Klaus doesn't take you back to your house. He gives you a flat look when you ask why.

"Someone decided that staying inside their lovely home wasn't worth it, so now their home is unprotected." You're too tired to argue.

"Whoever did that must be really dumb."

"Yes," Klaus says without missing a beat. You can almost pretend that everything is normal. "She is."

"Ouch."

"I hope you didn't expect me to coddle your decision," he says, raising an eyebrow, "You've caused quite a bit of trouble for me, let alone Kol and Rebekah."

You wonder if Klaus can hear the way your heartbeat stutters.

"Are they okay?"

Klaus looks at you for a slow moment. His face shutters into that blank expression.

"What did they tell you?"

His tone makes you hesitate. You tell him anyway. "They mentioned the daggers," you admit, "And the coffins."

"I see."

His fists grip white on the steering wheel.

"What else did they tell you?"

You really, really don't want to say. You wonder if you could get away with it. (You know you can't).

"… That you killed your mother."

A snarl rips out of him so loud you jump.

"I should have killed them in that house," he growls.

"That bothers me less than the other things you've done," you admit. Kol's revelation still haunts you. You're not a vengeful person, but your mother has also never tried to kill you. (You figure an eye for an eye is fair with matricide).

"Does it?" He asks and doesn't continue.

"I would have found out eventually," you say eventually, "One of you would've slipped up."

"And they would have regretted it," Klaus says under his breath. You still hear it.

"It's not their fault," you say sharply, "I'm the one who agreed to leave the house."

"And they're the ones who left you unattended. I fail to see your point."

"They don't deserve the blame. Or the punishment."

Klaus's eyes flash with bitter understanding. "Ah. You're worried I'll hurt my family."

His tone makes you pause. You briefly think you've overstepped.

"I did not dagger them for my own amusement," Klaus says after a moment, "I care for my family. I do not, generally, wish to harm them."

"Then why?" You ask, because you have no self-preservation. At least not with your nerves strained like this. Worry thrums in your veins.

Klaus is silent for a long moment. The turn signal clicks loudly and the street recedes behind you until you're surrounded by trees. You don't recognize the road.

"I daggered them for our protection. Our father was turned into a vampire as well. He hunted me for killing our mother, for being a bastard. He hunted us because he hates vampires, despite being one, and wishes to extinguish our species."

"But that's impossible, isn't it?"

Klaus laughs humorlessly.

"I'm afraid it's quite possible. We discovered when one of us dies, every vampire we've ever sired dies with us."

You don't ask how they discovered that.

"I'm sorry," you whisper because you don't know what else to say. The unease coiled in your gut unknots for a moment. Strange sorrow takes its place.

"It's quite alright," he says and his smile is cruel, "I got my revenge."

The unease reknots. You shiver. You're grateful you didn't meet the Mikaelsons under worse circumstances. (Doubtful that anyone has ever gone against them and had a good life afterwards).

Or lived to tell the tale.

"Does that mean you'll leave Kol and Rebekah alone?" You eventually ask.

"I never said that," he says sharply, "They need to face some kind of consequence for allowing you to be kidnapped."

"No they don't," you argue, "You don't get to punish people whenever you want. Especially not your family."

"Why not?"

"Because family isn't meant to hurt each other!"

Embarrassingly, your voice cracks. You blink away the wetness that's collected in your eyelashes and turn to look out the window. It's a stupid thing to say, let alone to someone whose mother tried to kill him and father hunted him. Stupid thing to say to someone who you suspect killed both of his parents. Klaus's gaze bores into the side of your head. You hope he doesn't ask, hope he doesn't dig his fingers into the first wound he finds. You rub your temples and suddenly feel the weight of the exhaustion you've been suppressing.

Klaus is quiet for a moment. "If it means that much to you, I will."

You can't stop the scoff that escapes you.

The Mikaelsons are exhausting.

"You shouldn't refrain from hurting your family because I ask, you should do it because you love them."

"I don't appreciate the implication I don't love my family."

Your eyes close unwillingly.

"That's not what I meant."

"Please tell me what it is you meant, then," he snipes.

"I meant that people who love each other shouldn't hurt each other."

There's a beat of silence.

"I was not serious," he finally says, "About daggering them for this indiscretion. Even I would not do that."

Your muscles unknot.

"It's not funny."

"I know," Klaus says, "Forgive me."

You give him a tight smile. It wasn't a joke. You still hope he's telling the truth. You so badly don't want to be right about the Mikaelsons, want to ignore all the warning signs in order to keep them in your life. Maybe, you think, you've just been too lonely for too long. You feel yourself cracking under the weight. Klaus is silent as he pulls into a long winding driveway. You crane your neck to look out the window.

"Is this where you live?"

"Yes," Klaus says, allowing you to change the subject, "I had it built for when I could finally wake up my family."

"Ah."

He puts the car in park and there's still a strange tension.

"Klaus," you say finally and he turns to look at you, "I want you to know that I consider you and your family friends. But…" You struggle for words. You've known you've been in over your head for a while, but this is the first time you've felt the entirety of what that means. You feel ocean waves crashing over you as a riptide pulls you out to sea.

