a bennett witch and the original Hybrid

23

The day Niklaus Mikaelson realized the extent of his powers- that he could rip the heart out of his enemies straight out of their chests without breaking a sweat- was the same day he promised himself he would never feel helpless again. Mikael, in his never-ending cruelty and abuse, had turned his childhood and adolescence into a living nightmare. And for that, Klaus had vowed he would never be that weak again.

Now, as he studied Bonnie's unconscious form, the pale column of her neck littered with yellow and purple bruises, and grasped Amari's pink cotton blanket in between his fingers, Klaus had never felt so weak.

He felt vulnerable, furious and terrified, all wrapped up in one. This type of feeling had only hit him when he was a young boy, still craving Mikael's approval. Needless to say, he did not enjoy that sensation one bit.

As a matter of fact, he didn't know how to deal with it. Whenever he was hit with strong emotions, he either tried to drown it out with alcohol and blood, or he went to Bonnie. Bonnie. His little witch, even in the early days of their relationship, had always been a source of support. She would listen to his frustrated rants about the unwilling vampires at the Quarter, stubborn witches and all the like. He was supposed to protect her and their daughter.

How could they misread the situation like this? All of his men had swept through Mystic Falls, searched for signs of Matt and Johann, and had found none. They had come to the conclusion Johann was probably taking shelter in a neighboring town as he waited for the meeting he had strong-armed them into. But no, Klaus- for all of his strategic intelligence – had been bested.

Klaus sipped on the expensive whiskey, not even feeling the burn as the liquid went down. He had been there for so long, sitting on the uncomfortable armchair and looking at Bonnie's chest rise and fall, that he could barely taste the alcohol. It was a shame. Klaus would have loved to get drunk, to lose sense of reality and forget his daughter was kidnapped and Bonnie was attacked. The fear pumping through his veins was so intense that he would rather feel anything but that.

Just as he was about to get another bottle, he heard the satin sheets crinkle and faint coughing.

"Shh, love," Klaus urged as he rushed to her side. His hands hovered over her bruised cheek, mere inches from touching her skin. Anxious to know Bonnie was okay, Klaus wanted to touch her, but he was afraid to hurt her. She looked so fragile; like she was a moment away from collapsing and never recovering again. "You're okay, I promise."

His words offered Bonnie no comfort, it seemed. She looked around with wide, bloodshot eyes; desperation clear as she tried to sit up and talk at the same time.

"Nik, did they-" Bonnie tried to ask, but she couldn't get the words out. The physical effects of her attack were obvious.

Klaus cringed as his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, which he didn't even think was possible. He was a man who relished in violence and gore, but getting to the cemetery and seeing what had remained after the attack would stick with him.

Bonnie down on the ground; her crimson blood staining the dark green grass. Amari's stroller rolled over; all of her things sprawled around, including the pastel yellow giraffe rattle she was obsessed with and one of her blankets.

Mental wise, Klaus had shut down right after he picked up the toy and Bonnie's unconscious form.

"That coward scoundrel had his little minions kidnap our daughter," he confirmed. Her eyes watered and tears started to spill, running down her cheeks until they hit the sheets. Hands trembling, he wiped the moisture with as much gentleness as he could muster. "We will have her back, love. I promise you that. Nobody hurts my family and gets to live."