More unsavory tales from the so far canon crossover.

When Klaus picks up the phone on that random October day, he feels oddly sick. He is sure Caroline is alright, could hear Hope's murmurs in the background, but the screaming and sobbing of Caroline's daughters left him on edge. She'd asked him to call an ambulance, "tell them not to hurry, he's already dead." She took it upon herself to call Alaric's girlfriend.

He'd never liked the man though he'd worked hard to entertain his less dense line of questions. He found Alaric and Caroline's … connection, it was the only word his mind would consider, revolting, but he could see that the two were and would only ever be friends. Not even good friends at that, and so he tolerated Alaric's relationship with his family. Hope enjoyed discussing historical events with the man, and while Klaus did not, Caroline liked the fact that he was trying.

And that was good enough reason for him.

So when Caroline calls and tells him they found Alaric cold on the kitchen floor, he isn't sad, or troubled, nor terribly moved. But he does feel a little sick so he runs the gap between the houses, stopping only to step out of the trees. The back door is open, and he sees his daughter waiting patiently for him, leaning against the door and keeping a steady eye on his approaching figure.

Caroline had taken to dragging Hope with her to run errands, an attempt to work on the girl's social skills now that she wasn't in school. With her old black boots and old band shirt, which he made a mental note to take back from her, she looked nothing like the type of people Caroline interacted with and nothing like a girl that anyone would want to interact with. Klaus doubted that Caroline could make much progress with Hope, but he appreciated the sentiment.

"Does this mean we can finally leave Texas?" Hope asks, pushing her shoulder off the door frame when he arrives. "It's hot and I tire of the Alamo." No, Klaus knew, Caroline wouldn't ever teach his daughter how to properly socialize with the masses.

"Have a little tact, Hope, the man just died." She cocks her head at him, confused by his reprimand, but shifts to let him pass through the doorway. Caroline is sitting in the entryway, elbows on her knees and hands pressed to cover her face.

"Well, yes, that's tragic and all but it doesn't preclude us from planning for the future," she continues to argue behind his back, and he swears he can feel the beginning of a headache coming on. He's fairly certain that vampires, let alone hybrids, can't get headaches, but if it were to happen his child would be involved, he had no doubt. Loophole children always created more annoying loopholes, he and Caroline were experts on that topic.

The girls, Caroline would tell him from behind her hands, had arrived home from school and found their father. They'd attempted some risky magic and by the time she and Hope had arrived, Alaric was wielding a standing lamp like a weapon and a putrid shade of green. Caroline had stood stock still while Alaric waved the damn thing at Lizzy and Josie. Hope, not one for emotion, had taken his head off with a silver serving tray.

From day one, Caroline had no doubt the Hope was Klaus' child, and though she'd always lacked his charm, she was a quick thinker and not terribly sentimental. Caroline, normally excellent in a crisis, was not so good when the crisis involved family and death. Seeing the hesitation on her step mother's face had caused Hope to spring into action. A quick spell and she'd righted the situation while her stepsisters held each other on the couch and Caroline stood still as a statue in the kitchen.

"Call Dad and Alaric's girlfriend," Hope had pressed her cell phone into Caroline's hands, snapping her out of her trance. Caroline nodded and Hope had set off to clean up the mess that zombie Alaric had left. "Inconsiderate in life and even more so in death," she'd muttered, sweeping up glass.

Caroline was just glad that she'd had the girl with her. Lizzy and Josie were still attending school while Klaus lied to the state about Hope's homeschool education. Caroline had almost put her foot down at that but Klaus had told her simply and without room for argument, "if she wants to learn something, she'll figure it out. Headstrong children like her don't learn when you're shoving information down their throats."

Three Years Earlier

Klaus had pulled Hope from the school the girls attended when they had diagnosed her with autistic spectrum disorder at age 14. He had barely restrained himself from tearing out the throat of the condescending school psychologist. Caroline had dug her nails into his hand under the desk not wanting to clean up after him. Hope had frowned at the Pantone color cards she was sorting, a gift from her father.

"She shows trouble communicating and relating with her peers, lacks any understanding of figurative language and inference, and displays numerous compulsive behaviors. It's troubling that this hasn't been diagnosed earlier, but I'd recommend she start in the special learning program our school offers," the woman rattles off, peering at his daughter over a thick folder.

Hope had landed herself in school counseling when she broke a boy's tibia for making a lewd comment about Lizzy. They'd just barely managed to pass it off as an accident. Well, Caroline had convinced the school that Hope was standing up for her sister and the resulting break was an accident. Klaus had smiled proudly and given her an affectionate tap on the chin. Hope had shown a complete lack of remorse, or any emotion really, at the whole event and had been promptly sent to the psychologist.

"She's doing well in her classes, if I'm not mistaken, so I fail to see the problem," Klaus points out. Caroline's nails dig harder. Hope mutters another Pantone color code under her breath.

"She's only memorizing the answers and parroting them back. That isn't learning," the woman primly informs him as if he didn't know what learning was. He'd be impressed by her gall if she wasn't spewing complete and utter bullshit.

"I was under the impression that memorization was what all students did in this mockery of an educational system." Klaus sits back in his chair with a smug grin and levies an eyebrow at the sputtering school psychologist. "Do you have anything to add, Hope?" Oh, Caroline knew, this wasn't headed anywhere good.

"Our curriculum places Romeo and Juliet higher than Hamlet," Hope hums mostly to herself and Caroline rolls her eyes. The girl could play her father like a fiddle. Klaus slams his hands down on the arms of the chair, red moons from Caroline's nails still healing. The resounding crack of the wood breaking makes the psychologist jump.

