Bring Me To Life | The Originals (1)

From a Cradle to a Grave

Panic; sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety, often causing wildly unthinking behaviour.

That was the one emotion that seized Davina as she practically sprinted through the darkened streets of the French Quarter, stumbling over the cobblestone pathways in her rush to reach her destination. Tears blurred her vision as she blindly followed the familiar route out of instinct and her thoughts were a jumbled mess of words thrown together in a tangled web that were sometimes even recognisable.

'Need to find Imogen. Imogen will know what to do. Oh, god, I need my big sister. I can't lose him. No, no, no, oh, god, no. Please,' she thought in a rush of indecipherable babble as she hurried towards the intimating fortress that was the Abattoir because that's where she knew that she would find her sister.

Contrary to what Imogen might have believed, or wanted to believe, Davina wasn't as oblivious to the ongoing tension between the Factions; she knew that each side was preparing for war and everyone was scrambling to gather the strongest allies. Imogen was always honest about the political climate of the supernatural community, and if Davina had asked a specific question she would've answered it to the best of her ability, but she also wasn't opposed to omitting certain facts if she felt Davina was safer or better off not knowing. And even though Imogen had never explicitly said that she had sided with the Originals, her ongoing and public association with both Elijah and Klaus was a certain giveaway. It was that fact alone that had made Davina hesitant to help Marcel when he asked her to cast a cloaking spell on his warehouse near the docks, but she had never promised anyone anything and she made sure to inform Imogen of the development when she saw her at breakfast.

"Ah!" she cried out in a mixture of shock and pain as she tripped on a cobblestone in her haste, falling down onto her hands and knees as she choked out a dry sob. The palm of her hand and her knees were stinging as she climbed to her feet with an embarrassed blush creeping onto her cheeks and she took a deep breath as she straightened the skirt of her dress. Blood marred her palm as she looked down at it with a grimace twisting her lips, blinking away the tears in her eyes as she wiped it on the material of her skirt.

Davina squeezed her hands into fists at her side, letting the searing pain of the dirt infected scrapes bring her back to reality because she knew that she wouldn't be able to help anyone if she was acting like a petrified child. 'No', she thought vehemently as she shook her head to herself in admonishment and she closed her eyes for a moment as she continued to berate herself sternly, 'No. No, I have to be strong. What would Imogen do in this situation? What would Imogen do?'

For as long as she could remember her big sister had been a pillar of strength and bravery, never faltering as she embraced her weaknesses like a sword at the ready. She wasn't naïve enough to think that Imogen was impervious to harm or that she was never afraid, but she always did a valiant job at masking that fear in front of her. She had seen Imogen breakdown in a mess of tears once before and that was in the dark of night when she thought that Davina had fallen into a deep slumber.

That night in question was a blur now; Imogen had been missing for a few days and an eleven year old Davina was beginning to worry because it wasn't like her to disappear without a trace, with not even a note or phone call. When Imogen wasn't there to walk her home from school like she usually did, she built up the nerve to ask their mother where she was but Victoria had dismissed her question with a vague reply that Imogen would be home soon, no explanation or further information. After four days without communication of any form, she asked Monique if she could ask her aunt Sophie if she had heard from Imogen since the two of them were practically attached at the hip and the foursome spent most of their time together, getting away from their demanding families. She learned the next day from an equally distressed Monique that Sophie hadn't seen or heard from Imogen since the weekend and was reaching out to anyone that might know something. She could still remember the fear that settled in her stomach, the uncertainty and the helplessness, but there was nothing she could do at the tender age of eleven to help her sister, especially if she didn't know what she was saving her from.

The rest of the week was spent locked in her bedroom, reading and drawing, only speaking when necessary as she tried to distract herself from the worry that was like a crushing weight on her chest. David Bowie was playing over the radio as she sat on the centre of her bed with her legs crossed, a sketchbook balanced on her lap and a stick of charcoal in her hand when she heard the creaking open but she figured it was simply her mother checking on her since she had threatened to go searching for Imogen earlier that afternoon. She could clearly remember the almost hesitant note in the voice as she announced her presence but the familiar affection and warmth was enough to make Davina react. She snapped her head towards the door so fast that she was afraid that she would hurt her neck and her eyes widened in shock at the sight of Imogen leaning against the doorframe like she had so many times before. Davina made some joyous exclamation as she jumped to feet, dropping her sketch and charcoal in the process as she raced across the room, and didn't stop until she was wrapped in her big sisters embrace.

It was slightly discerning how easily everything went back normal; Imogen called Sophie and asked for the homework assignments she missed, the four of them ate dinner together in an awkward, tension fuelled silence, after dinner Davina spoke in detail about everything that Imogen had missed during her mysterious time away but neither of them mentioned her disappearance. As she was every night, Imogen was the one to tuck her into bed that night; reading to her from the book her teacher had sent home with her that week and cuddling up with her as she listened to soothing sound of her sisters voice. Once the book was over, her eyelids heavy with sleep, Imogen tried to extract herself from her boa constrictor like hold but Davina was awake enough to protest and plead sleepily for her to stay. It didn't take more than a soft murmured word to convince Imogen to comply, so she snuggled down deeper in the bed with her arms wrapped around her sister and Davina sighed in contentment as she fell into her first peaceful slumber since Imogen's disappearance.

Maybe it was the cold that woke her up, maybe it was the soft sniffles coming from the darkness, maybe...maybe she could somehow sense her older sister distress, but something woke her from a deep slumber. As she regained some of her consciousness she registered the sound of someone nearby crying and she frowned in confusion with her eyes closed as she tried to remember the circumstance in which she fell asleep. She vaguely remembered Imogen lying next to her when she closed her eyes but there was no one with her when she woke and she hated the panic that flooded through her veins; Had Imogen left again? Was she alone with her parents?

But then she heard a shuffling to the side of the room, followed closely by an unmistakable sniffle and she opened her eyes but didn't make a sound so that she didn't disturb whoever it was. The bedroom door was cracked open enough that the light from the hallway cascaded into the room and she followed the path the light took with her eyes until she landed on a figure sitting in the corner of the room, their back against the wall and their knees pulled up to their chest. Long brunette hair shielded her face from view but it was obvious that it was Imogen huddled in the corner, her legs crossed at the ankle as she wrapped her arm around them tightly with her faces buried in her knees. Muffled sobs echoed throughout the otherwise silent room, each ragged breath accompanied by the undeniable sound of crying, and for a second, Davina felt herself stop breathing out of shock over what she was hearing. She couldn't remember the last time that she had ever seen Imogen cry, if she had ever seen her cry, and she wasn't sure how to proceed. she knew what Imogen would do if their places were reversed; she would be down there within a matter of seconds, wrapping her arms around her shaking body in a comforting hug as she murmured soothing words. But she wasn't sure Imogen would appreciate anyone witnessing her breakdown, even her sister; after all, Imogen spent every day trying to be the strong one, the one who was there for everyone else, the one who didn't need anyone. Davina had the instinctive feeling that if she tried to comfort her sister, it would somehow end up the other way around and she would bottle up her emotions until one day it would become too much for her to handle.

And so, she closed her eyes with a sigh as she feigned sleep and let her sister release the pent up anger, and sadness, and frustration that she couldn't display during waking hours.

Davina shivered against the cold air as she looked up at the full moon shining brightly against the inky background of the night sky and she glanced around nervously as it cast an ominous glow across the abandoned street. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that it was illogical to be afraid of the dark and a smirk played fleetingly on her lips as she remembered that some of those monsters that lingered in the dark considered her family. If she stopped to think about it at length, she would recognise the unique position she was in; anyone in Marcel's army would know about her connection to the former king and would do anything in their power to protect her, no one in the human Faction had any reason to harm her, and anyone allied with the Mikaelson's wouldn't risk their wrath by endangering the life of their most powerful witch's sister.

A renewed wave of panic surged through her veins at the reminder of those vampires she considered family and she started rushing towards the compound as she remembered the pain in Josh's voice when he called her merely twenty minutes before. It would haunt her forever; the soft timbre of his voice, the regret that was threaded through his words, each laboured breath he took, and the words that almost broke her to pieces: 'Um, D, I have to tell you something. Yeah, um, I was just bitten by a werewolf. A whole bunch of them came rampaging through the Quarter. I-I-I, one of them nipped my arm.'

They had barely hung up the phone call before she was barrelling out of the dormitories provided for those in the coven under the age of eighteen that were unable to live with their families with one destination in mind; the Abattoir. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Imogen would be there, she had mentioned at breakfast that Elijah had asked her to stay there until the mess between the Factions had settled into a less violent accord.

Davina had a list of things that needed to be done running through her mind, keeping her focused on the present; find Imogen, tell Imogen about Josh, get Imogen to convince Klaus to give them some of his blood, find Josh, cure Josh. Simple. A clear cut order of necessary tasks that needed to be fulfilled.

The main set of double doors that led to the courtyard of the Abattoir were open wide as she approached them at a brisk run, her pace only slowing once she was inside the building. Low groans could be heard, multiple murmured voices sounded beyond the walls ahead and she frowned in confusion as her steps faltered for a moment before she was hurrying down the familiar entranceway.

The interior of the compound looked like a warzone; numerous vampires were sprawled on the ground with various healing injuries, while others were missing limbs and quite a few had been decapitated in the massacre that had taken place. Blood was splattered across the walls, staining the floor and highlighting the vampire aesthetic that the Abattoir was renowned for the world over. Lamplight doused the courtyard in an eerie glow as she shook her head in denial of the situation while tears stung her eyes and the rustic scent of blood was almost overwhelming as she covered her mouth with one hand.

Movement in her corner of her eyes caught her attention as she stepped over the legs of one of the deceased vampires and she turned her head towards the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. Her eyes widened in surprise when she recognised back of Cami's blonde head standing next to Marcel as they tended to an injured vampire and she hurried her steps towards them as she questioned out loud for confirmation, "Cami?"

Marcel looked up at the sound of her frantic voice as his dark eyes clouded with concern and as he turned towards her, she caught sight of the healing bruises that marred his skin and the blood that hadn't yet dried on the side of his throat. Davina sucked in a sharp breath as she rushed to his side, her eyes wide in horror and she reached up to touch the wound but jerked her hand back before making contact when he unconsciously flinched as she asked in a devastated whisper, "Oh god, what happened?"

"Klaus..." he breathed out weakly in explanation as he closed his eyes for a moment, taking comfort in the knowledge that at least one of his girls was safe beside him and his eyes fluttered open when he felt her placed her hand on his forearm. He tried to offer her a reassuring smile but the excoriating pain from the werewolf bite made twisted his lips into more of a grimace and looking into her anxiety filled blue eyes, he couldn't bring himself to complete his sentence.

"They fought, and he got bit." Cami finished for him when she noticed him hesitate, lifting her eyes to give him a knowing look and he nodded in gratitude as she removed the damp cloth from Diego's forehead before wandering away to give them some privacy.

"Marcel..." Davina whispered in despair as she tightly gripped his arm with both hands and he turned so that he was facing her completely, placing both his hands on her shoulder with a reassuring smile on his lips.

"It's okay! I gave as good as I got. But, we need Klaus' blood to heal." he explained softly as she looked up at him with unshed tears causing her blue eyes to almost glow and she bit down on her lower lip as she nodded absently as though she didn't truly believe him but she wanted to.

"Okay. Where's – where's Imogen? She can talk to Klaus, convince him to give us his blood. J-Josh was bitten earlier too." she explained in a rush as a few tears escaped her eyes, one of them getting caught in her eyelash as it glittered in the light and he used the pad of his thumbs to wipe them away as he cupped her face lovingly in his hands.

"Honey, Imogen was here with Hayley and Genevieve when Francesca Correa turned out to be Francesca Guerrea, a werewolf who was working with Genevieve to weaken the Mikaelson's. According to Elijah, Genevieve cooperated in making moonlight rings in exchange for Hayley and Imogen. The witches – they have Imogen." he told her honestly in a solemn tone as he looked right into her eyes, finding himself unable to lie to her when it came to something so important and her lips parted in horror as she shook her head in denial but he quickly interrupted whatever she was about to say. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Elijah stormed out of here like a madman possessed, okay? As much as I don't like the man, he cares about Imogen. He won't let anything happen to her, alright?"

"Right. Right, I – I know. They obviously wanted her alive, right? Or they would've killed her here and left the body." she whispered bluntly in an emotionless tone, causing him to flinch at the callous words but he couldn't argue with the conclusion as he nodded without saying a word. Her eyes softened with vulnerability as she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes and he knew that whatever she was about to was needed to be meet with sincerity and comfort. In that moment she wasn't a powerful young witch, she was simply a young girl who was concerned for her sister and he was the closest thing she had to a parent that cared about her. "Elijah, um, Elijah won't let anything happen to her, right? Because he does actually care about her, right?"

Marcel paused thoughtfully for a moment, actually thinking about question, remembering the manic look in the Originals eyes when he realised that Imogen had been taken and he knew the answer, anyone who had seen the two of them together knew the answer. "Yeah. Yeah, he does. I've never seen him like this with anyone else."

Davina exhaled slowly as she nodded her head, studying his expression for any duplicity and he maintained eye contact as she seemed to relax when she found whatever she was looking for in the depths of his eyes. This wasn't how her evening was supposed to go. She was going to find Imogen and she was going to do what she had done a million times before; fix it.

