Klaus seemed to want to make conversation.

"And what, pray tell, are you intending to do all night?" he inquired, seeing she'd curled up on the couch.

"Sleep," she said, covering her face with the pillow. "I'm still tired."

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the back of the couch before going to sit at the armchair across from her. "Benjamin, why don't you go get me a bottle of bourbon, and go visit your pals at the Columbia River Pack to find any potential warriors for me?"

Benjamin nodded obediently and sped off, returning with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. He then gave an awkward sort of bow and walked out the door.

Esmeray had paid him and Klaus no heed until she sensed the Original hybrid was looking in her direction. "Do you need something?" she muttered, cracking one eyelid open so she could see him.

"I am simply wondering, is all," he said wickedly, which made her suspicious.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Wondering about what? If you bring up Damon again..."

"Anya. You fancy her."

"I barely met her."

"And yet, she's interested in you."

"I know."

Klaus scoffed as he poured himself some bourbon. "Clearly, there is a great shortage of words in your mind at the moment."

Esmeray rolled her eyes. "What part of 'I'm still tired' do you not understand? Are you really that desperate for attention?" When he didn't answer, she groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I don't feel well."

He stood, bringing the bourbon toward her. "Drink. You'll feel better."

"I don't drink," she murmured, pushing it away.

He looked amused. "I see you've yet to learn about the pleasures that bourbon can bring."

"Oh, I know perfectly well about all that. I've seen plenty of memories of people having a good time with it. I just don't want to rely on that to feel good."

"Then what do you rely on to make you feel good, love?"

She shrugged. "I haven't found a proper hobby yet. I don't know what I might like." She raised an eyebrow at him, deciding she might as well interrogate him too. "What's your hobby?"

"Painting," he said, his voice softer than usual, indicating to her that he didn't always tell people about that. "Just... art. Here and there."

She perked up. "I want to see."

He bit his lip. "I don't have any of my artwork with me. It's stored elsewhere. Closer to Mystic Falls. I didn't intend to move it until I found the right place for it."

"Will I be held prisoner at that new place? Just so I know whether I'll be seeing your art or not."

Klaus laughed dryly, taking a swig from the bourbon. "You, my little werewitch, are no prisoner."

"How am I not? I'm not exactly here off my own accord. I'm here because you kidnapped me and you want to make hybrids, and somehow, I got lucky enough to find benefit in the trip, even if it was awful."

He leaned back in his chair and extended his arms. "You're not bolted to the wall, love," he noted. "Your lips aren't glued together, as horrible as it is to hear you speak."

Esmeray growled. "You're the one begging for me to talk to you even though I told you I feel ill. I suppose one does get lonely after betraying everyone around you."

"You're one to speak of loneliness," he sneered impulsively, masking the fact he was hurt by her statement. "Isn't your whole Pack dead?"

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and no sound came out. "I'm going to bed," she said at last, getting up and crossing her arms over herself.

Klaus knew immediately that he'd been too harsh, but he wasn't about to apologize. That just wasn't something he did. He watched her go, and when she reached the top of the staircase, he heard a small sniffle, letting him know that he'd made her cry.

Thus, in the morning, he'd had breakfast taken to her room. She didn't know that this was his way of apologizing, she simply expected he was practicing how to boss his hybrids around, and had nothing better to do.

She came downstairs, and found that there were more hybrids in the house, but he wasn't actually there anymore. Benjamin was joined by another male and one female, each looking just as peppy with their new selves.

When Esmeray reached for some of the fruit on the table, the female hybrid growled and grabbed it first, making the werewitch glare at her. "Rude," she muttered.

"Be nice to her, Dee," Benjamin warned. "Klaus said we have to listen to her, too."

"I don't need you all to be my servants," said Esmeray dejectedly, getting a different fruit than intended. "Just don't be dicks."

The other male hybrid stopped her before she could get to the main door. "Klaus said you can't leave," he told her.

Esmeray scoffed. "He says I'm not a prisoner, and yet I'm not allowed to go outside?"

"He's not home," Benjamin explained. "He doesn't want you unattended. If you need to go somewhere, one of us has to go with you."

"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself! I'm a bloody witch! I may not have control of both sides of me but I'm not incompetent!"

"Klaus thinks the Packs are going to try to hurt you," Benjamin insisted. "Stay here."

She flicked her wrist, snapping the necks of all three hybrids before she went out, beginning to walk to the Campbell liquor store, having in mind to speak to Anya.

