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. . . you are my sunshine . . .
He keeps the patch of her skin with her birthmark on it inside a small white jewelry box.
Klaus needs reminders - of things he’s lost, things he’s punished himself for, things he refuses to let himself forget. He’s a mix of sadism and masochism, sometimes, he’s too much of an Aries. Ruled by mars, by anger, by rage.
He’s not like other people. Once he starts screaming, he doesn’t know how to stop. Because here’s the thing about the original hybrid, he’s not a good a person.
(And that mangled skin means something to him.
It’s how he chooses to never forgive himself for letting her die.
It’s how he ends up spending too many nights away from home).
―
. . . my only sunshine . . .
Marcel checks in on him, constantly.
And if he weren’t a friend, Klaus swears that this would be a nuisance. But sometimes, when he’s not busy leaving dead bodies by Hayley’s grave, drinking blood until he’s vomiting, creating wars within wars - it’s nice.
His friend (once foe) comes in like a soldier, and treats him like he’s fifteen and stupid.
Klaus tinkers with the letters she left him, with the words she wrote down but was never able to say to his face.
“Klaus?” Marcel whispers, and the vulnerability in his voice makes him wanna scream. “Are you here?”
It makes him wanna pack up his bags and runaway.
God damn it, he was such a train wreck.
―
. . . you make me happy . . .
Rebekah calls him, incessantly.
He closes his eyes and there’s blood on the floor. He closes his eyes to fall asleep to the sound of his sister’s sweet, soft voice ―but all he hears is crying. He can’t sleep, he can’t fucking breathe.
“Nik,” she whispers, and her vampire hearing is honestly such a damn curse sometimes. Because she can hear the tears dripping down his cheeks. “Where are you?” Rebekah wonders, as she pictures his blonde hair matted with dirt.
Mixed together.
“I don’t know,” His voice is hoarse. And he wants to focus on his sister, on how sweet she sounds ―how sane. But instead, he blows smoke out from between his lips. He feels like death.
“Brother, please don’t,” Rebekah breaks, her perfectly manicured fingers twirling around the phone cord. “Don’t do it, just hold on a little longer,” she begs.
(He laughs, his little wolf would’ve begged in the same way now, wouldn’t she?)
He hangs up with disregard, remembering the fact that Hayley Marshall had died with another man’s name on her tongue.
―
. . . when skies are grey . . .
Mystic Falls hasn’t changed much.
Klaus wanders through the streets and spots familiar house fronts. The same woods he and Elijah would play hide-and-seek in. The same caves where he and Rebekah would tells stories by a small fire. The same trail of muddy wolf paws that he and Kol used to study.
The original hybrid follows them, with no obvious intent whatsoever. He was just mindlessly trailing after them, searching for any semblance of balance. In truth, he’s afraid, terrified that one day…the mother of his child will become nothing but a memory.
(The wolf appears before him and he knows that she is Hope. She had been missing for a bit and Klaus knew she was either with Freya or rolling about in the forests with the other animals.
He knows his daughter, she is the same as he is, truly. And yet, she is also the picture perfect imagine of Hayley. The she-wolf also had the tendency to turn back to her original form during hard times.
He knows one thing for sure.
Old habits die hard).
―
. . . you don’t know dear . . .
After that, Hope the wolf follows him, obliviously.
Klaus looks back and just realizes that that girl could kill him, if she wanted to. His daughter has enough power to destroy him. One way, or the other, she could make sure his reign of power is interrupted. His thoughts are dark when all of this makes him think that she’s a liability.
Just like her mother.
“Well, well, well,” he whispers to her instead. “Look at that, you’ve finally come to your senses, sweetheart,” the creature makes a sad little noise at his words.
She knows all the ways he starts to inflict pain on others. This is how he pushes people away. Klaus’ attacks are never direct, they are subtle, manipulative, and hurtful. As always.
The wolf is resilient.
