Hi, all! I don't make a habit of long author's notes, so please bear with me.

I don't have a beta, so I'm not sure how many of these BEGINNING changes from canon are self-explanatory in the chapter. So just to make things crystal clear:

- Elena never undaggers Elijah; instead she tells Klaus about his betrayal and delivers Elijah's body to him as requested, offering herself up as sacrifice in exchange for the guaranteed safety of everyone she cares about.

- At Elena's urging, Klaus compels Damon to stay in the Salvatore basement until after the ritual. Elena and Stefan still have their "last day" together, but Damon is stuck in the basement the entire time.

- While Elena's visiting Damon in the dungeon to say goodbye, he force feeds her his blood. John still sacrifices himself to bring her back as a human instead of a vampire.

- Unwilling to take any chances, Klaus instructs his flunkies to capture Tyler and either a random vampire or human (to be turned if necessary) as second string sacrifices. Due to basic ineptitude, that vampire ends up being Caroline despite the fact that she is on the "do not kill" list. Klaus has absolutely no idea

- The first string sacrifices are used instead. Some random person is captured and turned as the vampire. Jules as the werewolf. Greta as the witch performing the ceremony.

- Matt, Alaric, and Jenna take it upon themselves to kill the witch guarding the second string sacrifices (Maddox) and break Tyler and Caroline out. Without Damon there, this goes even worse than in canon. More details in the story…

Yes, after a certain point, I'll start cherry picking story plot points because why not? I'm already breaking canon, so I'd might as well have fun with it.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious. A thousand years of enemies, many of them witches, should have braced him for the curse that took hold the moment his wolf side was unleashed.

A mate bond. Perfectly natural, though extremely rare, for a werewolf, but a half-vampire? Particularly one as old as himself? If there had been a true mate, she had lived and died long ago. It would have taken the lifesblood of an entire coven to force a new one.

The perfect revenge. To, at the height of his success, saddle him with an unavoidable, crippling weakness, and no one left to kill when he discovered it.

He could feel the magic burning through his skin as he rode out his otherwise unpleasant first transition, enveloping him in warmth like the embrace of a needy lover. His typical response would have been to snap its neck, but since it was magic, rather than an actual, corporal annoyance (and, besides that, with all the shifting body parts, he was quite incapable of anything at the moment), all he could manage instead was a frustrated snarl, half human and half beast as his vocal chords transformed.

The bond filled him with an unwelcome sense that everything would be alright, not necessarily because of his own strength, but because somewhere, someone existed who would love nothing more than to caress his hair as his bones snapped. To whisper encouragement in his ear as he gritted his teeth through the maddening pain of his first transformation in a millennia. To hold his head on her lap as his internal organs rearranged, accepting every part of him, even those pieces he'd had no chance to explore himself.

Foolish. Pathetic. Naive.

His own brother would have killed him tonight if the doppelganger had not saved him the betrayal out of fear for her friends.

He shoved the impressions violently to the back of his mind, instead focusing on the way his sharp wolf teeth pierced his still human gums. The fact that it was no longer just blood permeating his sense of smell, but grass, and trees, and the salty stench of human sweat. His sweat, he realized.

His body seemed to no longer be completely dead. It felt as though he were running a fever, and he wondered briefly whether it was the transformation, the onset of the mate curse, or simply the fact that he was no longer accustomed to a body temperature warmer than a headstone, other than directly after a feeding.

He could figure it out in time.

The change finished.

"Well?" Stefan asked accusingly, standing uncomfortably straight. "Is it everything you thought it would be?"

Yes. And no.

The air was crisper now. The leaves crinkled louder beneath his fee- um, paws. Every sound and smell a wonder to be explored. He felt so… connected. Nearly complete, save for the aching chasm in his soul he could now understand. His mate was still out there somewhere. If she wasn't a werewolf, she had no idea he existed. Good. Let's keep it that way, shall we? Even as he thought it, something inside him rebelled at the idea of never even attempting to find her.

Searching his memories and feeling nothing noteworthy toward anyone he could think of off the top of his head, Klaus concluded his mate was no one he knew. Good. It bought him time to speak to one of his witches about breaking the bond before it properly formed. An expendable witch.

The doppelganger gasped as her heart began to pump blood through her veins once more. Klaus had already assumed they had some plan to cheat her death, likely vampire blood, but he didn't care so long as he got what he wanted.

Not a vampire, he noted with some interest. Even Elijah could find no sure way to achieve that. I would do well not to underestimate this particular witch. What did they call her? Bonnie?

