QUICK NOTE/DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the plot and Angelique, unfortunately :( I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes. I hope you like this version of the Mikaelsons! Feel free to write a review if you enjoyed my hard work ;) Any type of criticism and praise are welcomed! Now, enjoy!

~ Nikkitosa 3

I knew it was a bad idea. A really bad idea to be precise. After all who, in their rightful mind, meddles with the Original family and survives to tell the story? Well, it seems that's me. Oh, how I wished I had listened to that filthy, yet truthful, witch when she told me that I'm walking straight into the deepest pits of hell.

It's hot. Not let's-go-to-the-beach hot, but rather lets-boil-an-egg-over-my-skin hot. If it wasn't for my wonderful, and extremely expensive, cooling system I'd have died by the time I reach the sign on which, with thick black letters, is written New Orleans. Now, finally nearing the house I bought, I look around the neighbourhood or at least what's supposed to be my new neighbourhood. As I observe my surrounding the only thing miles away, apart from my house, is either thick forests or abandoned wheat fields.

"Perfect. Solitude and quietness! " I'm beyond happy that the house and its adjacent lands turn out to be just what I expected when I bought it.

Truth to be told, more than anything I cherish my private space. It's a constant problem for me to stay around large crowds of people for more than a few hours. I get restless, irritated, anxious and most of all – angry. Personally I blame the tiny, brainless humans and their inexplicable urge to stick together in large herds like cattle. But my psychologist says that it's my claustrophobia kicking in. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother going to her as after my departure she remembers nothing and is left even more confused than me. I'm positive that in the end she'll need a psychologist herself.

With a sigh I adjust my sunglasses and open the door, mentally embracing myself for the heat. When I'm finally out of the car I discover that it's not as hot as I thought – well the temperature in my car is a few degrees lower but it's pretty much bearable. Nearing the double mahogany entrance door I once again look around – as wished, the lawn is perfectly mowed, the bushes are trimmed, and the trees are all in perfect shape, if a tree can be in any shape at all. Unlocking the door and pushing it open I find myself in a huge hallway, paved with marble tiles; the walls are in a nice and subtle beige colour and beautiful oil painting are hanging here and there, with golden frames in the Baroque style. As someone who lived during that time, I personally never liked all the wiggles and frippery of that era, but seeing these frames I find them quite nice and exotic. Upon entering the living room I'm welcomed by the scent of recently picked flowers. A smile pushes its way through and before I know it I'm beaming like a lighthouse. Dazzled, like a little kid in a toy store, I eagerly look around the house, spotting all the changes I requested. For starters the kitchen is almost fully renovated without looking patched to the rest of the edifice. The old wooden frames of the doors leading to all the balconies or the garden are changed with newer editions, which actually look exactly as the old ones, save for the annoying creaking sounds. Of course all changes are done according to my strict instructions – environmentally friendly and biodegradable for the materials, and an almost seamless merging from the old-style to the new one for the kitchen and the rooms upstairs. I know I'm quite old even without the furniture throwing it in my face every time I walk around my house! So after careful inspection I'm quite pleased with the result as whole. 'Time to unpack then!'

I spend the next half an hour arranging my things in the house and stocking the refrigerator. Being the nomad I am, my "luggage" consists of a medium suitcase with all my clothes, a special bag with the toiletries, my laptop bag and two sacs – one for little things or books that didn't fit in the other bags and the second – with different weapons and gadgets. After carefully placing them in strategic locations, I let myself explore my new surroundings. Following the unwritten traditions I go look around the fields, leaving the woods for after the sun sets. Because where is the fun when there's light to chase away the shadows and demons?

It didn't take as much time walking around as I guessed it would and before I know it I'm back at the house, in a need of a long bath. After all, nothing is better than the feeling of being squeaky clean. With that in mind I enter my new home and head for that magical place on the second floor when someone clears their throat. I swiftly turn around only to come face to face with a blonde female holding a crossbow pointed at my direction. I run towards her, grab the weapon from her hands and glare at the now chucking Rebekah.

"Friend or foe?" her velvet voice hisses friendly and I smirk while leaving the crossbow back to its place above the fireplace. For once there's a weapon in the house that doesn't belong to me.

