A/N: here is the fifth chapter, with some small rewrites. Thank you for the reviews and enjoy!

a little drop of poison

After such an eventful and upsetting evening, Bonnie only wanted to turn in and forget her troubles. Abby had thankfully decided to spend the night at the Mystic Falls Inn and Bonnie was grateful. The last thing she wanted was to hear her mother's justifications.

Maybe under different circumstances she could have better understood where Abby was coming from, but right now, her moral compass was not willing to budge.

She stepped inside the empty house, dropped the keys by the door and headed into the kitchen.

Besides not offering any healthy foods, her fridge was also bereft of alcohol. She was pretty sure her dad some old scotch in his private study, though.

The room was barely used. Dust had gathered on the bookshelves and the air was stale. But lo and behold, her dad's cabinet was not locked. There were three empty bottles inside. The fourth had some remnant liquor, amber-hued. Delicious.

She decided not to bother with glasses and drank straight from the bottle. Bad idea.

Her tongue was burning and her stomach hurled in protest. She took another gulp. Her head hurt.

"Underage drinking? Tsk, tsk."

Of course. He was the last nail in the proverbial coffin.

Klaus was sitting at her father's desk, leaning against the chair comfortably, an image that did funny things to her already upset stomach.

His fingers tapped on the surface rhythmically, almost as if he were playing a musical instrument. He was dressed in black – he always seemed to be. His hair was gelled back. Not a strand of it was amiss. He looked, well, annoyingly well.

It irked her. And he was supposed to be a figment of her imagination.

Well then…

She narrowed her eyes at him and focused on his looks, envisioning a different Klaus in that chair.

Bonnie gasped. It worked.

He was now wearing a pair of casual slacks and a blue shirt, his curly hair unruly and unmade. He looked down at himself and chuckled.

"Pleasant change of scenery."

Damn. He still looks good, she thought with chagrin. Not that it mattered. She was just making an objective observation. His beauty was cold and it did not appeal to her, anyway.

"If my beauty is cold, why are you trying to make me look more approachable?" he challenged.

Bonnie grimaced. Since he was practically a product of her mind, he knew what she was thinking. It was like getting mad at herself. She hated this.

"I'm tired. I just want to have my drink and go to bed. Okay? I am not thinking about you. I am not even contemplating the idea of you. You do not exist."

He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. "Do you know that little game where you are asked not to think of an elephant, but you just can't help it?"

"That's not that game."

"Isn't it?"

"You're going to disappear. Any moment now."

Bonnie grabbed the bottle and meant to head for the door, but he beat her to it and blocked the way.

"Move."

"That would be tricky, love. For I do believe you wish me to follow you. Otherwise, I would've just kept counting the cracks in the ceiling."

"Why would I want you to follow me?" she spat, trying to swerve past him, without much success.

"Perhaps you need a willing ear to listen. About your cheating mother."

Bonnie pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him aggressively. But she felt the thump in her own chest. She was hitting herself.

"Careful now. I'm only following your rather contradictory commands," he smirked, trailing a finger down the zipper of her jacket.

"Oh, shut up. You're enjoying this. Or some sick part of my mind is. Whatever was in your blood obviously made me ill."

"I saved your life."

"And gave me this in return. I feel like Abby and Mikael are also your fault. I wouldn't have known about them if it hadn't been for you."

"Ah, so you do want to talk about our devious progenitors."

"No! I never want to hear about that again. I almost wish you could compel me to forget it."

"Such sadness in your eyes," he murmured, gazing into her face with concern.

Bonnie wrinkled her nose. "Oh, God. I don't want comfort from you! Why is my brain doing this?"

"Your mind is only trying to assuage itself. Why don't you allow me to help you?"

Bonnie shook her head. She finally managed to walk past him, but she only made it to the stairs before he was on her again. One hand was placed on the banister, blocking her path.

"I am better than alcohol. Talk to me. You might even find I understand your dilemma."

Bonnie gaped at him. "Something is definitely wrong with me if I'm thinking you can understand me."

"I am in the same position, aren't I?"