At the doppelganger's rasping breaths, the Bennett witch crawled to her side. She'd been forced to step in when the newly turned vampire acquired from behind the Mystic Grill attacked and drained his backup witch, Greta. That took some… persuading.

"Lena?"

Stefan leaned in place. "Is she…?"

"Human," the witch responded with a relieved sigh, then turned her attention back to the teenage girl. "Hey, hey, it's alright. It's over."

The instant the witch declared the ritual over, Stefan collapsed to the ground with a groan.

Oh yes, I told him to stand aside until the ritual was over. Oops. Still, Klaus didn't particularly feel remorse. If he'd learned anything over the centuries, it was not to underestimate the vast stupidity of one in love. And the Ripper did tend to get quite impulsive when given the proper motivation. It was one of the reasons they used to get along.

"You did well. Klaus doesn't need us anymore." Though she could hardly sit up herself, the witch pulled the doppelganger's head onto her lap, stroking her long hair just as his mate bond had suggested someone might do with him, though this particular touch hardly struck him as romantic in nature. Simply kind. Unassumingly loyal. It was enough to elicit the faintest, jealous rumble from his chest. Elijah.

Klaus had deluded himself into believing unleashing his wolf was all he wanted.

Even without the unexpected whisperings of the mate bond, he would have realized in that moment that it wasn't.

Always more. Nothing is ever enough. He was a selfish creature. But was it truly selfish to wish for a family of his own? Like the one this girl had found? Apparently, the universe thought so.

Suddenly, the witch's eyes turned accusingly to him. "That was the deal, right? You're part werewolf again and we get to live our lives?"

Klaus would have laughed if he could have. Instead, he let out a quick huff. As though he could properly answer in this form. After so long, it was a miracle he was anything but instinct, but it seemed the witch could somehow sense he was still himself.

He made his way to the pair on four strong legs. So limber. Powerful. The still helpless doppelganger eyed him, her fear apparent from both her expression and her scent. Ignoring her, he watched Elena.

I spent 500 years chasing Katarina, yet you came to me willingly. You even thwarted an attempt on my life. One good turn deserves another, I suppose. I will allow you to continue your life without further interruption. In fact, I will leave town at my earliest convenience.

However, given that she was still the living doppelganger, Klaus planned to keep tabs on her. His own little cage-free pet. It was in his best interest to keep her alive. After all, she was by far the most compliant doppelganger he'd ever met. Markedly less prone to backstabbing.

He was sure one or two of her friends would accuse him of breaking his word, but the deal had simply been for him to leave them unharmed. In fact, given her helpfulness, he thought he might gift her with something extra. Something he would not have considered, were it not for how particularly magnanimous this victory had left him. In addition to protecting her, Klaus would instruct any of his spies to, when possible, extend the same courtesy to that list of loved ones she'd provided when they struck their initial accord.

He might have been more subtle, were he able to speak. Instead, he gave her cheek a flat lick, leaving the hint of his scent on her. We may never meet again, but make no mistake. Your life is still mine.

She swallowed, then weakly nodded.

He wondered if she truly understood what he had meant. Either way, there was a bravery in how she faced him he couldn't remember seeing in Katarina. A kind of terrified acceptance.

The shifting of magic in the air told him the witch understood well enough.

But she said nothing, and he had more pressing matters to attend to. The moon shone brightly and the wildness of the forest called to him. So he ran.

And as he left, he heard the Bennett witch spit out one single word. "Bastard."

You have no idea.

In lieu of another failed laugh, Klaus let out a joyful howl.

Finally, he was completely himself.

The two days he spent in the forest were exquisite. He could remember every kill. Rabbits, deer, a pair of ducks, three raccoons, one squirrel- just the one; he found he didn't particularly like their taste-, a few hikers… The rush of the hunt was more fulfilling than the bloodlust of his vampire side. Earned. More natural than… parasitic, perhaps?

Or maybe just fresh and exciting, as hardly anything could be after a thousand years.

Whatever the difference, he'd loved it. But he had a new curse to investigate, and- Oh. Oops, again.

A Salvatore brother to free from three days of compulsion. Or was it four?

I imagine he's not very happy about that, Klaus thought to himself, more amused than anything else, and practically strutted his way to that decrepit little hut they called a house. At least it was the annoying one he'd trapped in the basement and not Ripper.