But this time was different. She couldn't rely on her sister to fix the problem, she wasn't able to lean on her or ignore the problem until it conveniently went away, because Imogen wasn't there this time. 'What would Imogen do?' she thought to herself desperately as she looked around the courtyard at the moaning vampires suffering from werewolf bites, trying to figure out how she was going to fix this problem on her own. Marcel and Josh and a bunch of other vampires she didn't even know the names of were slowly dying in front of her eyes, venom poisoning their blood until they got fevers and suffered through hallucinations. There was no way that Imogen would let them die, not when there was something that could be done about it, when there was something that she could do about it. She had no idea where Klaus was so that she could try to convince him to give his blood over freely or by force. Focus! What was it that Cami said earlier? 'They fought and he got bit'? If Marcel and Klaus had fought than there was a good chance that Marcel had landed at least a couple of blows, and the hybrid would have bled!

Realisation spread across her features as she snapped her head up, blinking in surprise when she didn't see Marcel standing in front of her like she expected and she frowned in confusion as she spun around in a circle trying to locate him. She sighed in relief when she saw him across the room tending to one of the other vampires that had been bitten and she hurried towards him with a determined expression, not wanting to second guess the decision that she had come to.

"You fought Klaus-- did he bleed?" Davina asked abruptly as she approached him from behind and he turned around slowly, his movements slow because of the poison running through his veins. She frowned in concern at the infected wound on the side of his neck as she placed a hand on his arm and he tried to smile reassuringly as he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I got him pretty good, yeah." he answered her honestly with a confused lilt to his voice as his eyebrows furrowed and she nodded once with a resolute expression, her blue eyes hardening with determination. And in that moment she felt more in control and powerful than she ever had before. She wasn't relying on someone to fight her battled for her, she wasn't waiting around like some damsel in distress, she wasn't...she wasn't someone who needed to be saved.

"Where?"

"Just around the corner. Why?"

"I'll be right back." she vowed solemnly as she cast a lingering glance at the spreading bite mark on his neck and his frown deepened as he regarded her suspiciously, but he recognised the hard glint in her eyes. He had seen it numerous time in a set of matching blue eyes and it usually served as a warning to take a step back because there was no use attempting to talk her out of whatever plan she had concocted.

If there was one trait in particular that both of the sisters seemed to share, it was an unwavering perseverance. Once they put their minds to something they were unstoppable, and not because they never experienced self-doubt or failure, but they continued onwards despite them. Those two always seemed to walk the line between strong-willed and stubborn, making people question whether they were capable of delivering on their promises but then succeeding with flying colours.

Marcel had enough experienced with the sisters to know when that determination would pay out in the end and so he exhaled weakly as he tilted his head with door while answering her question warily, "Just down the street. Around the corner, to the left. In front of Alexander's, the clothing store."

A grateful smile flickered across her lips, understanding the magnitude of his acceptance and appreciating his belief in her abilities without first being knowledgeable of her plan. Her eyes watered slightly with unshed tears as she reached out to squeeze his hand and he managed a small smile before she started making her way out of the compound. She shivered as a the cool night breeze swept over her the moment she stepped outside and she looked up at the full moon in the sky, illuminating the empty street in an ominous glow. Stars dotted the inky black sky like nightlights shining brightly and she breathed out a sigh as she practically marched in the direction that Marcel had indicated, trying to convey determination instead of the fear that was growing steadily inside of her veins.

Footsteps sounded thunderous in the otherwise empty street as she looked around of storefront that Marcel had mentioned, biting anxiously on her lower lip and she grinned happily with a giddy laugh escaping her lips when she spotted the blood pooled on the hood of a nearby car and the cement underneath. A renewed sense of determination surged through her as she looked around wildly for something to collect the blood in, internally scolding herself for not being better prepared when she planned to do exactly that. She groaned out loud when there was no obvious solution in front of her and she walked around to the other side of the car, smiling when she noticed a trash can on the sidewalk. She hurried over to the green metal trash can with a beaming smile and she gipped the edge tightly when she stumbled the last step, giggling in her mirth despite the circumstances. She hesitated a moment with grimace at the thought of searching through the trash but she steeled herself with the knowledge that this was the only way to save Marcel and Josh and countless other vampires that would die without the blood. She scrunched her nose in disgust as she leaned over the trash can and started gingerly moving the scraps around, searching for something that was capable of holding liquid. A hum of satisfaction rippled through her veins when something plastic crumbled noisily under her touch and she picked up an empty plastic iced coffee cup from Starbucks with a small quirk of her lips.

Determination coursed through her veins as she headed towards the hood of the car and she set the plastic cup in the centre of the blood droplets before taking a step back so that the splatters of blood on the asphalt were visible. She could feel the magical energy coming to life in the base of her stomach, electrifying and exhilarating – Imogen had once described it as a rush of adrenaline akin to skydiving while on ecstasy, before promptly forbidding her to take ecstasy...or skydive.

Davina cleared her throat gently as she lifted her arms into the air at her sides, finding the heaviest section of magical energy to start from like Imogen taught her when she was younger and she closed her eyes so that she could concentrate as she chanted, "Venez sanguis. Venez sanguis. Venez sanguis. Venez– "

"Uh... Davina? What the hell?" a familiar voice asked in a freaked out tone, sounding far away and muffled but loud and clear enough to break the young witch's concentration as she gasped in surprise. She blinked rapidly for a moment to get rid of the linger effects of using magic before lifting her head to look at Josh in complete bewilderment and her gaze swept over his form, looking for any obvious injuries.

"Josh, what are you doing here? I told you to rest!" she scolded him lightly as she frowned in concern at his obvious condition; his breathing laboured, his complexion pale, the dried blood that stained his throat and the front of his t-shirt, his hair matted to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin.

"I'm fine!" he protested weakly as he leaned most of his weight against the side of the car, completely nullifying his words when he was unable to keep upright on his own and she rolled her eyes at him in frustration as she pursed her lips in reprimand at his reckless behaviour.

"You're going to start hallucinating soon!"

"I mean, unless I'm hallucinating you standing in the middle of the street and chanting for no reason..." he trailed off teasingly with a crooked grin as he chuckled tiredly at his own wit and then tensed suddenly with wide eyes as he asked in a completely serious tone, "Wait, am I?"

In any other circumstances she would have been amused by his toxin addled candour but her gaze kept lingering on the dried blood that covered the side of his throat, the gaping bite wound underneath, and it worked as a reminder of what she had to lose. Determination flooded through her veins as she steeled her resolve; her facial features hardening with purpose and she clenched her hands into fists at her side as she vowed in a no nonsense tone of voice, "I'm going to save you. I'm going to save all of you."

Josh blinked profusely as his vision blurred momentarily before clearing and his forehead furrowed in confusion as he watched the witch straighten the plastic cup on the hood of the car with a blank expression. She swallowed roughly placed the block in her throat as she held her arms out to the sides, her eyelids flickering closed as she focused on reconnecting to the magic energy lying dormant in her stomach.

"Venez sanguis. Venez sanguis. Venez sanguis, la force de la bête à moi." she chanted confidently with her eyes closed as she felt her skin tingle with electric energy and Josh was captivated momentarily by the undiluted passion in her voice, the absolute fervour that came through with each word. She was completely in her element using magic, it was an extension of being and she looked ethereal as the wind surrounding them seemed to blow her brunette hair back, making look like an avenging angel.

"Okay... I am hallucinating..." Josh whispered to himself in awe as he stared at the scene in front of him, disbelief written clearly across his features and he stood up straight with one hand kept on the top of the car for balance.

The vampire gaped in amazement as the blood that was splattered on the ground and over the hood of the car started to float into the air as the spell started to siphon the organic material right before his eyes. The dark red liquid seemed to peel straight off of the surface, the drops hovering mid-air as each individual drop slowly moved to join together into a larger puddle. Once all of the blood was combined it seemed to pour into the empty plastic cup, gradually filling it up halfway to the brim and the sloshing sound of the liquid hitting plastic echoed throughout the abandoned street like the tick-tick-tick of a doomsday clock.

_________________________________

A violent scream echoed throughout St Anne's Church, sounding above the shouted threats and muffled cries, a scream filled with agony and horror and pleading.

The immense pressure that rippled through Hayley's stomach was nothing compared to the almost blinding pain and she screamed incoherently as another contraction caused her insides to feel like they were being ripped apart at the seams. She sat up on her elbows as her fingers tightened around the material of the sheet covering her lower half and in that moment, all she wanted was for Klaus or Imogen or Elijah to be holding her hand like they had done so many times before during trial runs. Tears unapologetically poured down her cheeks as she partially collapsed back on the table she was lying on and she tilted her head back to make eye contact with Klaus, hoping some kind of relief would come with the knowledge that she wasn't alone.

The hybrid's light blue eyes were darkened with rage as he spewed threats towards the witches surrounding her and his voice echoed throughout the cavernous church, "I will bring hell to your family!"

"One last push! Push! The baby's almost here!" Genevieve encouraged her soothingly from the end of the table but her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to the werewolf and she tried to block it out as another intense contraction rippled through her body. The multiple voices that surrounded her became blurred into distant whispers, fading in and out of focus until she couldn't pinpoint exactly who it was speaking at any given time.

"I will bathe in rivers of your blood!"

"No! No!"

"I can see the baby!"

"Push! Gently! Gently!"

"You will die screaming!"

"There!"

Hayley collapsed backwards in exhaustion once the pain of giving birth was over, she panted for breath as she closed her eyes in relief for a moment before she realised that if the pain was over, and that meant that her daughter was alive. A soft cry emitted from out of sight, causing her to look around wildly and panic settled in her chest at the thought of not at least seeing her daughter before the witches took her away forever. She pushed herself up on her elbows as she looked down the end of the table and her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of Genevieve's back, something obviously being held in her arms.

Tears stung her eyes as she craned her neck, hoping to catch a glance of her daughter and she gasped in awe when Genevieve turned around. In her arms was the most gorgeous creature Hayley had ever laid eyes on and for a moment she felt like she was unable to breathe, overwhelmed with the rush of love and devotion and desire to protect the tiny little thing that would forever be a part of her.

"You have a beautiful baby daughter." Genevieve announced softly with understanding in her eyes as she tilted the bundle in her arms so that both Hayley and Klaus were able to see the little girl all wrapped up a blanket.

'The moment you look into your daughters eyes, the whole world will stop and instead of gravity, she will keep you grounded to the earth', when Klaus had first heard Imogen utter those words he hadn't understood their meaning, he hadn't understood how one person could anchor you, could have that power of you. But, looking into the eyes of his newborn daughter, he understood completely. Nothing on this earth mattered more than her happiness and health, no one had a hold of him like she did.

The entire world faded from his peripheral vision until she was the only thing he could see, she was the only thing on his mind, she was...she was everything.

"We must start the sacrifice as soon as the moon sets with the morning sky – "Genevieve started solemnly as she began to turn around, causing panic to flood through Klaus's veins as he craned his neck in an effort to keep his daughter in his sight.

"– Please." Hayley pleaded desperately with tears in her eyes as she stared at the bundle in the redheads arms and Genevieve turned back around with a knowing expression as the werewolf continued beseechingly, "Please, can I hold her?"

The witch hesitated momentarily, the practical part of her knowing that they needed to get to the cemetery but the compassionate part of was empathetic to Hayley's desire to see her child at least once. The obvious desperation and love was written across the younger mothers face rendered the witch incapable of denying her wish; after all, didn't a mother deserve the chance to say goodbye to her daughter?

Genevieve ignored the looks of disbelief directed at her from the other witches present as carefully placed the child in her mother's waiting arms, swallowing guiltily when she saw the look of complete wonderment that spread across Hayley's face. In any other circumstance, she knew that there would never be another child so loved or protected by their family members. The Mikaelson family was ruthless, and vindictive, and downright cruel; everybody in the supernatural community feared getting on the wrong side of them. But they were far from heartless.

Their enhanced emotions brought out their volatile nature, exaggerated the normal sibling rivalry into an almost destructive relationship between them. It was most often Kol, Niklaus and Rebekah that had explosive temper tantrums over the small slight against them and would unleash their fury on unsuspecting victims; more than once eviscerating entire villages in their anger fuelled daze.

Beneath the surface, beneath the façade they showed the world, they clung to the last scrap of humanity inside of them like a child clinging to a safety blanket. The bond of siblings was not one easily broken, and no matter how often they claimed hatred for another, there was an undeniable love and loyalty that still lingered in their veins from years before when they were mere children.

'Always and forever', it was a vow that they took seriously, an unbroken law tethering them to each other for eternity.

Genevieve had always been envious of their bond, and looking at Hayley as she cooed over her newborn daughter it was obvious that the two of them fit into the Mikaelson family. They had the same distinctive traits; the devotion, the loyalty, the unfaltering knowledge that they would do anything for someone they loved.

Hayley tried to swallow past the lump in her throat but it felt like she had drank saltwater, leaving her throat dry and scratchy. Tears stung her eyes but she didn't dare blink in case she did and the sight in front of her disappeared. Her lower lip trembled slightly as she tightened her arms around the small bundle because she was well aware that her hands were shaking but not tight enough to hurt the fragile little creature. Never in her life had she seen something so precious, so adorable, so breakable. This was...her daughter. This was...motherhood. It seemed so unreal and yet so completely real, the most genuine experience she ever had.

The moment she laid eyes on the cute button nose, the cupid's bow of a mouth, the bright blue eyes like her fathers, it was like time had stood still and she had never been more grateful for the existence of Niklaus Mikaelson. And she knew that she would forever be grateful for their one night together because it gave them the miracle she was holding in her arms.

An amazed smile spread across her lips as she stared down into the eyes of her daughter and she lifted her head, searching out the man who had gifted her with such a precious wonder. It took her a moment to register the eerie silence that had fallen over the church the moment she had given birth but now that she was thinking clearly, the lack of violent and descriptive threats was obvious.