"Friend or foe." I reply as a greeting to the Original sister, as she pours herself a drink.

"It's been centuries, Angelique. Where have you been hiding?" she frowns at me and I chuckle.

"Here and there." The reply leaves my mouth confidently.

"You've been avoiding me, haven't ya?" the accusation in her voice makes me look at her reprovingly.

"Of course not! You've always been a trustful comrade and a good friend." I try to talk as cogently as possible, knowing how insecure Rebekah really is.

Despite her appearance, her biting tongue and avid character, I know that this is all a mask, a well-played scenario. Deep down she is just a lonely, scared girl wanting nothing more than to love and be loved. And knowing what her family, mostly her brother Klaus, is like, I understand why she finds it necessary to keep all her borders in check even with me.

"As a matter of fact I had some things I needed to take care of here and there." I add, seeing that her mood is starting to get foul.

She just sits there, her legs crossed at the ankles, her hair flipped over her right shoulder and a glass of whiskey in her hand, and thinks over everything I said. Even though we've known each other for many centuries, went through hell and back, every once and again I catch her contemplating my words and actions. As if wondering whether or not she should trust me.

"I see the doubt in your eyes, Rebekah. Spill the beans – what's wrong?"

She just sighs and shakes her head, irritation and sorrow passing through her face almost unnoticeably. Almost.

"I do not wish to speak of my brother so soon after your long departure."

"So it's Klaus?" I cock and eyebrow her way, taking a sip of the golden liquid in my glass.

"Shit! It always slips!" Rebekah narrows her gorgeous sapphire orbs at me.

Laughing at her childish behaviour, yet truthful accusation, I go and sit next to her, patting playfully her back.

"Now, now. Share with your old buddy. What's that big brother of yours been up to these past decades?"

I take a few more sips of my whisky, trying not to shudder as I feel too damn dirty to sit in one place, yet I decide to show some patience.

"Oh, you know – the usual. Trying to ruin my life and all. Nothing new and spicy." The venom almost drips from her lips and for a second I wonder if Nicklaus has somehow managed to push all of Rebekah's wrong buttons at once.

"And you are still here because?" I ask as I take a sip of my whisky.

"He's my brother! And Elijah has wrapped his mind around the crazy idea that Nick can be redeemed, saved." Rolling her eyes dramatically, Rebekah stands up and leaves her now empty glass on the coffee table. "I'll leave you now, but I'll expect to see you at that party my obnoxious brother is throwing the upcoming Sunday."

"No fancy invitation? No let's-talk-until-we-drop whining? What's happened to you?" I exclaim dramatically and duck as she throws the same glass at me.

"Mock me and I may as well chop your wings off." She hisses and tries to give the notorious Original glare, but the playful flames in her eyes give her away.

"Hah! I'd like to see you try, sororem /sister; lat./ " my voice is gentle and filled with warmth.

For a second a startled expression crosses her face but soon a smile curls her lips and she nods before vanishing.

I sigh and stare at my almost empty glass, contemplating whether or not I should skip the party, only to mess a little bit with chunky Becks. After a second of thinking I gulp the rest of the hot liquid and leave the glass on the table, deciding it's time I finally take a shower.

The man who came up with the idea to pipe water deserves a noble price… if he still doesn't have one that is. After an hour of splashing and scrubbing I finally feel clean and ready to get out of the steamy cubicle. Only wrapped in a fluffy towel, I enter my new bedroom without bothering to turn on the lights. A flashing light on my bed indicates that my presence was looked for while I was having my squeaky-clean time. With a frown I fetch the phone and unlock it, wondering who on Earth would be texting me in two o'clock in the morning. Clicking on the little letter-like icon the screen turns into a letter, a familiar name written in the Sender box. Smirking, I sit on the edge of the bed and start reading the message:

Dear Ms Silverleaf,

You are invited to this weekend's formal alliance-party, held by the eldest Mikaelson son – Elijah Mikaelson. It's highly recommended you bring your royal ass to the compound, aka the Abattoir, at around 10pm. The dress code is formal, so no leather pants! Your presence is required unquestionably! Dare ditch, bitch! We, the Mikaelsons, wish to hear from you soon and would be pleased if you honour us by attending our humble party.

