Hey guys-

I wanted to post this warning before the chapter because this chapter is Klaus/ Dave centric. It discusses dark themes such as suicide, drug OD, self-worth, death, grieving, detoxing, and there is a scene where a dog gets shot. Just fair warning because this chapter is kinda dark.

-KB

…

Yeah, well, you're lucky than most… at least when you lose someone you can see them whenever you want…. That's not how it works… that's never how it worked…

Klaus leaned against the window, letting his overheated skin mesh against the cold glass, closing his eyes briefly as his knuckles throbbed and the black bruise surrounding his left eye began to ache. He heard Diego sigh, and he bit his bottom lip, struggling against the air he forced down his throat to stay calm. He didn't want to be here. Fuck, he didn't want to be alive. And yet, by some screwed up joke, he was stuck here… without him. Alone. Again. But this time… this time, Klaus wasn't really sure if he would make it. He wasn't sure if he could keep his promise.

He swallowed thickly, opening his eyes slowly to the trees whizzing past the car's windows, his green eyes meeting the dark sky hanging over him. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't supposed to die. No one was… ever. And yet, everyone who met Klaus Hargreeves died. His father was right. It was his fault. His powers weren't a gift, they were a curse.

"Hey," Ben said, his fingers gripping the seat behind Klaus as he forced his head to his brother's left, "Klaus?"

"Leave me alone," Klaus whispered, watching the trees swirl into a million shades of greens and yellows; his fingers thumbing over the necklace pressed against his chest as he tried to think about anything else, anything besides him. Besides yesterday. He heard Diego shift as the car slowed into the motel lot, "I didn't say anything."

The older man ignored him, letting out a shallow breath as he reached for the half empty bottle of vodka sitting at his feet. He brought it to his lips slowly, taking a few long sips as he felt the warm liquid drown his mouth, resisting the urge to gag as the thought of getting drunk in some opioid bar in Vietnam crossed his mind. He closed his eyes again, swallowing the nausea rising in his throat as the necklace weighed on him, a fucking reminder wrapped tightly around his neck, strangling any life he had from his deprived lungs, broken heart and tortured soul. It's your fault, boy… it might have been Luther's mistake, but…

Klaus bit his lip, feeling blood drown his mouth as he tried to drown out the past, as he tried to focus on the engine rumbling through the shitty car, vibrating the passenger seat… as he tried to think of something, anything to keep him grounded… if even for a few minutes. A few minutes of peace. He heard Ben call his name again and his breathing hitched as he brought the bottle to his dried lips again. He couldn't take this. He couldn't do this. He was too fucked up… too damaged. He was drowning. Alone.

"Alright," Diego cleared his throat, "You stay in the car."'

The older man opened his eyes, momentarily surprised to find the old piece of junk Diego called a car, had stopped. He glanced around slowly, before looking towards his brother, following his gaze to the two-story motel. His eyes locked briefly with a big guy getting out of his car, and Klaus watched lazily, his skin crawling as memories flooded his mind and he watched the man walk up the stairs. Hazel. You got the wrong brother… no one in that house will even know I'm gone.

"You do know killing those people isn't going to make you feel any better," Klaus whispered, taking another drink from the now empty bottle before letting it drop to his feet next to the other bottle he'd stolen from the bar. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, feeling the OxyContin he'd taken earlier beginning to kick in, and Klaus prayed for death. Diego shifted again, turning to meet his brother's gaze, "Oh yeah? Because when it's done, I'm going to sleep like a baby."

The older man stayed silent for a second as he tried to concentrate on the determination etched in his brother's voice. He snorted slightly as he reached for the silver door handle, chills running over his body, "Sure you will…"

Diego reached out, grasping his brother's shoulder as Klaus's fingers hovered over the cold metal. Klaus paused before turning back slowly as Diego gave him a stern look, "Stay in the car."

"What are you talking about!" Klaus yelled, jumping forward as he tried to shake his brother off, "This guy tortured me!"

Diego paused momentarily, his expression shifting from serious to concerned in a matter of seconds before he sighed, "I have a plan."

Klaus sat back, his body relaxing slightly as the effects of the pills he'd taken just an hour ago began to hit him full force, and he watched his brother get out the car. He sighed loudly, his fingers brushing against the stupid necklace again, and he swallowed. He didn't want to be alone… he couldn't handle alone right now. And yet…

"Dude, we're going after him, right?" Ben asked, shoving his body through the tiny space between the passenger and driver's seat as he forced his lanky form into the driver side. Klaus rolled his eyes. He was so tired. So fucking tired of this. All of it. He was tired of trying to save people… mainly because he couldn't save anyone… and yet, it made him selfish to think that someone would be willing to save him. That someone could, and that someone almost had.

Tears swelled in his eyes and the older man wiped at them harshly as he tried to stay together. He was weak. He'd always been. His dad was right. He was right about him… and when push came to shove, he was probably going to let his whole family die. He was going to let them die just like he let Ben die. That was his curse. That was his reminder.

"Dude!"

"Fuck off, Ben! Can't you go haunt someone else for a while?" Klaus yelled, turning towards his brother as anger washed through him. He paused for a second as his vision wavered, and the teenager's expression shifted from concern and worry, to hurt. Shit. Ben didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve what happened to him… he didn't know. He wasn't there… with Klaus. Ben didn't know. And Klaus had come so close to normal. So very close… I think I love you… I have enough faith for the both of us.

Something moved a few yards in front of him and Klaus watched as Diego made his way towards the stairs. Klaus groaned loudly as he pressed his fingers against the car handle again, prying the damned metal open forcefully and he fell against the pavement. His face pressed against the hot ground momentarily and for a second, for a split second, Klaus saw him. Tears pricked at his eyes again as Ben filled his vision, and the older man groaned once more as he pushed himself up, pressing a hand against his head as the world around him swam into a warm, relaxed hell.

He pressed his sweaty back against the open-doorframe, the wind washing over him in chilly reminders as he smacked his head against the passenger door harshly. He didn't want to be here. He wasn't supposed to be. And yet, here he was… alone with a dead kid and a two almost empty bottles of vodka. How fucking poetic.

Klaus swallowed as he shoved himself up, his eyes meeting Ben's momentarily before reaching for the other bottle on the floor. He wanted to cry. Fuck, he wanted to do so much more than that, but right now, right now he had to go save his idiot brother before the psychotic ninja got himself killed. Besides, crying wouldn't make anything better. It wouldn't make him feel any better… and it wouldn't bring him back. He was weak. Speak up, boy!

He felt like he was moving slowly… or maybe everything around him was moving slowly and he was moving fast, faster than normal. He wasn't really sure. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. He reached the stairs, following his brother quietly as his hand reached in his pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag filled with pretty much any type of poison he could get his hands on. And he paused behind his brother as he reached for some Tylenol.

"Dude, are you serious right now? LSD?" Ben whispered, his breath hitting the back of Klaus's neck making the older man shiver as he threw the white pills in his mouth, swallowing dryly. Was it a good idea to take two Tylenol laced with LSD on top of a bottle of vodka and some OxyContin? Probably not. But if it could keep Klaus from feeling, from seeing him, from the memories… fuck, even if it killed him, then Klaus didn't care. He didn't care about anything right now. He was too far gone.

The older man shivered slightly as the wind blew past them and he ran a shaky hand through his sweaty hair, "So, what exactly is the plan here, big guy?"

Diego jumped, whipping around as he faced Klaus, annoyance washing over his face as his eyes met his brother's, "I told you to wait in the car."

"Yeah," Klaus mumbled, taking a sip from the bottle clasped in his hand, "But you also told me, licking a 9-bolt battery would give me pubes, so…"

Diego pressed a finger in his brother's chest as the older man took a step down, "Dude. We were 8."

Klaus sighed, a slight smirk crossing over his tired face as childhood memories hit him and he felt the LSD beginning to take effect. The world was more relaxed, and he was floating… he was okay. He felt okay, for now… and that, that felt like a breath of fresh air. He wanted to drown in this feeling.

Diego grasped his forearm, dragging his brother down the steps roughly, "For once in your life, I need you to listen to me. Now, go back to the car. If I don't come out in 2 minutes, I'm probably dead. And if that happens, then go get help."

Klaus smirked again, choking on a small laugh eating away at the back of his throat and the floor beneath him began to move. This was ridiculous. Diego wanted Klaus to go back to the car? He wanted to protect him? Because he was weak, because his powers were useless. They always had been. And yet, he somehow thought that going back to the car, to isolation, would help keep the older man safe? How unbelievably childish. Death didn't scare him… Soft fingers trailing down his back, tracing over the small scar on his left shoulder blade gently…

"Klaus?" Ben asked, stepping behind Diego, and Klaus's green eyes glanced slowly towards his other brother before swallowing, hard, "Okay."

"Okay?" Diego repeated, his grip loosening around his brother's shoulders as he turned back towards the stairs. He reached the top and turned back towards Klaus to make sure the older man was following his orders. Klaus forced a smile, waving him off, "Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay."

The older man stood there, watching his brother disappear around the corner before leaning back against the dirty rail behind him. He shivered slightly as the wind picked up around him and he smirked towards Ben, standing opposite from him, his arms crossed. Klaus raised an eyebrow as he brought the mostly empty bottle to his lips again, "See something you like?"

Ben sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I know you're not okay, Klaus. I can tell. Diego might not be able to, but I can tell."

"Good for you. Hey, let me know when you find that 20 bucks you owe me," Klaus whispered, letting the last of the vodka flood his tongue and he grimaced as his body began to feel numb, as the sweat that painted his face began to drip from his cheeks and soak into his green shirt. He pushed from the rail slightly as he heard a door being forced open, and stumbled, dropping the bottle on the ground, watching it shatter to a million pieces.