The look on the immortal and immoral Niklaus Mikaelson's face could only be described as...wonderment.

Unshed tears caused his bright blue eyes to appear luminescent in the artificial lighting, his mouth was gaping slightly as though he was completely overcome and unable to process his own emotions. His gaze was centred solely on the child resting easily in Hayley's arms, the back of her head buried in the crook of her elbow but tilted enough that he had a clear view from where he was stuck to the wall. He slowly lifted his gaze to look at the mother of his child and he could only hope that his expression mirrored the complete love and adoration that was evident in her hazel eyes. There had been times over the last nine months that he despised the idea of being a father, and times that he loathed Hayley's entire existence for the mere fact that she was carrying the child. But looking into her eyes in that moment, he was absolutely certain that she loved and cherished their daughter, that she would put her life on the line to protect their child...she would be the kind of mother his never was, and so he would attempt to be the father his daughter deserved.

Tears leaked down Hayley's cheeks as she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead, closing her eyes in an effort to memorise the softness of her skin and the incoherent murmurs she was making. It made absolutely no sense, but to Hayley it was the most beautiful sound in the universe.

A startled cry escaped her lips when a sudden sting punctured her scalp when someone tugged her head backwards by the hair, exposing her throat and she barely had a moment to comprehend what was happening before a sharp blade was slicing her throat. A chill went through her body as something hot and sticky cascading down her neck and she choked noiselessly as she weakly raised her hand to touch the blood coating her skin.

"NOOOOOO!" Klaus screamed in horror as he watched the mother of his child collapse backwards on the concrete slab with blood smeared across her throat, unapologetic tears cascading down his cheeks. There was an unmistakable ache in his chest; grief. He had only experienced it genuinely a few times before in his long life but there was no misinterpreting it now. Apparently sometime in the last nine months he had become attached to the little wolf.

The hybrid thrashed against the magic binding him to the wall as he was forced to watch Genevieve take his daughter out of her deceased mothers arms and carefully hand her over to another witch he didn't recognise the name of. He groaned out in pain when the pressure of the magic keeping him paralysed increased and he shouted an incoherent protest as he kept his gaze locked on his daughter, unwilling to look away for even a moment.

Genevieve gently brushed her fingertips down the infant's cheek as she handed her over to Abigail, regret pressing down on her heart like a concrete cinderblock but the will of the ancestors could not be ignored. She made direct eye contact with the young Harvest girl, silently warning her to be careful and then waited until Abigail nodded in understanding as she shifted the child into a more secure position. The redhead smiled serenely in approval as she turned away and she picked up the ceremonial athame that Monique had used to slit Hayley's throat, turning the blade over in her hand. She grabbed a cloth from the end of the alter, wiping the blood from the blade as she slowly made her way around stone table and she kept her gaze on the knife as she watched the light reflect off of the metal blade.

Each step she took down the aisle felt like taking wading through the ocean; unending but with the knowledge that it could only end unfavourably. A heavy weight of guilt settled in her stomach as she looked at the brunette witch at the end of the aisle and she nearly winced at the sight of the infamous Imogen Claire; hands tied behind her back, a cloth gag placed in between her teeth, tears streaming unapologetically down her cheeks, eyes rimmed red, hair in a state of disarray. Even in her vulnerable condition, there was something undeniably attractive about the witch. Maybe it was the rebellious glint of defiance in her eyes, or the fierce strength that was displayed across her features.

Imogen narrowed her eyes angrily as she watched Genevieve approach her with a blank expression on her face and she swallowed roughly in an effort to bury her fear to the deepest part of her being. She was unwilling to let anyone see that they could affect her; she would not let them have that power over her.

If there was one thing that Imogen Claire wasn't, it was stupid. Years of paranoia and observing her surroundings for danger had given her an uncanny ability to read people, and it had diminished her naivety. Not being able to trust the adults in her life had made self-reliant, and opened her eyes to the evil that lurked in the world. From Imogen's point of view, it had never been the supernatural that lacked humanity or that deserved to be treated as though they weren't to be trusted. Vampires didn't lie about what they were; they drank blood, they killed, they accepted the darkest parts of themselves. But humans? Humans lied. Humans kept a part of themselves hidden from the world and refused to acknowledge the darkness inside of them. They like to act as though they are above the vampire race, but humans were no better when it came to killing and lying and deceit. The desire to understand the human mind, what made them do the things they did, why they acted how they acted, was the main reason that Imogen had chosen to study psychology.

And she could sense danger coming in the form of a redhead witch.

Genevieve halted in front of the glaring brunette, light tauntingly reflecting off of the blade in her hand and the redhead almost flinched at the intense level of loathing shining in the blue eyes of Imogen. it was difficult to keep a blank expression on her face so she lifted her gaze to look over the other woman's shoulder and once she made eye contact with the man standing there she nodded her consent. He immediately untied the cloth that was acting as a gag, removing it from Imogen's mouth roughly and she pursed her lips in disapproval but didn't say anything because she didn't want to appear sympathetic towards someone considered a traitor.

The guilt in her stomach intensified as she slowly brought the edge of the athame to rest at the base of Imogen's throat and her eyes softened compassionately as she remarked with sincerity, "I'm sorry it's come to this, truly. The ancestors were very clear in their decree. You must die before your...unorthodox beliefs start to spread throughout The Nine Covens."

There was no surprise in Imogen's expression, there was no horror buried in her eyes. She had spent every day of her life thinking that it might be her last one; it was just what happened when you grew up in an abusive home in the middle of a supernatural epicentre.

Tears burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall as she glared at the woman standing in front of her and she focused on that anger, because in the end it was better than sadness or regret or guilt. She didn't want to die; she didn't want to leave Davina or Elijah or Marcel or Josh or Cami or Klaus or his unnamed daughter.

All of their faces flashed through her mind; Davina's carefree smile that was contagious to look at, Elijah's knowing oak brown eyes that saw more of her than anyone ever had, Marcel's charming grin that made her roll her eyes fondly when she saw it, Josh's awkward attempt at a flirty smile when he saw a cute boy, Cami's intelligent blue eyes that could read her mood with one glance, Klaus's devilish smirk that displayed his dimples and she saw as more boyish than threatening, Hayley's teasing smile whenever she caught sight of something no one else could see, Rebekah's joyous smile when she acted like a teenage girl instead of an Original vampire, and finally, the innocent face of baby girl Mikaelson.

"Go to hell, Genevieve." Imogen spat at the redhead viciously, her breath laboured with pain as the man behind her tugged on the handcuffs keeping her hands locked behind her back but she ignored the pain as she continued unforgivingly in a hard tone, "I'd rather die standing up for what I believe in, than to be an empty tool for a bunch of faceless ghost who have no idea what it means to live in the 21st century."

"No! No, no, no! I WILL KILL YOU ALL!" Klaus shouted desperately from where he was stuck on the wall behind the sacristy, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggling against the magical restraints.

The obvious pain in his accented voice felt like a knife wound to the heart for Imogen and she squeezed her eyes closed against the onslaught of emotion, a few stray tears escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. The knowledge that she about to die wasn't what caused her pain, it was seeing someone she cared about suffering. There wasn't anything she could do to prevent her death, she was outnumbered and overpowered, but that didn't mean she wouldn't do what she could to protect her friend.

Imogen took a deep breath as she opened her eyes with a renewed sense of determination but her blue eyes softened with love as she looked over at the hybrid and he immediately stopped shouting threats when he made eye contact with the young witch. She offered him a weak smile to let him know that she was alright but he shook his head in disbelief with his lower lip trembling slightly. Nothing about the situation was alright, and she knew that, but she couldn't dwell on the negatives, she couldn't worry about all of the things that she would miss with her death.

"It's okay." she told him honestly with unshed tears shining in her eyes, her smile wobbling slightly as she tried to appear unbothered and he shook his head in protest but she continued in the same affectionate tone, "Really. It's okay. Just – just tell Elijah that he was one of the best things that ever happened to me, okay? And tell – tell Davina that I love her, so much. I-I was honoured to be her mother, okay? Please?"

Desperation was threaded through her words as tears rolled down her cheeks unapologetically and her eyes pleading with him to listen to her, to agree with her, to promise her that he would fulfil her dying wish. He nodded reluctantly when he saw that she serious in her request, and in that moment she could've asked for the world and he would have moved heaven and earth to deliver it to her feet. The blinding smile she sent him was more than enough of an award and he committed the sight to memory, knowing that Imogen Claire would be one of the names that would never completely disappear. She had carved into his heart with her fierce attitude and kind-hearted words, her understanding and compassion were unparalleled; there was just something about Imogen that drew even most guarded of men into her orbit.

Imogen breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling remarkably lighter now that she had reassurance that her message would get delivered to the right people.

With every ounce of her strength she ripped her arms free from the restraining hands holding them behind her back, biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying out when the pain emanated from her shoulder. She knew that she didn't have long before she was overpowered, before the witches recovered from their shock and killed her but she was determined to have one last act of defiance before her death; she wouldn't allow Klaus to suffer through watching her die like he had with Hayley.

And so she pushed past Genevieve, purposely bumping her shoulder against the redheads in the process. She could vaguely hear a commotion of voices and footsteps behind her but she focused solely on the light blue eyes of Klaus Mikaelson and she smiled brilliantly as though she didn't have a care in the world; the kind of smile that was equal parts happiness and deviousness.

Even in what would be her last moments, she was fiercely attractive. Her beauty raged with a fire even demons wouldn't dare touch; it burned in her blue eyes like flames dancing and her grin held a sharp edge to it like she was waiting for someone to strike at her so that she could retaliate.

Magical energy came to life inside of her in one small burst, giving her enough strength for one small spell and she didn't hesitate to extend her arm towards Niklaus with her hand curled into a fist. She could ascertain from the look in his eyes, and the frantic shaking of his head, that he had realised her intention almost immediately. She smiled sadly at the hybrid as she twisted her closed fist to the left, watching in a mixture of satisfaction and sadness as his neck snapped in the same direction. His eyes closed almost peacefully as his head lolled to the side and she sighed in relief as she dropped her hand back down to her side.

Imogen didn't lose momentum as she spun around, thinking that she was going to come face to face with a handful of furious witches but instead she gasped in a mixture of pain and shock. Her lips parted in surprise as she blinked her eyes, catching the glint of metal in her peripheral vision as Genevieve lowered the athame down to her side. She brought a trembling hand up to her throat as she sunk down to her knees gracelessly in the middle of the aisle, all of her strength suddenly depleted and her breath was catching in her throat as she lifted her hand in front of her so that she could see the blood coating her fingertips. Tears burned her eyes as she coughed, choking on blood as she weakly lifted her head but a rush of dizziness washed over her and she collapsed forward as she bent over at the waist so that her forehead was resting on the cold floor of the church. The familiar rustic taste of blood tainted her mouth as she wheezed for breath, struggling to inhale without excoriating pain and she was beginning to loose feeling in her extremities as her eyelids fluttered tiredly. She vaguely felt someone brushing the hair from her forehead but her mind was so clouded by the lack of oxygen and blood loss that it may have been a hallucination.

Darkness crept around the edge of her vision as she blinked lazily, the effort to keep breathing was greater than she anticipated and she closed her eyes as a faint gurgling sound echoed faintly in her ears but a moment later everything was –

_______________________________

"Help!" Davina shouted desperately as she stumbled into the courtyard of the Abattoir, carrying most of Josh's body weight as she practically dragged his near unconscious body through the entrance. The scent of death and decay nearly caused her to gag as she blocked out the sight of beheaded corpses and the various body parts littering the ground, the crevices in the stone flooring like river of blood all leading to the fountain at the centre.

The plastic Starbucks cup that contained Klaus's blood balanced precariously in the hand that wasn't wrapped around Josh's waist, making sure that it wasn't in danger of being dropped or spilt while she was helping her friend. The dim of the courtyard made it difficult to manoeuvre around the bodies, especially carrying the extra weight that Josh was leaning against her and she was breathing heavily by the time Cami reached them from the other side of the courtyard. Davina shot the hurried blonde a shaky smile to express her gratitude as she transferred Josh's weight and almost sighed in relief as she shook her arm in an effort to regain feeling in the appendage.

Marcel quickly slipped an arm around the younger vampire's waist, accepting some of the burden from the human and Cami frowned at him in concern but didn't argue with him as the two of them carefully sat Josh down on the comfortable longue on the other side of the courtyard. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his head lolled to the side, as though it was too much effort to hold up on his own. It wasn't surprising that Josh's condition had deteriorated faster than Marcel's; when it came down to it, Josh was still a baby vampire, no matter what he had experienced in his short afterlife. He watched solemnly as Cami knelt down beside the younger man, a distressed look on her face as she brushed her fingers across his forehead familiarly, and it didn't strike him until that moment how much he had missed in his exile. Of course, he had been keeping tabs on his girls from across the river, but there was a difference between knowing something and actually seeing it happen in front of you. Cami, Imogen and Davina had all lost so much in their relatively short lives, experienced more hurt than normal humans had in their whole lives, and he had failed to protect them in the recent past, but he wasn't going to let them down when they needed him.

Davina paused a few feet away from the gathering as she caught her breath, internally vowing to take up some form of exercise when all of this was over (maybe she'd take Imogen up on her offer to join a yoga class together). she could feel her hands shaking with nerves as she took the last few steps and she held out the plastic cup of blood that she had salvaged from the fight, hope burning brightly in her eyes as she looked at the man she considered her father.