Bonnie's eyebrows scrunched in thought. "But the real Klaus, does he know that Mikael and Abby…"

The Klaus standing on her stairs remained silent.

"Of course. You can't possibly know," she answered by herself.

"Well, if I had some idea of it," he said, inching forward, "I don't suppose I would be very pleased."

Bonnie felt she was growing a bit mad. She was practically talking to herself, but this apparition could somehow make her believe she was speaking to him. And what was worse, she wanted to get out of her head. She wanted him to be a real, distinct person, just so she could have someone to talk to.

Ugh. No. You're kinda drunk and pathetic.

But then, he did a strange thing. Well, maybe not so strange, considering her fragile state of mind.

He sat down on the steps. He leaned his back against the stair rail and waited for her to sit down as well. Bonnie gulped. This was pretty surreal. More surreal perhaps than a giddy Elena Gilbert asking her to sign her stomach.

She sat down at the opposite end, leaning her back against the wall. She held her knees to her chest, watching him warily.

"This is so weird," she said, more to fill up the silence.

"Yes, my real self is probably dining on some innocent girl's entrails, but here I am with you on the family stairs, because you want to chat."

"I don't want – hell, maybe I do. Not with you, though. But you're here…" she trailed off awkwardly, biting her lip.

"A strange breed of antagonist you are, Bonnie Bennett."

"I'm going to kill the real you someday. I know it. Just because I'm letting you walk out of Mystic Falls with your hybrids and your power intact, that doesn't mean I won't get you eventually."

Klaus smiled with delight. "That's the spirit. But how would you go about killing me this time around? You must know I've taken precautions against your attacks."

Bonnie pursed her lips in thought. "Hmm… I'd have to take you by surprise. Hit you from where you least expect. Find your weakness."

He nodded in approval. "Good so far. But what weakness have I got?"

"You crave power too much? You need your hybrids? You…want your family back? All of these?" she wondered.

Klaus cocked his head to the side. "You don't really believe any of those is my ultimate weakness."

Bonnie frowned. "I guess not…but I feel like I'm close."

"And…would you get closer to find out?"

Bonnie knew this was her mind testing her, but the way the apparition had asked the question, she almost felt shivers run down her spine.

"No. Of course not. I don't want to be –"

Abby.

Klaus lowered his eyes, almost as if it was rude of him to have heard that name in her mind.

"You know what I think bothers you the most about this entire conundrum?" he ventured, stretching one leg down, while he kept the other up. He looked so casual and yet still so completely in control of himself. Even in her goddamn mind.

"Oh, joy. Enlighten me."

"You believe Abby truly loved Mikael. Foolishly, of course, but loved him, either way. Whereas, you don't believe he felt anything for her. You believe he used her, toyed with her, destroyed her."

Bonnie tightened her grip on her knees. She felt very small, all of a sudden. She really hated this awful connection between them.

"Maybe I do. It's the truth, after all."

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "As far as you know."

Bonnie couldn't believe her mind had doubts about this. It was quite obvious that Mikael had cruelly played with her mother's heart for his own amusement. Creatures like him and Klaus did things just because they could.

"I know," she retorted. "If he could have felt something for her, he would have done the right thing."

Klaus chuckled. "What is the right thing, Bonnie Bennett?"

She had so many answers to that question, but none of them seemed absolute.

She put her chin on her knees and stayed quiet for a long time. Klaus simply watched her.

After a while, she got up and went to bed. He didn't follow her, this time.

"I am impressed with your plan, Niklaus. I always thought Elijah was the brains of the family. Clearly, I was deceived."

Klaus feigned a smile as he sipped from his bloody cup. Esther was sitting opposite him at the dining table, her own food and drink untouched. What was it about witches and rejecting sustenance?

It was good seeing his mother's insufferable condescension weakened for once. Her tone was light, but she was obviously bothered.

"I've learned from the best," he replied, toying with his knife, tracing patterns on the tablecloth.