Sincerely,

Rebekah Mikaelson,

Friend or Foe?

XO

I almost laugh out loud after I finish reading Beck's profound letter. Truth to be told I'm flattered that she even wrote me an invitation, even if it's actually a SMS.

"Becks, you smarty-pants! You always knew how to juggle with words!"

Throwing the phone back on the bed I change into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before dashing out of the door and into the cool Louisiana night. A little tour around The Big Easy would do me good. After all I need to know the borders of my new hunting area. Dealing with witch hexes or werewolf bites can be a serious drag and a pain in my firm ass, so better make sure everything is somewhat settled. The vamps are easy to handle. Truth to be told – I doubt anything inhabiting New Orleans can be a worthy opponent for moi. Maybe not even an Original. 'What about the Hybrid then?' I ask myself, walking down the crowded streets, passing by the cheerful and mostly drunk groups of teenagers.

By the time the sun rises I'm back in my house, well fed and in a pleasant mood after visiting all the 'key' places – the French Quarter, the Abattoir and the Bayou. The witches were a little bit off-handed and didn't pay me much attention, discarding me as a mere human; the soon-to-be home of the Mikaelsons was in a great shape, obviously being taken care of while they were away; and the Bayou was… well, a swamp with many edgy Lykens that weren't very hospitable. Not that I'm the least bit surprised – the last time they trusted a stranger they ended up cursed.

With a sigh I run for another quick shower and hit the covers. The sleep though doesn't come that easy. Turning and tossing in the new bed, my sleep-deprived mind fights the slumber that slowly but surely threatens to overwhelm me any moment. Eventually the last of my resistance collapses and I feel myself sinking into the vast void. The first rays of the sun seem to push me down even faster…

"RUN!" she cries out while fighting off two of the werewolves.

"Like hell!" I shout back, punching one square in the face.

"Stupid girl! Listen to your sister!" a male voice hisses right next to me.

Another pair of wolves jumps at me and I swing my sword, sliding it through their throats, knocking them down. Some blood spills over my face and I take a second to wipe it off. Suddenly sharp pain in my calf has me on my knees, howling in pain. A tearing sound comes from behind me and I shift to see the wolf that bit me sliced in half. I lift my dizzy head up but the face of my saviour is in the shadows.

"On your feet, Huntress!" he aloofly hisses.

Sore and aching I try to stand up, but the more I push on my wounded limbs, the more pain courses through my whole body. Obviously irritated by my inability to fight he snarls and turns his back to me. Seeing him walk away I try to shout not to leave me behind, but as I open my mouth no words come out, only grinding sounds. Grasping my throat, I try to catch his attention in some other way but the mysterious male is gone.

"On your feet, Huntress!" the woman from before yells and I turn to see my younger sister fighting off the enemy.

Her smirk is still plastered over her small lips, not even an ounce of worry present on her pale, now splashed with blood, youthful face. She swings her sword, stabs, turns round, jumps away, retorts, attacks, all with the grace of a cat. She fight's with ease and I find myself tantalised.

Suddenly she falls to her knees and her hands drop her sword. Her head lulls for a second before a paw with long sharp claws rips it off from her shoulders. This time the scream rips from my chest like a siren call. The last thing I see before the world around me drowns in darkness and blood is my sister's lifeless and headless body sprawled only a hand away from me.

Blood. Heart-piercing screams. Howls. Growls. Metal clashing with claws. Tearing of flesh. Hitting of rocks. Pain. Sorrow. Blackness.

When I look around me, finally out of my trance, the ground is covered in corpses. So many dead bodies are littering the once flowery meadow that I find it hard to find where my sword flied to.

I'm empty. No emotions. No regrets. Only nothingness. And a single though that wracks my brain – 'Killer'.

An animalistic cry splits the heavy silence. The moon is bloody red. Now I see only red. A grim smile crooks the ends of my lips and I move through the field and into the forest – the hunt's not over yet.