His breathing caught in his throat, and he swallowed thickly as his stomach churned. The world around him swirled in a multitude of colors and he felt his body sway as he stared down at the white clear glass shattered on the ground. It was broken… broken beyond repair. Nothing could fix it. Nothing would ever be able to fix it…

…He opened his eyes slowly as bright light greeted the headache pounding in his head, and he groaned. He felt soft fingers trailing down his back, tracing over the small scar on his left shoulder blade gently, and he chuckled softly as his eyes met soft blue ones. A smile broke out on his face as he scooted closer towards him, pressing his head against the other man's chest, smirking slightly as a strong heartbeat pounded against his ear….

"Klaus?"

Gunshots went off and the older man ducked, looking towards Ben briefly before running up the small flight of stairs. He peered around the corner towards Diego as a bullet sliced through his brother's arm, and Klaus grabbed him, slamming him against the wall, pressing his body on top of him as bullet's continued to fly past them. Gunshots rang in his ears and Klaus bit his bottom lip, forcing his eyes shut as he tried to remember where he was… That was a close one, huh? No. No. No. No. Medic! MEDIC! I need a Medic! Please…

Diego moved slightly and forced his brother away as the sound of wheels screeching against pavement filled his ears. Klaus stumbled back slightly, his breathing hitching again, and he glanced down at the blood covering his shaking hands. There was so much blood. So much fucking blood… all from him. From…

The older man looked up, swallowing the sick feeling trying to climb his throat as he followed his brother, blindly. He stumbled drunkenly, falling against the ice cream truck next to Diego's car as he wiped the blood on his pants, pressing his hands against his thighs harshly, trying to get them to stop shaking. Trying to calm down.

He felt weak. Disoriented. Off. His high had worn off quickly… or maybe he'd been here longer than he thought, and the alcohol sitting in his system wasn't doing shit. His fingers shook slightly as he reached for the necklace hanging around him. He couldn't breathe. The world around him was hell, and he couldn't breathe.

"Oh man," Klaus panted, pressing his hand against his chest as he leaned further against the truck behind him, "See, you used to think I was an idiot."

Diego groaned as he turned towards his brother, "I still think you're an idiot."

"Same," Ben grumbled, bending down slightly until he was eye level with Klaus, "Dude. You look like shit."

"Well, thanks for your vote of confidence," Klaus said, shoving away from the truck, taking a shaky step as the world around him morphed slightly, gunshots still echoing loudly in his ears, "So, was this all part of your master plan?"

"Shut up," Diego grunted, turning back towards his arm, inspecting the blood seeping past his sleeve. Klaus swallowed as he turned towards the stairs, his eyes meeting a gardener raking some leftover leaves as if there hadn't just been a shootout. The older man took another shaky step forward before yelling, "Oh no. We're fine by the way! By all means… continue with your leaves!"

The gardener looked up slowly, confusion crossing his face as his eyes met Klaus. He dropped the rake in his hands and took a step forward, "You can see me?"

Klaus's breathing hitched and he swallowed as he felt his knees wobble. Sweat poured down his face and he clenched his fists tightly, letting his dirty fingernails dig into the tattoos etched under his palms. He couldn't breathe. His body was shaking, or maybe the world was shaking…

He glanced towards Ben, who took a step forward and Klaus took a step back, breathing heavily as he fell against the ice cream truck, smacking his head against the white paint. He felt weak. Tired. Lost. The gardener yelled again, coming closer and suddenly Klaus was sitting next to a young girl, blood melting down her face as she reached for him; her bloody fingers brushing over his overheated skin.

Ben called his name and Klaus let out a small cry as he glanced up towards the gardener a few feet from him now. He watched as blood he hadn't noticed earlier began to coat his tan shirt, dripping from the bullet holes littering his chest. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! So, you see dead people?

Klaus drew his knees to his chest, forcing his hands over his ears as he slammed his eyes shut. He let out a small cry as dizziness washed through him, and he cracked an eye towards the young girl. She smirked slightly, blood pooling from her mouth as she smiled towards him and Klaus slammed his head against the truck once more, "Please. Please. Go away. Go away. Go away."

"Klaus?"

The breathing in his throat caught, and tears pricked his eyes as the older man forced both eyes open, and he glanced up slowly. His hands fell from his ears, and Klaus let out a choked sob as his eyes connected with soft blue ones. With his soft blue ones. No.

The world around him felt hot, dizzy and hard to breath. The gray parking lot morphed and twisted, leaving a nauseating feeling sitting in the pit of Klaus's stomach as he tried to swallow down the memories. He reached forward, his arms shaking harshly as they struggled to hold up a tired body, and Klaus reached for him, his fingers barely tracing the blood lining his jaw.

"Dave," The older man breathed softly. A sad smile broke out on his face and he let out another choked sob as the necklace hanging from his throat tightened. He couldn't breathe. He didn't want to. He wanted to die. He should have…

Dave smiled gently, squatting down slowly until he was a few inches from Klaus's face. Tears fell from Klaus's eyes, trailing down his sweaty face in silent messy black rivers, and he swallowed as he tried to concentrate on anything, anything to keep him here. To go back. To keep Dave here. To stay. He wanted to stay. He needed to stay. He wasn't okay. He was drowning. Alone.

"You need to have faith," Dave whispered softly, fixing his helmet slightly as someone yelled Klaus's name. Klaus shook his head, "I don't."

Dave chuckled slightly and Klaus choked again. He'd missed this. He'd missed him. He'd missed him so fucking much. And it hurt.

Dave reached out, his hand pressed against the older man's chest gently, his fingers brushing against the necklace strangling Klaus's air supply, "That's okay..."

Klaus shook his head as Dave started fading, his smile etched in the older man's brain and Klaus cried as he tried to grasp Dave's hand. As he tried to make him stay. He felt sick. Abandoned. Alone. Dead. And it was all his fault. Everything was his fault. The dog, Ben's death, dad, mom… Dave…

Klaus let out a loud cry as he pressed his hands against his ears, pulling his knees harder against his chest and the world around him morphed into a sickening hell. He wasn't okay. He couldn't do this. He felt dizzy, his body swaying harshly as someone called his name again, and Klaus pressed his head harder against the truck behind him, slamming his aching body against it as he tried to keep the memories from slipping through. As he tried to forget. I think I love you, Klaus…

….

"Are you ready for your surprise, my boy?"

The question hit the 13-year-old like a ton of bricks, and Klaus shrugged slowly. In all of his thirteen years of life, his father had never once given him anything, so the idea that he had suddenly decided to unearth a different side of him… seemed odd. But maybe his old man was growing soft. After all, Five had run away a few months ago, and they had almost lost Ben in Paris. So maybe, maybe… maybe he was trying to be fatherly?

Klaus glanced towards his father slowly, swallowing as his eyes met his father's serious ones. He shifted nervously as he pressed a hand against his pants, pushing the newly rolled joint further in his pocket, his thumb brushing over the lighter in his back pocket. The 13-year-old swallowed again.

He'd been outside with Ben; both smoking some shitty weed they'd conned off this hippie druggie a few nights ago. And if it hadn't been for Vanya yelling out the window that their father was looking for him, Klaus was sure he would have been caught. Or maybe he had been caught. Maybe his father knew, and this? This was some fucked up trick that would result in him having to eat a pack of cigarettes or drink two bottles of scotch like he was forced to do a few months ago. Maybe this was his lesson.

The 13-year-old shuddered. He nodded slowly as he messed with the dirt caked under his nails. He hated lessons. He hated his father. They all did… and honestly, the only reason Klaus was still here was probably because of his siblings. He was pretty sure he would have died or killed himself by now. But his siblings kept him in check, especially Ben despite his moodiness.

His father returned the nod before opening the heavy metal door. They were in the basement; a place Klaus had been many times, and as he expected, a place his father started taking him for his lessons when their last session was interrupted by Luther.

The teenager shivered as he stepped inside slowly. It was always cold down here… and creepy. It was like the morgue over on 5th, or the Catacombs buried beneath the Academy, or the crypt in the backyard. He turned slightly as his father stepped inside, and the teenager stumbled over the slick ground, falling against the metal wall slightly.

His father made a quiet disapproving noise before reaching for the light switch on the wall. Klaus squinted as light flooded the small room, and he glanced around. He'd never been in this room before. It was smaller than the other rooms they usually did lessons in… but it matched all the others down here. Dark. Cold. Nothing but metal. Soundproof.

The 13-year-old's eyes connected with a small wobbling box sitting in the middle of the room, and he looked towards his father, an eyebrow raised. His father nodded, pointing his cane towards the box, "Go ahead, number Four."

Klaus paused for a second, biting the bottom of his lip before slowly inching his way towards the cardboard box. Thoughts raced through his mind, the small high he'd gotten earlier from the joint, no longer there but instead replaced with paranoia, worry… interest.

He reached for the top, his fingers shaking slightly as he gently unfolded the box, waiting for something, anything to happen. This wasn't like most lessons… he'd never gotten anything. None of them had ever gotten anything. Ever.

The teenager removed the last piece of cardboard, and he paused, glancing inside before a smile broke out across his face, and he laughed lightly. He reached for the puppy pawing at a corner of the box. It yipped slightly as Klaus brought it to his chest, and he turned towards his father, laughing again as the dog licked the bottom of his chin.

His father stood there for a few minutes, a serious line forming on his lips as Klaus ran his fingers through the dog's soft hair. He swallowed again as it licked him, and he met his father's eyes. The puppy whined slightly before chewing on Klaus's collar playfully, its paws smacking the teenager in the face lightly. And he laughed.

They had never had a dog before. None of them were allowed to have any kind of animal… but that never stopped Five, who would occasionally feed the stray dogs and cats outside the Academy. Hell, his brother had even named a few, like the old Beagle named Mr. Pennycrumb. But after the boy had disappeared, the strays had stopped coming around… and Vanya suspected Mr. Pennycrumb died because she'd seen a dog on the side of the road who looked just like him. But, now? Having a new dog would cheer them up.