She found Aaron behind the counter, while Anya was arranging things on the shelves. She had put a bandana on to cover her bald head. "Hello," Esmeray said, half-smiling at them to make her presence known.

"Esmeray!" said Anya happily as she looked up. "I thought you'd vanished again."

"I don't have a phone at the moment, so I couldn't call," she said, feeling a familiar sensation rising in her face. She really did feel nervous around Anya. Butterflies threatened to burst out of her abdomen.

Anya shrugged it off, and handed her a jar of marmalade. "Feel like some more toast? Unfortunately, that's all we can have for snacks, otherwise, we draw wolves here."

"I wouldn't mind more toast," she responded pleasantly. "I wanted to talk about the... conditions of the agreement."

Anya's eyes seemed to shine more. "We can go for a walk, then. With the toast."

She moved into the backroom, and returned about a minute later with a plate and four slices of toast. Aaron hardly paid attention to them as Anya brought a spoon for the marmalade, and started to smear it over.

They exited the store and walked into the lot behind it, which had only a small shed. "That's where my Pa is right now," Anya said, leading Esmeray through the lot. "Today, he's working on fixing the machine that dispenses water. Can't be a proper liquor store without water."

Esmeray smiled politely. "I could always try to work some magic on it. Can't say I'll know how to do it on the first try, but..."

Anya shook her head, putting her finger over her lips as they moved through the rest of the lot and into a grassy field that led, from a distance, toward the Campbell house. "His hearing range isn't as big as it used to be," said Anya once they were far enough from the shed. "I don't want him hearing the conversation."

Esmeray furrowed her eyebrows. "Is everything alright?"

Anya wrung her hands together. "I feel comfortable telling this to you because I know you understand it." She faced her. "I'm transgender."

Esmeray blinked. "Congratulations," she said simply. "Forgive me if I don't know what else to say... I don't know how people are meant to react nowadays. Before, when someone announced it to the Pack, we all just asked what their new name would be and went on with our day, making sure to start referring to the person by their chosen identity."

Anya cast her a grin. "'Congratulations' is good for me. It's better than anything my Pa told me. It's... a recent development. I only just turned eighteen four months ago. I waited until I was legally allowed to leave the house without a problem, in case he didn't react well."

"You kept it a secret for years, then?"

"I felt like I had to. My Pa isn't the most supportive person. Aaron's wife— she's from the Oaks Bottom Pack. He didn't want them to get married because she's more mixed than most wolves. She's got Deep Water, Crescent, BasRoq, and North East Atlantic blood, from different family members. Now, their kid has all those characteristics, with some Paxon. My Pa believes in sticking with what we were given at birth. For us, it's been sticking with our Paxon lineage until the day we die and not mixing with anyone else. Aaron broke that five years ago. Then, about a year after, I came out as demisexual. You know what that is, I assume?"

Esmeray shook her head. "I admit, I'm not the most familiar on current sexuality terms. I don't remember exactly what it means."

"It basically just means that I don't get... turned on by anyone in a sexual way... until I form a really really strong bond with them. It isn't anything wrong, but he felt like it was." She reached up to remove her bandana, smoothing her palm over her head before tucking the cloth in her pocket. "I heard, after we found out about you, that your Ma was a witch who used to perform the spells to help trans people."

"Yes, she did. She'd give them the sex organs of their choosing, to fit with the gender identity they wanted."

"See, I would normally be fine keeping my... well, male appendage... because I don't intend to use it. But being a werewolf... I don't like turning every month and knowing that when I'm a wolf, I'll always be seen as a male to the members of my Pack, even if they know I prefer the name Anya to... my dead name, which my Pa refuses to give up, since I was named after my grandpa. I'll be glad to help with your ritual, because I know what it's like to not feel like you belong in your body, for one reason or another. All I ask for in return is that, when I'm fully ready to transition, you help me do the spell that'll help me be seen as a female even in my wolf form."

"Of course, Anya," said Esmeray gently, offering her hand to her. The wolf took it, and she squeezed it reassuringly. "Just... whenever you're ready. I'll do it even before the ritual, if you want."

"I'll let you know when it's time. I still want to try and figure out where I'm going to go live after I turn twenty-one. My Pack is alright with folks leaving and branching off, but they usually want them to do it at the age of twenty-one. It's some weird tradition that I'd at least like to abide by, because Aaron's the Alpha and I respect him. He and Nat— that's his wife— have been supportive since I came out. Most of the Pack has, too. The kids don't really understand it, but they call me Anya most of the time. Even my niece, Lyla, calls me her Auntie Anya."

