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Chapter Text

“Forever is a promise we never really get to keep.”

Present Day: Mystic Falls

So much time had passed, but Stefan found himself back in Mystic Falls. After thirteen years away, the town looked both familiar and foreign—like a place preserved in amber, waiting to haunt him. The old clock tower still loomed over the square, the streets quiet in the humid night, and yet every corner carried a ghost of his past.

It hadn’t been his decision to return. If it were up to him, he would have stayed in New Orleans, where—for a fleeting moment—he’d found peace. Him and Klaus had shared a life together, raising Hope with Hayley. It was chaotic, yes, but it was theirs. A family. For the first time in centuries, Stefan allowed himself to believe he deserved that kind of happiness.

Until it was ripped away.

The Hollow destroyed everything eight years ago. Hope was only seven then—bright, willful, too clever for her age. Stefan could still picture the way her paint-stained fingers clung to her father’s hand as the truth came crashing down. Klaus and his siblings had made the impossible choice: split the Hollow’s dark power between themselves, forced into exile from each other and, most painfully, from Hope.

Klaus had made the ultimate sacrifice for his daughter, knowing he could never risk being near her again. That meant Stefan had to step into the role Klaus couldn’t fill.

Stefan closed his eyes, remembering that night.

Flashback: New Orleans, 8 Years Ago

“Please, Stefan. Stay with Hope—and Hayley.”

The words hit like a blade slipped between Stefan’s ribs. They had built a life together these last five years—quiet mornings in New Orleans with coffee and jazz on the radio, late nights with whispered promises that forever could finally belong to them. They had raised Hope together; her laughter filling rooms Klaus once thought too dark to ever hold joy.

And now Klaus was asking Stefan to let it all go.

“I want to come with you,” Stefan said, his voice cracking around the edges, desperation bleeding through despite every effort to hold it back. His fingers twitched as though reaching for Klaus might anchor him, might change this. “How could I not?”

Klaus’s gaze softened in a way few others had ever seen. For a moment he looked almost human, not the infamous hybrid, not the king of New Orleans—just a man torn apart by love and fear. His hand came to rest on Stefan’s shoulder, grounding, heavy.

“Hope needs a father,” Klaus said quietly, his accent dipping low, weighted with grief. “And she looks at you that way. She trusts you. Be the man I can’t be right now. For her. For Hayley.”

The plea scraped against Stefan’s chest, hollowing him out.

“Klaus—” His voice was barely more than a whisper, cracked and unsteady, everything he’d ever wanted to say condensed into that single syllable.

But before he could argue, before he could even breathe in the weight of the moment, Klaus was gone—swallowed by the night, by the inevitability of his own curse, by the cruel destiny that always seemed to demand sacrifice.

The silence that followed was deafening. Stefan stood rooted in place, the warmth of Klaus’s hand still burning into his shoulder, phantom and fleeting. The night air stung in his lungs, and for the first time in years, he felt the familiar ache of abandonment coil around his ribs.

Present Day: Mystic Falls

He hadn’t just lost Klaus that night. He had inherited something far heavier: a promise, a family, a future he had never dared to imagine.

What could Stefan do, other than honor his wishes? What could he do, other than build a life on the ashes Klaus left behind?

And now, years later, Mystic Falls was supposed to be that life. A school for Hope. A roof over their heads. A safer future. Stefan wondered if he’d ever stop feeling like a man living someone else’s story.

The morning sun slanted through the windows, scattering golden light across the kitchen. Stefan leaned against the counter, nursing a mug of coffee that had long since gone cold. Across the table, Hope Mikaelson sat with her long legs folded under her, sketchbook open, pencil tapping against the page in distracted rhythm.

“You know,” Stefan said, breaking the silence, “the whole point of breakfast is actually eating it.” He gestured at the untouched plate of toast.

Hope arched an eyebrow, the same expression Klaus used to wear when someone tested his patience. “I am eating,” she said dryly, twirling her pencil. “I’m just… eating later.”

Stefan smirked despite himself. “That excuse didn’t work for me when I was your age either.”

“You didn’t have me as a daughter,” Hope shot back, a spark of mischief in her tone. And then softer, almost shyly: “Sorry. As your… whatever I am.”

Stefan’s chest tightened at the hesitation. He set down the mug and crossed to sit across from her. “Hope,” he said, steady and sure, “you’re my family. That’s not up for debate.”

Her blue eyes flicked up at him, like she was trying to decide if she believed him.

Hayley swept in before the silence grew heavy, pulling her hair back into a loose braid as she rummaged in the fridge. “She’s stalling because she doesn’t want to go to school,” Hayley announced, her voice teasing.

Hope groaned. “You promised you’d ease up this week.”