"You've got them all playing your tune. Two Bennett witches, a doppelganger, several hybrids and two very impulsive vampires. Stefan Salvatore thinks he is frustrating you, but he is actually obeying your design. You want him to have the coffins, for you know that his hatred towards you is strong enough to make him reckless with them. You, perhaps, would not have the strength to decimate what is left of your family, but a broken vampire…Well done."

Klaus bowed his head with humility. "You honor me."

"I am proud of you. I despise you with all my heart, but I am proud. I always knew you would amount to great things."

"Such candor. Perhaps you should save it for the rest of your children."

"Oh, you are truly ingenious, my dear Niklaus. You have tied my hands. For I cannot get the rest of my children unless I release the doppelganger from you. That is what the Salvatores want. Once Elena has her freedom, they will give me the coffins."

She lifted her glass and threw him a hateful smile. "I am defeated."

Klaus cocked his head. "You do not sound defeated. Is my dear mother concocting a plan of retaliation as we speak?"

Her smile widened. "Perhaps."

"Well, you shall have to think it through after you've done what I want."

Esther drained her glass in one gulp. "Bring that Petrova bitch in here."

Klaus felt a pang in his chest. He had missed this. He had missed his callous, corpse-treading mother. The apple had not fallen far from the tree.

Tony waltzed in with a disoriented Elena Gilbert still dangling on his arms, less euphoric, but just as affectionate.

Klaus watched his mother rise from her chair and approach the doppelganger with firm steps. Something was odd about it. His mother was too willing. This was too easy. Maybe she had one last trick up her sleeve. Maybe it was a trap.

Yet, he was ready to risk it. He had craved this for so long, he could not imagine failing now. He would kill everyone and everything if he had to endure one more misstep.

So he walked up to his mother and placed an arm around her shoulders. His hand reached her nape and parted the hair, resting his fingers on the back of her head. He dug his nails in her scalp.

"We struck a bargain centuries ago. Your children for one simple request. This is mine. And if you do not keep your word faithfully, I will sink my teeth in you and paint the sky with your blood. I will make sure sweet Bekah, noble Elijah, playful Kol and stern brother, Finn, watch the way I disgorge you. I have no pity. I have no heart. I will eat you, chew you, and spit you out. If you trick me, you will only be tricking yourself. For I will follow you and haunt you and rip to shreds the world in my path."

Esther flinched at his words, but kept her cool even when his breath was falling down her neck.

"Remember, you don't know me. I am of foreign blood. I am your mistake. I am your youth's sin. And I can undo you, Mother dearest."

Esther turned her head towards him. "My little wolf. You have no heart? How terrible you are. Are you truly empty? Is there no one you hold dear?"

Klaus laughed a cold laugh. "Worry not. Soon, I will have more hybrids to keep me company."

"Pity. You are so handsome. So charming. So deadly. Any woman would be lucky." Her sarcasm bore something authentic, almost like she meant it.

"Many a woman has, but she did not survive dinner," he commented, averting his gaze.

"Ah. What a dreadful existence, when everyone around you is a meal. But I suppose you've never fared well with the fairer sex. You always suspected they would betray you. Perhaps you simply cannot believe you can be loved. You are right, of course."

Klaus did not flinch. He removed his hand from his mother's scalp as if he had touched something vile.

Tony coughed in disapproval. As a loyal hybrid, he felt bothered when someone slighted Klaus, especially when the slight involved his master's ego.

"That's a bunch of horseshit. Boss is loved. We all love him. And Bonnie Bennett hasn't betrayed him yet."

The silence that fell upon them was deafening, but the glare he received from Klaus was louder than church bells. His master was planning his certain death, yet he could not see what he'd done wrong. To Tony, defending him was like second nature.

Esther chuckled in disbelief. "Bonnie Bennett. You've taken a liking to one of your worst enemies. How very you. I suppose killing her would be the equivalent of flirting."

Klaus narrowed his eyes. "You should mind your words before I mind them for you, Omo."

"When one lacks friends and loved ones, one naturally latches onto one's enemies," she spoke calmly.

Klaus smiled with forced blitheness and, yanking Elena from Tony's arms, linked her hands with Esther's.

