the party, I don't notice when someone slinks to my side, watching the crowd alongside me.

"Ooh, the runaway is back. Have fun on your little vacation?" A snide voice says to my right, and an irritated smile works it's way on my cheeks, me knowing full well that my accent is about to be much stronger than usual since I'm annoyed.

"Ain't this just lovely? I finally break down and come back, and the welcoming committee is the resident Original errand boy," I quip, finally turning to look at the pest, "I'm once again reminded that we should've let you burn like a pig in the back of that car. How've you been, Stefan?"

I can't describe the roar of satisfaction that costs my soul when I see the uptick of Stefan's thick brow, clearly at least vaguely irritated even with his humanity off. He steps to square off properly with me, me also turning to face him properly with a fight in the quirk of my smile, eager to take out some irritation and jet lag out on the boy when I'm stopped by another presence at my shoulder.

Lo and behold, there is Tyler Lockwood with a pleasant smile on his face, carrying a case of beer.

"Oh! Eleanor! Rebekah's been looking all over for you. I'm glad you could make it," he warmly greets me, giving a polite head nod to Stefan.

Since the sired boy had become Rebekah's responsibility once Klaus left, Tyler was really the only one of the group besides Damon that I was really privy to, even if we weren't what I'd call friends. Stefan smirks at the jock, turning away from me and slipping back into his emotionless mask.

"Hey, Tyler," the douche greets, placing his hands in his black suit pockets. "Nice party you got here."

"Thanks," Tyler brightly replies, turning to walk away with the case of beer as he finishes, "but I'm not the one throwing it."

Both mine and Stefan's brows furrow in confusion at what he says. He's not the one throwing it? Then who is?

"I'm just doing what Klaus wants," Tyler clarifies at our stupefied looks.

...

Huh.

"What do you mean?" Stefan asks, trying to be sure of what Tyler was implying.

"It's not a party, man. It's a wake," Tyler cryptically hints, and I quickly understand the twist he's insinuating, my eyes widening as they snap to the stage at the sound of the song ending and a mic crackling.

That clever bastard.

There, Klaus Mikaelson stood in the spotlight of the stage in his fine black suit, looking once again like the prettiest man I had ever seen. The stage lighting reflected off of him in a particularly ethereal way that would look lovely in a picture, the many lights and shadows of his face beautifully captured in the beam. Stormy blue eyes scan into the crowd, his lips quirking into that mischievous smile of his that I remembered from over a week ago as he searches for something.

"Good evening, everyone!" He calls out with his British accent in full flux into the microphone, enjoying his roll as master of the concert. "I want to thank you all for being here with me to celebrate."

He pauses, finally spotting Stefan, but his smirk broadens when he sees me besides him, intrigued by my presence. The eye contact would make my undead heart stutter if I was human, and a small part of me is glad that I can't reveal the weakness.

The fact that Stefan doesn't know that this Machiavellian villain is a walking sin-waiting-to-happen to me is the only comfort I can take from the intense stare down. That primal nature was still there in the hybrid and beating as proudly and as strongly as ever, and I feel a thrill down my spine when I see that he's waving the party on and walking off the stage, en route to me, Stefan, and Tyler.

His stormy blues are scanning my face for something, eyes not leaving mine as he weaves through the partygoers, and I see something intrigued in his gaze.

I can't help it—a small, shy smile warms up my cheeks as he approaches, and I'm rewarded by his smirk growing wider when he sees it, finally reaching us. Klaus breaks the intense hold he has on my gaze, smiling at Stefan and Tyler in greeting.

"Well, hello there. Stefan, Tyler," he greets, the quirk of his lips and button nose somehow making it come off as boyish and charming that he was so relaxed around the Salvatore and hybrid. As the boys both nodded back to him, Tyler leaves with the beer; and I had to admit, it was a bit strange to see Klaus interact with people he could actually tolerate.

it was very sweet, in a way; his old-school celebratory charm that I could pin in timeless characters throughout history, like Jay Gatsby, or maybe even Al Capone and Caesar.

That was a word to describe Klaus Mikaelson: timeless. The man could've been a character in any era and blended in; it was just in his manner of speaking. I briefly wonder if this man is a correct descriptor for that 'world-wise' term that I remember one woman in San Francisco using back in '02.

And when that feral blue gaze meets mine again, I can't help but be more curious about the man that is Klaus Mikaelson.

"And hello there, Eleanor," goosebumps raise on my skin at how he says my name— like he thinks it's fun to say. "I thought you had left," he finishes with a raise of his blonde brow, challenging me.