I wake up with a shout. Clasping my hand over my mouth and with dewy-eyes I look around, desperately trying to find my sister. A second later I realise where I am.

"A dream," I pant, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the blankets, "Just a bad dream…"

With a thud I fall back down in bed, barely glimpsing at the clock on the nightstand – 7 am. Grunting I turn around and wrap myself with the blanket.

An hour or so later I finally slip out of bed, the leftovers of the nightmare still lingering in the air around me. With a grunt I drag myself to the bathroom and let the cold water engulf me in a soothing embrace. It washes all the sweat from my body alongside the last parts of the dream.

Feeling clean and ready to face the new day I change into comfortable clothes, grab my car keys and leave the house, charging to New Orleans. The drive there takes no more than ten minutes but I know that the shopping spree that follows will take me a few hours. After all in my sac there is no such thing as 'party dress' or anything remotely suitable for a party with the Mikaelsons.

Five hours. Five fucking hours wasted in shopping. Of course it's all Rebekah's fault. At first we looked for a dress. Then, after an hour or so, we found the perfect piece of clothing and Miss Shopaholic enlightened me that now shoes and accessories are needed. Another hour or so. Then there was coffee break. And snacks break. Oh, and let's not forget the part where her brother called and told her to go find a witch and deliver a message. What is she? A carrier pigeon? Usually I'm a care-free person and if Rebekah likes the way her family treats her I'll be fine with it, but seriously? Calling her and ordering her to go search for someone, a witch none the less, and not taking a 'no' for an answer? By the end of our little adventure I was so riled up I contemplated whether or not to go and talk to the younger Mikaelson. Rebekah, being the mediator in the family and obviously outside of it, talked me out of it. Eventually.

"God I barely feel me feet!" I whine as I throw my bags on the sofa and pour some wine in a glass.

Finally home, with the sun about to set and a hunger rising deep in me I find the long trek that I was made to endure, the worst shopping trip in the world. And for what? A pair of heels, a dress that's more like two pieces of fabric sued together and a silver necklace with two earrings.

Massaging my temples for a minute or so I try to talk myself into not calling Rebekah and telling her that if she wants me to go to that party she'll need to drag me out of the door with a crane. An unladylike grunt slips by my lips and I suffocate the next one by taking a nice big gulp of my whisky.

"By the end of the summer I'll need to go to rehab for alcoholism!" I mutter under my breath and drink the rest of the liquid in a single gulp.

Leaving the glass back on the counter with a loud thud I go to my room for a long shower and probably some sleep. Yet when I finally reach my destination, the bathtub, I realise that today is indeed Friday. And so tomorrow is the alliance-party thing. Moreover tonight I'm invited to a business-gathering which, unfortunately, I cannot ditch from. 'So many years spend walking this earth and still I fail at organising my time and memorising all the events I'm expected to be present at.' A groan echoes through the empty house before I dive underwater. A few silent and peaceful seconds engulfed into the warm embrace of the water. And then the loud and irritating beeping sound of my alarm splits like a scream the quietness only to remind me that my presence is required once again by someone somewhere far away from my bathtub. So I collect all the leftovers of my strength and get out of the water while mentally reminding myself to go for some snacks on the way back. Something fresh. And tasty.

The next morning I wake up with the feeling that someone is watching me. At first I try to ignore the imposter but the nagging feeling deep in me tells me that now is not the best time to play dead and hide under the blankets. So cracking open one eye I glance around the too light room only to find dearest Rebekah sitting in one of my chairs and staring at me pointedly. With a groan I pull my sore arm from underneath me and reach for the bedside cabinet, on top of which my phone rests. After a few unsuccessful tries I finally manage to get a hold of the little slippery devil and pull it close to my face so that my halfway opened eye could see the digits. At me, arrogantly and mockingly, the 13:26 is dazzling like it laughs at me for sleeping in. 'Motherfucker!' I hiss mentally and fling the mobile phone back on the cabinet. Or at least I try. The little thing only hits the edge and falls down on the floor with a thud. I groan and roll over, hiding myself under the blanket.

