Note: I was struck by one of the Richard Siken lines in a tumblr post and ended up with 2700 words. This is unedited. I just need to post and be done with it or I never will. Stops at 4x13. I can't decide if the quote as section break is cheesy or not, please let me know what you guys think. Also my brain is like a sieve and I spent half the time writing this looking up videos and becoming confused at the convoluted mess that TVD storylines were even back when they were good lmao.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

At first, she is far away, too far for even his enhanced senses. She is merely a title - 'the doppelganger's friend'. Then a flash of blond waves, a cheerleader's uniform. He notes her for her worth as a chess piece, the feint to his second play. He sees that Mystic Falls friendships run deep and he uses the folly of it to his advantage.

Plans within plans within plans and he bares his wolf teeth in victory.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

She's there, in the school, and how perfect it is, for here is another to press deep on the witch's pressure points; to find a way to make his hybrids live past a few desperate gasps before the light dies in their eyes. Her voice blares warning and he dismisses her concern with a dose of reality, not bothering to look up as 'love' spills from his lips. He knows her face well by now, does not need another study. He remembers - before the hybrid ritual when he watched her talking with the pup in the cellar, her quick mind making connections and his own name rolling off her lips. He treasured the fear in her tone, and he is glad she is here now to witness his triumph. He has noted the hand that reaches out to soothe Tyler's feverish brow. The two must dream themselves star-crossed lovers, the Romeo and Juliet of the supernatural world, mortal enemies drawn together. By his hand, if truth be told. They should be thanking him.

And so he layers plans within plans within plans to test a new hybrid's loyalty.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

He hears the death rattle of her breath as he rounds the corner into her room. Her hair clouds on the pillow and the shadows loom deep on her face as she speaks:

"Are you here to kill me?"

It's an odd question, for she knows well the cut of a werewolf's teeth is fatal, but he thinks that she says it as a condemnation, that she wields the only weapon she has, her esteem. He admires her fire and thinks that maybe this one should be spared, that there are lights that should always be allowed to shine.

There is a reverence in his hand as it sweeps aside the thin blanket she's pulled over the mark of his hybrid's loyalty. Oh, she doesn't have long, he thinks, as he eyes the angry red weals that mar her creamy skin. His anger at Stefan rises up in a flare for a moment, for look at what his erstwhile friend made him do, to use this chess piece so brutally.

It's nothing personal, he says, and he still believes it. For now.

She shifts, and the light catches on a bracelet, some hideous, common, semblance of jewelry that has the aesthete in him crying out in horror. He fingers a charm and thinks that it does not suit her in the least.

"You have to adjust your perception of time when you become a vampire, Caroline." And he knows then, when he says those words, that he will let her live should she so choose. But indeed it should be her choice, for there is a part of him that looks back on the boy he was and dreams of the comfort of cold earth cradling his bones. It is a small, secret part of him and he cannot believe he speaks of it now to her. Perhaps it is her spirit that calls to him, perhaps it is that darkness that he sees simmering underneath the skin, he's not entirely certain.

All he knows in the moment is that he sees her wrist and that damnable bracelet and thinks she should have a chance to wear the finest jewels.

So he chooses to give her a choice, knowing which one she will make, closing his eyes and breathing out in a rush at the beautiful monster's fangs closing upon his wrist.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

Although Klaus misses the spirit of centuries past, modern day does offer a world of convenience at his fingertips. Klaus brushes a hand across the tulle of the evening gown he ordered that morning and had a hybrid pick up in Richmond. He imagines the color vibrant against her skin, his birthday gift sliding down her arm as she crooks an arm through his. He thinks that he should show her his paintings, no, he wants to show her his art. Wants to see her face light up with the same fire as when she claimed her life from his blood.

Later, he eyes her across the floor's expanse and drinks her in, those moments before her gaze snags unwillingly on his caught forever in his memory. Her hair falls in delicate tendrils to frame an elegant neck. Her eyes dart about, taking in the glamour of the evening, and he sees the nervousness that creeps into her gaze. He wonders then about her past, about what she's seen, where she's traveled, what dreams slide beneath the sheets with her as that golden hair fans out on the pillowcase. His hand twitches with the urge to paint her.