Smiling playfully at the fun start to our latest conversation, I blink up innocently at him through my thick lashes.

"Well, you could hardly blame me," i coyly reply, grabbing my hands behind my back with a sway of my hips to one side, catching his gaze flickering down my body before going back to my face, scanning me as if trying to see if I was genuine.

"After all, I was nearly bludgeoned to death for a girl I didn't know until last week. Was even threatened in a most ungentlemanly manner by a brute. You wouldn't believe the stress," I continue with a teasing bat of my eyes, earning an amused chuckle from the hybrid and an eye roll from the Salvatore as I hum mock-thoughtfully, "I'm a southern belle at heart, Mr. Mikaelson. The way I was raised just cannot tolerate rudeness, so I left for a brief spell. I'm sure you would never treat me that way; now would you?"

His eyes nearly glow in amusement at my sending the teasing challenge back.

"Not unless it was necessary, love," Klaus affirms, that wicked smirk still on his handsome, scraggly face.

Stefan laughs sardonically, interrupting.

"Wonderful. I get to be third wheel at school, in my own home, and at the Lockwood's. Goodie."

Klaus' gaze doesn't leave mine when he retorts to Stefan, "Well, if you leave Miss Maddox and I to converse, then you wouldn't have to suffer such an injustice against your delicate, recently-single sensibilities."

I blink in surprise, not only at the swift cut down Klaus says, but that he wants to talk with me alone at all. Like I'm even a blip on his Original hybrid radar.

"Gladly," Stefan sighs in relief, turning on his leather heel and quickly walking off in the other direction, leaving me to fend for myself with Klaus Mikaelson.

Turning to fully face the intimidating, but very interesting hybrid, I ignore the pang of guilt that I feel at the brief thought of Damon— shoving it promptly into the back of my mind when Klaus smirks down at me again.

"This is a spectacular party, Mr. Mikaelson. If I had gone to your previous parties, I'd tell you that you had outdone yourself," I compliment, glancing around the large, well-decorated backyard appreciatively before meeting his electric gaze once more.

"Even without knowing if I've actually outdone myself this time?" He asks curiously.

I smile at his inquisitive nature, finding his banter more then pleasant enough to have an enjoyable conversation with. I feel like this situation is probably quite funny from the outside.

A young vampiress is tortured by one of the progenitors of her kind, but released in a moment of mercy from the big, bad hybrid; she finds his manner of speaking as well as everything else so far attractive about him. She also is betraying her good friend, Damon, by crushing on his nemesis.

Ah, there's the crushing twist of guilt.

"Something tells me you make it a point to," I respond with a sheepish shrug, not seeing the way his eyes really hone on me in those few moments as I say it.

Klaus suddenly turns to stand at my side, extending his suit-covered right arm to me with an arch of his aristocratic brow, waiting for me to grab hold. My brows furrow suspiciously at him, unsure if he's just using me as a ploy to get at Damon.

"Don't worry, love," Klaus soothes, his British lilt washing over me like a warm cup of tea on a rainy afternoon, and for a split second, I completely believe him.

For a second.

His grin turns wicked at me, blue eyes glinting playfully as he adds, "I promise, I won't bite."

...

I groan loudly at the terrible pun, rolling my eyes, and I hear him laugh at his own joke, enjoying my misery. The overconfident bastard. Slipping my hand through the crook of his muscular, but lithe arm, I ignore the ceaseless beating of guilt for flirting with my bestie's brother and my other friend's adversary. Instead, I pretend for a brief moment that I had no other connections in this town; just a normal lady out on the town who meets an enthralling young man during her festivities.

"That was terrible, and if you do it again, I'll have no choice but to leave forever," I giggle, enjoying the amused smirk playing on Klaus' very distracting lips.

"Heaven forbid."

"Oh, shut up," I say with a swat on his arm at his biting sarcasm, forgetting exactly who this is for a moment before pausing, expecting retaliation when he instead turns to guide me through the party. Klaus' gaze seems a bit guarded if not very intrigued by my presence, like he doesn't quite understand what he's looking at when he looks at me, and I'm confused as to how I still have a head attached to my shoulders.

"You're an enchanting young woman, Miss Maddox," Klaus says after a pause, stormy grey-blue eyes crashing violently deep into my brown; making my heart genuinely feel like it was on a platter for him to devour.

And oddly enough, that sensation I feel around him is the only thing that has ever terrified me about Klaus Mikaelson.

———

A/n: Sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for all of your comments, favorites, and follows.

———