The former king glanced down at the quantity of blood in the cup, mentally calculating the amount of blood would be needed to cure everyone who had been bitten and he fought back a sigh as he lifted his gaze to the young witch in front of him. She was looking up at him with eyes alight with fierce hope, an innocence that hadn't yet been burnt out of her by the witches and he hated himself for being the one who had to kill that spark but he couldn't lie to her, couldn't give her any false hope in this situation. "There's only enough here for one."

Davina blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, his words not registering in her mind as she stared at his saddened expression but then she inhaled sharply and her expression crumbled in distraught as she exclaimed, "No! This has to be enough!"

Tears blurred her vision as she glanced around at all of the vampires suffering through pain and hallucinations, most of them were already dead but she could hear the soft moans coming from every corner of the courtyard. Some part of her knew that it would be impossible to gather enough blood to cure all of those who had been affected, but she had naively believed that there would at least be enough for Marcel and Josh. It might have been cold-hearted and selfish but she was finding it difficult to care about the others, the ones who she didn't know the names of, least of all consider family. She knew that she should feel guilty over her lack of care, her lack of compassion, but Josh and Marcel were dying in front of her and she was completely helpless.

For the longest time Imogen (with the occasional exception of Sophie and Monique) was her only family, but since the Harvest ritual was interrupted the list of people she considered a 'loved one' was rapidly expanding. Marcel had been the one who saved her the night of the ritual, he kept her safe from the witches and cared about her when she was utterly alone in the world, when Imogen was keeping her distance in an effort to protect her; he had quickly became the only real father she had ever known. Imogen's close friendship with Cami had quickly extended to include Davina and she was happy that they both had someone that knew about the supernatural without actually being connected. Josh had been a surprise; she never expected to befriend the vampire that Marcel dragged up into her attic and asked her to cleanse the compulsion from the mind of, but she had been so excited to speak to someone other than Marcel or Imogen that she had spent that time talking to him and by the time she was finished she had let him into her heart.

Davina hadn't even realised that she was crying until she tasted the saltwater on her lips and she quickly reached up to wipe the evidence from her cheek with her fingertips as she took a shuddering breath. She didn't want to have to make this decision. She didn't want to hold anyone's life in her hands. She was meant to be going to high school. She was meant to be hanging with her friends. She was meant to be doing homework. She was not meant to be dealing with savage werewolves. She was not meant to be worried about her kidnapped sister. She was not meant to choosing between the only two men in her life that she trusted. This was not meant to be her life.

Marcel turned towards her when she made an incoherent sound in the back of her throat that was a complex mixture of fear and frustration; his expression falling when he noticed the utterly distraught pout of her lips and the tears that flooded her electric blue eyes. He felt his heart completely shatter into pieces as she looked up at him, hope and sadness and grief and love shining in her eyes.

"I-I can't choose. Please – please don't make me choose." she pleaded in a whisper that he struggled to understand even with his enhanced hearing, her voice cracking with emotion as she tried to hold back the onslaught of tears that was threatening to overcome her at any moment.

In that moment, with tears streaming down her cheeks and her blue eyes looking up at him with an innocent hope, she had never looked more like the teenage girl she was. Imogen had moulded her into a strong, resilient and capable young woman, and with everything she had been put through it would be understandable if she broke, but she handled herself with such grace and dignity it was easy to forget she was still only a child.

It was then that he made his choice. It wasn't even a difficult one. His daughter, his Davina, was asking for something she didn't even know she was asking for and he wouldn't hesitate to deliver what she was subconsciously wanted for him. Since he had stopped the Harvest ritual and taken responsibility for her wellbeing, he had let her down more times than he could count but this? This he could easily do.

Marcel took a steadying breath as he reached out to take the plastic cup from her hand carefully, determination settling across his handsome features and she looked up at him in confusion as he murmured sadly in a firm tone that brokered no arguments, "Save your friend. I can take care of the rest of us."

Davina gaped at him uncomprehendingly for a moment as he offered her a small upturn of his lips and she remained frozen as he reached out to cup her cheek for a moment, rubbing his thumb underneath her eye to rid it of the escaped tears. Her lower lip quivered in devastation as she open and closed her mouth a few times as though she was about to speak but no words came out.

Marcel took a deep breath as he dropped his hand to his side with a look of regret etched on his face and he soothed down her brunette hair before turning around as he stumbled a couple of steps to where a barely conscious Josh was sprawled on the couch. He placed his hand firmly on the younger man's shoulder to get his attention, his dark brown eyes compassion as Josh shook his head weakly in protest. He must have been conscious enough to follow the conversation taking place around him but not strong enough to push away the hand that offered him the plastic cup of blood and the veins underneath his eyes darkened at the close presence of blood as he protested in a laboured whisper, "I can't – "

"Judging by the look of that bite, you don't have time to argue." The former king interrupted sternly as he crouched down next to the younger vampire, speaking in the same tone that he used on Davina when she was being stubborn.

"Marcel?" Davina asked weakly from behind him, tears evident in her tone of voice and he closed his eyes for a moment as the ache in his chest increased until it felt like someone was squeezing his heart tightly in their hand. He couldn't turn around; he couldn't look at her and see the utter heartbreak he knew was on her face...because if he did, he might not be able to go through with it.

"Josh is one of my guys, and enough of my guys have died today." he murmured softly so as not to disturb the quiet that had settled over them but loud enough the both women could hear him clearly. A wave of dizziness swept over him, causing him to reach out to grip the arm of the couch so that he didn't topple over and he took a deep breath as the room came into focus. He handed the cup of blood over to Cami so that he didn't spill any of the blood and he wrapped an arm around Josh's shoulders to help him sit up properly as he encouraged gently, "So, come on."

Silent tears rolled down Davina's cheeks as she watched Marcel hold her best friend in an upright position and Cami cupped the back of his head as she practically force fed the younger vampire the blood he needed to be cured. Sweat drenched Josh's forehead, the veins underneath his eyes darkened with prominent hunger as he swallowed the blood and she flinched every time he cringed or grimaced in pain. Movement from the corner of her eyes caught her attention and she lifted her head to see the spirit of Mikael Mikaelson standing in the corridor behind the couch.

"One point for you, and one point for Niklaus." Mikael gloated smugly with his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the pillar, his voice only audible to her and she glared at him angrily as she gritted her teeth in an effort to stop herself from shouting at him.

Marcel carefully laid Josh back on the couch cushions once he had finished all of the blood in the plastic cup and softly patted him on the shoulder as he slowly stood up from his crouched position. Each breath was a struggle for him as he took a moment to gain balance so that he didn't fall over, losing what remained of his dignity and he turned around to look at the bodies of his fallen brothers and that of his brothers still holding on by a thread that littered the courtyard. Pain hummed in his veins like a living, breathing creature, ebbing and moving with a life of its own, and some of it he could blame on the venom coursing through his blood, but he knew what the cause was truly: guilt.

But self-pity wasn't going to bring anyone back from the dead, and it wasn't going to save anyone, so he forced himself to start walking towards the front entrance of the compound. With each step he took it was like trying to move through quicksand but he gritted his teeth and he tried to smile reassuringly when Davina lifted her head with a frown on her lips. Once he was next to her he cupped the side of her neck as he leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering so that he could memorise her scent: the vanilla extract from her body lotion, the artificial green apple from her shampoo and something that was uniquely Davina.

Marcel pressed another kiss to her forehead, revelling in the feeling, just in case he didn't make it to Klaus in time and then continued making his way towards the entrance. He blinked to clear his vision as he tried not to view off course and he heard someone hurrying to catch up to him moments before Cami blocked his path with an incredulous expression as she asked him, "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

"To find Klaus, get his blood, and save as many of my guys as I can." he answered as though it was obvious, pausing momentarily to look at her, once again memorising her features in case he succumbed to the werewolf venom in his veins. He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, watching the blood rush underneath her skin in a flush and then started to walk past her but she latched onto his elbow to stop him in his tracks.

"Wait! For that you'll need a weapon. And, it just so happens I have an arsenal." Cami declared firmly as she tightened her hold on his arm and he shot her a bewildered look, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion as she smirked almost deviously.

For the first time since Kieran had been hexed, Cami didn't feel completely helpless in the face of the supernatural. For the first time since she met the Mikaelson family, she didn't feel completely out of her depth. When she first found her uncle's secret apartment she didn't know what to think, what to feel but she had ultimately decided to show Imogen since the majority of the weaponry was magical in origin.

And despite her best friend's intimate involvement with nearly all sides of the civil war, Cami trusted her more than any other person in her life.

__________________________________

The blood pumping through his veins echoed in his ears, thudding and thumping until it was nearly all that he could hear. His breathing was laboured from the werewolf venom infecting his blood and his movements were obstructed with exhaustion but that didn't stop him from following the familiar unique scent of 'Imogen' down the darkened street. His vision wavered momentarily but it was clear enough to see that he was in front of St. Anne Church and he internally seethed at the impudence of the witches; to go against the Mikaelson family and not expect a consequence for their actions.

Fury and panic fought for control inside of him as he rushed into the church, throwing open the double doors with so much force that they hit the wall behind them and he looked around desperately for any sign of either woman.

"IMOGEN! Hayley!" he shouted frantically as he stopped dead in his tracks, panting for breath as a result of the multitude of werewolf bites that he covered his body and he groaned in the back of his throat as he squeezed his eyes closed against the wave of dizziness that suddenly hit him. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he blinked repeatedly as he struggled to focus his vision and he reached up to loosen the tie around his neck as he looked around the church searchingly until he felt his entire body freeze him in place when his gaze landed on the sacristy.

"No. No, no." he mumbled incoherently as he stared dumbfounded at the sight of his younger brother sitting motionlessly at the base of the sacristy steps, dried blood covering the lower half of his face and down his throat to the collar of his shirt. But that wasn't what caught his attention (it wasn't uncommon for the hybrid to appear out of thin air covered in the blood of his victims), it was the bodies, two brunette women with their heads balanced on his lap that drew his gaze downward.

Klaus slowly lifted his head with tears in his eyes to look at his brother, guilt and sorrow etched across his features, but Elijah didn't notice as his unwavering stare stayed locked on Imogen's ashen features. He knew exactly what he was seeing; pale skin, closed eyes, dried blood coating her throat, slightly parted lips. Hauntingly beautiful. It was almost like looking at a porcelain doll; so delicate and breakable...but she had already been broken.

It pained him equally to see Hayley in the same condition, and it was all because of him, because of his family.

"No. No, no. No..." Elijah repeated continuously under his breath as he slowly collapsed onto his knees next to Imogen's body, tears blurring his vision as he panted like he was trying to catch his breath. His lower lip quivered forlornly as he hesitantly reached out to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand and he hoped against hope that something miraculous would occur, that she would open her eyes, that she would gasp for breath, that she...that she would wake up. Or maybe that he would wake up and all this would turn out to be a nightmare, he would roll over and see Imogen lying next to him in bed.

"She's gone. They're gone." Klaus murmured confirmation numbly as he stared at his brother mournfully, watching intently as Elijah lowered his head and his body shuddered with nearly silent sobs. The hybrid couldn't remember the last time that he saw his older brother cry, and that more than anything was the catalyst for his own tears to spill down his cheeks. He blinked profusely as he tilted his head to look at the ceiling, trying to gather his composure because he knew that one of them would need to be in control and Elijah...he held the right to mourn the loss of his girlfriend.

The heartache...the pain in his chest...the hollow sensation...it wasn't something Elijah could ever remember feeling. Not when Tatia died, not when Katerina betrayed him, not when Sabine was killed. The only thing was that surpassed the devastation he felt was the morning he learnt of Henrik's death, the pain that accompanied the knowledge that Finn had been staked with White Oak, the short period of time he believed Niklaus had fallen, the complete anguish that came from Kol passing on at the hands of Elena Gilbert and Mystic Falls Funky Bunch.

Exhaustion coursed through his body as he collapsed to the side so that he was sitting on the ground, his hand dropping from Imogen's cheek in the process and he let his fingers drifted fleetingly over the inside of her wrist. The absent of a pulse was the nail in the proverbial coffin as he threaded his fingers through hers, ignoring the cool temperature when he knew that they were normally warm to the touch. He swayed slightly as he blinked to try to clear his blurred vision because he didn't want to look away from Imogen's frozen features but for a moment he had completely forgotten that he had been bitten earlier and the nausea was a stark reminder of his condition.

"You've been bitten. Here." Klaus murmured quietly when he noticed the infected wound on his brother's neck, pushing his jacket sleeve up so that his wrist was exposed and he bit into the flesh with a sickening 'crunch' before holding it out in offering. He wasn't surprised, although a bit hurt, when Elijah lifted his head with a stupefied expression, obviously stunned by his sudden display of kindness. Klaus could see the indecision in his brothers oak brown eyes as he lowered his gaze down to the former witch's face, a look of fond remembrance on his features as he obviously reminisced on some unsolicited piece of advice Imogen had no doubt delivered with her usual and endearing brand of sincerity and sass.