"I'd be glad to help," said Esmeray. She clasped her hands together. "Well... that's really the only thing I wanted to talk about. I ought to get back before Klaus comes looking for me and causes a problem."

Anya raised one brow. "So... just to confirm... you two aren't...?"

"Ew, no. Would you want to be with someone like that?"

"He's handsome, I'll give him that. But he's an ass."

Esmeray shrugged. "He was better looking when he wasn't near me," she teased, though having to think about the fact that Klaus was handsome surely made her heart skip a couple beats. "I'm not interested in him, nor is he interested in me. It's just a weird... he kidnapped me and I'm helping him so that he helps me and doesn't kill my friends."

Anya stopped in front of her. "I don't want to startle you," she said quietly. "But... I'm interested."

Esmeray's cheeks became significantly redder. "Oh! No... I'm not startled..." she felt more butterflies bouncing around in her stomach. "I... I haven't really done much in this world yet. I have to be honest, I don't know how ready I am for a whole relationship, but—"

"Don't worry! I'd really like for us to become friends first, if you're alright with that. When you get your phone back, of course. Just... feel free to message me anytime."

The hybrid tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I will," she said softly. "I don't know how long I'll be around here but I'll definitely... keep in touch." She fumbled with her own hands before awkwardly pointing off to the side. "I should um, get going."

"I'll see you around, Poldark," said Anya, giving her a goofy smile and saluting to her before continuing to walk back to her house.

Esmeray felt like she was floating. The butterflies had seemingly lifted her into the air and let her levitate for a bit. For the first time, magic seemed to be flowing out in a constructive rather than destructive manner. Usually, her emotions left her breaking apart what was already formed. As she walked back through the field toward the road that would return her to the mansion, she felt an energy leaving her, and flowers started to grow at her feet, the grass turning greener wherever she stepped. Her cheeks still felt hot, and she brought her hands up to cover them, giggling to herself. This world wasn't so bad, after all.

She should have known it was too good to last. Before she could make it back to the mansion, she felt a sudden chill run down her spine, and she stopped, seeing that several people were approaching her.

She knew instantly that they weren't friendly. Some of them had baseball bats in their hands. Others, chains. They looked angry at her, and she put her hands out defensively, saying nothing as they enclosed her in a circle. There were about twenty-four males and females— wolves, she could sense it now— and they were ready to fight.

"If it isn't the hybrid," said one woman, stepping up. She had several long gashes running down her face. Instead of having two brown eyes, one was milky white, and had a mark as if it had been clawed at too. Surely, she was the Alpha of this Pack, and she had been hurt badly at some point, before acquiring the position.

"What is it to you?" snapped Esmeray. "If you know who I am, why approach me? You do realize witches trump wolves all the time, right?"

"We also know you're an unstable and immature little twit," the woman scoffed, holding a metal bat and smacking it into her own palm. "What's your business with the Willamette Pack? What're you helping them with?"

Esmeray snorted. "Look, honey, clearly you're out of the loop on things, because I'm not doing anything for them."

"Tell Klaus Mikaelson to stop turning our members into hybrids, then," she snapped. "Why in the hell are the Willamettes spared? We don't want our people to become filthy and impure like you two."

"I'll be sure to relay your message," the hybrid replied with a cheeky smile. "But I'm not his secretary or his girlfriend or even his friend, so I highly doubt the message will get across. Piss off, your problem isn't with me."

"Isn't it? You're helping him, aren't you?"

"With things that have nothing to do with wolves. I wouldn't help him turn my own kind into vampires."

"You're just as guilty as a bystander. Besides... we're not your kind, honey. You're a dirty little mutt that needs to clear out of Portland." She threw the bat, and Esmeray flicked her hand, catching it, throwing it back with ease, and sending it crashing into the woman's nose.

The entire group converged on her at once. It became apparent that she had not been ready for it. Esmeray knew some basic self-defense, but she'd never really been taught how to fight, because she'd never gained control over her wolf form. She tried to rely on her anger, she tried to move her hands and mutter spells, but fighting against so many of them left her being overwhelmed. Punches were coming at her from all sides, and when one growled, slashing into her face with a knife, she realized that they weren't just trying to intimidate her.

They were trying to kill her.

"GET BACK!" she screamed, trying to encourage some magic to burst out and at least burn them. One of them yanked her back by the hair, and a hard smack slammed into her cheek, making her head snap to the side. Another kicked her in the stomach, and before she could try to break free, she was knocked to the floor.