"C'mon sleepy-head! The sun's going to set by the time you bring your ass out of that bed." the blonde's slightly southern accent irritates my hearing and blindly griping something from the other nightstand I throw it back at her.

She most probably catches is easily, if it even flew her way that is, and laughs at my weak attempt to shoo her away.

"Today is cancelled!" I groan.

"Wake up. And quit whining! Stuff need to be done today!" and she claps her hands before grabbing my blanket and pulling it away.

"It's YOUR alliance party thing. Why do I need to get involved in any of this?" I scratch my head and yawn.

"I need your help. Hayley is too pregnant to help with the heavier stuff. So chop-chop!" and another set of claps.

I glare her way, but she fails to see. So, admitting defeat, I stand up and drag myself to the bathroom.

After the wild fiasco, Rebekah finally decides that everything is in place she shoos me away, for a second time if I may add, telling me to go change and wash and do it hastily. On more than one occasion I wanted to plug her one in the earhole, but eventually I sucked it up and let her lead the parade. Now I feel mentally exhausted. Rebekah may be my closest and longest friend, but there are times I wish I could strangle her. As she ordered I take a quick and refreshing shower and start preparing for the party. The piece of clothing she calls a dress hangs in my wardrobe next to the leather pants and jeans and looks so out of place that I pull it out and toss it onto the bed. 'And more than an hour is up to be wasted for a party that'll probably last less.' I think before throwing some fancy underwear on. With the flat iron heating up, all the make-up in front of me and a dress close by I feel like a pig in a slaughter house. With a deep sigh I grab the mascara and start the hour and a half long preparation for Beck's party. After all nothing less than perfection won't be allowed to enter.

One word. Ridiculous. That's the way I feel when I exit my car after wasting more than 10 minutes trying to find a free space. Irritated by the lack of organisation in this part of the Mansion, I mentally tell myself to play around with Miss Perfection about the lack of place to park. I sly smirk slips on my lips and I shake my head, the long straight auburn locks swiftly following the movement. My steps are equal and rather slow, but I believe it's due to the fact that I can hear the music blasting from over here and I dare not even imagine what's inside. Truth to be told, I never was the 'party animal' type of person but rather preferred the quietness and solitude of an empty house and a nice book. As I near the entrance, a nervous tick that appeared earlier this night kicks in – discreetly grabbing the end on my so called dress and pulling it down so that I can at least keep my jewels hidden. A small group of youngsters, vampires I presume, is chatting near the entrance, but when they notice my approach a sudden silence settles, their glances obvious and filled with primal desire. 'Don't ruin your mood from the beginning! Let them stare – I doubt it they have ever seen an ass like this!' my inner voice, worldly-wise as always, whispers and I decide to keep it cool. For now at least.

Upon entering I'm facing the back garden of the Abattoir, where this night's party will be held while the leaders of the different communities discuss the future dividing of the territory of New Orleans. I'd give a pile of gold only to watch the show from the first rows. Unfortunately, knowing a few things for the resent dealings in the family from Rebekah, I'm aware that only the oldest Mikaelson will be present. With a pang of disappointment I enter further into the circle that the high walls form. The garden in nowhere near big enough to house a party, but with a bit of redecorating, some platforms built on-spot and some spotlight here and there, the place looks like one hell of a club.

All the faces are unfamiliar. Everywhere I turn, I spot a werewolf, a witch or a vampire and here and there are only a handful of humans present. Not an Original in sight. And while I try not to look like a lost puppy sniffing for his master I can feel some real puppies sniffing at me. With the corner of my eye and pretty much with my back to them, I notice a movement in the werewolves' rows. Some, probably the youngsters, are checking me out, but their older brothers look at me with doubt and intensity. 'If their old enough they'll know the tales. And if they are even smarter, will stay as far away from me as possible!' I hiss mentally and once again look around.

"May I help you? You seem…" a modest yet domineering voice asks behind me and I swiftly turn around.

Only to come face to face with no one but the famous Mikaelson son. Elijah.

"Lost is the word you seek, I presume?" I smile his way politely.

Relying on his younger sister's words, I try my best not to act like a bitch, which may or may not kill you in an eye blink.