Half a day and a few compulsions later, he was finally well away from the insignificant little hellhole of supernatural drama called Mystic Falls and sitting in the living room of one of his younger, less powerful witches. Instead of concerning himself with the Salvatores and their ridiculous accusations that some woman from the doppleganger's "do not kill" list was dead because of him, he wondered who on earth taught this witch how to make tea, and whether that person was still young enough for him to track them down and show them the proper technique using their entrails instead of tea leaves. Not that they would ever learn that way, but it would make him feel better.

He sipped his sad mockery of a drink, grimaced, and sat it back down. And they call me a monster.

The witch came back into the room. A redhead, with eyes that wouldn't meet his. She sensed his predator. At least that might provide some entertainment.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've tried everything in my grimoire, but I can't find anything that suggests you're under a curse. Are you sure?"

Useless. Probably dull.

The smell of that bark she'd burned as a last-ditch effort still assailed his now hypersensitive nose.

"Are you questioning me?"

"W-Well… Um… No, I just…"

Klaus delighted in the way she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders with no conscious decision to do so. After all the "witch problems" he and his family had endured over the millennia (one of which, he had just broken), the ability to completely petrify one with so little effort was always a treat.

He leaned across the table and her pulse raced, prompting a toothy grin. "I have been in this body for a very, very long time. I know it, and I know my own mind. I have been cursed. Again."

"Maybe i-if you told me what kind of c-curse, I could-"

Well, there was no harm. The tea had sealed her fate, anyway. "A forced soulmate bond, of werewolf origin, I think."

She sucked in a breath. Began to tremble. Then, she burst into tears.

Maybe not so stupid after all.

She was right to assume that with such information, there was no way she would live out the day.

Four witches.

At least number five knew how to make a cup of earl gray. He reclined lazily against the uncomfortable metal slab that passed for the back of his chair while she simply watched him and waited. She was old. One, maybe two decades left even with magical extension. She smelled of death. Yes, this one he could kill without much thought of waste.

"So, what will it be this time, witch? Because if you tell me to wear a necklace of beets strung on fresh-woven wool- which for some reason I had to do, by the way- and soaked in frog-infested water by the light of a waning moon, I'm afraid to inform you I've already tried that."

And he had the change of clothes to prove it. He burned the old ones. Along with the house. And the witch.

"And it will not be happening again." Ever.

"... You've had quite an adventure." The old woman cocked an eyebrow with a wry smile. "That will teach you to visit some two-bit fortune-telling hack before those with more experience just because you think they might taste better."

Oh, he liked this one. That was a shame.

"Or wait…" She closed her eyes, then shook her head. "Four? Really? And each more useless than the last."

A mind reader? Those were extremely rare, even among witches.

"Yes. Unfortunately for me, I am. Or fortunately, depending on how you look at it."

There was no way he could allow her to live after spending even this much time in a room with him. But as he thought that, she didn't seem afraid. Her face and posture didn't change in the slightest. Interesting.

Klaus straightened up and regarded her closely. She was nothing much to look at. At a certain point, every old woman looked the same. It was an age he and the very few he cared about would never reach, hardly ever fed on, and generally ignored.

"Such a charitable appraisal. Everyone grows old, you know." The corners of her lips folded into her cheeks with her smile. "Oh, wait. I forgot who I was talking to."

Smiling a little, he took another drink of tea. He really did like this one.

Her clothes were slightly soiled with use, not necessarily from poor hygiene, but from age. Her button-up blouse was patterned with at least five contrasting colors of flowers that legitimately threatened to give him a headache if he stared too hard, despite the fact that he was part vampire, which should make such a thing impossible.

The shirt alone was both a travesty and a marvel.

"So picky. What, are you an artist or something?"

He just looked at her, curious to see if she could answer the question herself. It was an interesting game.

"Wow." Her eyes widened enough that he could see that the lids drooped. They would never open all the way again. "And such beautiful work, too. Who would have ever suspected?"

"Well, one gets bored."

"I guess a thousand years of practice will yield those kinds of results… But you were good from the start, you know."

"Flattery won't spare your life, witch."

"It's not flattery if it's true."

"Hm." He honestly wasn't sure whether to thank her or not.

For a while, they just stared at each other in almost companionable silence until she thrust both her hands out, palms up.

"Hands." She demanded.

"You know I've already determined you aren't senile, right? We can skip the identification-of-basic-objects part of our introductions."

"Smart ass." Even so, she smiled honestly, and Klaus wondered what kind of clearly intelligent woman with all her mental faculties would have such a pleasant conversation with her fated killer.