'You need to loosen the reigns a little bit, Elijah. If you expect him to act out, he will. What he needs is for you to believe in him and give him room to grow on his own accord. Be his brother, not his keeper', he could clear remember Imogen's voice advising him on how to deal with his misbehaving younger brother as they lay intertwined on her couch one evening, sipping on red wine and the sound of The Godfather in the background. Elijah allowed his lips to twitch, the corners upturning only slightly for a brief moment before he remembered that he would never again hold her in his arms, or listen to her speak about something she was so passionate about that her voice lowered a decibel and her arms flailed slightly without her even noticing the action. He blinked away a fresh onslaught of tears as he trailed his fingertips down her cheek and then sighed heavily as he blindly reached out to grasp his brother's forearm in one hand, never letting go of her hand. He bit into his brother's flesh, trying not to think about the fact that he was in fact biting his brother, and allowed a minimal about of blood to drip down his throat. The blood took effect almost instantly as he dropped his brothers arm and wiped the remaining blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Elijah finally allowed his gaze to travel towards the other brunette laying with her head in his brother's lap, grimacing guiltily for not paying attention to Hayley's condition when he arrived. He slipped his hand from Imogen's as he carefully leaned over to scoop the werewolf's corpse into his arms and lifted her off the ground as he stood up, stumbling slightly as he recovered from the venom in his bloodstream.

Klaus watched in obvious confusion as Elijah carried Hayley's body up the steps to the table on the sacristy, absently running his hand over Imogen's hair in a tender moment of affection for the deceased witch. Tears stung his eyes as he lowered his head so that it wouldn't be apparent if his brother turned around and squeezed his eyes closed against sudden onslaught of grief when he heard Elijah murmuring apologises under his breath to the werewolf they had failed to protect. He was gratefully that his brother was courageous enough to voice the pain and regret that felt even if it did leave him vulnerable. In the past it would've been something that he thought was pathetic but now he found himself envious of his brother's ability to speak his mind, to feel comfortable enough to express himself and he was appreciative that someone was able to verbalise how he was feeling.

Elijah avoided eye contact as he stepped back in front of his brother, locking his gaze on Imogen's features like he was trying to imprint them into his memory and he gently extracted her body from Niklaus' arms as he lifted her with ease. Her skin was cold to the touch as he carefully carried to over to the sacristy and he gently placed her body down next to Hayley's, trailing his fingertips down her cheeks with a small upturn of his lips.

Memories of their one night together flashed through his mind; the soft gasp that left her lips when he gently bit down on her pulse point, the flush that spread across her cheek and down her throat, the way her blue eyes darkened with desire, the way her body arched into his touch. She felt so...alive. And it made him feel alive. But now she was completely nonresponsive and it made him feel...helpless.

"How?" he asked in a distraught tone of voice as his gaze swept down to the blood that coated her throat and chest, noting the open wound where someone had sliced into her carotid artery. How could this have happened? He knew that Imogen was a capable witch, and more than that, she was capable at hand-to-hand fighting, so how had someone gotten close enough to slit her throat open?

"I was bested." Klaus answered numbly from where he sat on the steps, his elbows leaning on his bent knees and his head bowed in shame. He closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the memories of the events that took place earlier that evening; the horrified screams, the pleading whimpers, and Imogen's calm voice declaring that 'it was okay'. None this was okay.

"You were bested. Huh." Elijah repeated under his breath with an expression of anger taking over his features, a light scoff escaping him and he shook his head slightly as he turned towards his brother. He stalked down the steps of the sacristy as he clenched his jaw tightly and he spun around at the bottom of the steps when he was standing in front of his younger brother.

"You were BESTED!?" he shouted with fury pulsing through his veins as he looked down at hybrid through narrowed oak brown eyes and he couldn't remember the last time he felt so furious at one of his siblings; not even when learned of Rebekah's treachery or when Niklaus claimed to have cast their siblings out to sea. Klaus snapped his head up in shock at the uncharacteristic loss of temper because he was usually the most level-headed of the Mikaelson siblings but Elijah didn't notice as he pointed a finger at him accusingly and shouted in exasperation, "My invincible brother!"

Klaus climbed to his feet, the movements slowed in his weakened state and he could see the physical toll the evening was taking on his brother; the laboured breathing, the droplets of sweat marring his forehead, the dried blood coating his throat, his hair in complete disarray, and an undeniable wild glint in his oak brown eyes. He couldn't remember a time he had seen his immaculate brother so dishevelled.

A burst of courage spread through him as he made eye contact with his brother and he allowed his expression to fall slightly in order to convey his genuine vulnerability as he spoke with an underlining determination, "They took the baby. But there's still time. We can save her."

Elijah stared at him with complete devastation written across his features and he swallowed thickly as he glanced at the two corpses on the sacristy behind them. There was nothing in the world that was more important than their love ones safety to Hayley and Imogen, and he was positive that the Mikaelson baby was both of their top priorities. Determination coursed through him as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides and he turned his attention back to his brother, gaining eye contact before nodding once in agreement.

"The cemetery. They'll be at the cemetery. It's their centre of power." Klaus deduced knowingly with a grim urgency in his voice as he started towards the doors to the church and Elijah silently fell into step beside him, casting a longing glance over his shoulder as he disappeared out the door.

Starlight guided them onwards as they used their enhanced speed to rush to the Lafayette cemetery, the epicentre of the ancestors of the French Quarter's power and Klaus entered first through the rusted iron gates of that surrounded the cemetery. The Originals slowed down to a brisk walk as they moved through the monuments, headstones and mausoleums dedicated to fallen witches years past. There was a soft breeze in the air, sending a chill through atmosphere and it was almost like the ghosts of the witches were surrounding them, keeping an eye on generation upon generation.

The limbs of trees overhead cast ominous shadows on the ground beneath their feet, moonlight lighting the pathway through the cemetery and Elijah tried to use his enhanced vampiric hearing without any fruition as Klaus tried to scent out any of the witches with his werewolf senses.

Elijah growled in frustration as he looked around frantically for any sign he might have missed in his haste and he spun around in circle as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Tears blurred his vision as he pressed his lips into a straight line, resisting the powerful urge to lash out and punch the closest slab of concrete until his knuckles were skinned down to the bone. It didn't escape his attention that his hands were shaking, that they had been since he entered the church earlier that evening but he couldn't bring himself to care. He tugged roughly on the tie around his neck, pulling loose so that he could breathe and the anger was obvious in his voice as he snapped loudly, "The tombs are empty. The grounds are deserted. She's NOT HERE!"

"This is the only place they can be! We'll keep searching." Klaus insisted firmly as he came to a stop in the middle of the pathway once he realised that his brother wasn't moving any longer but Elijah was shaking his head in disagreement.

"They are NOT HERE, Niklaus! We're wasting time!"

"The Harvest was here! The Reaping was here! They're about to perform a ritual which will feed their ancestors for centuries! Ancestors who are buried HERE!"

Klaus abruptly stopped talking when he caught sight of a familiar looking concrete statue of an angel kneeling with a bowed head on top of one of the tombs and he sighed in frustration as his forehead furrowed in confusion. He ran a hand over his mouth before pointing up at the statue and turning his gaze towards his equally wary brother as he deduced unrepentantly, "This statue – we've passed by this three times, all whilst going in the same direction."

Elijah frowned in contemplation as he glanced around, taking notice of the familiarity surrounding them as he examined some of the various tombs near where they were stationed and internally cursed himself for not paying better attention to the details as he muttered in utter disgust, "They've fabricated some kind of illusion."

The wind blew momentarily as the air displaced when Klaus used his enhanced speed to jump on top of the tomb with the kneeling angel to get a better view of the cemetery and he rested a hand on the angels bowed head as he held back a gasp of shock. His eyes widened in horror as he looked out at the seemingly infinite number of tombs that stretched out to make the cemetery appear endless and he suddenly felt weak in the knees as he mumbled out a barely comprehensible, "That's one word for it."

Elijah glanced up at him in confusion at his words, a frown etched on his lips as he waited for his brother to explain but when Klaus didn't speak he quickly grew impatient and used his own abilities to jump onto the top of the tomb next to his brother. Horror washed over his features when he saw what had left his brother dumbstruck and he shook his head in despair as tears prickled the back of his eyes but refused to surface. Panic welled inside of him as he forced himself to jump down from the top of the tomb, unable to look at the illusion for a moment longer and he tried to steady his steady his breathing as he pressed a hand to the centre of his chest where the pain was situated mostly. It felt as though his ribs were spreading, separating and leaving his heart vulnerable to assault. It was almost crippling as he staggered over to the closest wall, grateful for something solid to anchor him to the present as he placed a hand on the concrete wall of the mausoleum.

Klaus twirled the small stone he had just picked up in his hand as he pressed the sharp edge to the concrete wall and used it like a piece of chalk in order to mark the tombs that they had passed in the maze illusion as he sighed solemnly, "It's ingenious. I can see them, I can feel them, and yet they are not real."

"There has to be a way. Even if we could just push through – "the oldest Mikaelson muttered desperately, a distraught expression etched on his features as he ran both of his hands through his hair in frustration.

"– What we need to do is focus." Klaus interrupted in a forced calm tone of voice as he turned to look at his brother impassively, compartmentalising the pain and loss and worry and anger he was experiencing.

"My only focus right now is that child and her safety, do you understand me?" Elijah snapped angrily as he spun around to glare at his brother furiously, pointed a finger at him accusingly and the hybrid stared back at him in shock for his out of character outburst. Rage built inside of him, rising and rising, until it finally overflowed like a volcanic eruption and he spread his arms out to the side to indicate the warzone they found themselves in as he exclaimed in a harsh tone, "This – all of this – this is the world that you created, Niklaus."

"Brother –"

"All of your scheming, the enemies that you have made every single day of your miserable life – what results did you expect? That your child would be born into a happy life? That the mother would be alive to know her daughter? That we could live and thrive as some- as some sort of family?"

"That was your fantasy, brother, not mine!"

"NO, brother!" he interrupted in an enraged shout as he pointed at the hybrid with a furious glare and his voice quietened slightly with his next words but lost none of the intensity as he claimed with a startling amount of sincerity, "This was our hope. This was our family's hope."

He had to stop himself from saying any more as he began to hyperventilate, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath and tears flooded his eyes as he blinked to clear his blurred vision. The ache in the centre of his chest as throbbing painfully, the intensity steadily increasing with every passing moment. He felt his lower lip trembling but he couldn't bring himself to care about his brother seeing his state of vulnerability as he maintained eye contact with him and he finally admitted with truth out loud, "And now she is gone."

The pain in his voice was obvious as he felt all of the fight drain out of him, his shoulders slumping in defeat and he made a conscious effort to hold back the tears. He could see the understanding in his brother's eyes; he knew that they were no longer speaking of his lost daughter, but the beguiling witch that had managed to capture the heart of the stoic oldest Original.

Elijah's features crumbled with sadness and heartache as the tears he tried to hold back started to fall, rolling down his cheekbones unevenly and his voice softened with sorrow as he continued almost desperate for someone to comprehend what it was he was feeling, "Do you understand? I let this person in. I let her in! I don't let people in! You knew this. You've taken her from me! I needed her, and you've broken me."

A choked sob escaped the Original as he turned away from his brother, taking a few agonising steps towards the nearest stoop connected to one of the tombs and he buried his head in his hands as he allowed himself to cry for the werewolf who would never know her daughter, for his niece who would never know her mother, for his brother who was now a single parent, for Davina who lost her only maternal influence, for Marcel and Camille who lost their best friend, for the witch who gave her life for his family, for himself who lost a friend and the woman he cared so deeply about.

Elijah startled slightly when he felt a presence sit down next to him and he turned his head away from his brothers prying gaze, loathing that Klaus was witnessing his breakdown in vulnerability.

"She spoke of you – "Klaus started quietly in a serious tone of voice as he gazed straight ahead at the mausoleum in front of them so that his brother didn't see the tears that were building in his eyes. He feel Elijah's wary gaze on the side of his face and he cleared his throat as the emotion began to choke him but he forced himself to continued speaking, "In her last moments – she spoke of you. She had a message for Davina, and a message for you. She wished for me to tell you," he paused momentarily as he turned his body slightly towards his brother to look him in the eye and he reached over to squeeze his brother's forearm comfortingly as he reiterated passionately, "that you were one of the best things that ever happened to her. In her last moments – she spoke of you."

Elijah ducked his head as a fresh bout of tears sprung into his eyes, the pain in his chest spreading and he couldn't even think of her name without the urge to cry, or lash out and tear out the throats of innocent bystanders. For the first time, he could see the benefit in Kol and Niklaus' method of coping mechanisms. He clenched his hands into fists as he locked his jaw in deliberation as to whether or not he could relieve the pain inside of him by spilling blood and Klaus must have sense his indecision because he tightened his hold on his arm, drawing his attention back to him.

"You can tell your niece how much you cared for her godmother when we save her." the hybrid urged softly with an underlying seriousness as he nodded encouragingly and Elijah breathed out a sigh as he looked over at him with tears in his eyes, his chin quivering, his hair in disarray and dried blood covering him. He looked as though he had been through a battle, and it seemed as though there was another one on the horizon.  

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Silence descended over the interior of St. Anne's Church, all of the candles had burnt out in the hour since they'd been abandoned so darkness had shrouded the entire place and the scent of smoke, blood and sweat lingered in the surrounding air.

Lying at the top of the aisle on the stone table situated on the sacristy, two brunette beauties lay – hands folded on their stomachs, neutral expression on their faces, dried blood coating their throats.

If someone stumbled upon them in the dark of night, they have been confused, they may have thought themselves in some bizarre version of a fairy-tale – skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.

But these young women were not sweet little does running from a threat, caught unware and deceived. No, these young women were victims to no one, and fought bravely until their very last breath. They weren't waiting for a prince to save them, did not wait idly by while others solved their problems for them. These women were strong and fierce and courageous, defiant and stubborn. And in the end, it had been their downfall.

