Finn's Rage

He could still remember the day he was betrayed; he was always an outsider to them. They preach family, always and forever... the hypocrites.

He doesn't know when he woke up in the dark void of his mind, trapped in a box by that cursed dagger dipped in white oak ash. At first, he thought he might go mad with nothing more to do than think and daydream. Perhaps he did go mad for a while, he can no longer remember.

The only thing that kept him sane was the rare moments he caught the voices of those bastards. At least that's what he liked to think, for who could tell what was real and was not after so long... But the voices kept him focused. He could feel his body ever so slowly adapting to the poison that ensnared him. One day, one day he would wake, and they would all pay.

Again, he did not know how much time had passed, he could feel his coffin being moved. Unidentifiable loud blaring sounds assaulting his ears. This was hell.

Today was the first day he opened his eyes and saw the lid of his coffin. Progress.

Moving again to who knows where. He could just feel his pinky.

His bother arguing again outside. He moved his pinky.

Sounded like his sister was freed, guess he wasn't the only one to get daggered, not that it changed anything. At least he could feel his hand. Time was near.

Outside he could sense something's changed, other coffins were being opened, he wondered who hadn't been daggered flexing his hand.

The lid of his coffin opens, and he quickly shuts his eyes not even daring to peek, he is so close to escaping.

Suddenly, he catches what's being said. They are going to free him. They must be mad.

Preparing to spring up once freed, snatch the dagger and slaughter the lot of them.

None of that happens as the dagger is pulled. He sits up abruptly gasping as his body reinvigorates. All five senses hit him all at once, making him lose his composure upon experiencing real life again for the first time in a long time.

To think he thought he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between real and not after living for so long in his own mind. There was no mistaking what was real as he quickly adjusted looking towards his siblings.

Typical, they woke him last.

"How long?" he asked clutching his head.

"Finn, welcome back. Here we brought you a blood bag," said Elijah.

"How long!" he growled snatching the blood out of his hands.

Elijah grimaced, "900 years."

His hand suddenly clenched angrily popping the blood bag before he could finish it.

"Don't feel so bad, you weren't the only one Nik daggered," said Kol amusedly.

"And when and how long were you daggered for?" he questioned, his eyes snapping towards the annoying twerp.

"Enough of this, before Nik learns of this and has time to prepare," mediated Rebekah before it could escalate further.

"One more thing, Father is dead," said Elijah dropping a bomb on him and Kol.

"How?" he asked, hardly able to believe it.

"I don't know all the details but from what I gather, he put his trust in the wrong people and Niklaus caught him with his guard down," said Elijah.

"Huh, well one bastard down, one to go," said Kol.

To think he agreed with Kol, what a chilling thought.

"And where is the bastard?" he asked, tracking the daggers in the corner of his eyes.

"We've all had enough of him and his controlling daggering ways, we'll stand together against him," said Elijah.

"We'll confront him and leave him to rot alone for all time as he always feared, it'll be poetic," said Rebekah.

"What would you know about being poetic?" quipped Kol, getting a lovely scowl from her.

Elijah intervened, "Enough Kol. We're in this together. None of us can stand up to him alone now that he's a hybrid."

"Hybrid?" he muttered, unsure how this would affect his plans.

"Yes, he's finally managed to break the curse and is all the stronger for it," said Elijah.

"And his bite is venomous like any werewolf, with the only cure being his blood," Rebekah spilled.

"Interesting, well," Kol clapped his hands rubbing them together, "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

"After you," Kol bowed playfully waving them on.

Elijah calls in a beautiful woman over with a tray and places the daggers on it, covering them with a cloth.

And he thought Kol was the dramatic one as they followed his lead. On his way out he picked up the tiny blue urn and dumped the white oak ash into his pocket.

Elijah spoke to him first, and when Klaus saw the daggers, fear began to creep in, solidified by Kol's appearance.

God, he loved it, he could practically taste the fear rolling off him at losing control.

There was nothing Niklaus hated more than being weak and losing control.

Seeing him go for the dagger he acted, seizing it before him, he grabbed Niklaus's arm and stabbed him in the hand, nearly losing himself to rage.

He watched amusedly as Rebekah stabbed him with another dagger as he tried to flee, making sure to keep note of where it was as he fell back to take the other one on the tray while all eyes were on Klaus.

Then as they were all leaving, in walks the bitch herself, their Mother.

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