"He is an absolute charm..."

Stiles

The compound was huge, with massive, intimidating doors. Stiles looked down at the address that Simone had handed to him and nodded. This was the place. Right on the other side of that door would be either his hope to save Hope or a wrathful death for letting Hope slip through his fingers.

"I can do this..." he whispered, bouncing on his heels to hype himself up a little. Another deep breath, and he stepped forward, knocking on the ornate door that was probably more expensive than his Jeep.

He waited.

After ten breaths and at least a thousand beats of his heart, the door opened. In front of him stood a shorter woman with a blonde pixie cut. Despite her soft appearance, there was a fire in her eyes he'd never seen in a woman before. Wait, yes, he had. He'd seen it in Hope. Were all the Mikaelson's this intense?

"Uh...hi..." he started. He wasn't sure if he should be happy she smiled. Some smiles weren't genuine to true kindness.

"Something I can do for you?" She asked, looking him over. Her eyes penetrating, much like a cat's stare. Like she was gazing into his soul, sorting through his intentions. He almost felt violated.

Stiles had to take a moment to find his voice again. Was his ass sweating? "I...you don't know me, and this is going to sound insane...because it kind of is insane...actually insane is an understatement for what I need to say."

"Get on with it." She crossed her arms over her torso and cocked her hip to the side.

Nodding quickly, he sucked in a breath. "I'm looking for the Mikaelsons."

She didn't speak for a moment, "Why's that?"

"Because I'm...a friend of Hope's, and she's...well, she's kind of in trouble..." he trailed off, his heart not having rested a moment.

The woman's eyes darkened as she continued her intense, now narrowed gaze. "Kind of in trouble?"

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's a very long story, but I need to know if I'm talking to a Mikaelson right now because it would just be my luck if I'm talking to some supervillain who already beat me here. Intending to make sure Hope is never found."

"She's lost?" she asked with a frown.

He pursed his lips and shifted his feet. "Are...you a Mikaelson."

"My name is Freya. I'm Hope's aunt...."

"Oh, thank God," Stiles let out his breath and nodded, "She talked about you. Said you listened to reason."

Freya nodded. She didn't smile; her chilled features remained unwavering. "I think you should come in..." she looked him over with a raised, questioning brow.

"Stiles," he offered with a nod.

She didn't respond. She just turned and walked into the compound. "Come with me," she said over her shoulder.

Stiles didn't hesitate to quickly close the door and shuffle after her. He looked around the place, trying to take it all in as he went, but it was so overwhelming. To think, this is where Hope had grown up. She really gave up a lot for her freedom. Was that the right way to think? She'd said she was trapped here, never able to live her own life. He supposed a place as beautiful as this could also act as a prison. A prison without bars, she'd said.

He followed Freya up the stairs and across the platform into a cozy little hallway that led into a sitting room. He stopped short from going in, as she'd stopped in the entryway, blocking him from entering.

"Stiles is here," Freya said.

A woman with long blonde hair, who he could see from peeking around Freya's waist, lay back on a victorian styled dark-stained couch flipping through a magazine, didn't even look up as she said, "What the bloody hell is a Stiles?"

She audibly flipped another page.

"A friend of Hope's from Beacon Hills," Freya replied flatly.

Stiles could sense movement from other corners of the little sitting-room but didn't dare move or even breathe. He was in the midst of a family of vampires just about to be given horrible news. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to leave immediately. Unfortunately, his instincts also told him fleeing would lead to a chase, and he knew he'd be winded before even getting down those mountains of stairs.

Rather forcefully, Freya took Stiles by the arm and dragged him into the room.

"Okay..." he said in surprise as he was now front and center of the original vampire family. So what should he do exactly? Bow?

There were two others in the room aside from the blonde on the couch, who he quickly assumed was Rebekah.

Another in a button-up and jeans sat on the other couch. His feet propped on the ottoman in front of him, a glass of something amber in his hand. Kol, probably.

Another man sat across the room in a winged-backed chair with a massive aged book in his lap. He wore a very fine suit, something Stiles would assume would only be worn by Elijah. He looked around a little, his shoulders loosening as he realized Hope's father, Klaus, wasn't present.

Rebekah sat up quickly with a grin. "Is she here to visit, then?" Her smile was lost immediately as she studied Freya's face. "She isn't, is she..."

Freya shook her head. "She's in trouble. According to Stiles."

All eyes landed on him. His heart rate picked up as Elijah closed his book with a thud and slowly stood.