“I also promised your dad that you would graduate high school,” Hayley set down a container of cut fruit with a grin that was all motherly exasperation. “If Stefan’s going to play the good cop, I guess that makes me the bad cop.”

Stefan chuckled, the tension breaking. “I’m fine with that arrangement.”

“Of course you are,” Hayley said, tossing him a piece of melon like they’d done this routine a hundred times before.

Hope rolled her eyes and stabbed her fork into the melon. “You two are ridiculous.” But her smile faded as quickly as it had come. She pushed the fruit around the plate, her voice quieter now. “The kids at school don’t like me.”

Hayley’s brow knit instantly. “What do you mean they don’t like you?”

“They… they look at me like I’m some kind of freak,” Hope muttered. “They whisper. They know I’m different. It’s not like I can hide it. I’m the only one like me—the only tribrid. Everyone else has their ‘thing.’ Witches, vampires, werewolves. But me? I’m all of it. Too much of it.”

The weight in her words hit Stefan harder than he expected. He’d been there before -- alienated, set apart by what he was. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, speaking gently. “Hope… kids don’t pull away because something’s wrong with you. They pull away because they’re intimidated. You have more strength in your pinky finger than most of them have in their whole body. That’s scary to people who don’t understand it.”

Hope looked up at him, doubt shadowing her big eyes. “So what? I’m just supposed to be okay with everyone being scared of me?”

Hayley reached over, tucking a stray curl behind her daughter’s ear. “You’re not supposed to be okay with it. You’re supposed to rise above it. You’re not just powerful, you’re good. That’s what matters. They’ll see that eventually. And if they don’t? That’s their problem.”

Stefan gave her a reassuring smile, the same one he used to practice on his brother in rare moments of calm. “For what it’s worth, I’ve been where you are. Feeling like there’s no place for you. But then you find people—family—who don’t care about what you are. They care about who you are. You’ve already got that.” He gestured between the three of them. “Right here.”

Hope let out a breath, the edge of a smile curling at her lips. “Ugh. You guys are so cheesy.”

“Cheesy?” Hayley laughed, tugging Hope into her side. “That’s gold parenting right there.”

Stefan’s chest warmed at the sight of them.

Over the years, the rhythm between the three of them had become second nature: Hope pushing boundaries, Hayley setting them, Stefan quietly filling in the cracks where grief and absence threatened to swallow them.

But sometimes, in quiet moments like this, Stefan still felt Klaus’s absence like a shadow at the table—like the missing chair neither of them mentioned but all of them noticed.

Flashback: New Orleans, 10 Years Ago

Hope’s laugh rang through the Quarter like music, shrill and fearless, as she wobbled down the narrow street on her new bike. Training wheels clattered against the pavement, the tassels on her handlebars swishing with every uncertain turn.

“Keep pedaling!” Stefan called, jogging alongside her. He had one hand hovering near her back, ready to catch her if she tipped, but she was already racing ahead with the confidence of someone who had no idea she could fall.

Klaus trailed behind them, hands in his pockets, smirk tugging at his lips. “She’s a natural. Takes after me.”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “She takes after Hayley—stubborn as hell.”

Hope squealed, steering wildly toward the curb. Stefan darted forward, steadying her just before she toppled. His heart skipped, and for a moment, he wasn’t a vampire at all—just a man afraid of watching a child get hurt.

When she steadied, she looked up at him, face flushed with pride. “Did you see that? I didn’t even fall!”

“I saw,” Stefan said, smiling in spite of himself. “Pretty soon you won’t even need me running beside you.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Klaus muttered, though there was no heat in his voice. His eyes were soft, fixed on his daughter like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Later, the three of them ended up at a little corner shop, ice cream melting faster than Hope could eat it. She smeared chocolate across her chin, grinning as though the mess was half the fun. Klaus tried to wipe it away with a napkin, only for her to swat his hand.

“Daddy, stop!” she giggled, and then turned to Stefan. “Stefan can do it.”

That stopped him cold. Stefan knew she hadn’t meant it like that—Klaus was her father, that bond undeniable—but something inside him twisted with warmth, with ache. He wiped her face gently, pretending his heart wasn’t in his throat.

Klaus’s gaze shifted from Hope’s bright smile back to Stefan, a glimmer of something softer flickering in his eyes. For a heartbeat, Stefan braced himself—expecting the sharp edge of jealousy, the possessive streak he knew Klaus carried like a second skin.

But it never came. Instead, Klaus’s expression settled into quiet satisfaction, as though Hope’s quick fondness for Stefan was the only blessing he’d needed.

By the time they wandered back into the Quarter, the street musicians had started their nightly set, brass horns spilling jazz into the humid evening air. Hope tugged at Stefan’s hand, pulling him into the crowd. “Dance with me!”