Drowning is imminent.

"You didn't ask for any of this," Klaus finishes for you. You huff a laugh.

"That's understatement of the year," you mutter before continuing, "Part of me thinks I'm making a terrible mistake."

"You are."

"I'm surprised you admit it."

"I know what I am," he says simply, "But I also know that it's too late for you."

You glance at him, hesitating. You have that feeling you get around Klaus quite a lot, the one that says you're not going to like what he says next. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he says, looking at you with dark eyes, "That we aren't going to let you go."

A chill runs down your spine and you pause for a moment, oscillating somewhere between dread and an unknowable feeling that gathers inside of you. Klaus's eyes bore into yours and you can't find it in you to look away. You had held some hope that you could still get out of this. (Most of you, you think, realized the truth a long time ago).

You have no idea what to say. You almost never do.

Klaus looks at you unfaltering and you're struck with the creeping knowledge that the two of you need to have a talk. "Is it weird I find that kind of comforting?"

He breaks into a wide, sharp smile and doesn't answer. You have to lean your head back on the seat.

Eventually, Klaus speaks.

"Come," he says, "I'm sure my siblings are rather impatient to see you."

"Oh." You hesitate. You want to see them.

You're so tired.

"However, perhaps it's best," Klaus says slowly, offering you an out, "If you don't see them tonight. You've had enough excitement for one day."

Some of that strange feeling softens into gratitude.

"Thank you."

His lips twitch like he wants to smile. He doesn't.

Klaus manages to escort you in without being spotted. Or his siblings are avoiding him and his wrath. He takes you up two flights of stairs and hesitates outside of a door.

"You're welcome to sleep in another room," he says, turning to you, "But you're likely to be accosted by at least one of my siblings. You'll be safe here if you wish to stay. I understand if you don't."

You hadn't expected this, but you nod anyway. It's best for tonight, anyway. Especially considering the conversation you need to have.

"Thank you."

Klaus eyes you for a moment before opening the door to his bedroom. He has a four-poster oak bed with silk sheets. It's too big for one person. You gaze around at the myriad of paintings on the wall. Rebekah was right when she said her brother liked to paint.

"Did you do all of these?" You ask. You turn to see Klaus watching you. He doesn't move to look away.

"Yes," he says, "These are only a few. Many of my paintings have been lost to time."

You wonder what it's like being so old that your possessions decay before you do. You shift.

"Is there a bathroom in here?" You ask, only mildly uncomfortable, "There unfortunately wasn't a shower in the Salvatore's cellar."

Klaus's lips twitch into something resembling a smile.

"I imagine so. There's one over there. I suspect you need a change of clothes?"

You didn't even consider that. You just want to be clean.

"Please," you say and then reconsider, "Don't take something from Rebekah, she'll never forgive me."

"My sister is territorial," Klaus says, amused, "I'll get you something."

You give him a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

You feel odd showering when Klaus is in the main room. You forget the feeling when you finally get to wash your hair. Klaus has more products than you do. You suspect Rebekah has even more. (There's cedar-tobacco shampoo tucked in the corner. You use too much of it). There's a stack of fresh clothes on the counter when you get out of the shower. You didn't even hear him come in.

Your underwear is a lost cause, so you put on the too-long sweatpants Klaus left for you. They're well-worn and soft from a hundred laundry cycles. You wonder if the Mikaelsons do their own laundry. You doubt it. Water drips from your hair onto the floor. It starts to curl around your face.

Klaus is by the door when you reenter the bedroom.

"-just let us see her," you hear Kol say.

"She's tired," Klaus states and you hear the annoyance in his voice, "She wants to be left alone."

"She's not exactly alone," Rebekah points out, "If she's with you."

You sense rather than see Klaus's bared teeth. "I have special privileges."

"You've barely seen her the past few weeks, I'd argue I have privileges as well."

"And yet I'm the one who found her. What's that phrase?" Klaus ponders, "Finders keepers?"

You roll your eyes, despite not being part of the conversation. You suspect they know you're there anyway. (How sensitive is Vampire hearing, you wonder).

"Nik, stop being an arse."

"I'm far from being one," he says cryptically, "And you can thank our dear baker for that. She's the one who argued that the two of you should escape consequence for your actions."

There's quiet for a moment and Kol murmurs something you can't hear. You hear something about 'tomorrow morning' and they leave. The room is silent.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop, you know," he says. You snort.

"I think if we compared manners, I'd come out in the lead."

"Still," he says, "You're not being a very good example. I thought you wanted me to be more polite?"

"I'm starting to think you might be a lost cause."

His lips twitch like he wants to smile.

"Is that so?" He murmurs and steps closer to you. Klaus looks at you and you're suddenly hot. You still need to talk to him. (It's hard discussing anything with someone who sees the world as a game and he as a winner).

"Is there anything we can do about my house?" You ask, changing the subject, "I know I broke the original spell."

Klaus shakes his head.

"We could renew the spell, but there's no point. The Salvatores know where it is now."

"They're not going to hurt me," you argue.