Klaus swallowed, pulling the dog closer as he stepped towards his father, "Thank you. I can't wait to tell the others!"

His father put his cane up, stopping the boy in his tracks and Klaus stumbled as he looked back up. His father sighed softly, "Put the dog down, number Four."

The 13-year-old faltered slightly before sitting on the ground, running his hand through the puppy's soft fur again. He swallowed nervously as he set the dog down, smirking slightly as it started chewing on his laces, growling at the thin pieces of string playfully. The teenager watched amused, names running through his mind as he struggled to figure out what to call her. If he had a name before he told his siblings, then they couldn't change it. Maybe he should name her after Five? J-

A shot rang off and the teenager jumped up, his body pressed against the wall quickly as he froze, glancing towards his father. His heart pounded against his chest chaotically as he struggled to breath, his bottom lip trembling harshly as his eyes followed the gun clasped in his father's right hand, then his father's gaze fell on him.

Klaus's legs trembled violently, and he fell to his knees, glancing down at his hands, blood splattered across the pale flesh; and he forced his eyes to follow the trail of blood towards the puppy. Tears fell from his eyes as he pressed his shaky hands firmly against the cement, not daring to look away from the gory mess, his body shutting down as the dog howled loudly.

The 13-year-old retched, half-digested grilled cheese splattering the floor as he let out a shallow breath before letting out a choked sob. Tears swelled in his eyes, falling from his dark long eyelashes in violent rivers, washing away the blood splattered across his face, and he reached a trembling hand towards the puppy. Blood pooled around her, trailing down the floor into the metal drain a few feet away.

Klaus heard his father move closer, and he turned slightly, biting his bottom lip as his father knelt beside him, "You want a puppy. Then resurrect her."

The dog whined again, and Klaus choked, looking back towards her. He couldn't save her. He'd just gotten her, and he couldn't save her. He felt sick. Plastered to the stupid cold cement floor, blood dripping down his face, watching the helpless dog die in front of him.

The door clicked softly, and the 13-year-old turned to see his father locking him inside…

He'd never told them about the puppy. He'd never told any of his siblings about any of them- the bird, the fish, the cat, the girl… drowning, the overdose, the other overdose, the darkness. He couldn't. Or maybe he didn't know how. Or maybe, in some fucked up nonsense type of way, it was easier for him if he just forgot. He never told them about Ben either… about the morgue.

Part of him had always wished he would wake up from this nightmare, mom standing over his bed reassuring him that he had been asleep like she did most nights when he was younger. She would sit with him, listen to him talk about the nightmares, about the darkness surrounding him… but after Ben, he'd stopped confiding in her. He'd stopped confiding in anyone. And he'd stopped sleeping most nights. After all, nothing helped… well, the drugs helped a little… but even after a time, they too stopped. Speak up, boy! You're nothing but a disappointment, a druggie… It might be Luther's mistake, but you're… I have faith…

Klaus groaned loudly as he opened his eyes. The world around him was moving, swaying, passing by him in a multitude of oranges, greens, yellows and browns… or maybe he was the one moving. He ran a tired hand over his sweaty face as he blinked slowly.

He felt hot. Disoriented and sick… but maybe that was the drugs finally wearing off, or maybe the alcohol, or maybe he was finally dying. He coughed slightly as his stomach churned and he turned his head, his vision blurring momentarily before he met Ben's face staring at him from the passenger seat. The 16-year-old let out a relieved sigh, "Well, you're not dead."

"Yeah, lucky us," Klaus whispered, pulling himself up slightly before his stomach reeled and he let his head fall back against the solid door behind him. He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over him and he let out a heavy breath. Moving was not the best idea right now. Nothing seemed like a good idea right now. He was breaking, and honestly, this time, this time he didn't want to stop it. The older man swallowed, draping an arm over his eyes as the car turned slightly.

"Hey, idiot? You alive?"

Klaus shifted again, forcing his arm back to his chest as he realized he wasn't alone… well, another living being was in the car with him… and the car was moving. The older man coughed slightly as he forced his body up despite the sick feeling rising in his throat, and he grasped the shoulder on the driver seat to keep himself from falling back down. He turned towards Diego, giving him a forced smile, "Physically speaking."

"Good," Diego said, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to give his brother a once over, "You scared the shit out of me, dude. What the hell did you even take?"

Klaus shrugged, letting his body fall back against the sticky leather behind him. He winced as the sweat plastered against his skin stuck to the hot seat, and he let his head fall back, sighing loudly, "Oh, you know. A little bit of this, a dash of that, and-"

"A fuck ton of alcohol," Ben interjected, moving once more between the passenger and driver's seat in order to cram his body through the small space to force himself into the back seat. He landed next to Klaus, wedged between the door and the little amount of space Klaus was willing to give him. Ben groaned loudly as he tried to get comfortable, "Dude. Move."

Klaus turned slightly, his head still resting against the seat, "No."

"You literally have the other half of the car to yourself. Fucking move, Klaus."

"I'm not moving. We're sitting like this. It's fine. We're fine."

Ben cursed again before climbing over his brother to the other side of the car. He stretched his legs out, his back resting against the door, his arms crossed as he stared at the older man. Klaus smirked towards him, sweat trailing down his face as exhaustion filled his veins combining with the sleepless nights and nightmares that kept him up, and Klaus felt his eyes close slightly. Maybe the detoxing would knock him out and he'd sleep through this hell.

"Well," Diego cleared his throat, "You don't look fine, bro."

The truth was, Klaus wasn't. He was so fucking far from fine… but, there wasn't anything anyone could do. Klaus would either get over it, or he'd do something stupid like last time. There was no in-between. There was never an in-between. Because he was fucked up. He was broken. Damaged goods. A beautiful disaster. And Diego couldn't fix him. He would never be able to fix him.

Diego cleared his throat, moving the mirror slightly to get a better view of his brother sitting alone in the backseat. He felt a chill run over him as the events from earlier crossed his mind, to Klaus freaking out… to him passing out… to his breathing…

"Klaus? Talk to me, man," Diego said softly before focusing back on the road. Rain had started to fall, and the younger man shivered slightly as he turned on the windshield wipers. He had planned on going after Hazel and Cha-Cha, but when Klaus had freaked, Diego had only one thought on his mind- getting his brother somewhere safe. He wasn't himself. And Diego knew his brother well enough to say that something was off, something was wrong… he was different.

Klaus swallowed, crossing his arms over his stomach as he pried his eyes open. He glanced towards Ben to find his younger brother staring at him intently, his eyebrow arched slightly, and worry painting his features. Klaus shook his head. He knew what the 16-year-old was thinking. He'd been there the last time Klaus had broken. He'd seen it… And Diego?

After Ben died, Diego had tried to be there for Klaus, he had tried to pick up the pieces, to fix him… but the sad truth was, Klaus was unfixable. He was broken. He'd always been. And the fact that his brother believed that he could somehow save Klaus from himself, hurt more than the constant reminder that he was alone.

Nausea washed over him, and the older man swallowed, sitting up slightly as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He was hot, sweaty, and the fact that he smelled like body odor wasn't helping his stomach. He felt the car jerk slightly and he groaned as his stomach lurched, trying to force whatever he'd eaten in the last few hours, up. Klaus cleared his throat, smirking slightly as he pressed his head in his hands and a small grin broke out on his face. Considering he was in Vietnam a few hours ago, then who knows what the hell was in his stomach.

… soft fingers brushing up his jaw, lips pressed forcefully against his… I think I love you…

Klaus groaned again as he peered up, biting his bottom lip. He felt Ben shifting next to him, "Hey, man, you look like you're about to hurl."

"Yeah, thanks," Klaus shuddered before swallowing again and glancing towards Diego, "Pull over."

Diego turned slightly; confusion etched across his face, but he slowed the car. Klaus fell back against the seat, letting his body decide what it wanted to do, and his brother turned around to face him. He felt Diego's eyes on him, watching him, and he shivered, sweat soaking into his shirt, the necklace still choking the life from him… the dog tags weighing against his body.

"Klaus? Come on, talk to me," Diego whispered as he reached a hand towards his brother. The older man let out a heavy breath, and he turned his head slightly, straying from his brother's reach as he watched the rain glide peacefully down the glass window.

…Steam rose around him as water smacked against his bare skin, trailing past the tattoos on his body, washing away the dirt, grime and blood, covering the small scars on his shoulder blade. Klaus shivered as lips pressed against his neck gently and he turned, smiling as his arms wrapped around Dave's shoulders lightly…

"How do you know we'll survive tomorrow?"

"Because I have faith…"

Klaus's stomach lurched, and he lunged for the door handle, forcing the stupid metal door open violently as he fell to his knees a few feet from the car. He meshed his shaking hands against the ground as his stomach retched, the last remnants of Vietnam spewing onto the moist ground. Rain fell past him, soaking into his shirt harshly, and he shivered, tears mixing with the cold water dripping from his face. His stomach lurched again as his heart pounded against his chest, the stupid organ continuing to beat against the memories flooding his mind.

…Klaus's fingers thumbed over the Star of David necklace hanging from Dave's neck. His fingers paused, tracing the star gently before his fingers trailed up Dave's neck, tracing his jaw, his cheek, and he pressed his lips against his carefully. The younger man grinned, pulling Klaus closer, pulling him back towards him as he kissed him again, his thumb running softly over his warm cheek.

They were going to the front lines tomorrow. And as a thank you, they were able to have two nights on leave… to drink, eat, get high, rest… among things…

Klaus choked, letting out a pained cry as memories hit him and he felt strong hands on his back, pulling him up slightly, and he stumbled, shoving his brother away as he fell backwards. Rain fell down his face, washing away the tears that swelled in his eyes, and Klaus shivered, pressing a hand against his stomach harshly. His eyes met the worried hurt masking Diego's face, Ben hovering halfway out of the car a few feet behind, and Klaus turned away, stumbling slightly as he gripped at the necklace around his neck.