A sudden gasp echoed throughout the empty church as the sound reverberated loudly in the cavernous room and the candles abruptly sprang to life, the wicks catching alight as they cast an ominous glow around the immediate area. Imogen choked the sudden onslaught of oxygen as her eyelids flew open in shock and she struggled to regulate her breathing as she rolled over onto her side so that it was easier to catch her breath. Tears flooded her blue eyes as memories flashed through her mind; Hayley screaming in agonising pain, a newborn baby crying, blood, so much blood, Klaus with tears rolling down his cheeks, Genevieve standing over her, light reflecting off the edge of a knife, pain, agonising pain.

Imogen shuddered in horror at the memory as her hand flew to her throat, gingerly touching the skin where there was meant to be a gaping wound and she winced slightly but it was only a little bit tender while she was expecting much worse. She frowned in confusion as she started to push herself up into sitting position, swinging her legs over the edge of the table and pausing when the world started moving on its own as she fought the dizziness that overtook her. She groaned out loud as she squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the sudden bout of nausea to pass and her skin felt like it was too big for her body as she adjusted to coming back to life.

Confusion plagued her mind as she tried to work out how it was she was now alive. It wasn't uncommon, especially recently, for her to cast a resurrection spell on herself in case of emergencies but she arrogantly thought herself safe surrounded by the Originals in the bosom of their own camp. It was stupid of her to assume safety in the middle of a war, it was reckless and she felt foolish for taking Genevieve at her word when she had spent so long distrusting the other witch. Francesca emerging as a werewolf was surprising, an event no one was prepared for but Imogen still felt responsible and mortified that she had missed the signs. She had felt confident in her theory that Francesca was a self-serving narcissist, who wouldn't hesitate to stab someone in the back if a better offer came along but she had also surmised that she was someone who was more than happy to hang back and let others take the necessary risks, to ride on the coattails of the victors. But she was mistaken, and she had underestimated the true enemy while being easily mislead in another direction.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands, allowing herself a few moments to be overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions coursing through her veins. She exhaled deeply as she lifted her head, masking her emotions with the ease of an expert and she remembered that she wasn't the only one who had suffered the consequences of being on the opposing side of Genevieve's blade. She whipped her head around with a gasp as she searched for Hayley's remains, frowning when she couldn't see them and she went stand up from the table but her hand bumped into something solid behind where she was sitting.

Apprehension flooded her veins as she slowly turned her head to the side, gasping in surprise when she recognised Hayley's features; her eyelids closed, her lips parted slightly, a waxy quality. Imogen quickly scrambled up onto the stone table, the hard surface probably bruising her bare knees as she knelt next to the werewolf's body. She cupped her friends face in between both of her hands, forcefully turning her head towards her and she felt her lower lip trembling as she looked down at the blood covering the entire surface of her throat.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Hayley." she cried apologetically as she brushed her fingertips down her friends cheek and she bent over to kiss her forehead before pulling back slightly as she whispered with fierce determination, "I'm going to find your daughter, Hayley. And I promise, Genevieve and the witches will pay for what they've done. Your little girl will be loved every single day. And never doubt it for a second, for as long as I'm alive. I will tell her how brave you were, and how you sacrificed your life so that she could live. I promise you, Hayley. I promise."

Few teardrops fell down onto the werewolf's face as Imogen sat up straighter on the table and she pressed her fingers to her lips before touching them to Hayley's forehead, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. A sad smile played on her lips as she turned around to swing her legs over the edge of the table and she jumped down from the sacristy with a steeled determination in her veins. She would do everything in her power to keep her word to Hayley; she would go to the ends of the earth to protect that little girl, not let anyone take advantage of her or use her for their own gain.

The dried blood on the throat was starting to cause her skin to itch but she couldn't waste any time cleaning up when the witches were planning on sacrificing the baby and she didn't know where the moon was in the sky because she had no idea how long she had been dead. It didn't take a genius to work out that the offering would take place at the centre of the French Quarter coven's ancestral power so Imogen resolved to search Lafayette cemetery from top to bottom until she found them.

A loud gasp suddenly echoed throughout the otherwise silent church and Imogen froze in complete bewilderment, not daring to hope that two miracles would take place that night. It wasn't possible that both of them would survive death in such a short period of time, she wasn't naïve enough to believe that life was that kind. But she couldn't help the small amount of hope that had flared to life inside of her veins and she squeezed her eyes closed as she curled her hands into fists at her side, fighting the urge to turn around to face the sacristy.

Breathless panting filled the silence that had descended, like someone trying to catch their breath after being frightened to their core and then the familiar sound of fabric scraping against something. Imogen tried not to gain hope, tried not to have optimism, but there was only one person besides her that was in the church at that moment. And she couldn't help feeling like she was falling down a flight of stairs; she would either crash into a bleeding mess at the bottom, or she would land softly on the truth awaiting for her to find.

"Im-Imogen?" a female voice asked in a whisper from behind her, hoarse like it hadn't been used in a while and the familiarity of her voice sent a sharp strike of happiness and disbelief through. Tears flooded her eyes as she turned around slowly with shock written over her features and she couldn't contain the gasp that escaped her when she saw Hayley sitting up on the table with her legs hanging over the edge. Dried blood marred her throat but there was no knife wound and her bright hazel eyes were looking back at her with disbelief beyond the tears, her lips quivering in horror as she relived the memories of the moments leading up to her death.

A quiet sob escaped the werewolf as she covered her mouth with her hand and the broken sound was enough to snap Imogen out of her stupor as she started hurrying down the aisle towards her friend. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around the sobbing brunette, pulling her in tightly so that she could leech comfort from the embrace and a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks as she soothed Hayley's matted brunette hair consolingly.

It was startling to see the normally strong and almost stoic Hayley breaking down, but it would have been worrying if she was unaffected by the traumatic events that had recently taken over their lives. It wasn't every day that someone was kidnapped, or forced to go into premature labour, or gets their throat slit wide open and the emotional upheaval was too much for even the most tough and resilient of people to handle. For years Hayley had been forced to be strong, to harden her heart to avoid disappointment and heartache, causing her to be distrustful and suspicious of everyone she came into contact with. Everyone was either a threat or a means to an end, and it had taken accidently getting pregnant to slightly melt the wall erected around her heart but she still guarded her emotions so that no one got too close. She could sincerely state that Imogen, Elijah, Rebekah, Jackson, and maybe even Klaus could be counted as close friends, and she genuinely cared for them each to a certain degree, but being self-reliant was engraved into her DNA.

"My baby – my baby! Where?" the werewolf asked frantically as she lifted her head with tears rolling freely down her cheeks and Imogen opened her mouth to answer honestly when a dazed look took over Hayley's features, her eyes glazing over as she stared off into the distance.

A concerned frown played on Imogen's lips as she watched her friend but before she could say anything Hayley inhaled sharply and snapped her head around to look at her in the eye with a determination that was almost frightening, "I know where she is."

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It had been easier to ditch Marcel after leaving Cami at Kieran's secret apartment than Davina anticipated; he had strictly ordered her to go straight home so she was safe before rushing off to find Klaus. Davina reasoned with herself as she looked around the interior of the Abattoir that he hadn't specified which home she was meant to go to and technically she had once lived at the compound before the sacrifice. She didn't want to deceive him but he had more important things to worry about as he tried to safe the vampires of the Quarter and as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was worried that he would stop her from what she wanted to do. It was a risky more, but she believed it was the right thing to do and he was too close to the situation to see clearly how important it was to do something.

It was eerily quiet as she carefully made her way to the private living quarters of that the Originals called their home, glad to be away from the stench of blood and death that plagued the courtyard. Anxiety flared in her stomach as she approached the set of double doors that she had never dared near when she lived there and she paused at the threshold, bouncing on her toes nervously before pushing open the doors to Elijah's office.

Everything inside seemed to scream 'Elijah', there was just something about the antique mahogany furniture and plush burgundy longue coupled with bookstores upon bookstores of books that reminded her of the oldest Original. Davina strolled further into the room as she surveyed her surroundings with a critical eye, searching for something that might scream 'oh, hi there. I'm a murderous, villainous psychopath'. A frown puckered at her lips as she noticed a familiar leather jacket slung over the back of the armchair, a copy of that months Cosmopolitan magazine sitting on the coffee table, the stylish throw pillows that could have been chosen by a professional decorator and that was when she registered the small touches of Imogen that were scattered throughout the office.

Davina shook her head when a sliver of guilt started to creep through her veins, she wouldn't let anything stop her from doing the right thing and she straightened her shoulders in determination as she headed towards the antique desk to the side of the room. She was surprised to find that there was a faint pulse of magical energy coming from the thick book of parchment sitting on the centre of the table. She grazed her fingertips over the ancient cover, feeling the grooves that lined the hard leather with a respectful reverence that the book deserved and she bit her lower lip nervously as she rounded the table. The grimoire itself was in remarkable condition given that it was nearing a thousand years old; the parchment was slightly yellowed with age but it could have been mistaken as an antiquity in a museum. It wasn't unusual for a powerful witch to have more than one grimoire to detail the spells, rituals and magical objects that they created, studied or performed, and the Original witch would have definitely filled more than one book.

Davina exhaled shakily as she held her palms out over the grimoire, tugging at the kinetic magical energy that lay dormant in her stomach and she focused her mind on searching for the correct page that held the resurrection spell with her eyes closed. She heard the sound of paper moving, felt the slightly change in wind as the pages turned on their own and then abruptly came to a stop as the magic faded into potential energy.

She opened her eyes with hope burning a hole in her chest, her breath caught in her throat and she looked down at the now opened book as she studied what would have been a mess of words and symbols that didn't make sense to anyone other than a witch. Some of the dark lines had faded over time but it was still legible if you concentrated and Davina grinned brightly as her fingertips traced over the heading of the page with a feather light touch so that she didn't cause any damage.

'Resurrection', the word stared back up at her almost tauntingly as she studied the ingredients needed for the ritual and the instructions on how to perform it correctly, carefully reading in case there were any loopholes in the wording. Imogen had always stressed the importance of vocabulary, the fine art of manipulating the situation without anyone being the wiser or allowing anyone else to take advantage of you because you didn't read the fine print.

Davina nodded decisively as she placed her knapsack down on the desk next to the grimoire, rifling through its contents for the ordinary stick of white chalk that she had taken from her own collection of art material and then grabbed the sealed plastic bag full of ashes. It hadn't been difficult for her to find the ashes she needed; she had remembered stumbling upon a macabre dungeon-like room full of six coffins, three of which had burnt corpses inside. From there Mikael's spirit had directed her to the coffin that had been deigned his designated resting spot and she had gathered enough of his remains to make a connection between spirit and body.

She ignored the feeling of eyes on her as she drew a perfect circle in the centre of the room in chalk and then she stepped into the middle of the ring as she scattered the ashes around where she was standing. She could sense of the potential magic that emanated from the ritualistic symbol as she carefully exited the circle and strolled back over to the desk so that she could double check the spell so that nothing would go wrong.

Because nothing could go wrong. This spell needed to be done right, it needed to work or it wouldn't matter that Imogen was dating Elijah, nothing would stop Klaus from killing her without a second thought. For the better part of a week she had been vehemently denying Mikael's request that she bring him back to life; he tried to persuade her, offering her the death of the Originals but at the time she had no need to kill them if they kept their distance and continued to treat Imogen well. But that was before Klaus had bitten Marcel and left him for dead in a bout of anger; death by werewolf venom of one of the most torturous ways to die and the hybrid had bestowed it on someone he used to call 'son'. She didn't want to think about what the penalty would be if Imogen stepped out of line one day.

No, she couldn't let him hurt anyone else she loved. So she agreed to bring Mikael back to life if he left Elijah and Rebekah alone and only went after Klaus, to which he agreed almost instantly, stating that he had never wanted his children dead, just the bastard offspring from his wife's affair.

"It says I need to channel power from a nexus vorti?" Davina spoke out loud in question as her fingertip skimmed over the words on the page in front of her, lifting her head to look at the corporeal spirit of Mikael across the room.

"Ah, yes. My wife, Esther, always did love to dress things up a bit. It's fancy witch-speak. A nexus vorti – a rare occurrence. Something so infrequent, it's almost a miracle. Like, an astrological event. Or..." he trailed off knowingly with a smug smirk on his lips as he raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed heavily in realisation as she finished his sentence with a roll of her eyes.

"...A miracle baby."

"Voilà. So, are you certain that you have the power to bring me back?"

Davina huffed in exasperation at the arrogance that seemed to ooze from his skin; it honestly surprised her that he wasn't biologically related to Klaus because they both seemed to have the trait that allowed them annoy someone with only a few words. She cast him a distrustful look as she picked up the dark objects that she had discreetly taken from the hidden collection of witch artefacts that the O'Connell family had somehow accumulated over the years. She almost couldn't believe it when Cami had opened the door to the secret apartment her uncle Kieran had kept before his death; she had become awestruck at the sight of so many items that were only rumours and legends in the witch community.

"I do now." she told him confidently as she rearranged the dark objects in her hands with a smirk on her lips and she hid the fact that her hands were shaking with nerves by tightening her hold on the objects. Mikael's gaze rested on the side of her head as she strolled towards the chalk outlined circle in the centre of the room and she crouch downed to place the compass on the closest corner before moving on to set an antique key opposite. A pocket watch was placed on the next corner and she tried to best not to draw attention to the bangle-like bracelet as she set it down on the last corner of the circle; one dark object on each corner to amplify the centre of the circle.

The moment she saw the Bracelet of Obedience sitting on the shelf in the O'Connell's secret room an idea started forming in her mind and so when she got back from the fieldtrip she modified the original resurrection spell without Mikael knowing.