Stefan laughed, helpless against her insistence. She twirled in her little sundress, arms flailing, curls bouncing. For a few minutes, there were no threats, no centuries of blood and grief. Just a girl, her father, and the man who would do anything for both of them.

Stefan looked over Hope’s head at Klaus. And Klaus was already watching him—something unspoken passing between them. Gratitude. Trust. Love.

That was the night Stefan knew: he might never have children of his own, but he already had a family. And Hope Mikaelson fit into his life so perfectly, it was as if the universe had meant it all along.

Present Day: Mystic Falls

The house was quiet; the kind of silence Stefan had come to appreciate after years of chaos. Hope had gone to bed hours ago, and the cicadas outside hummed against the thick Virginia night.

Stefan sat at the kitchen table with a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid catching the dim glow of the overhead light. He stared at it for a moment before taking a slow sip, letting the burn settle in his chest. It had been years since his last ripper slip, and he knew better than to take that for granted.

He owed most of that to Hayley.

When he first agreed to Klaus’s desperate request—to stay, to be the father figure Hope needed—he wasn’t sure if he could do it. His instincts had always pulled him toward ruin. But Hayley had been there through every difficult night, grounding him in a way no one else ever had. She had a fierceness that refused to let him wallow, but also a quiet understanding of grief that mirrored his own.

Klaus had always said Hayley was his beacon, the one he trusted above all else when he was lost. Stefan was starting to understand why.

“Can’t sleep?” Hayley’s voice broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, her hair loose, a casual sweater hanging off one shoulder. She went straight for the cabinet, pulling out her own glass.

“Just thinking,” Stefan said.

“Dangerous habit.” She poured herself a drink and slid into the chair across from him. For a moment, neither of them spoke—just the clink of ice and the soft hum of the night outside.

Stefan tipped the glass back a little too fast, amber liquid burning down his throat as it sloshed over the rim. Drops spattered his white shirt in an instant bloom of whiskey stains.

“Shit,” he muttered, grimacing as he dabbed at the spot, knowing it was useless.

Hayley’s laugh was soft but edged with something tired. “You’re a sloppy drunk,” she teased, one brow arched. “Just like Elijah was.”

Stefan froze for just a beat—long enough to hear the name settle between them, heavy as the silence that followed. He tried to play it off, shaking his head. “I’m not drunk,” he said, attempting a crooked grin.

“Mhhm, sure,” Hayley murmured, her voice low and knowing. She swirled the whiskey in her glass, eyes fixed on the amber whirl as if it might give her something back. Finally, her posture sagged, shoulders loosening in surrender. She glanced at Stefan, her gaze softening in the dim light.

“I miss him,” she whispered, voice breaking slightly as though the words had been lodged in her chest for years. “Elijah. More than I ever let myself admit out loud.”

Stefan didn’t answer right away. He watched her, caught in the rare vulnerability she allowed herself. There was no armor here, no weight on her shoulders—just Hayley, tired and aching, confessing to the ghost of a love she could never quite bury.

Stefan nodded. “I know the feeling. Every night I think about Klaus. How much he’s missing. How much I’m missing him.” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just filling in the gaps until he comes back.”

“You’re not just filling in,” Hayley said firmly. “You’re here. Really here. For me, for Hope. Sometimes I think you’re more of a Mikaelson than I am.”

Stefan shook his head, smiling faintly. “That’s crazy. You’re the one who holds everything together. Hope really looks up to you, Hayley. Everyone does.”

Her lips curved, a little sad but touched. She swirled her drink slowly, eyes glinting as they lingered on his. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Stefan shrugged, though his throat felt tight. “Not always. But maybe with you, it’s easier.”

The air shifted between them—something fragile, something unspoken. It wasn’t dramatic or sudden; it was subtle, the kind of moment that could be brushed off if either of them wanted to. But Stefan felt it, in the way her gaze lingered, in the way his chest tightened.

Eight years. That’s how long they’d been caught in this orbit—dancing around one another as if neither of them dared to name what was happening. Both of them impossibly lonely, each missing someone who could never really come back. He missed Klaus with a quiet ache that never seemed to dull, and Hayley—he saw it in her eyes, the way Elijah still lingered in her like a phantom she couldn’t shake.

And yet… in all the empty nights and endless days, they’d found each other. Not in the way he had ever planned, but in soft glances, in late-night drinks, in offhand jokes that always lingered a little too close to the truth. They had built a rhythm out of restraint—pushing just far enough to feel the spark, then pulling back before the fire could burn them. A game they both played, one neither of them ever won.

Stefan was careful not to cross any lines. But as the night stretched on, laughter mingling with shared stories and quiet sips of bourbon, Stefan realized something he didn’t want to admit before: he wasn’t just grateful for Hayley. He was starting to care for her in a way that went beyond friendship.