"I suggest then...." Elijah began, eyes trained on him, "You start with the beginning. Preferably before Niklaus arrives..." he said, narrowing his eyes.

Stiles didn't get much of an option of where to sit. Finally, Freya forced him down on the couch next to Rebekah.

"It's...a long story...." Stiles began shakily but was quickly cut off by Elijah.

"Then explain it quickly."

"R-right..." He stuttered.

He began from where Hope started the story she told him not long ago. Stiles told them about the hunters who followed her to the motel and Beacon Hills. How she managed to evade them, took them down one by one, and burned down the warehouse to be rid of them.

"She's a badass. Even spelled a neighborhood to have no exit, so Scott and I rode around for hours and hours-"

"Focus," Elijah cut in.

Stiles nodded. "Right. Last night...I was in my room, and I saw this truck pull up. They had...an arsenal with them. It was like they were hunting Godzilla. They stormed her house, and there was smoke and sparks...she fought them with everything she had, but there were so many at once, and...they took her." He pursed his lips, the guilt rising again, "I got as close as I could and managed to overhear some things. I got a picture of the truck's license plate, but I'm not sure if they would have kept it." He opened his phone and opened the picture of the license plate, handing it off to Elijah's outstretched hand.

"What were they talking about?" Kol asked, moving from his place on the couch in a flash to look at the picture Elijah held.

Stiles nodded. "Something about...taking bets. They were asking if she was worth all this trouble, and someone said something like... 'whoever Dorian bets on, I'm betting on.' It sounded like some sort of...supernatural cage fight."

Silence stretched between them for much longer than Stiles was comfortable with. He suddenly knew why. He heard the heavy door downstairs open and close.

Klaus was here.

Stiles tapped his foot and nodded slowly. "I can go out a window, right? Really not too concerned about the fall."

Rebekah shook her head and patted his knee, "Pay no mind to him," she paused, "Though it would be best if you didn't speak."

"Noted," Stiles nodded. He remained as still as possible, hoping to somehow become invisible.

Hayley stepped into the room. Her long brunette hair and facial features were so similar to that of Hope he couldn't help but stare for a moment. Hope looked very much like her mother. Behind her stood her father. His expression was tranquil, which gave him just an ounce of hope, but then he saw him, and they locked eyes. His brow furrowed into a confused scowl, and Stiles' heart dropped below his stomach. Yes, he was sure of it now; the Mikaelsons were all as intense as each other.

"Nik..." Rebekah began, standing slowly from the couch. "Something's happened. Just...stay calm."

Klaus narrowed his eyes at her. "Where...is...she?" His gaze turned on Stiles. The stranger in the room. He suddenly had him by the throat, slamming him against the wall opposite them.

Stiles pinched his eyes shut, hands-on his wrist to keep the pressure off his throat the best he could. The pressure was relieved far quicker than he anticipated. He opened his eyes in surprise to see Elijah had torn him off.

"Where is she!" Klaus bellowed at Stiles, his face contorted into an expression of absolute rage. "I told you!" He turned on Elijah, who took a step back but remained the same as before. Reserved and controlled.

"I told you," Klaus continued, "I knew this would happen. I knew it. And what did you tell me? Let her leave, Niklaus; let her make her own mistakes. Well, are you happy? Now she has! She's made her mistakes and has fallen to her own demise because my family decided I was the insane one...."

"Okay!" Stiles spoke up. He wasn't sure if the numbness in his gut gave him the courage or if it was the adrenaline, but he had it nonetheless, "I get it. Yes, she's in trouble, but that's why I came here to find you. To save her. She's off performing in some Werewolf Thunderdome right now, and all that's happening here is yelling about who's at fault..." he stopped talking immediately as Klaus stalked toward him. Stiles backed up against the same wall he'd been pinned to previously. "Oh...God...okay," he cleared his throat, trying not to look Klaus directly in his eyes, "I'm sorry it's not the news you want to hear," his voice broke, "But they took her, and all I want to do is help her." He finally met his eyes.

A heavy moment passed as Klaus glowered down at him before turning to the rest of the Mikaelsons. "They will all die. Where's Freya..." he looked around.

"Already working on a tracking spell as we speak," Kol responded, following him out of the room where the dining room was.

Stiles nearly collapsed to the floor as the original hybrid left the room, letting out a terribly shaky breath.

The blonde, Rebekah, neared him with a soft smile connected with sad eyes. "You handled yourself quite well with him, kitten."