Learning about dark objects were frowned upon by the Elders of the coven but Imogen had wanted her to have every advantage possible and tutored her in the dark arts from an early age, make sure she had a healthy respect and fear of them but also that she recognised the consequences of using them. The Bracelet had been magically imbued to force obedience, allowing the wearer to impose their will onto another and she had hesitated momentarily before deciding that the benefits outweighed the consequences. She wanted justice for Tim, she wanted to send Klaus a warning that she was a powerful enemy to have, but she didn't want any bystanders to get hurt as collateral damage. She was sick and tired of people walking all over her, taking advantage of her, so she amended the spell so that she would have complete control over Mikael once he was resurrected.

The corner of Davina's lips curled in satisfaction as she studied the set up for the ritual; there was always something gratifying about seeing the end result of hard work because so much of the assembly involved threading magic subtly through the build-up, growing slightly with every added piece of the whole.

Once she was satisfied that everything was in the correct position in order to generate magic at the maximum efficiency, she moved to stand opposite where Mikael's spirit was leaning against the couch with his arms crossed impatiently. Nerves flared to life in her stomach, feeling like massive butterflies running rampant but she took a breath to centre herself as she held her hands out to her sides with her palms facing upwards.

"De la cendre à l'os, de la chair à la vie. De la cendre à l'os, de la chair à la vie." she chanted confidently as her eyes closed of their own accord while she lost herself in the warmth, in the magic coursing through her veins. Wind began to swell around them even in the enclosed space and she vaguely heard Mikael begin to shout in pain as he was forcibly dragged into the centre of the chalk circle, she hadn't bothered to warn him about the agony he would go through in order to reconnect his spirit to the plane of the living. She could feel the magic bleeding into the air surrounding them, connecting her energy to the Mikael's spirit to the ashes of his once corporeal form as she continued to recite the spell, "De la cendre à l'os, de la chair à la vie! From ash to bone, from bone to flesh, from flesh to life!"

Davina gasped out loud as the tentative hold she had on her magical energy faded into nothing, leaving her completely exhausted from performing such a powerful spell and she saw a flash of Mikael panting for breath on his hands and knees moments after his resurrection before her eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed onto the floor.

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Candlelight illuminated the cavernous tomb, casting an ominous glow around the room and Klaus couldn't help the bitter thought that witches as a species were a tad overdramatic. The illusion they had cast on the cemetery was the equivalent of searching for a needle in a haystack and the sheer exhaustion from destroying the tombs in order to break their way through the illusion coupled with grief and worry caused from to stop in the middle of the candlelit room. He could sense the pain that wafted from his brother, and he wanted to do something to ease the burden on his shoulders, but his own mind was plagued with concern and anxiety for his newborn daughter.

A dull ache radiated continuously in Elijah's chest as he panted for breath, his body still healing from the ordeal of being poisoned with werewolf venom and he sighed heavily in defeat as he looked around desperately for some sort of clue.

"We've passed through here twice already. We're running out of time." he exclaimed in frustration as he slammed his fist into the closest wall in anger, the stone crumbling under the intense power of his punch. He felt the adrenaline running fiercely through his veins, and it was currently the only thing keeping him upright and going when all he wanted to do was lie down forget the events of the night.

"Then we move faster." Klaus replied simply as though they were speaking of something as simple as the weather, adding a third tally mark to the wall using a large rock to had been carrying with him in order to record where they'd been.

"Or smarter." a whispered voice added from behind them, the familiarity almost haunting and the Original brothers froze in shock and disbelief when they heard her voice. Klaus slowly turned towards the source of the sound with an expression of astonishment and saw Hayley standing in the doorway between rooms looking dazed and exhausted. Her brunette hair was matted with sweat against her forehead, dried blood coated her exposed throat and her hazel eyes darted around the tomb like she couldn't settle her gaze. Her footsteps shuffled softly as she walked further into the room, moving out of the shadows and another figure followed her through the doorway, darkness cascading over their silhouette.

Elijah snapped his head towards the approaching figure, the familiar scent of vanilla catching his attention and his breath caught in his throat when they stepped into the light created by the candlelight. "Imogen."

"Elijah." the witch whispered in reverence as she locked eyes with the man from across the room and the relief that blossomed in his chest when he heard her voice was almost painful as tears flooded his eyes. He slowly made his way across the room until he was right in front of her and he raised his hand to brush his fingers across her cheek to make sure she wasn't an illusion put there to torment him by the witches. Her skin was warm under his touch, a contrast to the last time he laid a hand on her, and he could hear her heartbeat thudding rhythmically in her chest like listening to angels singing from above.

"Imogen." he breathed out like a prayer with his eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against hers, inhaling the intoxicating scent that was completely unique to her and she shuddered against him as she gripped the collar of his shirt tightly as though he would disappear in a blink of an eye. One of his hands slipped around the back of her neck while the other rested on her hip to keep her pressed against his body. She melted against him with a sigh, every curved of her body moulded against him like it was meant to be there and the hollow sensation in her chest was starting to fill in with warmth. She had come back from the dead, but she hadn't felt alive again until she was wrapped in Elijah's strong embrace.

"I thought – I thought I had lost you." he breathed out in wonder as he pulled back from the embrace, cupping her jaw in his hands so that he could look into her tear-filled blue eyes and she sent him a wavering smile as she kept her hands curled tightly around his collar. "What – what happened in the church?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know." she murmured softly with a distant look in her eyes as her eyebrows drew together and he soothed the back of his fingers down her cheek in concern as she continued speaking after a moment. "One second I was using my magic to snap Klaus's neck so that he wouldn't have to watch, and then pain, blinding pain, in my throat," she told him as she reached up to touch the base of her throat gingerly and he clenched his jaw but didn't speak, afraid to break her concentration. "And then, I just...woke up."

"How?"

"I don't know. And that frightens me. I need to know the truth."

Klaus drew his stare away from the reuniting couple, the intimacy coursing between them as they embraced, rejoicing in the fact that Imogen was alive, made him feel like a voyeur because he was certain that neither of them would be comfortable displaying that level of vulnerability in front of anyone. The muted shuffling of feet caught his attention as he noticed Hayley shifting anxiously to the side of the room and he ignored the guilt in his stomach as he cautiously approached her as though she was a skittish animal.

"How are you here?" Klaus asked the mother of his child as he placed his hand on her shoulder to catch her attention and she turned her head towards him with a dazed expression on her face, her breathing laboured as her eyes darted around the room.

"I woke up in the church. I felt this hunger... I knew what I needed. I can feel her. She's here. I can feel my baby."

"You died with the baby's blood still in your system. You're in transition. Which means you have to drink the blood of the child if you are to survive. To be reborn a hybrid."

"I don't care about me. I'm going to go find our daughter." she declared passionately, determination lighting up her otherwise dull eyes as she set her jaw and made eye contact with the hybrid standing next to her with a glint in her eyes that could only be described as 'pleading'. There was a desperation slipping through the façade she put forth to the world but the ordeal she had been through that night, that she was currently going through made it nearly impossible to sensor her emotions. He offered her a short nod of understanding before she started leading the way out of the tomb in the opposite direction that she had entered.

Klaus shared a concerned look with his brother as Elijah threaded his fingers through Imogen's, unwilling to let her out of his sight for the foreseeable future and the three of them hurried to catch up with the werewolf's determined strides as she marched through the tomb-lined pathways.

Imogen gripped Elijah's hand tightly in her own, the warmth reminding her that she was alive again as she allowed him to practically drag her along with him when her shorter legs weren't fast enough to keep up with the others. She could even comprehend how Hayley and Klaus must have been feeling; not knowing whether or not their daughter was even alive must have been torture. She remembered the days just after the Harvest ritual over a year ago when she had no idea where Davina was or whether or not she was safe in Marcel's care. It had taken over a week before she was able to locate Marcel and plead with him for information on her sister's health and safety.

The magical energy surrounding them, the power that went into creating and maintaining the illusion of a maze, was suffocating as it figuratively pushed against the barriers she erected in her mind. It was like feeling the heat from the sun on your skin a hot summer day; it may have been invisible, but it demanded to be felt.

The three beings with superior hearing paused suddenly, causing Imogen to stumble over her feet, before they were rushing forward with a renewed sense of determination and she clung to Elijah's hand so that she didn't fall behind. The group skidded to a stop as they rounded a corner, coming to the centre of the cemetery and Imogen gasped in horror at the sight of Genevieve, Monique and Abigail surrounding the alter table where the baby was swathed in a blanket. Her eyes widened at the familiar looking athame in Genevieve's hand as it hovered precariously over the baby and tightened her grip on Elijah's hand as she realised that they were in time to stop the sacrifice.

"Nouvelle vie, nouvelle âme, mélange avec nous." The three witches chanted in unison without noticing that they had unexpected guests and Imogen felt her heartbeat accelerate as she witnessed Genevieve lowering the ceremonial athame.

"NOOO!" Hayley cried instinctively at the sight in front of her, gaining the attention of the witches and Elijah grabbed hold of the nearest urn from the steps of the one of the tombs before throwing it was expert precision. The ceramic urn shattered upon contact from Genevieve's hand, knocking the athame to the ground and the redhead let out a startled gasp as she stumbled backwards the shock.

Monique and Abigail rushed around from either end of the alter table to standing protectively in front of the baby, linking hands in order to amplify their magic through physical connection and they chanted in unison as they channelled the ancestors, "La mère, le père, le frère, la sœur... La mère, le père, le frère, la sœur..."

A fierce wind blow from out of nowhere, forcing the Originals and Hayley backwards as they went flying into the concrete tombs behind them. Imogen gasped when the sudden onslaught of power caused her stumble under the pressure and the weight settled through her bones, pressing down on her as she struggled to breathe through the thick vapour of magic. She could hear the blood rushing to her head as she reached up to cover her ears with her hands and she squeezed her eyes closed as multiple voices chanting reached her through the fog; she was unable to make out the specific words but she could tell by the tone that it was some kind of spell.

"You fools! To come against us in our place of power in our strongest hour? You don't face three, you face us all!" Monique shouted over the sound of wind before joining in the chanting and Imogen pried her eyes open, panting for breath as she saw the hundreds of the dead witches had come together to protect them as they complete their sacrifice.

Imogen couldn't remember a time when she had faith in the in the Elders. Maybe she had at one point, but she had learned fairly quickly that the only person she could entirely count on was herself. Small levels of trust were granted to those who had earned it either over time or through circumstance; Davina, Sophie, Marcel, Cami, Kieran, Elijah, Rebekah, Hayley, Klaus, Jackson, Josh. But she had always had a healthy respect for the ancestors; she had believed that they knew what was best for the coven, that they cared and protected its members as they upheld the generations of traditions of their people. She didn't deny that she had moments of doubt, such as the Harvest ritual, but she was secure enough to admit that she was wrong and they did know that the outcome would be beneficial even if their tactics were controversial at best. She believed in what they stood for. She believed.

But she couldn't stand idly by as they pardoned and even encouraged the slaughter of an innocent child, not even a few hours old.

And so, looking at the generations of witches and warlocks that had converged with the sole purpose of completing the sacrifice, she couldn't help feeling betrayed and abandoned by the ancestors.

Tears of frustration and anger burned in her eyes as she clutched her head in pain, rocking slightly on her knees as she glared up at the translucent figures gathered in front of her. She panted for breath as she felt rage swelling inside of her veins; how dare these men and women abuse their power in that way? How hypocritical were they that held prejudice against entire species for the actions of a few, when they despised the human race for doing the same during the witch trials? There was no discernible reason why they were sacrificing the baby, no ritual or spell that was taking place other than a power substitution that wouldn't have been necessary if Genevieve was sacrificed like she was meant to be in order to complete the Harvest. There was no reason behind the murder of an innocent child.

"Ahh!" she screamed out loud as she threw her hands out in front of her, the magic inside of her flowing through her extremities like waves crashing onto the side of cliffs on the rough sea. Warmth spread throughout her body as her skin tingled with tiny needle pricks of anticipation and she was pleased to note that the ghosts in front of her had to link hands to amplify their power against her when they stumbled against the pressure. Imogen gritted her teeth in determination as she slowly climbed to her feet, making eye contact with a few of the ancestors with a glare and she thrust both her hands in their direction as she let her magic surge forward, causing them to falter in their stance.

Something warm dripped from her nose down onto her lip as she concentrated on breaking through the barrier of ghosts and she swiped her tongue her upper lip, dread and annoyance battling inside of her when she tasted the familiar tang of blood. In all of her years practicing magic, she had never experimented with the capacity of her magical ability but at that moment she could feel the energy inside of expanding in a way she had never experienced before. It was like stretching muscles she didn't know she had.

A warmth suddenly encompassed her hand, causing her to frown in confusion as she looked to her side and she gaped in surprise as tears flooded her eyes at the sight of Sophie's translucent form standing beside her. A small smile played on her lips as she looked at her best friend, awed by her sudden appearance and then glanced down at their joined hands as their combined magic continued to fight against the others. Moments later there was a warmth covering her other hand as another deceased witch appeared on her side of the fight and she was suddenly energised as she looked around the handful of witches and warlocks that had joined them.

A renewed sense of contentment and belonging coursed through her veins as she came to the conclusion that not all of the ancestors were on board with the sacrifice and she smiled gratefully at the assembled group. Thankful for more than just their intervention, thankful that they gave her something to believe in again.