And that was dangerous.

Flashback: New Orleans, 8 Years Ago: The Night Klaus Left

The compound was too quiet. Klaus’s presence had always filled the air—commanding, impossible to ignore. Now it was gone.

Stefan lingered in the courtyard, his bag still sitting by the stairs, half-packed. He wasn’t sure if he was staying. He wasn’t sure if he could.

“Stefan?”

He turned at the sound of her voice. Hope stood a few feet away, pajamas wrinkled, stuffed wolf clutched under her arm. Her curls were messy from sleep, but her eyes were sharp—Klaus’s eyes.

“Where’s my dad?” she asked.

The question landed like a knife in Stefan’s chest. He forced a steady breath, crouching down to her level. “He had to go away for a while.”

“How long is a while?” she pressed.

Stefan faltered. How did you explain forever to a seven-year-old? “I don’t know yet. But… he wanted me to be here with you. To make sure you’re safe.”

Hope’s gaze searched his face like she could spot a lie if she looked hard enough. “He said he’d never leave me.”

Stefan’s throat tightened. “He didn’t want to. He loves you more than anything in the world. This—” he paused, lowering his voice, “—this is how he’s protecting you.”

Hope hugged the stuffed wolf tighter, small arms trembling. After a long beat, she nodded and whispered, “Then… will you please stay?”

That broke him. Completely.

“I’ll stay,” Stefan said firmly, because it wasn’t a choice anymore—it was a promise.

From the stairs, Hayley watched silently, arms folded. She’d been listening, weighing him, waiting for his answer. When Hope finally padded back upstairs, clutching her wolf, Hayley crossed the courtyard toward him.

“I’m taking her to Mystic Falls,” she said. Her voice was steady, decisive. “There’s a school there—Caroline Forbes runs it. It’s the safest place for a kid like her. She’ll be with kids who understand.”

Mystic Falls. Stefan’s jaw tightened at the name. Memories he’d buried surged to the surface—Damon. Elena. The blood, the guilt, the endless cycles of his failures.

“You know what that town means to me,” Stefan said quietly.

“I do,” Hayley said, softer now. “But… I don’t want to do this without you. Hope doesn’t want to either.” Her eyes softened, and for the first time since Klaus and Elijah vanished, her guard cracked. “We need you, Stefan. Both of us.”

Stefan looked toward the staircase, where Hope had disappeared moments ago. His chest ached at the thought of Klaus, of the look in his eyes when he asked Stefan to stay. Be the man I can’t be right now.

Finally, Stefan exhaled. “Then I guess we’re going back to Mystic Falls.”

Hayley’s lips parted in relief, though her eyes glistened with something unspoken—gratitude, trust, maybe fear.

Stefan bent to grab his bag. He could already feel the ghosts of Mystic Falls waiting for him. Damon. Elena. All the versions of himself he’d tried to bury.

But for Hope, for Klaus, for this strange new family he hadn’t expected—he would face them.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Mystic Falls, 8 Years Ago

The Welcome to Mystic Falls sign hadn’t changed. Neither had the town square, or the clock tower looming above it. The whole place felt frozen in time, like the years Stefan had spent away hadn’t touched it at all.

But for Stefan, every brick and shadow screamed with memory. Damon’s laughter echoing off the walls. Elena’s hand in his. The endless cycle of blood, guilt, and forgiveness that never seemed to end here.

Now he was back—not for Damon, not for Elena, but for Hope.

She pressed her face against the car window, wide-eyed with curiosity. “Is that the school?” she asked when the old boarding house came into view, its brick walls glowing warm in the late afternoon sun.

Hayley smiled from the driver’s seat. “That’s the one.”

Hope’s excitement cut through Stefan’s dread. The moment they pulled up, she bolted from the car, curls bouncing as she ran toward the gates. Caroline was already there waiting, her familiar blonde hair catching the light. She greeted Hope warmly, crouching down to her level with that same mix of authority and compassion Stefan remembered.

Hayley joined them, introducing herself. Stefan hung back for a moment, taking in the sight of Hope smiling—actually smiling—like she belonged. Maybe this really was the right place.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He stepped away to answer.

“Klaus.”

The voice on the other end was sharp, familiar. It made Stefan’s chest tighten.

“I’m in Italy,” Klaus said without preamble. “Florence. Trying to keep myself occupied.” There was a pause, softer now. “And to keep my distance. For her sake.”

Stefan leaned against the car, eyes closing. “Hope’s here. At the school. She seems… happy.”

Silence stretched, heavy with the weight of everything Klaus wasn’t saying.