"I'm sorry, but I don't seem to know you, miss…"

"Silverleaf. Angelique Silverleaf." I offer and extend my hand.

He takes it gently, as if I'm made of the finest porcelain, and plants a small kiss on the back of it. I'm startled yet I regain my ground fast enough to smile.

"I'm a friend of Rebekah's." I add before pulling my hand away.

"Ah," He seems to remember, "She mentioned something about a close friend coming over. You must excuse me, but I failed to pay attention to her. Just as the waiters failed to offer you a drink." With the last said he grabs a glass of champagne from a tray carried by a waiter who passes by in that very moment, and offers it to me.

I can't contain the smirk that appears on my lips. 'A real gentleman.'

"I see that your soubriquet is not something that I need to doubt, Mr Mikaelson." Our glasses carefully touch, the low ringing sound swallowed by the music the second it appeared, and I take a little sip.

"I thought you hated champagne!" I whining voice, filed both with mock and friendly challenge, comes from behind Elijah and he turns around, only to come face in face with Rebekah in all her shining glory.

"It's impolite to deny your host's generous offer of a drink." I throw back and narrow my eyes. "Just as much as inviting a friend and not greeting her on the entrance."

Taken aback by my words, the blonde vampire looks away, falsely inspecting the surrounding.

"They're gonna be at each other's throat by the end of the evening, Elijah." The casual toss makes her brother flinch.

A wrinkle forms on his forehead for a moment, the only indicator that his sister's words reached him and hit the right spot, but soon it vanishes and his former cool air returns, strictness and a little bit of stillness in a perfect mixture of polite neutralism around him.

Suddenly his head tilts slightly to the right and from above his shoulders I glimpse at Hayley in her black dress coming down the stairs. Returning my eyes to Elijah I see a light frown on his face. Catching me staring, he pushes away all of his emotions and feelings. A polite smile cracks his stiff face and with a light bow he excuses himself and leaves.

Using her brother's absence Rebekah comes closer and whispers conspiratorially, nodding towards my full champagne glass.

"If you want something stronger I know where to find it!"

Ten minutes and a lot of irritating and falsely-polite encounters later we are finally in the house, in what seems like a living room. The space is huge and while the bigger part obviously plays its part, a smaller room seems to be used for another purpose. After pouring myself a generous amount of whisky I decide to peek in the mysterious section. Unlike me, Rebekah walks in like it's her place and starts looking at all the brushes, paints, empty canvases and only throws a sideway glance at the oil-paintings arranged on the wall.

"What's the deal here?" I ask as curiosity gets the best of me and just like little Miss Sunshine I start looking around.

"It's Klaus's stuff. He's a drawing junkie. No way you can make him stop once he gets his… hmm… inspiration?" She shakes her head like that's some kind of a sin. "He spends most of his time in this room. I don't know how that helps him though."

Shrugging and obviously already bored she returns to the living room and plots herself in one of the couches. I follow her curved body with my eyes and then return my attention back to the painting in front of me. Some places are still untouched and I'm almost tempted to grab a brush and add a few blobs of paint. 'Like hell! It's Nicklaus we are talking about here! Touch that painting and the quarrel will reach the heavens!'

Suddenly a shiver runs down my spine and I feel a pair of eyes of my back. Turning swiftly around I find the younger Mikaelson brother casually leaning on the frame of the door, his piercing blue eyes throwing daggers my way. Frowning I move away from the paintings, my heels chattering on the wooden floor.

"And who are you?" his accent is definitely British.

'If you were anything but a werewolf my panties would have hit the floor by now!' I mentally hiss his way.

"A friend of your sister's." I answer as another shiver runs through me.

While his calculating gaze looks me up and down I try to contain myself from snapping at him. 'So many years spend walking this damn Earth and you still can't put a plug on your emotions! A shame!' His smug smirk brings me out of my thoughts and this time I glare his way. That tightening feeling in my stomach, the knots tying and untying, has me on the edge of my seat; my hands itch to grab a sharp object and drive it through his chest, making his dead fast. Yet the little whistle in my head blows just in time before I decide to stab him with his own brushes. After all he's not a mere werewolf. He's a hybrid. The Hybrid actually, and basically driving a brush through his chest won't do much except enrage him. So with a deep breath and a lot of self-control I walk past him without sparing his form another glance.