He dances with Miss Mystic Falls and admires her carriage. Her elegant, long-fingered hand is clasped delicately in his own, and their movements are fluid. He finds himself looking forward to how she'll manage to insult him this time.

She clasps her shawl around her shoulders and he smiles at how human she still is. He remembers the rise and fall of her chest from her birthday, the convention of breathing another instinct remained. He can pinpoint the moment he stopped his own - on the run from Mikael, dragging Rebekah through the damp forest, mouths wet with blood from a recent meal. A rotted stump, a mound of damp leaves, a hand over Rebekah's mouth and his own breath held until he realized.

He shakes the reverie away and refocuses on the vision in front of him.

"Do you like horses?"

—-

He is not used to being rebuked, and he blames his surprise as much as anything for his attempt to try again. It is also a thing, a slowly growing thing, that there is something between them, and it's not just in his own head. So it's another attempt at conversation, and he delights at what makes it past the façade of disdain she armors herself with. He sees it slip as she looks at his drawings, her face awed. His heart does something odd just then, a little stuttering flip at her regard. He wonders what style would be her favorite, what painting would stop her in her tracks at the Louvre, the Hermitage. Would she pause at his own? Admire the depth of color that he spent days perfecting?

And then the moment is over and her eyes flash with anger and his own echo in fury and a line has been crossed. He grits his teeth to hold the roar in and only just stops himself from tearing his Botticelli mimicry in two. She is gone, then, the words an acid burning in the pit of his stomach. He leaves the study for a moment, pulling close to a brunette server carrying a full tray of champagne flutes. The glasses clatter noisily to the ground, but he does have the presence of mind to drag the server back into the room (mustn't upset mother) before tearing the man's throat open. Klaus spins the server around and the shocked scream cuts off abruptly, eyes dilating from the compulsion. Klaus' fury grows from his own sloppiness.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

He knows her role by now, his little blonde distraction, the baring of cleavage as she enters the bar almost comical in its obviousness. So when she makes a loop and heads right back out the door, he doesn't care that he's being lured. He follows with a spring in his step and a grin dimpling his cheeks, the thrill of the chase flaring brightly in his chest. He has a captive audience, he knows it, and he will use everything at his disposal to place the seeds of doubt in her mind. She can't be that great an actress - while she is too smart to be seduced by him (and oh at that line, the pang in his chest grows) - she doesn't realize the fundamental truth that familiarity breeds more than just contempt. But he feels the urgency, the time slipping away, and he wants to drink in whatever truths she will let spill from her lips, this fascinating creature with her bright smile that hides.

So captivated, he forgets the ruse for a moment. Forgets himself, forgets that the world is a betrayal, forgets that she cares nothing for him beyond a distraction. The pang in his chest twists into something darker, cold anger rushes through his veins as his dead heart beats double time to spread the poison of his rage.

And so he makes plans within plans within plans and tries not to think of her.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

He inhales sharply at the sight of Caroline in her red dress, hair up in perfect finger waves, for his imagination is vivid and he sees her on his arm in Chicago in the 20s. He pictures them in the corner booth as their eyes meet across their meal. He pictures her monster's visage receding, veins fading until her skin is unmarred except for the drop of blood that she licks off the corner of her mouth. She would have been a queen.

So he tells her so, and she rebukes him, and his patience is starting to wear thin, he admits, for it is not his nature to pursue. He manipulates, he seduces, he coerces, he forces, he plans, he tracks, but he does not pursue. So he tells her the truth as he sees it because he's tired of her hiding behind her sharp retorts and he sees to the core of her and why won't she listen?

So he continues planning his plans within plans and he tries not to include her in them.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

He smells the vervain and the rawness of her wounds and his breath is at her ear and he clutches her like a thing once lost and she is safe, she is safe.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

Her worry washes over him like a tidal wave, and oh god it is not for him but he lets himself pretend for just a moment because the words she says make it so easy. "Klaus is dead," and her voice breaks like she's mourning him and it strikes a match in his chest and the ember flares.

