Klaus frowned at the floor, and Ben huffed, "You can't make me punch you every time you feel like taking drugs again."

Klaus whined, "But it worked last time!"

Ben rolled his eyes leaning back on the stairs, Klaus fidgeting beside him, "You're going to have a permanent sore jaw."

Klaus bit his nails, "Better than relapsing." He frowned, "God, I sound like a sober person." His eyes widened, "I am am I doing with my life?"

Ben raised an eyebrow, "You're cleaning it up?"

Klaus rubbed his face, "No, this is awful!"

Ben sighed.

A thump on the stairs drew their attention to Five who stared blandly at him. Klaus laughed nervously. Five rolled his eyes and continued past him, down the stairs, "I don't want to know what you're doing, Klaus, and I don't care."

He walked over to a bookcase, searching it for something.

Klaus watched him before asking, "What are you doing, buddy?"

"Looking."

Klaus didn't push at the terse response. Five was in one of his moods.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, head resting on the cold wood.

It only took a few moments for his peace to be rudely interrupted by Ben muttering to himself. Klaus whispered, "Give it a rest, Ben."

"Oh, I'm not the one talking."

Klaus blinked one eye open and tried to put as little effort as possible in his movement to contemplate Five. Five was wordlessly flipping through a book.

That left only one possibility.

Hairs prickling on the back of his neck, he turned uneasily. A man was muttering, his back to them, hunched over the banister. Klaus rubbed his eyes. Another ghost. Had someone died in this house? Klaus sat up, waiting for the apparition to face him.

He regretted it immediately. The ghost's face was burnt off, eye melting into skin, white gum-less teeth exposed and upper jawbone stained brown from dried blood. His other eye blinked, wide and terrified.

Klaus leaned away, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Ben grimaced, "Ew."

It shambled down the steps, it's gait ungainly, it's femur sticking out of burnt skin with every step. Klaus breathed out as it moved away, "What the hell is that doing here?"

Ben shook his head, "I honestly don't know."

Klaus jumped and gave a little shriek as a ghost passed through him, a woman this time. She only seemed to notice he was there when he moved. She stopped a few steps below him to look back up, "Sorry, are you alright?" Her dress was ragged and her hair blond and bright. She probably had once been very beautiful, except for the slice curved around her neck, blood trailing over her chest to stain her neat and tidy dress.

"Y- yeah. I'm... I'm fine."

She smiled and took the hands of two ghostly children.

Oh god, he hadn't noticed them.

The little girl waved at him, a bullet hole between her eyes. The young boy had blood crusting his chin and a surly look that he threw his way as they walked downstairs.

Klaus laughed with an edge of hysteria, "What is this, a convention or something?"

Ben hummed, "Kinda makes you wonder, what's different this go around."

Klaus shivered and then turned to another ghost making its pilgrimage down the umbrella academy stairs, "Excuse me, but why are you here?"

The old man raised a bushy white eyebrow and pointed with the blown apart stub of an arm and said furiously, "That little bastard!"

Klaus followed where his finger pointed and his eyes came to rest on the top of Five's bent head, perusing one of their dad's books impatiently.

Klaus gaped.

How could...? Five's brows furrowed, that little crease forming between them, lips pursed in frustration, looking just as angry and adorable and unassuming as ever. He flipped through another page, a crowd of ghosts looming over him, quiet and terrified, weeping and wailing, or angry and hissing.

Klaus swallowed and stood.

He couldn't count them.

There were still more stopping on the stairs, lining the hallways, peering over the balcony to face their killer.

Klaus threaded his fingers through his hair, "I'm too sober for this. I'm waaay too sober." He giggled and turned, he needed drugs. Now.

Ben grabbed at his arm, "Klaus you've gotta talk to him-!" and real tangible fingers clenched tightly around his upper arm. They both gaped at each other and Ben let go quickly. Klaus swallowed, eyes flicking back to his brother, surrounded by his victims.

His gulp was embarrassingly audible, but he started down the steps anyway.

They made way for him, parting like the Red Sea, more out of their habit in life than any consideration or real need too.

Klaus reached his brother, who sighed, not even looking up at him as he asked curtly, "What do you want?"

Klaus tried to pretend he wasn't sweating when he looked to his left expectantly. A young man with kind eyes and in sandy brown fatigues, blinked back. The gaping bloody mess at the back of his head ruined his peaceful smile. Klaus asked quietly, too quietly for his brother to hear, "What's your name?"

After he heard the answer he turned to Five, "Arthur Peterson?"

Five stilled, fingers pausing on the page.

He looked up at his brother, face carefully blank, "Excuse me?"

The other ghosts spoke up one by one, and Klaus spoke again, trying to filter through the mass of words and languages, "Laura Pepper. José Perez. Mei Okita. Anne Milton and her children, Charles and Anya." He looked around, choking, "God, Five, how many?"