“I’ll check in every few months,” Klaus finally said. “For you as well as her. You’re not alone in this, Stefan. Even if it feels that way.”

The words were meant as reassurance, but they sank like lead in Stefan’s stomach. Mystic Falls. His ghosts. Klaus an ocean away. He had never felt more divided.

“Freya is going to figure this out,” Stefan said, the words leaving his mouth with more conviction than he actually felt. He wanted to believe it—needed to. Freya had been relentless in those first months, working herself to exhaustion trying to undo what the Hollow had carved into their family. She was brilliant, resourceful, determined… but even brilliance had its limits.

“Hmm.” Klaus’s response was low, heavy with skepticism. There was no venom in it, just a tired resignation. Stefan heard it in his tone—that brittle edge of a man too used to loss. And God, he couldn’t even blame him.

“I’ll take care of her,” Stefan said firmly, more to anchor himself than to convince Klaus. Saying it out loud steadied him, gave him something to hold on to in the chaos. If he couldn’t promise miracles, he could at least promise this: to keep Hope safe, to keep Hayley standing.

“I know you will.” Klaus’s voice softened then, breaking through the hardened veneer he wore like armor. It wasn’t just trust—it was surrender. The kind of vulnerability Klaus rarely allowed himself, offered only to Stefan in moments like this. And it undid him.

Then came the click, the hollow silence of a line gone dead. Stefan lowered the phone slowly, staring out across the fields beyond the school as the world pressed in.

The autumn air was sharp in his lungs, crisp and biting, but not enough to chase away the heaviness curling in his chest. Mystic Falls stretched out before him, every street corner a memory, every gust of wind reminding him of all he’d already lost. He closed his eyes, and felt the full weight of what Klaus had asked of him.

Hayley appeared at his side, her hand brushing his arm. “You okay?”

Stefan forced a smile. “I’ll get there.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded, grounding him the way only she could.

When he turned back, Hope was laughing with Caroline on the lawn, her stuffed wolf tucked under one arm, her whole face lit with joy.

Stefan took a deep, unsteady breath.

Flashback: New Orleans, 9 Years Ago

The smell of coffee drifted through the compound kitchen, warm and grounding. Stefan lingered by the counter, letting the machine gurgle to life, but his eyes kept drifting toward the table in the middle of the room.

Klaus sat there, sleeves rolled up, a smear of blue paint streaked across his forearm. Hope, perched beside him on her knees, had streaks of green on her cheek and red blotches in her curls. Together, father and daughter leaned over a canvas that was rapidly devolving into a riot of colors—swirls, handprints, something that might once have been a flower but was now more of an explosion.

“You’re supposed to stay in the lines, sweetheart,” Klaus said, though his own brushstroke bled recklessly over the pencil outline he’d sketched for her.

Hope giggled, dipping her tiny brush into a glob of yellow. “You didn’t!” she accused, pointing at the runaway streak of blue cutting across the page.

Hayley leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking. “Well, she’s not wrong. You’re both a mess.”

Klaus gave her a dramatic glare, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “We’re cultivating genius, not order.”

Stefan carried his mug of coffee over, standing behind Klaus’s chair. He let his free hand fall lightly against Klaus’s shoulder, fingers brushing up to the curve of his neck. Without thinking, Stefan bent and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it, just where the skin met the hairline. Klaus stilled, just for a second, before relaxing into it.

Then Stefan reached over to ruffle Hope’s hair. “Looks like you’ve got your father beat, Hope. That’s definitely the better flower.”

Hope grinned up at him, pride in her paint-splattered face. “You think so?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Klaus muttered, though his smirk gave him away.

“Encourage her?” Hayley said, laughing as she grabbed a rag to wipe a splotch of red off the table. “She’s a Mikaelson. Encouragement isn’t really optional.”

Stefan took a sip of his coffee, watching them—the paint, the laughter, the way Hope leaned so easily against her father’s side. Something inside him shifted. He’d always thought that kind of family life wasn’t meant for him. But here it was, loud and messy and utterly imperfect. And somehow, he was a part of it.

When Hope turned and dabbed a yellow streak right across Klaus’s jaw, Stefan nearly spit out his coffee from laughing. Klaus growled dramatically, swooping in to tickle her until she squealed, paintbrush flying to the floor.

Stefan set his mug down, watching them through a haze of warmth.

Later That Night

The house was quiet. Hope had finally fallen asleep after insisting she wasn’t tired, her paint-streaked curls still smelling faintly of soap from her bath. Hayley had retreated to her room with Elijah, leaving only the hush of the New Orleans night pressing against the windows.

Stefan lingered in the dimly lit living room, sipping on a glass of whiskey. Klaus drifted in after him, still wearing the soft gray shirt Stefan had seen him in all day—though now there was a faint smear of dried yellow paint on the sleeve that hadn’t quite washed out.