He cringes even as he says the words, for he knows better than to be this obvious. "You're strong, and you have a beautiful future ahead of you." He is surprised she does not catch on, blames her distress. He wonders if this is what it is like to truly embody a role, to be an actor upon a stage and feel as if the words were meant for you and not a character.. Because he kisses her and it is only as their tongues slide that he remembers this is not for him and never will be.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

It's easy to be a stalker when you have a team of sire-bonded hybrids at your disposal to gather information. He flaps the folded paper against his leg and grins - Caroline Forbes, journalism superstar. He simply must bring up her editorial diatribe on the vagaries of school lunches the next time she's sent as a distraction. Not that he disagreed that hot dogs were an offense against "both nutrition and humanity".

He spots the Miss Mystic Falls application on the corner of his desk and slips it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, smoothing his hair with a practiced flick. He should have eaten before he got dressed, and he rolls his eyes as he realizes he'll need to drink from a glass. It wouldn't do to show up to his first date with blood spotting his collar.

When he arrives he waits on the edge of the lawn to get the lay of the land. He sees Tyler and that wolf bitch, spots Elena - and there - there she is ordering her minions about like the queen she is. He watches for a moment, smile on his face as the staff scuttles away, chastened.

"And how am I doing?"

His heart warms at her answer and it is those moments, when she drops her guard, that add more fuel to his imagination's fire. Later she opens to him, as if…he is a friend and he wedges his foot in the door for he won't let it close, won't lose this traction. He opens up to her, because he sees the way her eyes change, disdain and hatred turning for just a split second to something warmer. He wants to see more of it, and so he tells her of the hummingbird. And if a part of him also loves that the whelp of a hybrid sees it all, hears his speech and sees the way her eyes change, well then, isn't that part of the plan?

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

His rage is cold and calculated and moves around inside his skin. He shoves Carol Lockwood's head under the water of the fountain and for a moment wishes he could do the same to Caroline, to be rid of her traitorous heart. To feel the life ebb away and know he will reclaim himself because he is tired of the lie he keeps telling and why does he keep that tiny shred of hope that lets him care? He feels Mrs. Lockwood's struggles lessen, hears the sound of lungs filling with water and he plans his plans within plans and if he wonders how he'll acquit himself with her for just a moment, it's a moment that swiftly passes.

Carol's movements cease and she stares the glassy-eyed stare of the lifeless, moments ago staring at the bottom of the pond while the brain sent panic signals through the nervous system and the heart pumped and the lungs pulled. Klaus lets go, stands, and lets the lie continue, trapped for now beneath cold fury.

I am the thing that is hurtling towards you…

His brother lies dead and his scream is not loud enough, can never be loud enough. He is trapped and he stares at the body of his brother, the smoke still rising from his corpse. Klaus spent centuries keeping them safe and now an impudent vampire and her baby hunter brother have killed that which he vowed to protect and there is no scream loud enough to contain his rage.

So when Caroline comes in she becomes part of the plan, you're just collateral damage, love, nothing personal. One does not live a thousand years without being able to make up a plan on the fly and her disdain is a punch in the gut already soured by grief but the taste of her on his lips almost makes him regret.

She lays there, a sense of déjà vu punctuated by her rasping breath. She speaks and his heart twists and reminds him of everything he is not and can never have and Kol's body lays as a sentinel on the edges of his vision and her words punch a hole in his chest. As he often does with her, he pretends, and he lets hope ask the question, even if his words are laced with doubt.

Her breath falters and her eyes close and her chest stops rising and his heart won't stop twisting and he is undone. She ragdolls in his arms and it takes her a few terrifying moments to start sucking at the punctures in his wrist but she does, and he combs her hair back and mumbles into her hair promises he always intended to keep.

Because he sees it clearly, the thing that has been hurtling towards him for a year now, the flaring in his chest, the twist of his heart. He sees it clearly and he is surprised, for he doesn't feel weak.