Imogen gasped in surprise, stumbling to the side to get out of the way when a wrought iron fence post flew past her head and she watched with wide eyes as the sharp point impaled Abigail through the stomach. Her mouth opened in shock as she stumbled backwards, losing contact with Monique in the process and she collapsed onto the ground as her eyes rolled back into her head. One by one the ghostly figures began to disappear as the connection was lost and Imogen snapped her head to the side to look at her best friend just time to see her smile reassuringly one last time before fading from view.

Imogen ignored the sadness blossoming in her chest as she turned her attention back to what was important in that moment and her eyes widened in horror as she saw Monique run to grab the athame in order to finish the sacrifice herself. Both Klaus and Elijah rushed past her, causing her brunette hair to fly wildly around her head, but were blocked from intervening when the young witch used her magic to erect a wall of fire in front of the table.

"Noooo!" Hayley cried out in horror from where she was kneeling to the side, clutching her head in her hands with tears in her eyes as Genevieve used a pain infliction spell on her to prevent her interference. Imogen roughly brushed the blood from her lip, smearing it across her cheek in the process before extending her hand towards the fire and she imagined the flame separating in order to clear a path as the reality happened in front of her eyes.

Monique raised the athame above the baby but before she could lower it and complete the sacrifice, something small propelled through the air from behind them and embedded itself in her stomach. Her eyes widened in shock as her skin slowly became covered with deep cuts, the fire wall extinguishing itself and she lowered her arms as she gripped the edge of the stone table to keep herself upright. Imogen glanced over her shoulder to see who had found the coveted and missing Devil's Star, a dark object that was said to cause a thousand cuts on its victim's body, and was surprised to see Marcel standing there. She shook her head to herself as he sped forward, picking up the baby before disappearing somewhere to safety and she knew that the child would be completely safe in his care, especially with Genevieve still in the vicinity, but Klaus took off immediately after Marcel to collect and meet his daughter.

Imogen turned back the stone table where Monique was coughing up blood, the red fluid staining her white dress as it ran down her chin but in that moment all she could see was the little girl with ponytails that used to beg for sweets when her mother wasn't looking. So many of her best memories contained that little girl; road trips to the beach, sleepovers where they ate nothing but junk food, camping in the backyard, comforting her when the boy she liked asked another girl to the school dance. She had changed for the negative since the Harvest, but she would always be that sweet girl little.

The brunette rushed forward with a frown on her lips as Monique collapsed onto the ground on the other side of the table and she knelt down next to the barely conscious teenager with tears in her eyes.

"Im – Imogen..." Monique gasped out weakly when she noticed the older witch beside her as she reached out blindly and Imogen grasped her hand tightly with a shaky smile on her lips as she brushed the hair from the girls sweat drenched forehead using the other hand. Tears were streaming down the young witch's cheeks as she closed her eyes with a soft exhale and Imogen felt her own eyes watering as she left her hand resting on the girls head in order to give her some form of comfort. "I'm – I'm sorry. Sorry."

"It's okay. It's okay, sweetie." She reassured the girl softly as she tried to sound light-hearted so that she didn't cause Monique to panic but her voice cracked with emotion that she couldn't suppress. She instinctively tightened her hold on her hand because she didn't want the younger girl to feel alone and Monique's eyes fluttered open weakly as she gasped for breath, looking around like she was searching for something.

"Mom? Mom!" Monique cried in a panic, sounding more like the child she was than she had in years as she thrashed violently and Imogen blinked away the tears in her eyes as she hummed the tune to 'Rock-a-Bye Baby' under her breath. The familiar sound seemed to calm the girl down as she slumped against the ground in exhaustion and one lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she exhaled one last time before her heart stopped beating.

Imogen choked on a sob as she looked at the young girl she had watched grow up into the beautiful young woman she was, her sightless eyes staring blindly up at the sky above. She reached over to close her eyelids with her fingertips, giving her the façade of sleeping peacefully, and then pulling her torso against her chest as she allowed herself to breakdown for the loss of the last of Deveraux's.

__________________________________

"We should have felt our mother's hand in this."

His voice barely above a whisper, aware that his brother could hear him regardless and he kept his eyes locked on the sleeping child in Hayley's arms. It was memorising, each gentle inhale and exhale, a steadfast assurance that she was alive and breathing. From where he sat he could easily see into the nursery connected to the bedroom where Hayley was sitting on the antique wooden rocking chair in the corner, rocking back and forth rhythmically in order to sooth the child. It seemed that Imogen had been correct in her words: 'the whole world will stop and instead of gravity, she will keep you grounded to the earth'.

"We should have known she would not be bound by anything as obvious as death. And now she has control of the witches. They will never stop." Klaus continued solemnly as he reluctantly tore his gaze away from his daughter and turned his head to look at his older brother with saddened blue eyes as he resumed speaking, "Nor would I expect the Guerrera wolves to back down. Hayley and the child are wolf royalty, and as such, they are a threat to Francesca's claim to the leadership. They will never be safe. What was it you said to me earlier? That I have made enemies every day of my miserable life? Well, the worst of them are within these borders, brother."

The hybrid paused sadly as he twisted his fingers together nervously, guiltily after his confession and he shook his head to himself as he looked down at his feet before continuing in a low voice, "I have brought into the world a weapon they can use against me."

"Then we will arm ourselves! Brother, we have fought every adversary in this town, and we have won. And we'll fight them again, no matter who they are! We will make this home a fortress." Elijah declared passionately as he leaned closer to his brother, catching his gaze in order to emphasis his statement but Klaus pursed his lips in frustration as he shook his head in refusal.

"I will not have her live her life as a prisoner."

"Then we leave here, together. All of us."

Klaus huffed out a humourless laugh as his lips twitched in bittersweet amusement and he noticed Elijah's confused indignation, offended that his brother was doubting his loyalty to their family. The hybrid tried to supress his smile as he leaned over to cup the side of his brother's neck with one hand and enjoying the frown on the older siblings face as he spoke with the utmost knowing, "Elijah, you would never leave Imogen, and Imogen would never leave Davina."

Elijah lowered his head, as though he was ashamed of his weakness but Klaus merely patted his shoulder in understanding before sitting up straight and letting his hand drop down to his lap as he continued speaking in a firm tone, "Wherever we go, however far we run, those who seek power and revenge will hunt us! They will hunt her. She has inherited all of our enemies with none of our defences."

"So, whether we stay, or we leave – we condemn her." Elijah marvelled out loud in defeat as he clenched his jaw in irritation, rubbing his fingers over his furrowed brow.

"There's a third option." Hayley announced her presence as she stood in the doorway between the two rooms with her daughter nestled comfortably in her arms, tears brimming her hazel eyes and her lower lip trembling slightly. Both of the Original brothers looked over at her in surprise, startled by her presence and she glanced down at her peacefully sleeping child as she continued, "I grew up in a warzone. My parents thought they could protect me. But, in the end, they were slaughtered, and I spent my childhood alone and unloved," she choked on her words as they got caught in her throat and a smile flittered across her lips as she sniffled to hold back the tears that threatened to fall before she spoke in a hoarse voice, "I made a promise, to my baby, and to myself, that she would not grow up like I did. That she would grow up safe, and loved. And yet, here she is, on her first day in this world, with a grandmother who is bent on sacrificing her –"she paused when she couldn't stop the sob that escaped her lips, the tears now freely spilling down her cheeks and she ran her fingertips down her daughters soft cheek as she stuttered heartbrokenly, "And a-a mother who has to drink the blood of her own baby to survive transitioning into a hybrid. And I'm the one who loves her the most."

Hayley inhaled sharply as she fought to compose herself, knowing that the brothers were looking at her with saddened expression, just as devastated by their current situation and she lifted her head to look at them as she concluded her statement firmly, "I think the only thing to do is... send her away... while we stay behind and clean up the mess that we've made."

Shock appeared on both of their features once they heard her proposal and Klaus pursed his lips in consideration as he ducked his head but Elijah shook his head in rejection as he stood up from his seat, "No! This is insane. You heard Genevieve – so long as she lives, that baby will be hunted."

"Not if no one knows she lives." Klaus corrected him suddenly in a thoughtful tone of voice as he also stood up from where he was seated on the end of the bed and walked over to stand next to Hayley, gazing down at his slumbering daughter with a soft smile on his lips.

"What is it you intend to do, brother?"

"Whatever it takes – " he said assuredly in a no-nonsense tone of voice as he reached out to touch his daughters tiny fist and then he looked up slightly to make eye contact with Hayley as he finished in a warm but firm tone, " – to save our family."

Hayley blinked in surprise at his unsaid declaration, naming her family – a Mikaelson in everything but blood and name. A small smile spread across her lips, amazed at how right it felt and how wonderful it was to hear that she was part of a family – a messed up, bloodthirsty, slightly psychotic family, but a family that loved each other nonetheless.

"Contact Marcel. Once he gets here we'll explain why he cannot remember our child's existence, he will agree to be compelled to forget she lived. But first, we shall ask him to procure the body of a newborn and he will, in an essence, blackmail the wolves into leaving the vampires alone across the river. The wolves won't believe him if he does not ask for something in return of his retreat across the river. They will be watching us. All of them. The three of us leaving together will draw too much attention. I will go alone. Take your mourning public while I am gone."

"I don't imagine that will be too difficult. Grief, after all, is grief." Elijah admitted with a tired sigh as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, overlooking the two new parents with a combination of sadness, happiness, jealousy and contentment. "In what world would she be safe without her father, or mother? Who can protect her better than we?"

"There are two people. One of them is currently running up our hot water bill." Klaus informed them jokingly with a quirked eyebrow as he cocked his head to the side with a smirk and a small chuckle echoed between the three of them at the mention of the brunette witch who was taking a shower in order to, in her own words, 'get rid of the death that lingered on her skin'.

The hybrid carefully slipped his hands around the child in Hayley's arms as he looked over at her for permission, waiting for her to nod in ascent before cradling her against his chest like she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. He couldn't contain the smile that spread across his lips as she yawned, stretching her little arms out of the blanket swaddling her and he let her grip his finger in her tiny fist as he continued speaking softly, "Rebekah. Rebekah will protect her niece, and love her, and cherish their time together. Despite our differences, there is no one I would trust more with our daughters life."

Silence fell over the trio as they all gazed contently at the infant nestled in the hybrids arms, completely enthralled with every breath and heartbeat. The faint sound of the shower running suddenly stopped somewhere within the Abattoir and Elijah immediately stiffened as he listened intently with his superior hearing, making sure that the witch was safe in the confines of her bedroom.

"I shall go inform Imogen of the arrangement. She can't be compelled, and I'm not inclined to even if it were possible, but she would never compromise your child's safety, or the safety of any child." The oldest Mikaelson defend the woman who had captured his heart, crossing his arms over his chest as he shifted his gaze between the new parents.

"Relax, brother. It will be useful to have a trustworthy witch know the truth. She can cast cloaking spell over the baby and Rebekah for extra protection. Neither of us doubt Imogen. In fact, I'm going to go introduce her to the newest Mikaelson. Excuse me." Klaus informed them with a smirk as he held his daughter close to his chest, walking past his brother as he exited the room and started down the corridor towards the bedroom Imogen had chosen back when Marcel was in power.

The bedroom door was partially open as he approached and he shifted his daughter in his arms so that he could push the door open further. He could see the brunette witch sitting cross-legged on the end of the large bed as she texted someone on her cell phone with expert precision, her wet hair hanging freely around her shoulders. She was dressed comfortably in tracksuit pants and a slightly oversized Tulane sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder and she bit into her lower lip in concentration as she typed, causing her to look like the twenty two year old girl she was.

Imogen snapped her head up in surprise when someone knocked on her bedroom door, drawing her attention away from the text group chat with Marcel and Cami. A smile spread across her lips at the sight Klaus standing in the doorway with a pink blanketed bundle securely in his arms and she stood up from the bed as he strolled further into the room.

"And who is this?" she cooed softly once he was close enough for her to see the delicate features of the little girl in his arms and a wave of warm affection spread through her chest as she ran her fingertip down the baby's soft cheek.

"I'd like to introduce you to Hope Andrea Mikaelson." he announced with such love and adoration in his voice that she almost didn't recognise it as his and she beamed in response as tears flooded her eyes, watching as Hope's eyelids fluttered open to reveal startling blue eyes like her fathers. In that moment she knew, without a doubt, that she would protect this child with her life. Her happiness, and safety, and the preservation of her innocence, and that of Davina, were the most important things in the world to her, and she would stop at nothing to make sure it was achieved.

"She's gorgeous." she breathed out in awe without looking away as she sniffled slightly to stop more tears from forming and he chuckled lowly with a proud smile as he gaze down at his daughter lovingly.

Klaus was silent for a moment as he watched the witch fawn over his daughter, knowing that they made the right decision in trusting her, in allowing her into their lives and hearts. He shifted Hope slightly towards her with a smile and she looked up at him questioningly, causing him to chuckle before he asked her sincerely, "Would you like to hold your goddaughter?"

Imogen completely froze in the middle of slipping her arms around the newborn, snapping her head up in surprise with wide eyes and her lips parted as though she was about to say something but closed her mouth without a word. Her blue eyes shone with emotion as teardrops collected on her eyelashes and a breathtaking smile spread across her lips as she nodded her head rapidly in acceptance, knowing that it was an inadvertent question as to whether or not she would accept the role. He smiled slightly in response as he allowed her to take Hope in her arms, making the transfer with expert ease and she held the baby close to her chest as she swayed from side to side while humming nonsense under her breath.

Watching the happiness that settled across her features, he couldn't bear to ruin the mood with reality after the retched day that they had all experienced; at least one of them should be allowed to live a life unencumbered.

At least for a little while.