He shivered again, hearing his brothers yell his name as thunder boomed overhead and lightening shot across the sky. He dropped to his knees, pressing his right hand against the ground, watching muddy water wash over it, mixing with the blood covering it as gunshots rang in his head. He clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly as he took a slow breath.

…Dave was watching him. Watching him get dressed. He sat perched on the bed, his dog tags hanging loosely against his naked chest, and Klaus turned slightly, an eyebrow raised, "See something you like, Davey boy?"

The younger man stood, towering slightly over Klaus as he stepped forward, grabbing the older man's left hand, running his fingers over it gently. He pressed his hand against his lips, smiling slowly before nodding, "Very much. Yeah."

Klaus shook his head, snorting slightly as he pulled back, grabbing the tan shirt on the dresser before throwing it towards Dave's direction… there was so much blood…

"Klaus?"

Klaus let out a small breath, holding his hand up slowly as Diego took a tentative step forward. He coughed again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was trembling, his knees threatening rebellion and his head threatening to pull him under… to pull him back to the memories… I think I love you… please, no…

"Klaus?" Diego tried again, stepping closer, "Talk to me, dude. What's happening?"

The older man let out a shaky sigh as he felt his stomach beginning to relax. As he felt the world around him beginning to come back into perspective, and he stood slowly. His eyes locked onto the woods in front of him, towards the bloody blurry figures dressed in white, staring at him through the darkness, and he shut his eyes briefly.

His throat hurt, and his breath was disgusting. He swallowed as he opened his eyes, letting out a small sigh as the people had vanished, and he turned towards his brothers. Diego was a few feet behind him, concern eating away at his features, his good arm outstretched slightly. He took another step towards Klaus, an eyebrow raised, "Klaus."

The older man shook his head, wiping at the tears sitting in his eyes as he shoved past his brother. He cleared his throat, his fingers brushing the necklace pressed against his heart. He couldn't do this. Not here. And not now. He was too tired. Too weak.

He reached the car, brushing past Ben's questions as his brother climbed in the backseat, and Klaus opened the passenger door, throwing his wet body down against the hot leather. He shivered harshly as Diego opened the driver side door, and he let his head fall against the headrest. He was hot. He felt hot. Sick. Lost. His head was killing him, and the voices were getting harder to block out. It was too much. Everything.

"Klaus," Diego sighed, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, and the older man turned to face him slightly, "Talk to me, man. I know something's going on. I know something's wrong. And don't give me any of that 'I'm fine' bullshit, because I know you're not. Let me help. Talk to me, please."

Klaus watched the expression painted on his brother's face. He swallowed loudly. He knew Diego meant well, and he knew he was only trying to help- he was always trying to help. But he couldn't this time… Klaus couldn't be fixed. The older man shook his head slowly, "I can't."

Diego bit his bottom lip, giving his brother another once over as Klaus curled in on himself, his sweaty overheated body trying to produce some warmth against the cold water soaked into his clothes. The older man pressed his head against the window, watching the rain fall down the glass as his brother started the car. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wonder back to Dave, his fingernails eating away at the flesh on his thighs, and he coughed softly.

Despite being a Seance, Klaus had never really thought much about death. He'd always played loosely with the concept, not really caring about the outcome because it wasn't death that scared him… it was living. But up until Dave, Klaus had never really had much to live for. When he'd met Dave; the first time they'd kissed, the awkward avoidance for weeks before that drunken night in that stupid opioid bar, the awkward naked morning after before they finally admitted they had feelings for each other, the secret touches, looks, the nights spent together on leave… love… love made Klaus scared of death. Because death felt like an intrusion, it was an intrusion. And he'd put so much effort into their relationship.

He trusted Dave with secrets he'd never told anyone, not even his siblings, and he loved him more than he loved himself… and in the end, death had still intervened. Faith didn't hold up… or maybe, it was Klaus's fault. Because he hadn't had much faith. In anything. Until he followed Dave to the front lines, until he looked into his eyes and pictured a life back home with a stupid picket fence and maybe some kids… Until he looked in Dave's soft blue eyes and saw a better life, until he saw a reason to live. But maybe that was his mistake. Because Klaus couldn't save him… he couldn't save anyone, ever. And in the end, it wouldn't really matter because his father was right, he wasn't really worth much. He'd never been.

….

His reflection was making him sick. His stomach twisting, turning, revolting harshly as he pressed his hands against the edge of the white porcelain sink, letting the cold water drown out the sound of retching. The 16-year-old wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he took a shaky breath and glanced towards the bathroom mirror again.

Pale sweaty flesh, dark, tired and dull eyes surrounded by even darker black eyeliner he'd stolen from Allison's room, met his gaze, and Klaus's stomach lurched. The light hanging above him flickered and the teenager cupped his trembling hands, letting cold water pond between his fingers before splashing it against his clammy cheeks.

Shadows beat against the ugly tiled walls, giving the voices shape, their yelling, shouting, pleading morphing into horrendous demons, and Klaus shivered. He took a shallow breath, his fingers shaking weakly as he reached in his pocket, pulling the small plastic bag of drugs he'd stolen from Ben's room from his pocket. His slender fingers rummaged through the bag lazily before he grabbed a handful and threw them in his mouth, cupping his hand once more under the water before pressing it against his lips, washing down the bliss.

He shuddered again, wincing as the voices grew louder, and he glanced at his sick reflection once more. His eyes drifting to the person standing behind him, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he gave Klaus a disapproving look. Ben.

"You know you just took like an Upper, a Downer, and some Acid," Ben said carefully, pushing away from the doorframe as he stepped further into the bathroom. The lights flickered again, and the 16-year-old winced, forcing his burning eyes closed as Ben continued, as the voices began to match faces from his past and everything got harder to block out. His arms trembled, his body shaking against his tired frame and Klaus shook his head slowly, "You're not real. You're not real. You're not really here…"

His knees buckled and the 16-year-old fell, grasping onto the sink tightly as gravity pulled his body down, as his mind began to relax as whatever he'd just taken began to take hold. He pushed himself against the wall, his heated back pressing harshly against the cold tile, making him feel more nauseous than he already was. He felt cold. Weak.

"Klaus?"

The teenager opened his eyes slowly as Ben knelt in front of him, worry filling his face. Klaus shook his head slowly, swallowing against the panic pounding in his chest as he struggled to breathe. He reached a trembling hand towards his brother, his fingers meshing against his black jacket, forcing through a non-existent object, a dead thing. Ben was dead… he'd died three days ago…

"You're not here," Klaus choked, "I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I couldn't save you."

Tears flooded his vision, and Klaus drew his knees to his chest, his fingernails digging harshly into the bare flesh on his thighs, wet sticky blood sliding down his legs. Ben shook his head slowly, "It wasn't your fault."

Klaus pressed his head against his knees, forcing his fingers deeper into his thighs as he struggled to block out the voices around him, as he struggled to focus on the real, the now. He felt his body rocking, his back hitting the back tile, sending shivers down his spine every time the wall touched his naked back. He let out a slow breath, his father's words echoing in his head as he glanced back towards his brother. It might have been Luther's mistake, but you're the reason…

It'd been three days since Ben died. Three days since Klaus's breakdown, three days since he'd seen his father, and three days since the funeral. And yet, the 16-year-old had woken up to his dead brother standing over his bed last night, looking more alive than he'd ever been. And despite the drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, Ben was still here. He wouldn't leave. Klaus wanted him to leave, like the others… then again, maybe he was afraid his brother would. Maybe he was afraid he'd be left alone. By himself. Too afraid to drown in his own darkness. Again.

Klaus pressed his forehead harder against his knees, slamming his hands over his ears as he continued to drown out the voices screaming through his head. Sweat dripping down his face, puddling against his grey sweatpants as he continued to rock, his eyes squeezed shut as he pleaded with anyone, anything and everything to make them go away. To make his brother go away. To make the guilt and Ben's screams go away… and to wash away the blood covering his hands.

"Klaus, it's not your fault."

Klaus coughed softly as he leaned back against the tile wall in the bathroom, glancing up at the flickering lights as the bright bulb burned against his skin, leaving memories etched in front of him. He shivered as he ran a hand across his aching chest and flushed the toilet next to him before leaning his head against the wall with a light smack.

"Dude, you look like shit," Ben said. Klaus glanced towards his brother leaning against the doorframe, and he flipped him off. Truth be told, Klaus felt like shit. But he wasn't going to let the 16-year-old have the satisfaction that easily.

Klaus's stomach churned again, and he let out a slow breath as he swallowed against the sick feeling in his throat. He didn't really remember how he'd gotten here… somewhere between the awkward silent car ride home and the rain pounding against the metal hood of Diego's car, Klaus had fallen asleep. It wasn't until his brother had forced the older man to stand that Klaus realized they were back at the Academy. After that, it was mainly a blur.

Sweat fell from his face and Klaus shivered. His clothes were plastered to his body but whether it was from the bucket of sweat currently leaving his body or the storm outside, Klaus didn't know. He groaned as he ran a hand through his hair, deciding whether it was worth it to even try standing, or if he should just sleep on the ground. There was so much blood…

Klaus flinched as the bathroom door creaked open, and he squinted past the harsh lights hanging above him as Vanya stepped cautiously into the bathroom. He swallowed, drawing his knees to his chest slowly as she glanced around before her concerned eyes met his, "Klaus? Hey, are you okay?"

Klaus snorted slightly as she knelt in front of him before he pressed a shaky hand against the wall, pulling himself up on trembling legs. He put a hand to his stomach, groaning loudly as his body threatened to pull him back down. Moving wasn't his best option- fuck, it was a terrible option, but it was the only one he had.

