"Welp, here are your...muffins..."

Slight and relatively insignificant glimpses of unconnected scenes were the only memories of the dream Hope could remember from the night before. Darkness. Flashes of red. Fingertips against her body. If she were to ever confide in anyone about her dreams they'd simply denounce it as a sex dream and nothing more. Something everyone had at some point in their life when the desire was strong enough. Perhaps she could pass it off as that for a while, but deep down she knew there was so much more to it. Hope shook her head of the obscure thoughts and tried to focus on the task set in front of her today.

Sitting up from her position on the couch she stretched her arms up, sighing in content as her back popped and cracked, relieving the tension on her shoulders. For the first time in days, she felt fully rested and ready for the day ahead. She'd unpack, go shopping… then her mind drifted to the day before and a sinking feeling in her gut forced her eyes to suddenly flash towards the curtain covered window, a prickle of uncertain fear ran over her skin leaving gooseflesh behind. Had they followed her to Beacon Hills? She had to know.

She stood and walked towards the window, half expecting a grimy green pickup truck to be sitting out on the curb, waiting for her to venture outside. She closed her eyes, so she couldn't see her hand reaching forward. And like ripping a band-aid off, Hope quickly pulled the curtain aside. She was greeted with a warm sunlight and no sign of the truck. She smiled, happy to see they hadn't followed her. It was a pleasing, prideful moment.

Hope disappeared up the stairs and began scoping out the different areas of the house, her house, images of how she might put the rooms to use. The process took up much of her thought and she was glad. After freshening up in the master bathroom, which was impressive for the house size, she pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail and slipped on a simple white t-shirt. She didn't care much that the outline of her bra could be seen through the shirt, but she did care that her favorite jeans now had a gaping hole and were covered in dried blood. "Perfect" she muttered, tossing it into the wastebasket next to the sink.

In the first hour of work, Hope had accomplished quite a bit. She'd unpacked and placed everything in their rightful place, dusted the shelves, swept the carpets, and even mopped the kitchen floor. By the time noon rolled around her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten breakfast. So, settling down in the kitchen, which now smelt of lemon-scented cleaner, she made herself a mug of coffee and broke out a bag of pretzel crackers to tide her hunger over until she could go to the grocery store.

The coffee was good and so were the crackers, but her hunger wasn't subsiding. Then she realized this was a different hunger and wouldn't be satisfied by food. Hope wasn't a complete fool. She had brought enough blood bags to keep herself fed for a few weeks, but what about when they were gone? A trip to the hospital by herself to steal another supply was a bit intimidating.

Setting her mug down she headed in the direction of a small wooden door in the kitchen, one that leads down to a cellar of sorts. She assumed at one point it might have been a storage place for wine, but when she entered earlier that morning there was nothing but cobwebs and dust bunnies residing inside. She reached above and pulled on a silver chain that turned on a single light at the bottom of the stairs, leaving everything behind that one light concealed in thick darkness. Hope descended the creaky wooden stairsteps and turned the corner where a small white cooler sat. Inside held twenty full bags of O Positive blood. That number might be worrisome to some vampires, but Hope was different. Since she was only a quarter vampire – a quarter werewolf and the remaining witch – she had a much easier time getting along without blood and could easily get away with one bag a week so long as she held a healthy human diet.

She took a bag in her hands and spun off the cap, sipping the tangy liquid inside. Her eyes darkened, her body reacting to the pleasure the blood brought her. Once the bags content had been drained dry she tossed it aside into a bin she'd dispose of later. When she closed the lid of the cooler she heard a distant ding dong. It seemed she had a visitor.

As she climbed the stairs her stomached gnawed at her, but not due to hunger. Rather, she was terrified to open the door and come face to face with the owner of the green truck. It took her a few deep breaths to calm her heart rate enough to continue up the staircase, close and lock the door to the cellar, and then proceed to walk to the front door. To her own surprise she didn't feel her instincts screaming for her to turn and run, so she swung it open to greet her visitor.

It was a boy. Tall and lanky, dark hair that seemed to be growing in thick after a buzz cut, and probably the friendliest smile she'd ever come across. Although he was a handsome boy, the way he held himself suggested to her he was a bit awkward. He held a basket in his hands and from what Hope could tell there were muffins inside. Store bought, but a nice gesture all the same.

"Hello" Hope answered, using her usual northeastern accent rather than her Louisiana drawl. She couldn't help but pay attention to the fact that is heart suddenly jumped two beats as if he were running a triathlon.

The boy put a hand against the door frame and leaned, trying for an attractive pose, but in the process nearly dropping the basket in his hands. He had to scramble to keep them from smashing into the washed wood of the porch. "Hi," was all he managed to say at first, then saw Hope's eyes glance down at the basket and quickly tried to recover himself, "Oh, uh, yeah these are for you. You know, kind of a welcome to the neighborhood…gesture…"

Hope smiled, her suspicion had been right, awkward. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. I'm Hope," she paused and quickly thought back to the name she'd put on the paperwork, "Montgomery."

"Stiles Stilinski," he responded as he passed her the basket of mini muffins, "So uhm…welcome. To the neighborhood, I mean. I live right next door…" he trailed off "I'm sorry, are your parents home? My dad is kind of the sheriff and he likes to meet new neighbors…to ya know, just get to know."

Hope raised a groomed brow and tilted her head to the side studying him for a moment "Get to know?" she asked biting her lip "To make sure we aren't drug dealers?"

Stiles' eyes widened "No, God, no" he quickly interjected, "Wow, no I didn't mean that."

She laughed and nodded "I actually live alone, but I promise to behave."

A look of surprise crossed his features "You live alone? Wait, how old are you?"