"That's it, I'll not have my daughter schooled by ignorant fear mongers. Romeo and Juliet, honestly," he jumps up, "as if these children need more ridiculous notions about romance. And your special learning programs," he practically spit, "do you think I don't know how underfunded and ill staffed those are?" Hope gives the trembling woman a toothy grin, and follows her ranting father through the front office.

Caroline pauses, almost tempted to apologize for the destruction the two had left in their wake as her Southern manners insisted, but recalling the woman's condescending tone she can't find it in her to say anything. She collects the cards Hope had been flipping through and makes her way after them.

"Actually," she pokes her head back into the room, "I'll be removing my other two daughters from the school as well." There, solidarity.

By the time she gets to the car, Hope is picking up a pile of discarded clothing and putting it in the backseat. She doesn't seem particularly troubled, but Caroline can tell by the set of the girl's shoulders that she was upset.

"Am I like that?" Hope asks quietly. They'd been driving silently for almost 10 minutes, Caroline not entirely sure what to say but was still visibly fuming at Klaus for fleeing the situation. "Am I autistic?" Oh yes, Caroline was going to kill him.

"Hope," Caroline levels, "you're the most self confident person I've ever met. You make your father look like a withering flower. Do you honestly care if you're autistic or not?"

Hope puzzles over the question for a moment, "I suppose not. I like who I am, and considering I have to live with myself forever that's the only viable option."

"That's all that matters then," she cuts the ignition when they pull into the garage. "I love you, your father loves you even though he and your aunts and uncles suck at showing it sometimes, and your sisters love you. And Haley, she loves you too," Caroline admits. "And not a single one of us cares whether you're autistic or not. I mean, your father is a thousand year old psycho killer and most of us love him despite that, so you're in good company." Hope cracks a grin at that and gives Caroline a kiss on the cheek. Caroline can hear Klaus throwing things around upstairs.

"Go make some tea, I'm going to go rip your father a new one," Caroline hands Hope her purse. Hope bites her lip and nods, standing in Caroline's wake.

She takes her time climbing the stairs, hoping that every footstep sounds like the executioner coming to the block. God, she could kill him. He'd been thoughtless before, or, well, often, but this was a new low. He was much better at speaking and then thinking which had resulted in many a headache for her. He's still rattling about in their room and she pauses for a minute before flinging open the door.

"What the hell was that, Klaus? You think she can't be autistic because she's a hybrid? Or is it because she's your daughter?" Slamming the door behind her, she holds up a hand when he tries to speak. "You're acting like a child, Klaus, throwing a tantrum just because your own child isn't what you'd like her to be and I can't even begin to…" he cuts her off, already shouting.

"Fine, Caroline. She's autistic. She's got terrible communication skills, compulsive tendencies, and no understanding of human emotion and if those qualities make her autistic, so be it. But what does that change?" His voice drops when he hears the kettle whistle downstairs, a sure sign that his daughter could hear their argument. "Which of those things make her incapable of being treated like anyone else? Because she's also incredibly perceptive and unflinchingly honest; she's thoughtful and curious, and intelligent." His steam runs out toward the end of his argument, his pacing ceases and he sits on the edge of their bed, suddenly looking tired.

"She'll be treated differently because she doesn't see the world in the way that any of those morons want her to. Is this what parenthood is like," he looks up at her, his face somewhere between angry and lost, "debating what you think is best for your child with the anyone who thinks they have a qualified opinion?"

"Apparently," Caroline murmurs, dropping to sit on her shins and resting her cheek on his knees. "Sorry I yelled at you, I thought you were having superiority complex issues again."

"Not exactly unwarranted," he curls a piece of her hair around a finger and lets her play with the fingers on his other hand.

"I don't get it," she hums.

"Don't get what, love?"

"You're unexpectedly progressive sometimes, and then it's like you're in the dark ages. I totally thought you were angry about her being...you know," she's already tired of using the word and bringing on the implications it has.

"Caroline," he looks at her like she's grown two heads, "I'm a thousand year old vampire werewolf hybrid. Did you really think the word autistic scared me?"

Caroline takes the Josie and Lizzy on a trip after Alaric's funeral. She doubts the house will still be standing by the time she gets back so she calls Freya. Leaving Klaus and Hope with his older sister makes her feel a little better. It wasn't that she didn't trust him to run the house, he'd certainly been doing the forever, it was that he often turned a blind eye to Hope's actions.

Like the time she'd planted greens all over the rooftop because she'd read that it would help with global warming. Or the time when she had to climb into the walls of the house because she'd just finished House of Leaves and it was apparently plausible enough for her to check. Klaus had accused Caroline of "censoring" Hope's creativity, pleased as punch when Napoleon's battle plans scattered the dining room table.

It was nice that the two were thick as thieves, but it proved to be a constant worry for her. She's determined not to worry for the next few days though, and Freya is more than happy to visit her brother and niece.

She doesn't want to take the twins out of the country, they're only off of school for 4 days, so Klaus recommends Savannah. It's on the water, he points out, and there's enough going on that the beach isn't the only thing they'd have to do. He's right, of course, it's the perfect choice.

"So," Josie asks one morning when the three are sprawled out on the beach, "are you and Klaus ever going to, I don't know, get married or something?"

"At least exchange promise rings," Lizzie nods.

Caroline splutters for a moment, "why is Klaus and I getting married suddenly on the top of your asking list?"

"Just curious," Lizzie says brightly.

"Isn't that what people do when they're madly in love or whatever?"

"Things are different when you're like us, I don't think...wait, did you really say promise rings?" Caroline pulls her sunglasses down. Promise rings? Klaus, who had played a significant enough role in raising them that they should know better than to ask a question like that, and her exchanging promise rings?

"Well, I don't know," Lizzy huffs, "that was just what they did in Romeo and Juliet." Caroline suddenly understood Klaus' intense hatred for that particular play being taught in school.