Five snapped the book shut, slightly questioning, that same terrifying blankness still present in his eyes, "You can see them?"

Klaus's voice was high, "Yeah. Yeah, and it's a lot, buddy."

Ben looked around, "You can probably only see them now because you're finally sober."

Klaus flinched when an old hunched woman turned his way, shuffling, knife sticking out of her chest.

Five's eyes flicked in the direction he was looking and then back to his brother, sweat beading along Klaus's forehead, eyes dilated. Five shelved the book and he spoke quietly, "I should leave."

Klaus opened his mouth to protest but Five had already vanished and with his absence, the ghosts faded away back into the bowls of the old house.

Five leaned back against the wall, and slid down it, burying his face in his knees. His face felt hot and he bit his lip, absolutely refusing to cry. Stupid thirteen year old hormones.

Klaus had laid bare his bloody past and leveled wondering eyes on him. Terrified, horrified eyes that seemed to stare accusingly into his black soul and ask plaintively, "Why?"

He didn't need to justify himself to his brother.

He didn't need too.

What he'd done had all been to save them.

But he had saved them and still the stains remained.

Another thought came to him.

Were they here now? Five looked up, eyes wide. Did they follow him everywhere? Did his literal mountain of corpses trail behind him like some twisted escort all the time? He does remember sometimes feeling a chill as if someone or something was watching him when there was no one. Was that them?

His breathing quickened, back pressed flat against the wall of his bedroom. The room felt too stuffy and hot and cramped and somehow seemed to go on for miles.

He needed a drink.

No, he needed to be drunk.

Five teleported away, stumbling into his father's office. With a snarl he dug through the cabinets till he found the stash of his best alcohol. He uncorked the bottle and drank, not even bothering to find a glass.

Well, all the glasses were back in the room with Klaus.

Klaus.

Five drank again.

He'd seen him for what he really was. A killer.

That shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

Five wished Delores was here. He stumbled away and with another flash of light he was on the roof of the academy. Another drink.

Would Klaus tell the others?

They all knew, he'd never made any effort to hide what'd he'd done.

But he knew they hadn't really comprehended it. They'd had to have the apocalypse practically shoved into their faces in order for them to realize that the end times was here and, oh yeah, they needed to stop it.

Five collapsed, hugging the bottle, shivering.

It was cold out here and the wind whistled as the sound of the city below filtered through the night.

Five knocked back another drink.

Luther would hate him. Ben probably already knew. Allison would try to be understanding and motherly until she discovered the true depths of what he'd done. He winced, thinking of his roll in perpetuating the Hindenburg disaster. Diego might not care, but then again, even if his moral code was flimsy at best- he still had one. Five hadn't in those years. He'd turned everything off except the thought of getting home to his family, of saving them.

Five knocked back another, and another.

His brain wouldn't stop working, it just wouldn't turn off.

He didn't know how long he was up there, but he does know that by the time he's finished the whole bottle, the moon hangs low over the horizon and he's so cold he feels warm.

He should've brought another bottle. Apparently one isn't enough to knock him unconscious these days.

Five dimly registers a creak behind him. He groans, "Who's it?"

There's footsteps and then a presence beside him, someone's hand ruffling his hair, "Hey, hey little man. I've been looking for you."

Five clumsily swats it away, "Go away Klaus." He tried to drink from the bottle before remembering that it was empty, "Don't wanna deal with you right now."

"Don't be like that, buddy."

Five still won't look at him. He croaks out, teetering on the cusp of something, "How can you bear to look at me?"

"What?"

Five angrily shoves the bottle away, watching it roll away to hit some old junk on the roof, "I killed s'many people." He scrubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, "I'm a cold... cold-blooded killer. And I don't even care." He laughed semi-hysterically, "I don't care that I- I murdered them all. I don't give a shit because in the end we stopped the apocalypse. No one that I cared about actually died."

Klaus stills as he realizes Five has just done the equivalent of professing his undying love for them.

Five sniffed, "M'not drunk enough for this." He pushed himself to his feet, or tried too, but Klaus gently pressed down, Five falling back onto the floor, "Oh no. You've had enough. Vanya will kill me if you die from alcohol poisoning at the ripe old age of fourteen."

"M'fifty-eight." He lurched to his feet successfully this time, "It'd be better for everyone if I did drop dead anyway."

Klaus stood, attempts at calming him falling to the wayside, "Hey! Don't say that!"

"What? S'true." He clenched his fists, "All I'm doing right now is dragging around my own personal ghostly procession."

Klaus swallowed. Five shuddered, "They're here now, aren't they?"

Klaus didn't answer.

Five's voice rose, "Aren't they?"

"Y- yeah. They are."

Five laughed again, lips thin, "Of course they are. Of course they are." He lurched towards the door, "I'm not drunk enough."

Klaus grabbed at his shoulder, "Hey, no. I think you've had enough."

