⌠𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟏⌡
───────»⁑«───────

Charlie hummed as she looked at the façade of the Dowager Fauline Cottage. The decaying look of the old house in addition to the eerie magical aura surrounding it, only added to the creepy air of it. She really didn't want to go inside, seeing as the Cottage creeped her out and technically was an asylum for witches. Taking a deep breath, Charlie walked through the front door, knowing that only if she siphoned the spell keeping the witches inside she would be able to get out. She ignored everything and everyone as she walked through, and finally arrived in the attic where she found Freya in her glass coffin.

"God, we have to find you new clothes," Charlie grimaced as she looked at Freya. And then, she placed her hand on hers and closing her eyes focused on siphoning the her link to Dahlia, making sure she was free from her aunt before siphoning the sleeping spell.

Though she stopped when she heard gasping and was promptly headbutted by the formerly sleeping witch.

"You're welcome," Charlie muttered sarcastically from the floor and Freya startled, snapping her head to her.

"Who are you?"

"Charlene Monroe," Charlie said as she stood up, brushing the dust off her. "But call me Charlie. And you are Freya Mikaelson."

Freya nodded, her face blank.

"Seeing as you won't talk," Charlie began promptly after a few more seconds of silence, "I've woken you up about two years in advance. And broke your connection with your crazy aunt. You're welcome."

"You freed me?" Freya gasped and Charlie nodded. "Thank you."

"Now that that's over," Charlie clasped her hands together as she looked around, "can we get out of here? This place is beyond creepy."

Freya nodded and got out of the coffin, following Charlie to the entrance of the Fauline Cottage, and her mouth dropped when she saw Charlie's hand glow red as she touched the porcelain doll in the fence.

"Come on," Charlie urged, stepping out of the house. And once Freya did too, Charlie swiftly put up the barrier again, sighing in relief.

"You're a siphon," Freya said in awe and Charlie smiled.

"Heretic," she corrected, causing Freya to widen her eyes. "We'll talk more when we get to the hotel. But first, we're going to find you new clothes and go to a hairdresser."

"Welcome to our hotel room," Charlie said as she and Freya stepped into the room, seeing Stefan, Kennedy, Enzo, and Caroline—who was already there; apparently only taking a couple of days to get there (not in traveling time; but rather in organizing her time to finally leave Mystic Falls for a few days).

"Oh, Caroline, you're here! Good!" Charlie beamed, making Caroline smile. "Everyone, this is Freya Mikaelson. The long-lost Mikaelson sister!"

Stefan and Caroline gaped at her in utter shock. Kennedy and Enzo just looked confused.

"Freya," Charlie started, "That's Stefan, Enzo, Caroline, and the freak. Kennedy—"

"—you can call me, Daredevil," Kennedy interrupted Charlie, looking at Freya with curiosity. "Question! Are you into girls?"

"What?" both Stefan and Freya asked at the same time, though the former shook his head immediately. "I'm not going to say anything. You did the same with Caroline."

"What's wrong with that?" Kennedy frowned.

"Nothing," Enzo grumbled, rolling his eyes, probably trying to be sarcastic or pass it out as a way of making Kenny shut up. In both ways, I do not appreciate how the love of my life is being treated. But as an objective narrator, I really shouldn't care.

"Exactly!" Kennedy exclaimed. "Listen to my best friend! All of you!"

"I didn't say anything!" Caroline and Charlie said raising their hands.

"Do you have the blood, Care?" Charlie asked the blonde who nodded and took avail of blood from her jacket pocket, handing it to Charlie who gave it to Freya.

"Your dead mother's blood," Charlie explained, "sorry not sorry."

"What?" Freya frowned looking at the glass vial in her hand.

"It's one of the ingredients to kill your Rumplestiltskin aunt," Charlie said promptly making Kennedy and Caroline giggle and Stefan snort. "But that will be plan B. I'll try to siphon the magic out of the bitch first."

"That's clever," Freya said shortly and Charlie smiled, trying her best not to roll her eyes.

"Care? Are you staying with us?" Charlie asked the bubbly blonde and she nodded.