"Get on with it. My patience is wearing thin."

He bit his own palm and let drops of blood fall on their hands.

"I see you've studied the magic."

Elena looked from Klaus to Esther in confusion, but Tony had made sure she would be oblivious to the danger.

"Is this the after-party?" she asked in a daze.

"Oh, poor child," Esther cooed, looking at her with pity. "So young, so stupid."

Klaus stood back and waited for her to begin chanting. He was ready for any tricks, any distractions. His body was poised for attack. So many years of waiting… he wouldn't let anything stand in his way.

Esther sighed ruefully once or twice before she began to weave the spell.

Elena started giggling as the magic seeped through and tickled her skin.

"This is…so cool…like getting high on life..." she trailed off sleepily.

Klaus' blood levitated in the air between them in solid drops, the consistency of ruby stones. Each drop burst into flame as Esther's chanting grew more intense.

Elena had stopped giggling. She was trying to pull away, but Tony was holding her back. He looked at his master with concern. Klaus did not deign him a single glance. He was mad at his indiscretion. Tony had to figure out a way to make up for his mistake.

The ritual lasted only minutes longer. By now Esther had worked up a fine sweat that aged her smooth face and revealed the years behind the facade. Her hands were shaking slightly. Klaus knew she was not quite as powerful as she used to be, and that she knew it too. Otherwise, she may have fought him harder.

"It is done."

Klaus felt no different. He had expected static, a storm, a change in the air. But it was anticlimactic, which he took as good news. Tony did not exhibit any changes either. It was too soon to tell, but everything seemed…normal.

"Time to put your words to the test," he said and signaled for the hybrids waiting in the hallway to bring forth the new sacrifices. "You had better pray it worked, for your own good."

Young men and women, taken from their homes, kidnapped from their jobs, stolen from their lives waited in tow to be turned into hybrids; this time, without the need of doppelganger blood.

Klaus called them forth and began the arduous process all over again.

Esther watched them with fascination and disgust. Soon, she would have her children. And soon, Klaus would be history. She had made sure of that.

The very first hybrid had survived the transition.

Now, he had to wait, to make sure it would last, to make sure the others lived on, too.

He had always hated this part. The suspension of time where nothing happened, nothing was. He was fed up with drinking blood, he was fed up with painting, he was fed up with torture.

He paced the length of his room, lost in troubling thoughts.

He was beginning to consider the future, what would happen next. By now, the Salvatores must have gotten their precious Petrova brat back and the coffins would be in his mother's possession soon.

Little that he cared.

She could wake them all and start a war, he was prepared. He knew his siblings' weaknesses, all of them. Rebekah would go first, although she was the sweetest. Finn, the righteous fool, after. Then Kol, the reckless bastard. And finally, Elijah, the brave and kind. They were characters in a tragedy and no one survived a tragedy.

He knew that Esther would not rally them against him easily. Only Finn was still faithful to her. In time, his siblings would disappear into the world again. In time, he would bite Esther and finish the ordeal.

Why didn't I bite her now? After the ritual?

He felt no love for her, no consideration. He wanted nothing to do with her. And yet, he had not killed her after she had stopped being useful.

Her words, although he tried to ignore them as mindless drivel, stung him in unexpected ways.

Perhaps you simply cannot believe you can be loved. You are right, of course.

It was not the first time, nor the last, but somehow, people never tired of reminding him.

When one lacks friends and loved ones, one naturally latches onto one's enemies.

Was that what he was doing? Was he letting this awful need cloud his judgment? Being loved was as bad as loving. Just another kind of disease, crippling and fickle. If you let yourself believe in it, you'd depend on it, like a child. No one craved to be an invalid.

He made hybrids to feel powerful and free, not less alone.

And he was entertaining the idea of Bonnie Bennett for the same reason.

He grabbed a cup of blood, but when the lips touched the liquid, he put it down, nauseated.

He wanted to dine on fresh blood.

He would go for a chase tonight. And when the victim gave their last breath and the last drop extinguished on his tongue, he would feel sated.