"Yeah...I think I peed a little." Stiles' swallowed.

Rebekah bit her lip, fighting a smile. "Nik takes well to brave souls who stand their ground. I can see why Hope befriended you."

"I gave her a basket of muffins, and she called the cops on me. We have an interesting dynamic" he nodded, pursing his lips.

Hayley, who had been very quiet in the background, slowly walked forward. "Do you...know anything about what happened to her?" She asked, her hands pressed into a tight grip together, eyes flooded with emotion.

Oh, he really didn't want to say the wrong thing here.

"As far as I understand...she has a real purpose for them. So, it's my guess they're going to keep her alive. So... there's probably a lot of time to get her out."

Elijah pressed his phone to his ear "Marcel...yes, we need to speak. How quickly can you come by?" He waited a moment and nodded. "Alright." He hung up.

"Marcel?" Rebekah asked, looking over at him. "Why call Marcel? What does he have to do with any of this?"

Elijah nodded. "Marcellus...came to me not long ago talking about something that sounds...equally similar to what's happened to Hope. I... didn't take him seriously," he murmured softly, his eyes focused on a spot on the rug, "I told him...whatever it was wasn't something that concerns us..." he looked over at Rebekah, "I apparently was wrong. He knows more about this than I, and we can devise a plan to rescue our Hope when he gets here." He turned to Stiles. "You said the man said they name Dorian?"

"Yeah, that's what he said," he nodded, "That whoever Dorian bets on, they bet on. I heard, who I assume was Dorian, walk out...carrying Hope," he pursed his lips, "He had an accent, a really thick one. Scottish, maybe. I didn't see his face."

Elijah nodded, pacing back and forth in the living room. This seemed to happen for a while, even if it was only eight or ten minutes. Everyone was quiet. Thinking. Stiles managed to get ahold of Scott, letting him know by some miracle that he was alive in New Orleans, sitting amongst the original family, throat still intact.

"Did Derek find her yet?" he asked.

"He hasn't called me," Scott replied, "Hopefully, he's still just tracking the truck and not-"

"Dead?" Stiles finished with a nod. "Yeah, hopefully. Did Allison find out anything from her dad?"

"She seemed.... not really herself when I called her. I have a feeling maybe they know more than they're telling."

Stiles swallowed. "Yeah, I really hope that's not the case because Hope's dad? Yeah, she wasn't exaggerating. He is..." He glanced up to see Klaus and a new man standing in the doorway. Must be Marcel, he thought. "Uhh...he is an...absolute charm...."

"That's what most people say about him," Marcel answered with a smile and nodded to Stiles, who quickly hung up his phone.

Elijah stepped back into the room, adjusting the cufflinks of his suit sleeves. Stiles hadn't even realized he'd left the room. They all disappeared and appeared so quickly.

"We are not here for chit...chat..." he said, looking up fixedly at Marcel. "You were telling me of this before. Stiles has told us a bit of what he saw. A man named Dorian. Do you know of him?"

Marcel nodded. "Of him, yeah. I've heard rumors," he stated, "In fact, I have a couple of my guys in on an undercover gig. They report to me about what they see, so we can take it down from the inside out."

"What is it exactly?" Stiles asked, moving forward. "The way they talked, it was like some kind of competition."

"It is," he continued, "Competition of strength. Power. Skill. They pit supernaturals against each other. A fight to the death. Skill against skill. Werewolf against werewolf. Werewolf against vampire. It doesn't matter. They give them a good fight, and the spectators place their bets on who will win. They rake in the dough. It's apparently been going on since the 20s. Started up during prohibition. Apparently, it's died down over the years, lost its interest...until now. They've sent out hunters. Skilled hunters find the most unique supernaturals to put into the ring. They're desperate to stay in business. With Hope... they'll have enough entertainment to last a while. They know how powerful she is. She'll win, and then the crowd will have someone to cheer on."

Klaus ran his hand against his chin and cheek. "Where do we find them? We're putting an end to this now. I don't care whatever plans you have in place. Your men you have there, where do they say they are?"

"The place moves," Marcel nodded, "Sometimes it's hosted near Vegas, sometimes it's in the middle of nowhere in Kansas, but so far, it's not left the states. I'll contact them and let you know as soon as they respond."

"Please do," Elijah nodded, "And when we do discover their location?" He asked, turning to Klaus.

The corners of Klaus' lips turned upward into a snarling smirk. "We kill them all."