He pressed a hand against the sink tightly, his other still pressed firmly against his uneasy stomach and he shivered as he caught sight of his reflection in the dusty mirror. He looked dead. Hell, he probably was. Pale fevered skin, dull lifeless eyes, the remnants of black eyeliner trailed down clammy flesh, and his lips, cracked, dried, broken; dried blood still caked on his top lip from the bar fight, a bruise outlining his left eye. Fuck.

The older man jumped slightly, feeling a gently hand on his shoulder and he closed his eyes as cool fingers ran through his sweaty hair. Sweat dripped from his chin, and Klaus bit his bottom lip as tears threatened to fall past his lashes. He was so sick of crying. So sick of hurting, of feeling like this… he was so sick of being weak.

"Hey," Vanya whispered, and Klaus opened his eyes. His body trembling as it struggled to remain upright. If he fell, he'd bring his sister down with him considering he towered over her, and he gripped the sink harder, his busted knuckles turning white from force as he met Vanya's gaze. You're weak… a stupid disappointment stunted by fretful, morbid temperament…

"You're burning up," Vanya said softly, her hand still pressed firmly against her brother's shoulder, "And you're shaking."

Klaus nodded slightly, turning back towards the mirror, anger coursing through him as he met his reflection again. He sighed loudly, "D-detoxing. It's a bitch."

"Yeah," Ben said slowly, filling the empty space in the mirror, "I think you're dying, bro."

"Drop dead," Klaus whispered, glancing back down at the sink, his stomach lurching and he clenched his teeth. Vanya ran her hand over her brother's back gently, "I-I didn't say anything."

Klaus winced, clenching his eyes shut as the voices came back to him, running through his head and he resisted the urge to fall, resisted the urge to scream. Images came to him, faces from his past, faces from his future, of people he'd never met, and he bit the inside of his cheek, hard. Blood filled his mouth and the older man winced again, forcing his eyes open, his hands crushed against the sink as the reflection staring back at him made him sick. As the person staring back at him made him sick.

His stomach rebelled, and Klaus lurched, blood and foul saliva dripping from his dry mouth, and he winced again, turning his head slightly as the voices grew louder. Vanya tightened her grip around his bicep, her small fingers sliding up as the sweat that covered her brother made it hard to get a good grip on him. Klaus coughed roughly, shoving a shaking hand towards the faucet, turning the water on as blood dripped from his mouth, painting against the white porcelain in a thin red trail.

Klaus cupped water to his mouth several times, swishing the tasteless liquid around cautiously before spiting the pink water back in the sink. He leaned over the sink, closing his eyes, letting his head fall against the thin mirror, hearing a soft crack as his head met the wall. This wasn't the first time he'd detoxed… and this wasn't the first time he'd detoxed in front of his siblings. When he was 19, he'd wound up on Vanya's couch for about a week, vomiting up a life's worth of drugs, alcohol and fun. Or when he was 22, and he'd stumbled back to the Academy, half-coherent and barely alive, where his father locked him in the basement downstairs. Or the other times...

"Klaus?"

The older man opened his eyes slowly, turning weakly to stare down at his sister, realizing he was leaning more against her than he thought. He pulled himself back up slightly, "Sorry."

Vanya shook her head, her grip still tight around her brother's arm, "Are you alright? Should I get someone?"

Klaus bit his bottom lip, shaking his head slowly as he forced his body to stand. He wasn't alright. And even after getting all this shit out of his body, he still would be far from alright… but at least he could summon then, at least he could talk to him again.

Vanya eyed him, letting her hand fall from his arm slowly before taking a step back, "Well, I just came to give you guys some tickets to the concert in a few nights. I'm first chair."

Klaus forced a smile. He swallowed slowly, standing up straighter, a hand still pressed against his stomach, "That's amazing."

Vanya smiled faintly before reaching her hand out as Klaus winced loudly, his knees buckling, and he slammed against the sink. The world around him disappeared momentarily and for a second, just a second, Klaus felt his body drowning in his darkness. The older man felt fingers wrap around his torso as hands struggled to pull him up, and he followed, pulling his body up, pressing himself against the sink as he forced his eyes open. He cleared his throat, letting out a shaky breath as Vanya asked again if he was okay.

Klaus pushed away from her gently, reaching a hand towards the doorframe, forcing his legs to move as his body leaned against wall heavily. The hall swirled around him as his heart pounded against his ribs, beating against the sweaty skin and fire burning in his veins, against the broken soul plaguing his being, and the headache pulsating up his neck. He nodded slowly, waving his hands towards his sister in an attempt to reassure her, "Oh, I'm just... dandy."

"Like hell you are," Ben grumbled, and Klaus stopped momentarily to shush his brother. Ben was annoying sometimes… and he was hardly encouraging. Ben flipped him off. The older man coughed, forcing his legs to move again but paused when he felt a cold hand grasp his sweaty wrist. He turned, grimacing against the hallway lights as it blinded him briefly before meeting his sister's gaze once more.

"Klaus, I'm serious."

Klaus stood there for a while, listening to his ragged breathing, basking in the temporary silence plaguing his mind as he contemplated Vanya's question. Tears pricked his eyes, and he forced a laugh, the sound leaving his throat rough and harsh as he smirked slightly. He felt like shit. His body hurt. His heart hurt. And more than anything, he didn't want to be here. But he didn't want to be alone. That's what made him weak. It's what always made him weak. I think I love you… I have enough faith for the both of us. Trust me, you got the wrong brother. No one will even know I'm gone.

Klaus shrugged, wiping some of the sweat trailing down his face on his shoulder. He sighed shakily, "I'm always fine, Vanya. Just starting to think that sobriety is a bit overrated."

Vanya swallowed, letting her hand drop from her brother's wrist as she nodded slowly, "Okay. Fine."

Vanya stepped back, sighing loudly as she gave Klaus a small smile masking the hurt that had been there moments ago, and the older man swallowed the lump sitting in his throat as he watched her walk down the stairs. He pressed his back against the wall, sliding down the 'how to kill' posters as her hurt expression crossed his mind. He lied to her. And to make things worse, she knew. Klaus smacked his head against the wall, wincing loudly as the voices picked up again, screaming through the darkness as they threatened to pull him under, and tears fell from his lashes. He'd hurt his sister. But she had hurt him…

When Vanya had published her book, Diego, Luther and Allison had taken it as a personal attack. They became awkward around her, isolating her from events they normally would invite her to. They alienated her. But Klaus understood. And he tried hard to let her know he wasn't mad at her… just hurt. Like the rest.

The truth was, none of them were mad that she had published a book about them. They weren't mad she had detailed being the outcast as a child, because in a sense, they understood what she had meant. But they were hurt. They were hurt she had published a book describing some things they wanted to keep secret; to keep to themselves; to stay behind closed doors. They were hurt she exposed to the world some of their deepest darkest secrets.

She had written about Five falling off the Academy roof when he as 11 because their father exhausted him too much, too quickly. The times Five had passed out during his lessons because he was pushed past his limits. She'd detailed the fake death of Allison as their father tried to bring the team together and teach them a lesson. She'd written about the time Diego had gotten his scar and how, after a rigorous training session, the 15-year-old had miscalculated his throw causing it to backfire. She'd detailed their band, the Paris tickets, and Diego's crush on her when they were kids. She'd exposed Ben's death, exposed the secret relationship between Allison and Luther, and exposed the time Luther had walked in on their father drowning Klaus as part of his lesson. She'd brought to light all times he'd been locked in the basement only to emerge a few days later, covered in blood and unable to eat, sleep or talk. She exposed the time he'd overdosed on LSD after Ben's death, and how their father didn't even bother showing up at the hospital. She showed the world the horrendous things that they fought so hard to keep from the rest of society, from each other, and from themselves. She had hurt them… unintentionally. But she had still hurt them. And somewhere along the lines, they had hurt her.

Klaus smacked his head against the wall again, letting out a soft cry as tears flooded his vision and Ben slid down next to him. This hurt, the hurt his siblings felt, the brokenness, the damaged f-word used to masquerade as a barely functional family, was going to kill him. It was going to eat away with the rest of the torment and darkness, swallow him whole as his world collapsed into a dusty pit of loneliness and abandonment. He had no one… he'd never had anyone. His father made sure of that. And the one person he loved more than drugs, more than alcohol, sex, parties, more than himself, died in front of him, pleading with him as Klaus prayed to a non-existent God to save him. You're weak… You could have saved him, but instead you let him die…

The voices echoed around him, piercing through his brain and the older man winced, pressing his hands against his ears as he tried to block out the shouting rushing through his mind. He brought his knees to his chest, shaking violently as he tried to focus on Ben yelling his name, as he tried to keep up with the pounding against his chest, and he struggled to hold onto a life he didn't want.

….

There was so much blood. So much of it covering Klaus's clothes, still etched under his skin, staining the flesh on his arms dark red, as he stared down at the cold body lying on the gray table. The others had left hours ago, but Klaus… Klaus couldn't move. He couldn't think. His body wasn't functioning properly, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from him, away from his brother.

He could still feel Ben's grasp around his shoulders, his hand squeezing his tightly as Klaus struggled to hold him against his chest. He could hear the panic around him as Diego tried to drive faster, as Luther tried to stop the bleeding, as Allison tried calling their father, and as Ben cried, pleading, begging Klaus to not let him die. His nails weakly grasping Klaus's shoulder as his brother held him tighter, as Ben's grip loosened, as his begging stopped, and Klaus could still feel his brother's heartbeat stop against his.

Klaus pressed his hands against the metal table, swallowing against the nausea rising in his throat as panic clawed at his chest. He shook his head, tearing the mask from his face, letting it smack against the ground roughly as tears welled in his eyes. The 16-year-old grit his teeth, feeling his hands begin to ache, the blood on his arms burning against his skin, and the teenager let out a choked sob as he glanced towards his brother's dead form. He didn't want to die. He kept saying it over and over. He didn't want to die. He wanted Klaus to save him… and Klaus had let him down.