Five snapped, "You don't need to feel a re- responsibility towards me. I've been fine on my own until now thank you very much."

Klaus didn't release his arm. Five snarled, "Let go!"

He looked ready too, but something seemed to stop him and he sighed, "No!" His voice took on a whine, "You know I can't do that."

Five clenched his hands and tried to teleport, he frowned when nothing happened, only blue ripples of energy in the air. Klaus laughed, "Ha! Common sense for the win! Who would've thought I'd be on that side?"

Five snarled, "Fine. Have it your way." He stomped towards the door.

Klaus followed hastily.

Five finally slowed down to balk at the stairs. He swallowed queasily. Klaus sat down, "Cool your jets there, big man. Can't keep up."

Five, thankfully, decided to sit as well, leaning his forehead against the cold wall, hands wrapped around his head.

Klaus tried to think of what Allison would say. He wet his lips and spoke cautiously, "You care... you care about not caring. I think... I think that's got to mean something."

Five looked at him, shoulders hunched as he retracts his arms, "You think so?"

His next words were whispered, almost too quiet to hear, the whiskey making him far more truthful than he ever was, "...I don't know how you can stand to be around me. I'm a walking murder scene."

Ben smacked Klaus's shoulder, "Give him a hug now."

Klaus glared at him. His meaning was clear.

"He's too drunk to kill you."

Klaus sighed and subtly wrapped his arm around his little-old brother's back, and pulled him close, "...It's worth it, buddy."

Five felt so small and thin suddenly, and so very cold from the night air, shivering slightly, fingers slowly winding around the lapels of his extravagant coat.

For a moment, Five really felt like a kid again.

It was still hard to accept that his brother was actually a significant amount of years older than them, that he'd lived a whole lifetime without them, only to return to them looking just as he had when he'd left.

It was hard to remember that on the good days.

It was even harder to remember now, as Five slumped against him, breaths evening out into sleep.

It was fine, until his butt went numb. He glanced to his left, whispering harshly, "Ben! What do I do now?"

Ben shrugged.

Klaus groaned, "I can't carry him. I'm not Luther."

They both looked at each other. Ben raised an eyebrow, "Now that's a thought."

Klaus spluttered, "How? Luther's downstairs!"

Ben shushed him frantically as Five stirred against his chest mumbling something about Delores. They waited until he settled and then Ben spoke, "Do you think you can make me corporeal again? Then I could go get him."

Klaus swallowed and then nodded.

Luther hefted Five up gently, his head lolling against his chest, mumbling sleepily against his coat. Klaus brushed himself off, Ben fading away into the ether. Luther frowned, "You probably could've just had Ben do this."

Klaus blinked, "Oh!"

He gave Luther's shoulder a pat, trying to deflect, "You do have brains in there after all!"

Luther huffed and started down the stairs, "How did he end up like that anyway? Five isn't exactly..." he fumbled for words, "The most affectionate person."

Klaus shrugged and waved nonchalantly, "He's drunk."

Luther shook his head, "No, I've seen him drunk. He's... he doesn't..." He seemed frustrated that he couldn't find the right words as Klaus opened the door to Five's bedroom, "This is different."

Klaus frowned, opening his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue-

"How can you bear to look at me?"

He closed it and then pasted a carefree and indifferent smile on his face, "No idea, big guy, but okay."

Luther gently placed him down on the bed, Five mumbling and then rolling over on his side. He looked so small and young, dark lashes resting against round cheeks, the traces of baby fat still lingering around his jawline.

Luther stared at him before saying quietly, grudgingly, "Diego was right, he does like younger when he's sleeping."

Klaus cocked his head and Ben spoke only to him, "He looks peaceful for once, you mean."

Luther turned to go before asking, "You coming?"

Klaus opened his mouth to voice his affirmative, but what came out instead was, "Nah, I think I'll stay here for a bit. Make sure he doesn't go on walkabout for more of Dad's stash."

Luther nodded and left, softly closing the door behind him.

Klaus stood there, wondering why on earth he'd said that before moving forward. Ben smiled slightly as Klaus sighed and then proceeded to remove Five's shoes, muttering as he pulled the blanket up and spreading it over his brother gently.

Klaus sat down beside him and waited.

He wondered how many times Five had woken up alone, in the apocalypse, in a ruined world all by himself.

Maybe he would stay here, and make sure he didn't have to wake up alone again.

Klaus ended up falling asleep, drooling on Five's bedcovers, gangly legs spread out across the floor.

Five woke up to a bad hangover and a weight by his legs. He wrinkled his brow, wincing at the pounding in his skull and looked down. His expression softened at the sight of his brother. He couldn't seem to muster up any annoyance however.

The apocalypse was over.

Surely it wouldn't hurt to stay in bed a little longer?

Five closed his eyes and slept as the sun rose, glowing golden orange over the horizon.