“Seeking advice from your dear old man, on how to deal with grief? With loss?” Klaus mocks again, laughing.
She blinks twice, big doe eyes looking up at him.
He watches her as she lies her head on her paws, whining. “My dear,” the hybrid begins again, softly. “I wish a thousand years had taught me something,” he releases, slowly. “But, I’m afraid…it never gets any easier.”
The wolf turns away at her father’s final words, cursing him for good.
―
. . . how much i love you . . .
It takes him a few days to finally touch her.
And he has nightmares, he can’t turn to murder or to pills, or to the bottle this time. Not when his daughter is staring at him with those eyes. So instead, he takes the current when it serves.
The wolf snuggles up next to him as he sleeps.
Her eyes are a mix of amber, yellow, liquid gold and fire. It makes him realize just how much she looks like her mother.
―
. . . please don’t take my sunshine . . .
The wolf never asks to stay. She just wanders into his room at night and makes herself at home. Almost as if she’s been there for years. He can’t believe the bloody little thing actually followed him back to New Orleans. It makes him wonder why the stupid hollow curse isn’t acting up.
Maybe it’s a loophole. Maybe it’s life finally giving him and his daughter a break.
(She sneaks into Hayley’s old room - what used to be Kol’s room - and Klaus is not shaken by it at all. He doesn’t tell her to leave, nor does he invite her to stay. He just accepts her presence in his life.
He’s not close with Hope, he never really was.
He wonders if this is Hayley giving him a second chance at that. He scoffs, she always did believe in him with a truly unbridled faith that only a fool could possess).
―
. . . away . . .
And one morning, he wakes up and the wolf is gone.
It’s weird. He knows that he’s not accustomed to her presence enough to consider it a loss, and yet, he had grown fond of having her around. There was some trail of normalcy to the way the creature watched him as he painted his masterpieces, how she nuzzled his hand when he came home from a killing spree, how she smiled when he hummed along to the radio in the morning, while making himself some pancakes.
Klaus then notices muddy paw prints turning into foot prints and he follows them.
To his surprise, there is a brown haired girl sitting in his living room. She has the television remote in one hand and the other is wrapping a blanket around her nude frame. She catches his gaze and swallows hard.
“It’s…” Klaus exhales loudly, in shock. “It’s you,” He finally says, walking towards Hayley.
“Yeah,” the she-wolf nods, shyly. “Hope and Freya brought me back,” she tells him, in a matter-of-fact tone. As if he should know this, as if it is general knowledge that the mother of his child, the love of his life…is back from the dead.
“But, how? You died, your body turned to ashes, right in front of me!” Klaus exclaims, sounding horrified.
She pauses and looks around the room. He doesn’t know what she thinks of, but her sudden smile tells him that it’s something funny. “My daughter is the only witch hybrid known to existence,” she simply says. “Her powers are extraordinary,” Hayley smirks.
She’s a Scorpio, through and through.
The most manipulative and deceitful sign out there. It isn’t exactly breaking news that when it comes to lying, Scorpios excel in ways that no other sign can even rival.
(But the thing with Scorpios is that they’re so damn good at lying that even they have a hard time telling fact from fiction after a while).
“I should’ve known,” he mutters, “Why didn’t you say anything?” Klaus asks.
“I was scared,” Hayley admits. “Klaus, I died and came back to life…for like the third time,” she reminds him, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want it to happen again,” she finally sighs, drawing her knees closer to her chest. Her arms are wrapped around them tightly.
She was still so shaken by it all.
“I will never let anyone hurt you,” Klaus whispers, a hand wandering over hers. Cold fingers resting over her palms. “I won’t lose you,” he reassures her.
She looks in to his ocean blue eyes, and sees a tsunami of affection, care, and love.
“Thank you,” Hayley tells him.
The brush of his thumb against her lips feels like a promise.
“Welcome home, little wolf,” it kills him, he can’t wait a second longer.
He pulls her in for a kiss. And without conviction, she kisses him back.
―