I'm having some issues with this Fanfiction, like storyline and what not. This one actually required a draft. A draft! But I know the purpose of this Fanfiction, which is always the most important thing, yeah? And I'm not labeling POV's, as it's just Caroline and Klaus and it's easy to tell which is which because her's is written in first person and his is written in second person.

But here it goes. Next chapter.

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The girl was encased in almost tangible fear.

Klaus could very clearly see that. It lit in her eyes and made her body shake and he watched her, waiting for her to scream. Or yell.

Something.

They always did.

"You....you killed him," she finally said in a broken whisper.

"Well, he would have killed you," Klaus shot back. He hit his foot against the man's leg to demonstrate. "But he'll be alive and kicking again within the hour, rest assured."

Her expression didn't change and she gazed at him in unmasked horror. It was nothing new to him. How many times had he been looked at that way?

"Stay....away from me," she bit out, rising to her feet. Her legs gave out and before he knew he was doing, Klaus caught her in his arms.

But she instantly flinched from his grasp and pulled out of it, crawling desperately away from him. Her hair blew over her face, shielding it from his view.

He could just compel her, he knew. It would be easy; quick. But he was curious. And bored.

Niklaus Mikaelson was very very bored, indeed.

"You killed him," she repeated. "That....that thing. What-what was that?"

Well, if he could make her forget anyway, what had he to lose?

"That was a vampire," he said, weighing her reaction. "One of those nasty creatures that goes bump in the night. He'll be perfectly fine. Like I said."

Her face blanched. "Oh....there must've been something in that drink," she murmured and Klaus smirked at her words.

"There was nothing in your drink."

To his surprise, she glared at him. "Well, then tell me, how could you be here? You're that weird British stalker dude. There's no reason for you to be at a high school party. Ugh, how long does it take for this stuff to wear off?"

Klaus sighed, giving her an annoyed look. She really was very, thickly, human.

"The denial will wear off eventually," he partially answered.

She rolled her eyes, her body still shaking but she seemed to take comfort in the belief a substance was causing this.

"You're crazy," she muttered, "like we are talking striped jacket level. Go away or I will call the cops to take you back to whatever place you broke out of."

"If you wish," he said, his tone somewhat bitter as he watched her. Klaus noticed she deliberately avoided looking at the man, still on a ground in a heap. "Or I could leave you here and you could wait for him to wake. I don't believe it will be a pleasant reunion."

"No," she shook her head. "I'm going home."

"In your condition?"

She rose unsteadily to her feet, using the fence for support. "Yes."

He leaned against the back of the house and crammed his hands inside his coat. "That would be careless of me to allow you to do. Perhaps you should stick around. It'll give me the opportunity to prove how lucid you really are."

She barked out a humorless laugh. "As fun as that sounds, I'm going to have to pass on the foreign stalker invitation. Thanks, though." She moved around him, heading back to the house.

"I doubt that wound will go unnoticed, Love," Klaus called, and she paused. Her hand went to her neck and when she saw her own red fingertips, the rest of her stilled.

"I'm not....this is actually...," she breathed and Klaus waited, curious.

Here it came.

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I ran.

Or rather, tried to calmly make my way back to the party, tripping as I went.

I wanted home. I wanted safety. I wanted something to make sense and none of this....none of this did.

I pulled open the back door and plunged into the people, some asking me what was wrong to which I mumbled that I cut myself. It felt very distant, though, as I made my way to the front door, ignoring Angela's gasp of concern as I fled past her and into the exposed night.

I tried to breathe past my rising panic, steadily consuming me even with my efforts. What was that?

What had I just seen?

Had he said a....a- I couldn't even think it; the concept was too far fetched to be conceivable.

There had to be a logical explanation.

Some shred of sanity in everything I'd just-

"Your bright ideas seem to be practically nonexistent," someone said and my eyes looked up, falling once again on the British guy.

I let out a groan. Or maybe it was a shriek. It was tied between the two. "Just. Leave me. Alone," I spat, turning away from him. He materialized in front of me and I stopped, my jaw popping open at his speed. "How'd you....?"