"For a few days."

"We'll need a bigger place, Charls," Kennedy so cleverly informed Charlie. "We're a. . . .one, two, three. . four, five, six. . . . Six people. The room only has four bedrooms. Besides, I already went through a whole lot of the hotel staff—"

"—already?" Stefan asked in shock.

"Well, I only ate them, most of them survived, but I don't like to repeat tastes—specially because they weren't anything special; unlike that girl from a couple of days back at the bar! Now that was some tasty blood," Kennedy said. "But either way, I only had sex with three persons of the staff."

"Um, good to know," Stefan grumbled as Enzo gagged.

I must say, vampire powers rock! Because in less than two hours, Charlie had gotten them a big house in New Orleans, near the Plantation house. And they had all settled in it, each one in their respective rooms—with rooms to spare. Freya had decided to stay with them for a few days before returning to Mystic Falls with Caroline to be reunited with her brothers.

And one day into their stay there, Stefan had received another call that was directed to Charlie. And instead of answering it himself, he silently passed her the phone. She didn't wait a second before speeding over to the rooftop and answering the call.

"Charlie," came Klaus's voice, in all but a snarl. "Come home or I swear I will tear this town apart and kill everyone you care about!"

Silence.

"I won't," he sighed after a few more seconds. "I can't. I don't know why. And that's making me mad! I can't even kill the busboy without thinking you'd never forgive me. And I know you don't even care that much about him."

Charlie didn't answer, only biting her lip as she heard something break in the background.

"God, I wish I could hate you," he snarled into the phone. "I wish I could hate you for leaving us. For not caring. But I can't. And that royally pisses me off."

"I'm sorry, Nik," Charlie whispered, but she knew he had heard. "I'm so sorry."

And not even giving him a second to answer she hung up the phone.

At the moment, a couple of days later, Charlie was sitting in the living room, sipping from her glass of red wine mixed with blood. Stefan, Caroline, and Enzo were out, as Enzo and Caroline were trying for the first time to get Stefan to drink blood, now that they had (mostly) gotten to step three—obviously, Stefan couldn't just erase a hundred and whatnot years of guilt in a few days, but they were all keen on seeing his reaction to blood, so they just told him it was fine (well, Charlie, Kennedy (my love) and Enzo did; Caroline wasn't fully onboard). Kennedy had gone on one of her visits of New Orleans and the only ones left were Charlie and Freya. The latter who had just walked into the room and sat down next to Charlie.

"Why are you running away?" Freya said softly and Charlie frowned at her. "I'm not an ignorant, Charlene. I've seen the mark on your wrist. It's Kol and Niklaus, right?"

Charlie gulped down the contents of the glass in her hands before nodding.

"Why does everyone assume I'm running away?" Charlie asked, suddenly throwing the glass through the nearest window, making it fall on someone's head (she hadbeen hearing them for the last ten minutes pacing in front of their building on the street).

"ARGHHH!" was heard from outside and Charlie got up and went to the window to see someone vaguely familiar scowling at her.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"What was that for?" the man, who she was sure was a vampire sent by Marcel, asked while scowling at her.

"I don't like people who eavesdrop," Charlie said with the same sickly sweet smile. "So, I would suggest to run back to your "king" and stay the fuck away from here."

"I wasn't even—"

"Please," Charlie scoffed. "If you're going to lie at least do a good job at it."

With that she closed the window, silently placing a spell around the house to make it soundproof to curious ears.

"Where were we?" Charlie asked as she sat down on the couch again.

"You were telling me why you're running away," Freya prompted and Charlie groaned, burying her head in her hands.

"I—I don't know," Charlie finally admitted. "I have problems. . . . I've never had anyone care about me growing up and—uh—I've never had. . . freedom. And suddenly I was thrown into their lives. And it was great. But then. . . I turned and. . . . And it turns out I'm their mate. Bonded to them for life. It's like I'm finally free and I'm suddenly thrown into an arranged marriage."

Freya was quiet for a while before sighing. . . .

»⁑«