“She’ll remember this,” Stefan said quietly, setting his glass down on the table. “The painting, the mess, the laughter. It’s the kind of thing that sticks.”

Klaus arched a brow, half amused, half proud. “You think?”

Stefan nodded, studying him. “You’d never guess Klaus Mikaelson would be such an adorable father.”

That earned a sharp laugh from Klaus, low and rich. “Adorable? Really, love? That’s the word you’re going with?”

Stefan smirked, but his tone softened. “You’re a natural with her. It’s… something to watch. You’re different with her. Softer.”

Klaus tilted his head, the teasing glint in his eyes darkening into something warmer. He stepped closer until Stefan could feel the familiar press of his presence. “Careful, Stefan. If word gets out that I’ve gone soft, it could ruin my reputation.”

Stefan’s lips curved. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Oh, I know,” Klaus murmured, his voice dropping as he brushed a hand against Stefan’s jaw. “Because now… you’re the only one who gets to see my naughty side.”

Stefan’s laugh was cut off as Klaus leaned in, capturing his mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. The taste of wine lingered faintly on Klaus’s tongue, the press of his lips unhurried, claiming. Stefan groaned against his mouth, hands finding their way into Klaus’s hair, tugging gently as though to keep him close.

When Klaus finally drew back, his forehead rested against Stefan’s, breath uneven but steady. “You make me forget,” Klaus whispered. “Forget the wars, the enemies, the centuries of blood. With you—like this—it feels like none of it matters.”

Stefan closed his eyes, savoring the weight of those words, and pressed another kiss to the corner of Klaus’s mouth. “I want to make you forget everything else.”

Klaus shivered, a low sound escaping him, and leaned closer. His hand skimmed down Stefan’s arm, fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns, grounding him. Stefan’s chest tightened at the feel, at the way Klaus’s gaze lingered, dark and intent, as if he could see straight into Stefan’s thoughts.

“You’ve got me,” Klaus murmured, voice rough, teasing.

Stefan reached for Klaus’s belt, pulling down his zipper. “Let’s get you out of these messy clothes.”

Klaus growled and kissed him hungrily, pinning Stefan to the wall and pushing his thigh between Stefan’s. Stefan gasped softly at the friction and removed Klaus’s shirt in one quick motion.

Then, Stefan fell to his knees, taking Klaus’s cock in his mouth. Taking him deep in the back of his throat, the way he knew Klaus liked. “Fucking hell,” Klaus groaned.

It was a great night, one of Stefan’s favorite memories. Things were simple then, and he was happy in a way that felt both fragile and infinite. He watched Klaus relax into the moment, letting go of the constant weight of the world, and something in Stefan ached at the thought of how rare these nights were.

They didn’t know then what the Hollow would soon take from them. All the good times, all the little moments they thought they’d always have—the laughter echoing in the kitchen, the quiet mornings sipping coffee, the way Hope’s small hand fit perfectly in Klaus’s—were fragile treasures, soon to be scattered by forces neither of them could control.

Present Day: Mystic Falls

Stefan paused in the doorway, watching Hope’s slender fingers glide across the canvas. The soft scrape of her brush against the textured surface filled the quiet room. She was so absorbed, so alive in the act of creating, that for a moment, he almost forgot the weight pressing down on him.

The image tugged at something deep in him—memories he couldn’t shake. Stefan remembered mornings when Hope was seven, perched on a stool beside Klaus in the kitchen, paint smudged on her tiny hands and a grin plastered across her face.

Klaus had been so patient then, so gentle, so impossibly alive in those moments. Stefan had stood behind them, coffee in hand, stealing glances at the simple happiness of the three of them.

Now, years later, the room smelled faintly of paint and varnish, and Stefan felt the echo of absence settle in his chest. Klaus hadn’t called in over three years. No messages, no attempts at contact. Not for Hope’s birthdays. Not for holidays. Not for anything.

Why? Stefan asked himself, again and again. Was Klaus okay? Was he alive? Was he just… choosing not to see them? Or worse—did he think they didn’t need him anymore?

Stefan knew the man he loved was complicated, brilliant, and often reckless. But the silence felt deliberate, heavy. And the longer it lasted, the more Stefan felt like a placeholder in a life Klaus had walked away from.

He loved Klaus. He always had. And even now, standing in the quiet, listening to the soft scratch of paint, he missed him so fiercely it ached. Every brushstroke Hope made seemed to echo the absence of the man who had shaped her beginnings, the father she adored. Stefan hated that he couldn’t protect her from that ache, from the void Klaus had left.

Hope glanced up, breaking him out of his reverie. “Stefan?” she said softly, holding out a brush she’d just cleaned. “Do you want to try?”