"Twenty-two…" Hope smiled "I know, people say I look way too young for my age."

"Uh yeah, you kind of do," he paused, "Not that that's a bad thing" he added quickly.

She had to admit, he was entertaining to talk to, maybe having him as a next-door neighbor wouldn't be a dreadful thing.

"Welp, here are your…muffins" she watched his eyes glance down and quickly back up to her eyes as if he didn't dare look down again. She was suddenly very aware that her bra could be seen through her t-shirt. "If you need anything just call out for Stiles and I'll be right over. Not that I'll be waiting for you to call my name or anything…" he laughed awkwardly "Because that would be weird…" His expression could be easily read as Dear God, shut me up now.

"Right, well thank you, Stiles. I do have a question, actually. Can you tell me the nearest carwash around here?" she asked, nodding towards her black crossover, well it was normally black. Since she hadn't stopped to wash anything off on the way from the motel it was covered with a thick layer of dirt and grime.

"Yeah! That I can definitely help with. There's one a few blocks from here called Suds" he said, giving her the directions. He glanced towards her car again "So did you drive a long way to get here then?" he asked.

Hope nodded "New Orleans," she smiled, "The desert dust wasn't too friendly."

"New Orleans, like Mardi Gras?" he asked, "Now that sounds like a freaking awesome party."

"Oh, it is. You should make the trip sometime. It's well worth it."

They conversed a moment longer before he had to leave. She watched him hop into a pale blue, beat up Jeep. He waved at her as he left, like a little kid waving at his friend from across the park, and disappeared down the street. At least this place was friendly. Then again, the day was still young.

It didn't take long for Hope to find the Suds carwash Stiles informed her about. There was a self-wash service and an automatic available. She preferred the self-wash, considering she could make sure it came to her expectation. She pulled into the carport and parked, stepping out to search for the cleaning instruments. Unfortunately, she found much more than a hose.

"I'd dust it off first if I were you" a deep voice spoke, catching her off guard.

Hope's throat clenched, and her voice was lost into some abyss she couldn't seem to reach. It was the man with the tattooed knuckles. A long jagged scar, which she hadn't noticed until now, ran down from his brow to beneath the collar of his jacket. Like a single claw mark. He was younger than she expected, in his early thirties maybe, but he seemed aged by his chosen lifestyle.

"What?" she gasped softly, voice distant as she felt like her heart might explode from her ribcage. Could he hear it?

"Your car," he said, picking up a soft feathered brush and held it out to her, "If I were you I'd dust it off before using the hose." His heated eyes were like shocks of blue lightning.

Hope glanced down at the brush, finally getting a good look at the tattoos etched across his knuckles. On each knuckle, excluding his thumbs, spelled out the word R. Chasseur? It was written in another language, and her first instinct was that it said chaser. Then she thought better. Chasseur in French could be translated to…hunter.

"You seem surprised to see me, Hope."

Hope stiffened at the sound of her name on his lips. How did he-

"How did I know?" he finished her own thought. He chuckled then and smirked as he reached into his back pocket and removed a sleek black phone, holding it up for her to see. It was her phone, the one she'd left back at the motel. He unlocked the phone with ease "You really should be careful where you leave your personal belongings. Some things are hard to replace…" he smirked as he scrolled through her gallery. "It took me a little bit to connect the dots, but when I did," he laughed, "Oh it was a euphoric feeling to know I'd actually come across the daughter of Klaus Mikaelson. The legendary original hybrid."

A chill skimmed down her spine as she listened, trying to keep her breathing even.

"Looking through your texts," he continued, "Here you tell this lad Josh that you'd be traveling to Beacon Hills, California" he laughed shaking his head "Oh, and to answer your friend's question… Yes, it is too soon to call him back" he grinned, a twisted humor in his eyes as he tossed the phone to her, which she caught with ease.

"What do you want from me?" Hope asked then, her voice stronger than she expected "Did you come to get you're a** kicked again or have you come to beg for my forgiveness?"

The man smiled in response "I'm not here to kill you, Hope. Not yet anyway. It isn't every day a hunter like myself runs into someone so…extraordinary."

"Oh, you think I'm extraordinary?" she asked with a raised brow and crossed her arms, cocking a hip to the side. "Then you are already aware of what I'm capable of? Somehow, I doubt that."

"I know you're dangerous, but I also know you're just a scared little girl biting off more than she can chew…" he took a step forward, forcing her to take a step back and press herself up against the car. He inched closer, pressing his hands against the car on either side of her, cutting off a quick escape. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Hope. I suggest you keep this conversation a secret or I will be forced to pay a visit to that boy next door."

Her heart dropped at the mention of this man paying a sweet person like Stiles a visit. A sudden fiery temper erupted inside of her "If you go anywhere near him or his house or any innocent person in this town I will shove that little pistol you have hidden in your boot so far up your a** you'll be snorting gunpowder." She shoved him then, forcing him back a couple of steps "Now if you don't mind, I'm busy."

The man stepped back, narrowing his eyes "Have a good day, Hope. Looks like it's going to be a sunny one" he said before backing away and then turned, disappearing from her line of sight around the corner. Only when he was gone could she breathe again. What exactly was she up against here? The more she ran over the conversation in her head the more she was starting to think this whole idea was a huge mistake. But things were different now, she had to make sure this man didn't try to hurt anyone because of her. She'd stop him, even kill him if she had to.

After her car had been turned back to its original color, Hope decided she'd go ahead and get her grocery shopping done while it was still light. The last thing she wanted was to be walking to her car alone at night and have an unwanted appearance from that man. She never did get his name, so, for now, she'd go with Dick. The reasoning was self-explanatory.