"I knew she was nothing but a wimp," the wolf leader said, grinning malevolently down, seeing blood spilling from Esmeray's nose and mouth. "Just like they told us. She may have more control over her magic but she doesn't know how to use it defensively."

It was unfortunately true. Esmeray had never had to fight someone or work to save her own life. She knew spells that could inflict pain on others, but it took her most of her concentration, and her power wasn't the same without any control over her wolf nature. And either way, any practice she had was for a one on one battle. She could dodge punches and use someone's strength against them. She could snap the necks of those who were stationary, and she could give a massive headache to a few people.

But twenty-four at once? That was too much to hope for.

She started to scream when she realized that they were going to succeed. A knife stabbed into her gut and she cried out. Someone slammed her head into the ground, and she saw stars. A normal wolf would have healed up, would have had extra strength. She was as physically weak as any regular human, and the blood wouldn't stop flowing. Her arm was yanked back, and she let out another terrified scream as she heard her bones breaking. She sobbed and begged, having no strength to keep fighting. The baseball bats were finally being used, and she knew that if they kept hitting her in the head with them, she wouldn't be able to recover from it.

There was a wooshing and growling noise, and suddenly, the punches stopped coming. Her head was spinning and everything sounded distorted. Her vision blurred, and at some point, there was something pressed against her mouth, but not in a threatening way. She felt herself become featherlight, like she was floating again, and when she finally was able to see and hear normally again, she realized it was nighttime, and she was back in her room at the mansion.

With a groan, she held her head, sitting up in the bed, and seeing Klaus was in the doorway.

"One simple instruction," he said darkly, not looking at her. "Don't go anywhere. If you have to go anywhere, go with the hybrids. Perhaps, I was foolish to think you'd listen if they told you instead of I. I supposed you'd have more respect for them. And yet, you snapped their necks."

"You're speaking really loudly," she muttered, massaging her temples. She reached for a water bottle that'd been placed on her nightstand, drinking it and scrunching her eyes tightly shut.

When she opened them, he was right in front of her, and she flinched, spilling the water over her shirt. "You almost died," he snarled. He looked genuinely annoyed with her, as if it was somehow her fault that she got jumped by twenty-four werewolves. "What in the bloody hell am I supposed to do without a witch on my side?"

"You act like you couldn't get any other witch!" she snapped, shoving him back. "I bet you'd get one to help you willingly, because some of them are stupid enough to want to be around you for more than an hour at a time!"

"Do you know why they went after you?" he continued, his eyes flashing golden as if he wanted to smack her. "Because they know about you wanting to half-bind your witch side. That little Anya whelp sold you out."

"She wouldn't have done that! They could have been watching us since we arrived. She wouldn't have told them after I promised to help her. If they attacked me—"

"They think you're going to reign over all wolves," he interrupted. "They are under the impression that you, the oldest living wolf, seek to be the Alpha of all the Packs."

"If they attacked me," she cut in, "it's because of you. They think I'm willingly helping you to create hybrids!"

"DO NOT BLAME THIS ON ME!" he spat, livid. He would never breathe it out to a soul, but he felt immeasurable guilt knowing that they had gone after her because of him. He should have protected her better. He should have warned her. He had only just managed to save her before she died, and in those moments where he was holding her limp figure, he had never felt so afraid, and he didn't even understand why that was. Was it because he felt he'd be completely alone if he lost her, she who was like him, a hybrid who wasn't meant to exist? Was it because he'd lose the most powerful ally he could possibly have? Or was it because he had felt attracted to and interested in her since the moment he saw her, and he desired for her to show him affection to match his sentiments?

Esmeray brought her hands up to shield her face immediately, cowering back. From her palms exploded an energy that sent Klaus flying back and crashing into the wall. "I-I'm sorry," she squeaked meekly, trembling and thinking he'd retaliate.

His guilt only skyrocketed. She was still terrified of him, and for good reason. He swallowed the lump in his own throat as he got to his feet, and just wet his lips before speaking. "You will remain here," he muttered. "Do not even take a bloody step out of his house without one of the hybrids beside you. I have added to the ranks. Perhaps you might feel more comfortable with one of the females. They shall not hurt you. They're here to protect you. This cannot happen again."

Esmeray nodded slowly. She wanted to say, 'I don't need protection,' but she imagined he'd respond with, 'Clearly you do, idiot.' Instead, all she said was, "Thank you for saving me."

Gratefulness was unexpected. His mouth suddenly felt very dry, and he left without another word to her.