A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sure,” he said, moving closer. As he dipped the brush into the paint, Stefan lost himself in the simplicity of being here, with her, in the space they’d built together—even if the heart of that life was missing. And yet, in the quiet, he couldn’t stop the gnawing question in his chest: when Klaus finally returned, would it feel like coming home—or like confronting a ghost he wasn’t sure he could forgive?

Later That Night

The house was quiet, the only sound the occasional hum of the refrigerator and the soft rustle of the curtains in the evening breeze. Stefan leaned against the kitchen counter, swirling the last of his whiskey in the glass, lost in thought.

Hayley came in from the living room, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I saw you with Hope earlier,” she said casually, but there was a warmth in her tone.

Stefan raised an eyebrow. “You did? I wasn’t exactly… Picasso.”

Hayley laughed softly. “No, but you were making an effort. That counts more than perfect technique. And… it means a lot to her. You being there.”

He frowned, staring into his glass. “Yeah… not like Klaus is bothering to even try anymore.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Hayley stepped closer, resting her hands on the counter beside his. “Do you… ever wonder what it would be like if he never came back?” Her voice was soft, tentative, but there was something in it that made Stefan’s chest tighten.

He swallowed, looking up at her. “All the time.” He let out a long, hollow sigh. “It feels… impossible. Like we’d be stuck in this… limbo. Hope without him, me without him… us.”

Her hand brushed against his as she leaned slightly closer. “We’d make it work. We always do, don’t we?” There was a hint of something unspoken in her gaze, a shared loneliness. Stefan knew she was missing Elijah just as badly as he was missing Klaus.

Stefan met her eyes, and for a heartbeat, the weight of absence between them softened. “We’d have to,” he said quietly, and his lips quirked up in a small, lopsided smile. “Though, I still don’t think I can paint as well as Klaus.”

Hayley laughed, the sound light and bright in the kitchen, like the clink of glass on marble. For a moment, it eased the heaviness that always seemed to linger in the house. “It’s not about painting, Stefan,” she said, shaking her head as she rinsed out Hope’s brushes in the sink. “It’s about being present. Hope notices that. And… so do I.”

Stefan leaned against the counter and let her words settle. They warmed him, even as they stirred something restless inside. He didn’t answer right away, just nodded slowly, like he wanted to carry the weight of her words.

“Look, Stefan,” Hayley said after a beat, her voice softening but laced with something heavier. She set the brushes down, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and turned to face him fully. “It’s been years since we’ve heard from Klaus, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to still stick around with me and Hope if that’s not what you want anymore. I know plans change, and I don’t want you to feel stuck.”

The words hit him like a slap, and he straightened, the thought alone unmooring him. “Whoa, Hayley, I don’t feel stuck,” he said quickly, reaching across the counter for her hand before she could retreat into her walls. Her skin was warm, grounding, and he held it just firmly enough that she knew he meant it. “You and Hope are my family now. That’s not obligation—that’s choice. And I’m grateful you haven’t kicked me to the curb after all these years.”

Her eyes flickered down at their joined hands before lifting back to his, guarded but searching. Stefan felt something stir in his chest, that dangerous awareness that had been building between them for years.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Hayley,” he said gently, his thumb brushing her knuckles before he realized it. “It’s not easy doing all this alone. You’re a great mother.”

Hayley’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching in a way that felt more loaded than she wanted it to be. For a moment, the silence between them stretched, charged, like the air before a storm. Then she shook her head faintly, a small smile breaking through.

“I’m not doing this alone,” she said, her gaze lingering on him longer than it should have. Her voice was low, almost confessional. “I’ve had you.”

Their eyes lingered on each other a beat too long. The air felt electric, charged with unspoken tension, the kind that comes from shared grief, shared responsibilities, and a little too much proximity over the years. Stefan felt it—the pull, the possibility. The slow, inevitable burn that had been building between them since Klaus left.

Hayley’s hand was still in his, her pulse thrumming against his fingers. Neither of them moved to let go.

Stefan’s chest tightened. He could smell her perfume, faint but grounding, mixed with the lingering scent of paint and soap from the kitchen. Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but no words came. Instead, she took half a step closer, so close he could feel the warmth radiating off her.

He hadn’t realized how badly he craved warmth until now.

Stefan’s thumb brushed across her knuckles again—an unconscious movement, but it made her eyes flicker. A soft laugh slipped out of her, nervous and shaky, and it nearly undid him. He leaned in without thinking, the distance between them shrinking to nothing. For the briefest second, he thought she might meet him halfway.

But then he caught the flicker in her eyes—the hesitation, the uncertainty.