The 16-year-old leaned over the table, anger coursing through his body, and he clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as his power surged through him. Blue surrounded his hands and Klaus flinched, the burning, searing blue glow swallowing his hands, wrists, his arms; and Klaus pressed his fingers against his brother's chest. The blue flame disappeared, and the teenager cursed, flinging his hands outward as he struggled to bring back the power he'd felt just a moment ago.

He slammed his hands against the table, pressing his forehead against Ben's chest as tears fell from his eyes. He grasped his brother's cold hand in his, the tips of his fingers barely glowing now. He cleared his throat as he glanced towards his brother's face, his chin resting against his chest, "Ben?"

Silence evaded them, filling the gaps with harsh reminders of broken promises and silent prayers. Klaus squeezed harder, "Benjamin?"

Ringing echoed in Klaus's ears and he swallowed as Ben's begging filled his mind. Ben's blood. Ben's hands wrapped around his shoulder, his fingernails digging into the flesh on Klaus's left shoulder blade. And Ben's heart still against Klaus's beating one.

Anger, hatred, disgust, and guilt flooded the teenager's system, and Klaus shoved away from the table. He stood there for a moment, his eyes tracing over the blood staining his brother's face, the blood on his clothes, and he turned, knocking against the desk chair next to the table. His heart pounded against his chest, panic rising in his throat, and he shoved the chair away forcefully, shoving the computer and papers from the glass desk, letting the stupid small table slam against the ground loudly, shattering into a million pieces as glass littered the floor.

Klaus kicked at the blood-soaked towels scattering the ground as tears spilt down his face violently and sweat fell from his cheeks. He wasn't breathing, he couldn't be, his heart was forcing its way out of his chest, crawling from under his ribs as his lungs forewent any oxygen that he managed to gulp down. The cold room was hot, and he was abandoned, alone. He was a failure, and his brother knew it. They all knew it. He was useless.

The 16-year-old screamed loudly, pulling the chunky computer from the floor, and he threw it towards the glass windows. The crash echoed through the small room, light filtered in through the broken glass and Klaus fell against the table, his arms and hands burning violently. And he glanced down at the blue flames eating away at sweaty flesh before dying out and disappearing completely.

He let out a choked sob as he slid against the table, letting his body smack against the unforgiving ground. He forced his head in his hands as he glanced at the glass littering the floor, and Ben's cries washed over him. He was gone. He didn't want to die, but he was gone. And now? Now, Klaus had no one. He'd lost his best friend. He'd lost his anchor… and now, he was alone. He was alone because he had let him down. Because he was weak.

Klaus cried loudly, letting his head fall against his knees. He deserved this. He deserved this hurt; this torment. Ben had counted on him… and Klaus had made him a promise when they were 8; a promise he wouldn't let anything bad happen to him; that he wouldn't let him die… and yet…

Something smacked against his ankle harshly, and the 16-year-old looked up, tears flooding his vision momentarily before his green eyes connected with his father's stern ones. Reginald shook his head as he glanced at the state of the room before smacking Klaus's ankle again, "Get up, number Four!"

The teenager swallowed, biting his bottom lip, trying to stop it from trembling, trying to stop himself from crying as he wiped at the tears painting his face and forced himself to stand on legs that refused. Klaus pressed a hand against the table, looking down at his brother's form again as he grasped at his stiff hand. There was so much blood.

Klaus wiped at his face again, feeling the rough sleeve tear against his sweaty flesh as he let out a shaky sigh, trying to calm himself. He swallowed thickly, glancing down at the umbrella tattoo etched under his brother's pale skin, his fingers running over the old ink slowly before his fingers fell from Ben's hand. His grasp no longer comforting; his heart no longer beating.

The teenager turned to leave, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying. Blood filled his mouth, and Klaus swallowed weakly as he felt someone grab his wrist. He turned back, surprise masking his tired features for a second as he glanced at his father's hand wrapped warmly around his flesh. He felt tears swell in his eyes again as he met his father's disappointed gaze. The older man sighed loudly before shaking his head, "It might have been Luther's mistake, but you're the reason Ben's dead."

The 16-year-old froze. His breathing catching in his throat as he glanced once more towards his brother. Anger surged through his veins, mixing with the toxic blood beating in his heart, and he yanked his wrist from his father's grasp, mumbling something under his breath as he made his way towards the door. The teenager stopped momentarily in the hall as his father smacked his cane against the ground and yelled, "Speak up, boy!"

Klaus turned slightly, his eyes locked onto Ben's dead form, drinking in his brother's forgotten features, soft smile, and sarcastic demeanor before meeting his father's gaze one last time. The teenager let out a shaky breath, tears sliding down his cheeks as hatred flooded his eyes, "He was apart of this family. He was your son, so he was dead the minute he was born… We all were."

…

They were arguing, yelling, fighting. About what, Klaus wasn't sure. He wasn't really sure about anything anymore. He wasn't sure how he'd made it down the stairs. He was really sure how he'd impeded on this conversation, or what day or year it was. And he definitely wasn't sure how much more he could take.

His body was killing slowly from the inside out, and the fact that every word uttered from his siblings felt like a fret train crashing in his head, wasn't helping. He shivered violently as he pulled his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible, trying to concentrate on the words yelled between his brothers, trying to grasp onto the reality slowly slipping past his trembling fingers. Sweat pooled from his chest, soaking his already wet shirt more, and Klaus gagged, leaning his head against the couch behind him as he swallowed back the bile threatening to flood his mouth.

"Can I just say something?" Allison interjected as Diego tried to size up to Luther. Diego shoved her away as Luther stepped forward and pressed a finger in his brother's chest. Diego smacked it harshly, determination twisting on his lips as he shoved Luther back, "You wanna do this?"

Luther stumbled slightly before stepping forward, "Every damn day."

Klaus shivered, running a shaky hand through his hair as he tried to recall the previous conversation. They were discussing Five… no, that wasn't right. Mom? No, mom was dead. Vanya. They were discussing Vanya, they had to be discussing Vanya… but the reason why was unclear, fuzzy, forgotten.

Klaus's stomach churned and the older man leaned forward, pressing a hand against it weakly as sweat began to bead against his forehead. His skin was on fire, burning against the ache, tightening the itch crawling under his skin, and Klaus felt like utter shit. He didn't remember his last detoxing being nearly as bad… but that had been several years ago, and he'd been much younger than he was now.

He watched weakly as Diego lunged for Luther as Luther smacked him to the ground, and Allison tried tearing them apart. Klaus groaned loudly before glancing towards Ben leaning against the wall next to him. Ben peered up from his book before shaking his head, "Dude, this is embarrassing. Hey- Klaus? You don't look so good, man. Seriously."

Klaus swallowed again, turning back towards the pitiful fight still covering the living room floor. His vision wavered harshly, twisting and contorting into blurry pictures, and he blinked, gripping the armrest as he waited for it to pass. He shivered, sucking in a shallow, shaky breath as his heart skipped a beat and sweat fell from his face. Normally, he'd be refereeing, cheering on the violence as Allison and Vanya tried tearing them apart. But now? Right now, all Klaus wanted to do was curl up in a dark quiet hole somewhere and die. That is, if the voices didn't get to him first, if the spirits didn't haunt him first… Are you still afraid of them? Such a weak-willed mind; no wonder you turned to drugs! You're a disappointment, a disgrace, useless…

"Hey, here's a wild thought," Klaus yelled, pushing his body from the couch and swaying slightly as he pressed a hand against the armrest, "Why don't we just ask her?"

His siblings froze, all momentarily aware that their brother was still here, still watching them, and Diego scoffed. Klaus grimaced as his stomach lurched, and his skin burned against the rough fabric eating away at his fingertips. He blinked slightly as the voices started, whispering his name, calling for him, and the older man cleared his throat.

He felt weak. His legs felt uneasy and the world around him was hot, heavy, and hard to breathe. He coughed softly, letting his fingers fall from the armrest as he pressed his hand harder against his stomach and took a tentative step towards his siblings. His breathing was ragged, uneven and sporadic; and Klaus was pretty sure he was on the verge of having a heart attack all at the young age of 29. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. Drowning in his own darkness and his siblings were fighting like they were kids…You got the wrong brother; no one in that house will even notice I'm gone…

Klaus stumbled, his body knocking against the table beside him and a vase fell to the floor loudly. The older man watched it break into several large pieces, his hands shaking violently as he struggled to grip onto the stupid wooden table, to keep himself upright as his eyes met the little girl from earlier. Blood flooding from her mouth as she pointed towards Klaus, forcing him to clench his eyes shut, forcing him to bite the inside of his cheek, swallowing down the blood drowning his mouth. He felt useless, sick, wrong, off, abandoned…

…Dave's lips trailed down his neck, pressing against the small scars on his shoulder blade gently as Klaus turned, pulling the younger man's mouth to his. He pressed his hand against Dave's chest, letting his fingers hover over the warm strong heartbeat pounding against his ribs as the other man's fingers trailed up Klaus's arm…

The necklace sitting around his throat tightened, and Klaus brushed his fingers over the gold chain, shivering as cold air pricked his overheated skin. Fingers brushed against his shoulder and the older man flinched, prying his eyes open to a lonely reality, shoving away from the hand that tried reaching for him again. He cleared his throat, trying to concentrate on the living room, on the words tossed around him, on anything besides the weigh hanging around his neck like a noose.

The floor moved violently, and Klaus because painfully aware that walking like everything was fine, trying to pretend that he was even semi-okay, was not in his favor. His knees trembled again, and Klaus pushed away from Allison's grasp as she tried reaching for him. He needed to leave… before the memories hit him, before the pain got worse, before they knew… before they saw what it was like, before they saw what it was like being him.

Klaus turned slightly, sucking in an airless breath, his eyes meeting his siblings as they all simultaneously inched closer, confused worry painting their expressions. Luther reached a hand towards him, and the older man stumbled back, his hand catching on the bar stool and Klaus balanced himself on shaky legs as Luther squeezed his shoulder gently.