"I already told you, Love," he said with a modest shrug. "I thought I made it fairly clear."

"Clear?" I shouted at him, using my sudden anger to mask my fear. I didn't think it worked. "What-what part of this sounds remotely clear to you? I mean, how gullible do you think I am? For all I know, this is a very elaborate hoax that you and that guy have created, which isn't impressive or even believable."

Because it had to be a joke. It had to be.

"Actually, it's really sad that two grown men would invest so much freaking time and effort into scaring people! Now go away!"

"If it brings you some sense of comfort, you are handling this rather well," he said, the corner of his lip working up in a lopsided smile.

I glowered at him, trying to suppress my growing terror. I was on a street. At night.

Alone.

Well, not as alone as I'd like to be.

"What....are you even talking about?" I screamed through my teeth, tossing my hands in the air.

"You're a....some type of freak. Now run along, I'm not falling for whatever this is," I motioned to him. "In fact, I could charge your little friend for assault and battery which is a minimum of six months in a penitentiary." I dug out my phone and flipped it open, showing it off to him. "You have about five seconds before I dial nine one one, or as I like to call her: mom."

Before I could react, my phone disappeared from my hand and he played with it in his own, studying it curiously.

"How are you doing that?" I yelled, my tone edged with more annoyance as he invaded my phone privacy.

"'I'm sorry, Care,'" he read a text out loud and I stomped forward, trying to snatch it out of his hand. It was like playing with a shadow and he disappeared from my grasp, sidestepping it with inhuman ease.

"Care," he repeated my nickname, as if testing the sound of it. "Could that, by any chance, be short for Caroline?"

"Give. It. Back," I hissed, injecting as much menace as I could into my tone. With a bored sigh, he tossed it to me and I caught it, clutching it to myself as if it were something invaluable.

He gave me an expectant look. "It's a fairly poor voice of judgement to walk the streets alone this late in the evening. You partake in it often, it would seem," he said, folding his hands back into his pockets and watching me calmly. "One would expect a little thing referred to as reason to intervene once in a full moon. But I guess in your case, it's silent."

"What is it you want?" I asked, my voice cracking on fear. My entire body still shook with tremors, but I used my anger to help cover it; to clear my head and give me some direct line of focus. "Do you want money? Great, what are you so desperate for that's worth ten bucks?"

He vanished from my line of sight and materialized in front of me, so close I could see his eyes, sparkling from the distant streetlight. "I'm a vampire, Love. I have no need for trivial commodities such as money."

I stumbled away from him and nearly fell to the ground. My breath left me in a rush.

"And I'm Tinker Bell," I snapped. "There's. No. Such. Thing."

"Even after what you just witnessed with your own eyes?" He challenged, raising his eyebrows. "Your denial is very stubborn."

"Look," I said in a reasoning voice, holding out my hands. "I won't call the cops if you leave me alone. Well, actually, I still will because I have a little thing called responsibility, but I'll give you a running start."

His jaw visibly clenched but then he smiled, a tight lipped one that was unreadable. His head tilted almost imperceptibly to the side and there was a deliberate pause, almost like he was listening for something.

"If I am not mistaken, I believe I hear your captor waking," he finally said. "Won't he be in a dark mood after finding I've stolen his late night snack from him."

At his words, something sounded in the distance and I whirled around, spotting a silhouette beneath the lamppost light. When I blinked, it disappeared.

My breath came to a stuttering halt and the shaking grew worse. I squeezed my eyes shut as if everything would cease to exist so long as I wasn't looking at it.

"Now, I can leave you here," the British guy said beyond my closed lids. "Or I can escort you home by my means of travel. Whichever will it be?"

I shut them tighter and shook my head. "No. This is a joke. This isn't actually...."

He clicked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, he's almost here."

I wanted to suddenly scream. None of this could be happening. No. No. No.

No.

"You are counting the seconds, Love."

"Fine!" I shouted.

But before the word had even fully left my mouth, I was being lifted up. The world seemed to fall away, replaced by screaming winds that whipped my hair around me.

I didn't open my eyes.