Her answering sigh rhasped painfully through dried-sounding lungs. "Fine. It's been bouncing around in your head for a while now. If you must know, it isn't decades. It's weeks. It will be painful, even with magic."

"I'm sorry," Klaus said, and was shocked to find that he meant it.

"No need. I have you."

That may have been the first time in decades someone had been happy to see him.

The witch chuckled. "Congratulations. Now hands."

He placed his hands on hers with no feelings of unease, which immediately gave him a feeling of extreme unease. The woman gripped them and tisked.

"Just sit still for ten whole seconds. Mate bonds and curses both give off a different kind of energy. I may feel one, or both, or none, but I need you to stop being so skittish."

If it had been decades since someone greeted him thankfully, it had been centuries since anyone other than Elijah or Rebekah told him off like that. He found himself so flabbergasted that he obliged instead of ripping out her spine.

"Thanks. That doesn't sound like something I want to experience."

… Damned mind reader.

She chuckled and he mentally cursed again, this time in his mother tongue.

After what was definitely more than ten seconds, she let him go, and he wiped his palms on his thighs, thoroughly disconcerted. This entire experience was bizarre. "Well?"

"I know you plan to kill me, but at least promise it will be quick."

I'm not going to like this answer, he concluded, a sense of foreboding hanging heavy over him.

"No."

He sat back and crossed one leg over the other. Considered the old, dying woman in front of him and the way her forehead wrinkled at the thought of a painful, immediate death. "Have you made things worse?"

"I've changed nothing. I'm afraid I'm just the bearer of bad news, and you don't usually take that well."

"Hmm." She's learned this much in such a short time. He would have to remember to avoid witches with this power at all costs in the future; they were too dangerous even to enter his employ. "Speak the truth, and your death will be as painless as a thousand years of practice can make it."

"I couldn't ask for better." She took a deep breath. Twisted the sapphire and filigree ring around her crooked finger. "It's a legitimate mate bond. You have no curse."

Everything inside Klaus seemed to stop. No. No, that can't be. I can't allow it. For the first time since his father caught up to himself and his sister, he knew true dread. He stared his humanity in the face, and it burned, sucked the very strength from his twice-supernatural body.

"Fine," He managed in a perfectly calm voice without a single change in his expression. As though it mattered in this company.

"That's it?"

"... How about a drink?"

Her eyebrows raised. "Top cabinet. I can't reach it anymore, so it's aged. I'm not sure it will be to your standards, though."

He shrugged. "I could use it, either way."

She nodded at that, wisely keeping her thoughts, or more precisely, the echoes of his, to herself.

The witch was right. When he saw the label, he knew it wasn't to his standards, but at least it was better than some bars stocked. And it was timely. A mate. A true mate. No. This can't happen. He found a pair of whisky glasses in the neighboring cabinet and completely filled them both, setting hers in front of her so she didn't have to push herself up, likely agitating aching joints for a pointless endeavor. She wouldn't need to feel that pain again.

They drank, and his mind wandered. To this woman, it must have been like watching a fascinating movie, because her expressions shifted frequently and she said absolutely nothing, seemingly content with the experience simply being near him provided.

"Nikklaus."

He nearly beheaded her with a plate on the counter at the sudden sound of his full name on unfamiliar lips.

She raised her hands. "... I think you should give it a try. The mate."

His only response was a low growl of displeasure. He went back to his thoughts, and he supposed she went back to them, too.

In the end, Klaus drank two glasses of bourbon to her one and he snapped her neck before she could feel a thing. Then he poured himself another.

The bit of charity after such an unnerving encounter almost made him feel human again. A kind of dull, distant ache.

But it was no matter. She said he had a mate. A legitimate, real mate. The other witches, the useless ones, insisted he had no curse. The two pieces of information added together sensically. And somehow, if Klaus believed anyone, it felt like it would be this strange old woman whose name he silently refused to learn.

So there were only two options left to him: he could avoid this mate (this not his) and hope she wasn't immortal (or at the very least had a poor sense of self-preservation), or if he did find her, he could kill her.

He wondered what the witch saw in his head to think otherwise. Maybe it was one last trickery before her death. After all, he was a dangerous man. Perhaps there was some descendant she was trying to protect by weakening him.

Either way… He surveyed the body, and that awful, glaring shirt that may legitimately find its way into what few dreams he had burned into his retinas. If there was someone she meant to protect, I don't feel like hunting them down. Not today.

Klaus didn't shatter his glass against the wall like he felt like doing. In fact, he even closed the door on his way out.