"Perhaps," he says, "But there are those who know the Salvatores who wouldn't hesitate to use you against me."

You suspect Klaus has made enemies of more people than you've met in your entire life. Some of your exhaustion shrinks to make room for irritation.

"So, what? I stay here forever?"

"Yes," he says simply and you desperately wish you could smack sense into him.

"I am not staying here. I need my own place."

"Why?" He says, like he doesn't see anything wrong with what he's proposing, "We have the room."

"Because I need space. I can't just be a Mikaelson family add-on."

He frowns, lines deepening around his eyes.

"You wouldn't be."

"Yes, I would," you argue, because you know you're right, "You all would get bored of me and I would become too dependent on you. I would lose all sense of self."

"We wouldn't grow bored of you."

"No argument for the rest of that sentence?"

Klaus is silent and you eye him critically. Klaus, for all his schemes and all his years on earth, is remarkably immature.

"I could keep you here," he says and it's almost a threat. Unease runs up your lower back. You tilt your head.

"How is it you're a thousand years old and still act like a child?"

You barely get a glimpse of his snarl before he has you pinned to his bed.

"Careful," he warns.

"Get off of me!"

"Why should I?" He mocks, "Since I'm acting like a child."

"You can't trap me here, Klaus," you bite out, struggling against the brute strength of his grip. If Damon was like iron, Klaus is the inescapable weight of gravity.

"Why can't I?" He asks, head tilting, "I can compel you. When's the last time you had vervain?"

You freeze. He's right above your, hair almost falling into your face. There's no hesitation in his eyes.

"You wouldn't," you say.

"Wouldn't I? I'm capable of more than you know. The Salvatores delivered the scarcest details of my crimes. Did they tell you what I did to the doppelgänger's family in Bulgaria?"

"Shut up."

"I was going to sacrifice her to break the curse my mother put on me," he says with a cruel smile, "She ran and I killed her entire family."

"Good thing I don't have one then, isn't it," you say harshly, "Now get off of me now."

Surprisingly, Klaus obeys. You stand up. Distantly, you notice you're shaking with rage. This isn't how you intended to have this conversation.

"I will say this once, and only once," you say in a cold, flat voice, "Don't treat me like that ever again. I don't care what you're capable of, or what you've done. What I care about is how you treat me and the people I care about. Stop being an idiot. You will not trap me here; if you try, I can guarantee you will never see me again."

"How would you stop me?"

"I'd find a way out," you say simply, "Or I'd kill myself."

Klaus balks and you relish in the flash of horror that crosses his face.

"Don't say that," he snarls and he looks uneasy, "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

Klaus straightens and he looks at you for a long moment. He doesn't say anything.

"Klaus…" You start. Your anger evacuates you. Cold replaces it. You wish it had stayed, it would make this easier. "Sometimes I think you and your family are the dumbest people I've ever met." He bristles, at that. You ignore him."Not in a technical sense, of course, but you all seem to think I'm special and different."

"You are," he counters and you're already shaking your head.

"No, I'm not. I could name a hundred people just like me that I know personally. They're all just people, doing their best and trying to live their lives. I'm a common story, Klaus."

Klaus actually growls at that.

"You forget that I've met a millennia more humans than you have."

"When's the last time you actually talked to one? Besides me, when's the last time you had a meaningful conversation with someone who didn't already have any preconceived notions of what you are?"

Klaus looks at you blankly and the coil inside you deflates.

"Klaus you need to talk to someone," you say, because you get the sense you could do anything and Klaus Mikaelson still wouldn't hurt you, not really, "Professionally."

He smiles and not one hint of it is nice.

"You're a psychology major, are you not? I don't see why our little conversations don't count."

"You mean besides the fact I'm your friend and I never got my Masters?" You ask blithely. Klaus scowls and examines you for a long moment. (You haven't gotten through to him, you can tell. Maybe one day).

"You call me an idiot," he states, "And yet you ignore the crimes I've committed."

"Well," you say, "I've been told I'm an idiot too."

Klaus looks at you for a long time. You realize you're done with this conversation. Your exhaustion returns in waves.

"I'm tired," you say abruptly, "Let's go to bed."

He moves as if he's about to leave.

"Where are you going?" You ask.

His brow furrows. "I thought…"

"I'm not going to kick you out of your room," you continue.

His expression wavers between hesitation and that strange, blank expression you sometimes see. Eventually, he gets under the covers. He sleeps on the right side of the bed, you note. You get in on the left.

"Goodnight," you say when he turns out the light. You settle under the thick duvet. You can feel his body heat before he wraps an arm around you.

"I'm glad you're not hurt," he says after a moment, "I don't know what I would have done if you were."

"I'll be fine," you promise, stroking his hand with yours, "I won't let anyone hurt me. Even you."

Another moment passes. You think you feel Klaus press a kiss onto the top of your head. His arm tightens around you instead of letting go. You let go of a shuddering breath. You pull the duvet over your shoulders and fall asleep.

I know you've all been wondering what the timeline for this fic is but i need you to know that there isn't one. My brain is just putting together a mis-match of events that I remember happening. You're just along for the ride ;-)