"You're bleeding," Luther said gently, pushing his hand harder against Klaus's shoulder. Confusion crossed the older man's face as he brought his hand to his nose, pulling it back to reveal dark crimson trailing lazily down his hand. He swallowed, "Yeah, because of all your yelling."

He shoved away from his brother, taking another step forward, wincing slightly as the voices came back, this time full force. He pressed an ear against his shoulder as he tried to ignore them, as he tried to block them out. He felt weak. Dizzy. Sick. And his heart was pounding to a beat he couldn't breathe. Something leaked from his ears, and Klaus pressed his fingertips to them, pulling back, revealing dark red covering them. Revealing the blood covering his hands.

"Klaus, man, this isn't normal," Ben yelled, and Klaus turned slightly, to tell his brother to go jump off a bridge, as the ringing in his ears pierced his eardrums and he winced loudly. He lurched, his stomach expelling anything it could find, expelling the foul-tasting saliva drowning the back of his throat, the rough stomach lining threatening to tear him apart, and blood. Bloody saliva dripped from his mouth, mixing with the blood pooling from his nose as he dropped to his knees, shoving a hand against his left ear as he heard his siblings faintly yelling his name.

He let out a strangled cry as the voices around him grew louder and his eyes connected with the bloody forms of people he didn't know. The girl who'd been hiding in the corner several minutes ago, kneeling in front of him, blood still dripping past her lips as she laughed, reaching a small hand towards him. And Klaus shut his eyes.

The floor beneath him twisted violently, and he doubled over, pressing his sweaty forehead against the ground forcefully. Screaming pierced his ears, matching faces to dark figures that reached through his darkness, and Klaus screamed. Pain gripped him; encasing his head as memories hit, voices exploding around him, and the thin gate he'd built on dampened self-medicating and stupid ignorance, broke, flooding his mind with images of tortured souls waiting to haunt him.

His heartbeat hurt, the air sucked into weak lungs hurt, and Klaus pressed his head harder against the ground, feeling blood dripping down his chin, down his neck. His fingernails digging into the hot flesh on his stomach as he tried to keep from drowning. As he tried to focus on the pain and nausea eating away at his body. But there was nothing. He had nothing left. No energy. No will. He was done. Alone. And no one was going to save him… no one could. He was the reject of failure and disgrace stunted by fretful, morbid temperament. An unlovable thing. And he was going to die how he lived, alone and lonely with no one to truly notice he was gone. How pathetic was that?

Hot tears flooded down his face, drowning the world around him in an aching hell as his body trembled violently. Klaus's body gave out, his grip loosing around his stomach, and he fell the rest of the way to the floor, his sweaty cheek pressed against the ground weakly. Blood still dripping from his mouth as he coughed roughly, trying to force himself to live when all his body wanted to do was die; Crimson running in dark rivers down his nose and pooling in his ear as he curled in on himself. He opened an eye carefully, pulling both hands to his ears as his eyes connected with the girl, her hand still stretched towards him. Voices screaming around him, through him, at him, and he forced a hand from his ear as he reached towards the girl, crying loudly as his vision shifted, morphed and the girl contorted into him… into Dave.

Soft fingers gripped his and Klaus smiled weakly, gripping tightly as Dave pulled him close, pressing his hand against his lips. The older man coughed roughly, his body no longer accepting oxygen, and his mind shut down. Klaus closed his eyes, letting his last image be the soft blue eyes he'd fallen in love with, as his darkness killed his senses, and he was felt the world around him die, fade, slip through his trembling fingers. He felt numb, cold, weak. He was weak, he was useless, his father had made that very clear… and now, he'd proved him right. He felt small. Childish. Lonely and forgotten… and then, he felt his heart stop.

…..

Klaus turned, looking around as the world he'd known disappeared and he found himself standing on an old dirt road. He ran a hand through his hair, stopping momentarily as he noticed he felt better. He felt free. The sweat that had covered his body moments ago vanished, his headache vanished, and the nausea that was sitting heavily in his stomach had vanished… or maybe he had.

He took a few steps, looking around, letting his hand fall down his face slowly, stopping briefly at his mouth before he pulled his hand back to find no blood. Nothing. Everything was gone. He swallowed nervously, glancing up the road as the little girl he'd seen earlier headed towards him, the blood gone from her body completely, and he breathed a sigh of relief as she stopped in front of him. Her red bike standing out against the black and white world surrounding them.

"Uh, where am I?" Klaus asked, running a hand over the back of his head as he put the other on his hip. The girl rolled her eyes, giving him a frustrated look, "You're dead, stupid,"

"Ah, okay, cool," Klaus whispered, looking around, trying to figure out where to go from here. The girl groaned, fixing the bracelets on her arm, "No, not cool because you're stuck here."

"Okay," Klaus said cautiously, "Well… shouldn't a spirit guide appear, and you know, guide me towards my afterlife or whatever."

He waved his hands towards the trees, expecting a big poof and some wizardry guy to appear and point him in the path he should follow. The girl shook her head, "Not for you. You've been rejected by Heaven and Hell. No one wants you. You're stuck here, dumbass... Besides, he wants to see you."

She raised a hand and Klaus followed her gaze towards an abandoned building at the end of the lot. Chills washed over him, dread weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach and the necklace laying loosely against his throat, tightened slightly. He glanced back towards the girl, "Dave?"

She shrugged, putting her hands on the bike's handle bars, kicking at the stopper before pushing off, "I don't know, and I don't care."

Klaus ran a shaky hand through his hair as he glanced down at his attire. He was still wearing the stupid clothes he'd died in but at least there wasn't any blood, sweat or vomit… so that had to be a bonus. Thoughts raced through his mind as he crossed his arms over his chest protectively and made his way slowly towards the building.

He paused in front of the door, letting his fingers hover over the metal handle, his heart pounding in his chest as excitement bubbled to the surface. A smile broke out over his face as he pulled the door open and stepped inside. Black and white checkered tile greeted him, along with the inner workings of an antique barbershop.

Klaus turned to leave only to find the door had disappeared, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back towards the empty chairs. He swallowed slowly, "Dave?"

The backdoor chimed and a record dropped into the slot on a jukebox sitting in the corner of the shop, filling the eerie place with some soft melody Klaus had never heard before. He shivered, pushing his feet forward as he forced his body to move towards an empty chair, sitting down slowly, leaning back in the chair as he tried to think of who he was supposed to meet. And why the fuck he was here.

A white drape wrapped around his neck gently, and Klaus jumped, sitting up momentarily as his eyes locked with the stern cold ones of his father. He swallowed loudly as Reginald tapped his shoulder, forcing him to lean back, and something white, powdery and cold painted his face. He twitched his nose, resisting the urge to scratch as the shaving cream tickled his nose and confusion crossed his features.

"I expected more of you, my boy," His father said softly, raising his glasses slightly to inspect the area covered on his son's face. Klaus shook his head, "Yeah, sorry, I must have missed that past the lessons and constant reminder that I was a worthless, drugged-up disappointment."

"You are a disappointment, that is true," Reginald paused momentarily before reaching for the razor sitting behind him, "You all were. But I still expected more from you. I expected you to have figured out how to resurrect at least one person by now."

Klaus scoffed, stilling as he felt the thin slice of a blade graze up his cheek carefully. He shivered, the song on the jukebox ended, and silence hung over them in heavy waves. After a while, his father cleared his throat, "You never asked me how I knew you could resurrect."

Klaus rolled his eyes, "Okay, I'll bite. How?"

His father stayed silent for a second, dipping the sharp blade in alcohol before returning to his son, "Don't be a wiseass, boy. I knew, because you've done it before. In Paris, when you saved Ben. That had been the first time. When you were 8."

"The first time for what exactly?"

"Wise up, number Four! Do you honestly think this is the first time you've died? The first time we've talked? No," His father scoffed, throwing the razor down on the table behind him and dipping his hands in alcohol as Klaus wiped the remaining shaving cream from his face. He flinched slightly as his father appeared in his vision again, pressing his wet hands against his cheeks and the smell of alcohol filled the younger man's nostrils; a slight burn hitting the hairless skin. Reginald cleared his throat, "You've died many times. The first time in Paris, the second when you overdosed when you were 16, the second overdose at 23, the third at 28, with Cha-Cha and Hazel, in Vietnam, and now. But you've always managed to revive yourself… And you haven't even begun to unearth nearly half of your powers, Klaus."

Klaus stopped, his eyes suddenly meeting his father's as confusion crossed his face. His father had never addressed him by his given name before. He'd always called them by their numbers, every time…

"And I'll be damned to let you think your job is done. Now, that's better. You look less like a druggie, and more like my son," Reginald said, ripping the drape from Klaus's neck as the younger man sat up slowly. Half of the barbershop had disappeared and instead was replaced by tall gray grass, shady trees, and dull sunshine.

Klaus turned back towards his father, only to find the bastard had disappeared. He took a step forward, sliding from the chair and turning slightly as he tried to figure out what to do, where to go. He swallowed slowly, "Dad?"

"Klaus?"

Klaus froze. His breathing hitched slightly, and he closed his eyes as he forced his feet to turn, as he forced his body towards the direction of the voice, his voice. He opened his eyes slowly, tears swelling in his eyes as he stared up at Dave standing in front of him. The older man opened his mouth to speak before closing it, realizing he had no words and too much to say…

"I know," Dave nodded slowly, pressing his hand against Klaus's cheek, letting his fingers dust over his jaw, pulling his chin upward as he pressed his lips against his, and Klaus choked. He'd missed this. Missed him. He'd missed him so fucking much he was willing to do anything to get him back.

"We don't have much time," Dave whispered, his fingers trailing down Klaus's neck gently, stopping over his heart. Klaus shook his head, "I don't want to go back. I can't."

