Basically how I feel about this nasty Steroline June wedding. I was fine with Steroline for a while but it erases Caroline's character development and that's extremely frustrating.

For two years it had been absolute hell- absolute pain . He hadn't known it was two years, not then; there was no concept of time.

Sometimes he was able to think past the pain, think something other than, 'this hurts.' That's when it became simply 'hell' and not 'absolute hell'. He can't remember much of it, or at least tries not to, but he thinks he thought of those he loved.

Except, then the pain would take over again, and he would realize there is no such thing as love, and if there is, he doesn't deserve it.

The first time he saw something past the utter blackness, past the world without light, he thinks it was a child, someone who had once been important to him. He wasn't sure at the time, because it was distorted, a thick red tint over it. Along with the fact that he doesn't know her - why doesn't he know? Isn't he supposed to know these things? Whatever the case, the girl seemed too tall, even with no memory of her. No memory - not of anything. Before he could try to look closer, the pain grew worse than it had ever been, and he thinks he may have screamed out loud.

The next time he sees something, it's a man whose skin is dark behind the tint, and the man, he thinks, is one who is cruel. Pain overtakes him once more.

He has many visions succeeding this, each clearer than the last.

The first time he heard something, it was so quiet - it was gibberish, he couldn't understand, not for the life of him. Perhaps it should be for the death of him, because this must be hell. He knew it was a deep voice - deeper than anything he had ever heard. Maybe that was because he had never heard anything before. Did he really have a life before this? He can't remember.

She has blonde hair, he thinks; he can't be sure. Then he hears a horribly distorted voice, and he feels something other than pain - fear. A desperate, chest-crumbling fear. The woman's voice - Care.. Carolina? He doesn't know - he just doesn't know. It was a twisted voice, twisted and cruel, as if the devil were speaking to him. He lets the pain overcome him this time, lets it in, allows it to force the sound out of his ears, entitles it to shove the vision of her out of his head.

He doesn't try again, doesn't ask for a vision. It just comes to him this time. It's so much clearer than any other vision he's seen - and the voice, he could understand it, he could listen to it without ice coursing through his veins. He sees a brunette woman shoot up from a mattress in a plywood room, with metal going up the sides. She screamed, she was screaming a name, and he didn't know whose it was- it felt familiar, like it had been on his tongue many times before. A child suddenly woke next to her, and reached a hand out.

He was sure he screamed this time, screamed so loud it reached the world beyond - the world he may have once been a part of, as well as other worlds, worlds he would never know. The pain was so bad; he had no sense of body - no sense of who he was, or what he looked like. He didn't even know that he was a he, and yet he knew he had stopped breathing - he knew his heart had stopped, and yet he remained, suspended in a never ending pain.

He also knew there were tears running down his face.

It would never end.

He was right, in believing it would never end. The pain got worse as time went on. He learned, or remembered, his name was Niklaus Mikaelson, he was officially the second most powerful being on earth, and his parents were dead. He had once been a viking and is over a thousand years old. He had six siblings, and four that were alive. He had broken his curse and become the true hybrid - half werewolf, half vampire. He had met Caroline Elizabeth Forbes, former Miss Mystic Falls, and fallen madly in love. He had also met Hayley there, the mother of his child.

Now he was here. He was here in a bricked in room which used to hold his art, a knife completely inside his body, his flesh screaming with pain, his desiccated veins rubbing together as if they were sheets of sandpaper grinding against one another.

It was okay, though. He'd dealt with much worse. This? Well, this was for his family. Besides, he'd found a way to distract himself. He had learned to control his visions, as well as throw himself into some sort of meditative state.

The meditative state was something he turned to when he was feeling guilty, or feeling that he should be guilty. He reviewed every bad thing he had ever done, over and over again, until he wished for death. Every time a spark of hope would ignite within him, he would snuff it out. He did not know whether it was Papa Tunde's blade or him doing this.

When he wasn't torturing himself, he spent his days watching those he loved, and even those he hated.

Watching Hayley was stressful, if not boring. She drove a lot, drove from one obscure location to the next. It had been three years and she only had 5 of the pack's venom.

Watching Hope, well, that just made him sad. Not at first, though. No, at first, seeing her had been a relief, and brought nothing but joy. But then he just became angry he was missing it. He was missing his daughter growing up. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

His fist clenched- making it the first time he'd been able to move in three years- when he realized that maybe it is fair; maybe not being able to be there when Hope turned five was punishment for his infinite sins.

He watched Marcel, too. Watched him take over New Orleans, watched him become its leader in place of Klaus- in place of the man who had raised him. It pained him to see his son leading. Not because he hadn't ever wished great things for Marcellus - no, it was because he had gone mad. He talked to Davina- and not praying. He offered her bourbon and set a place at dinner for her. He once again led by fear, only this time, there were strange rules, rules which had no point. He, once again, enforced these rules mercilessly. Death to all who dare defy the prince of the french quarter. Marcellus also came to Klaus' tomb, spoke to him. Asked for advice, and laughed every time, saying that he doesn't know why he was even asking in the first place, Klaus was never a good leader anyways. And then he would break in, and lift a defenseless Klaus by the neck, sprinkling vervain on the floor and placing him back down, laughing at the screams of his father, laughing at the smell of his burning flesh. Then, he would reclose the tomb. As for the Mikaelson home - the home in which his child was supposed to grow into a woman - well, Marcellus was allowing it to fall to ashes around Klaus.

He spent a great deal of time watching Caroline. He swears sometimes she seemed to sense his presence, looking up as he 'tuned in'. He watched as she raised her daughters, laughed - on the inside - when she accepted the history teacher's proposal, and screamed - screamed out loud when she accepted Stefan's.

This was all wrong. She doesn't belong with Stefan. He erases all of the work she'd put into herself. To the Salvatore boy, she served as a filler, a mere echo of Elena Gilbert.

When he screamed, she opened her eyes, pushing away from Stefan's kiss, looking around the room, bewildered. Somehow, Stefan didn't hear it- but Caroline had.

"Klaus." She breathed out, as if he were air she needs desperately to breathe in, breathe out.

Klaus wanted desperately to claw the blade out of his chest, as his father had, and run to Caroline, telling her how wrong this was. Except, he can't. He knew his family's state was linked to his. His release would wake his siblings; therefore, resuming their deaths.

Perhaps it wasn't necessary. The girl, the woman, in front of the man confused as to why she had stopped kissing him, pushed off completely, shaking her head.

"Stefan, I have to go."

"Caroline-"

"I'm not saying no… I just need to do something, check on something." Stefan reached out for her, but she flinched away, and he pulled his arm back, hurt.

"I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as possible. I love you." She kissed him, leaving the room swiftly after.

Klaus thought something must have happened physically, for the panic he felt was too intense - more intense than when Hope had been captured by a wolf pack Hayley was trying to contact.
Caroline could not come here, not looking for him. Marcel would kill her on the spot - perhaps even if she didn't mention his name.

There was nothing he could do to stop it, the more he screamed, the more determined she seemed to become, her hands tightening on the steering wheel until her knuckles were white.

He focused on the pain, let it eat him alive. Allowed it to serve as punishment for bringing Caroline Forbes to a certain death.

Let me know what you guys thought! I could continue this but I have a lot of other fics going at the moment, and I really just needed to get some anger out about the engagement, so I'd have to have a lot of reviews on this.

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