"Leaving so soon?" the victorious note in his voice makes me clench my hands into fists, but my steps don't halt.

"Asshole." I hiss, knowing perfectly well that he can hear me.

A low, vibrant chuckle follows the chatter of my heels as I return to the so-called party, trying to keep my vigorous hate to myself and the blood-thirsty impulses under control.

"Be so kind and leave us." I coldly shoo away a handsome stocky man, a werewolf, who's been hitting on her for some time.

Raising his bushy blonde eyebrow my way, for a moment I see him contemplating wheatear or not to ignore me. To show him that I'm totally serious and not in the mood a wave of anger washes over him and instinctively he coils away under my merciless gaze. With a barely noticeable nod towards Rebekah the dog leaves with his tail between his legs.

"What's wrong with you?" by the high-pitched notes in her voice I assume she's mad. So am I in that matter.

"I don't know. Does living me in a room with your brother ring a fucking bell!?" I hiss.

Gulping nervously, Rebekah looks around.

"Don't make a scene. Look I'm sorry. I thought that-" she starts apologising but I'm so riled up that interrupting her comes almost naturally.

"Do me a favour – when it comes to me and the dogs – don't think."

Turning on my heel I head to the exit with the clear intention of leaving. And I was going to be out of there if it weren't for the pair of cool male arms that somehow ended around my waist while crossing the dance floor.

"Wrong girl." I say and try to pull away but the man grabs me and spins me around.

Taken aback I trip on the heels, damn them, and literally fall into the intruder's awaiting arms.

"Now, babe! Don't be such a party-crusher! Dance! Chill! " he's words are swirled and it seems that the champagne has hit him hard.

Frowning I still my body and glare his way. He just laughs, his drunken mind obviously not functioning properly, and tries to pull me closer to him.

"Listen pal, if you don't get your filthy hands off of me I'm gonna chop them off."

My dreadful voice, even after it reached his hearing, didn't achieve the wished effect and he pulls me by the hips. This time I lost it.

Grabbing him by the collar of the shirt I lift him up in the air and fling him across the dance floor. Some of the guests manage to step away, others don't. Either way the man hits a table with drinks, crashing it. As if on command all werewolves start growling, there bodies tense and slightly bend; the vampires show their fangs and hiss; the witches and humans step away and decide to enjoy the show. The next few seconds pass in stillness. And then they charge at each other. I fail to catch who grabbed who but a loud shout makes everyone freeze. I look up from my place looming over the man I threw, and spot Hayley on the stairs. Following her gaze I see that Elijah has a werewolf with dark curly hair by the throat, pinned to one of the tables.

"C'mmon. Kill him. Then the werewolf will kill the vampire and before you know it everyone in here will be dead." A brief pause as she takes the last few steps. "No more blood needs to be shed! Wasn't this the point of this party? To get to know each other? To form some kind of peace?"

I sigh and shake my head. 'Heard that a few decades ago.' Stepping away from the man under I turn around and walk away. Hayley's words echo behind me as she has everyone tantalized. A sly smirk curls my lips. 'She has guts. It's a pity she's one of them. We could have been good friends.'

Later that night I'm lying in my bed and think through the latest events. At first I was sceptical about Elijah but now I find myself admiring him. After all he's a man of honour and dignity, who keeps his word and vows. Becks is Becks - I got used to her moodiness a long time ago. Hayley is a werewolf and that fact itself makes me despise her despite the bravery she showed tonight and her nice attitude earlier today. Furrowing my brows I stare at the ceiling. 'She's different. Probably I'll need to keep an eye on her.' And then Klaus. Edgy bastard with an ego bigger than him, brisk and ironic to the point where I want to hit him. A werewolf none the less! Only a half, yes, but still I despise him. Even overwhelmed by those thoughts I feel myself slowly and gradually drifting away.

Sleep comes soon after and is filled with the demons from the past, the same scenes repeating over and over again. Ad infinitum.