Dave nodded, swallowing thickly as he pressed his lips against Klaus's forehead, "You have to."

The older man felt tears trail down his cheeks as he grasped Dave's hand tightly in his, "I can't go back. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep living for the damage. I don't know how."

The younger man laughed softly, brushing his fingers over the necklace hanging around Klaus's neck, "You have to have faith."

Klaus gripped his boyfriend's hand harder, his fingers trembling weakly as he tried to hang onto whatever this was. As he tried to concentrate on him, on Dave. He choked softly as Dave pulled him closer, "I don't."

Dave let out another laugh, running his hands up Klaus's arms gently before cupping his face and forcing the older man to look at him. A sad smile broke out over his face, tears welling in his own eyes and he pressed his forehead against Klaus's, breathing in his familiar scent as the world around them began to fade into dark. As it began to fade into Klaus's darkness.

"That's okay. I have enough faith for the both of us."

Diego sat there, pressing his hands to the bottom of his chin as he peered towards his brother, sprawled out on the bed, his body pale, unmoving, gone. He ran a hand through his hair as he watched Klaus's chest, biting his bottom lip as he waited, hoped, prayed that the stupid junkie would start breathing again… that he'd come back. Diego hadn't known his brother would die; he knew he was detoxing, and it was hard… but when he started puking blood, when he started screaming, he hadn't known that was the last chance he would have had to help his brother.

When they were kids, Klaus used to be Diego's wingman, and he'd be able to con mom into anything. He'd ask questions Diego had been too afraid to ask in fear that he'd mispronounce a word or stutter. And after Ben died, the kid had changed. He wasn't the fun psycho he used to be… he was different, broken, more interested in the high than his family. But maybe that had something more to do with their father.

Their father had taken them all, and morphed them into tools of insecurities and beautiful disasters… but Klaus? Their father had hurt him the most. He'd taken a sweet boy, so full of hope and life, and twisted, crushed and changed him into a broken thing. He had made Klaus afraid of himself… tormented and haunted by his past, and damaged by unlovable fear.

Diego had tried to help. He'd tried every time he wiped blood from his brother's face when he stumbled into the bathroom after spending several long and unnoticed days in the basement. He tried when Klaus spent the whole month after he'd overdosed, unable to sleep and plagued by nightmares, calling out for Ben in his sleep. He'd been there when they were younger and Luther had shoved their father from Klaus's wet and barely breathing form, as the boy was submerged underwater until he stopped breathing. Or when Klaus had shown up at his apartment when he was 25, shivering from the rain that fell from the sky, paranoid out of his mind as the drugs wore off and he needed to talk. And Diego had been there when they were 15, when Klaus had come back from one of his lessons and collapsed on the kitchen floor, bloody dirt sliding down his face, mixing with the tears that fell from his eyes as he cried loudly. Diego had been there… or, at least he tried to be.

But now, when Klaus needed him most, when he needed someone to watch over him, to help him through whatever shit was trying to expel from his body, Diego had let him down. Klaus had always been there- even if he was half out of his mind on drugs or alcohol, he'd always been there when it counted. Fuck, Diego hadn't even noticed when Cha-Cha and Hazel had taken him, tortured him, hurt him- for days. No one noticed. And to make matters worse, Klaus had come back different. He had come back like he lived a different life.

Diego sighed, running another hand through his hair before grabbing his knifes sitting on the nightstand next to him. He paused, letting his fingers hover over the umbrella tattoo on his brother's wrist; his eyes tracing over the scars on his brother's body- ones he recognized and other's he didn't. He pressed his fingers against his brother's hand, gripping it tightly for a second before letting his hand fall to his side. At least in death, Klaus could finally rest.

Diego swallowed, wiping at the tears slipping from his eyes before turning towards the door. He sighed again, griping the knife in his hand as he pressed the other into the wooden doorframe. He cleared his throat, "Goodbye, Klaus."

Klaus jolted up, gasping loudly as he pressed a hand against his aching chest, and something silver sild past his face, plunking into the wood beside him. Sweat trailed down his face as Klaus's eyes widened and he hunched over, gasping loudly as his lungs struggled to suck down deprived oxygen, as his heart beat strongly against his chest. He turned slightly, giving Ben a quick thumbs up before looking towards the knife sticking out of the wall besides him. He grunted slightly as he pulled the sharp object from the wood, coughing loudly as he turned towards Diego standing at the doorway, horrified shock plaster to his brother's features.

Diego inched closer, confusion shining in his eyes as he paused, "What… the hell?"

Klaus coughed again, swinging his legs around until his feet touched the floor. He glanced back down at the knife, his hand still pressed firmly against his chest before throwing the knife on the ground and looking back up at Diego. He sucked in a deep breath, "Christ on a cracker, Diego! Did you just throw a knife at me? I could have died!"

Diego stepped further into the room, his eyes asking questions his lips couldn't form, "You- you were already dead!"

"Yeah," Klaus said, pushing himself to his feet slowly, dropping his hand from his chest and pressing it on his hip, "Well, I could have died… more."

Ben snorted, and Klaus turned to see the 16-year-old shaking his head, "Not your best argument, bro."

Klaus hissed at him before coughing again, and Diego took a step closer. Diego inspected his brother curiously before grabbing his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. Klaus stood there awkwardly, his hands at his side as his heart continued to pound against his ribs, and he patted his brother's back gently. It'd been a long time since Diego had hugged him…

The door creaked open slightly as Allison peered in. She paused before the door flew open and she screamed loudly, Luther barreling in behind her, and Klaus nearly toppled backwards as his siblings bombarded him with foreign hugs. The older man coughed again, the air he was trying to force down his lungs, squeezed from him as three pairs of arms pulled him in. Klaus looked towards Ben, sitting on his desk, a small smirk twisting at his lips, "Welcome back, idiot."

Klaus blinked several times, patting his sister's and brother's arms slightly as they let go, and Klaus took a deep breath. Luther shoved him carefully, "We thought you were dead."

Klaus's eyebrows furrowed and he scoffed, "Me? Please. I once did seven hits of Acid at a Britney Spears concert while wearing nothing but a scarf and a top hat. It was insane… Nothing can kill me."

Allison laughed softly, "Well, it's good to have you back. Even if you steal all my eyeliner."

The older man grinned, running a hand through his hair as he sat on his childhood bed. He felt weird with all three of his siblings watching him. Awkward. Vulnerable. Luther cleared his throat before clapping his hands together and nudging Allison on the arm, "We should probably call Vanya back. Let her know that the Grim Reaper lived… and we need to figure out what happened to Five."

Klaus swallowed slowly as Luther and Allison walked out of the room. Diego picked up his knife from the floor, putting them both in his pocket and turned towards the door before pausing. He turned around slightly, his eyes meeting his brother's before sitting back down in the wooden chair, leaning back cautiously.

"How'd you do it?"

Klaus raised an eyebrow, pulling the black jacket someone had changed him into closer, "What? The seven hits of Acid?"

"No," Diego shook his head as Klaus leaned forward, "You were dead, Klaus. And not just a momentarily lapse in breathing dead. But dead, dead. Your heart stopped… and you were gone for hours, bro."

…I have faith."

Faith. The complex word sat heavily on the older man's lips, foreign, alienated and sour. Klaus had never had much faith in anything, and the concept of God was lost in his household long ago. Fingers trailed up his naked back slightly, and Klaus shivered as he turned back towards Dave, "I don't."

His boyfriend laughed softly, pulling the older man closer, pressing his lips on his forehead gently. Klaus swallowed as Dave sighed, "No. I guess someone with your abilities wouldn't have much faith in anything, huh?"

Dave paused before moving slightly, shoving the covers off gently before sitting up and Klaus followed his movement. The younger man unclasped the necklace from his neck, thumbing over the old antique passed down from his mother before she died, and smiled as he leaned forward, hooking the gold Star of David around Klaus's neck gently. He let his fingers trace down the chain, thumbing over the small star before pressing his hand against Klaus's heart, "Something to remember me by… in case. It's very old, fragile but strong. It's brought me a lot of luck, hope… faith. Much like love. Much like you. I want you to have a piece of me with you… to have my faith with you, always. Because I love you. I will always love you. No matter what you see or what haunts you; no matter where you come from; no matter how much darkness you let filter through your light- I will still love you, and I will still be there. And you say you don't have much faith… in anything. And that's okay. Because I have enough faith for the both of us…

"Klaus?"

The older man glanced up, realizing tears were sitting in his eyes, and his fingers were pressed around the small star hanging loosely over his heart. He sucked in small breath as his eyes met Diego's, and his brother reached a slow hand towards him. Klaus opened his mouth to speak before closing it and shrugging his shoulders gently.

Diego leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees "Why detox? I mean, the end of the world and you suddenly decide you wanna get clean? I thought you'd wanna pop every pill on the planet."

Klaus snort slightly as he let his fingers drop from the necklace, looking towards Ben as the teenager shook his head before turning back towards Diego. He sighed, "Oh, the thought did cross my mind… but, there was something I needed to do, and the pesky thing doesn't seem to work unless I'm sober, so…"

The younger man was silent for a moment. The past days running through his mind. He was always willing to help his brother get clean, to get sober… but the world ended in three days, so it all seemed kind of pointless now. And after everything he went through, after he died, or whatever it was that had happened, why would his brother torture himself? Diego cleared his throat, "Did it have something to do with conjuring the one you lost?"

His eyes met Klaus's, biting his bottom lip gently as his brother nodded. Diego reached a hand out, putting it on top of Klaus's shaking one gently, "Yeah? What was her name?"

Klaus paused. His body relaxed slightly, and Ben moved in the corner of his eye, moving closer to the bed. Tears fell from Klaus's eyes as he stared into the open area of his bedroom, memories washing through him in a beautiful torment, and Klaus sighed loudly, "His name was Dave...