Stefan’s chest tightened. He couldn’t push her, not when she already carried so much. Instead, he shifted at the last second, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. A softer kind of intimacy, one that asked for nothing in return but still said everything he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

When he pulled back, Hayley let out a shaky laugh, her eyes darting away. “We should… um. We should get some sleep,” she said, her voice unsteady, almost fragile.

“Yeah,” Stefan murmured, his throat dry. He tried for a smile, but it faltered under the weight of everything unspoken.

They parted ways, the charged silence following him long after he left the kitchen, lingering in his chest like something fragile but real, something he wasn’t sure he could keep ignoring forever.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Mystic Falls, 8 Years Ago

The streets of Mystic Falls were quiet that late afternoon, the golden glow of the sun bouncing off the historic brick buildings. Stefan walked with a measured pace, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, watching as Hope ran a few steps ahead, her laughter drifting back to him. He’d gotten used to these new rhythms—being a father figure to her, keeping her safe, guiding her—but some part of him ached with every memory of what he had lost.

Stefan paused at the corner near the coffee shop, and then froze. Two familiar figures stood outside, deep in conversation, before their heads turned toward him. Damon and Elena.

Stefan’s chest tightened. Memories he had tried to bury flickered across his mind like shadows in the sun. He forced a neutral expression, stepping forward slowly.

“Stefan?” Elena’s voice broke through first. She was smiling, though there was a faint crease at the corner of her eyes, something older, more world-weary. She stepped closer and wrapped him in a hug, and for a moment, he let himself be pulled into it.

“Where have you been?” she asked softly.

“New Orleans,” Stefan replied, stepping back to give her space. “For years. It… it was time for a change.” He caught a flicker of recognition—or maybe confusion—in her eyes. She looked a little older, more grounded, yet still unmistakably Elena.

Before he could say more, Hayley appeared, striding toward them with a warm smile. Hope trailed at her side, waving.

Damon raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “And this is…?”

Hayley smiled politely. “Hayley, Hope’s mother.”

Damon’s gaze flicked to Stefan. “Your girlfriend?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No,” Stefan said quickly, and then added, “I’m with Klaus.”

Damon blinked. “Original vampire Klaus?”

“Yes,” Stefan said flatly, trying to mask the tension rising in his chest.

Damon smirked, stepping closer and looking at Elena. “Interesting. I didn’t realize you were… interested in men now.”

Stefan’s lips twitched, half amused, half annoyed. “That’s because you don’t know me anymore,” he said evenly, the old bite of sarcasm there, but tempered with restraint.

Elena’s brow furrowed slightly, and Damon let the remark linger, grinning in that infuriating way he always did. Stefan felt the weight of the past pressing in on him, but as he looked over at Hayley and Hope, he realized he wasn’t alone anymore. He had his own life now—even if it wasn’t perfect.

Damon’s grin faded just slightly, but he shrugged. “What are you doing back in Mystic Falls?”

“Hope is going to the boarding school for special kids,” Stefan said. “I decided to tag along since Klaus can’t be here.”

Damon nodded but didn’t ask any follow up questions. “Well, if you’re staying in town, you should come over sometime so we can catch up.”

Stefan gave a polite nod, keeping his smile steady. Inside, he felt a swirl of emotions—nostalgia, resentment, a flicker of longing—but also something he hadn’t felt in a long time: clarity. He was no longer the same Stefan they remembered.

As they parted ways, he glanced down at Hope, who had taken Hayley’s hand and skipped ahead. A small smile curved his lips. He might miss Klaus, but he was beginning to build a life here too—and he intended to protect it with everything he had.

Later That Night

The quiet of the evening had settled over Mystic Falls, the streets outside their house now empty except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Stefan leaned against the counter in the kitchen, absently stirring his tea, eyes unfocused. Hayley leaned against the doorframe, watching him carefully.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her voice breaking the silence. “That… encounter back there. It was… weird. I mean, Damon and Elena. You looked tense.”

Stefan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… weird is one way to put it.” He paused, staring down at the table. “It’s… complicated.”

Hayley moved closer, placing a hand on his arm gently. “I can see that. You can tell me if you want.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Elena… she left me. For Damon.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, heavy with years of hurt and lingering resentment. “We were… supposed to have a future. And then she… just left. And seeing her today… it brought all of that back.”

Hayley’s eyes softened, and she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Stefan. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”

He looked up at her, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… part of the past now. But some things never really leave, you know?”

Hayley nodded and moved to the counter, opening the cabinet for a bottle of whiskey. “Here,” she said, pouring him a small glass. “For… the ghosts of the past.”

Stefan chuckled lightly, taking the glass from her hand. “Thanks. You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“I try,” Hayley said, leaning back against the counter. Her fingers drummed idly against the rim of her own glass, but there was a tired heaviness in her shoulders she wasn’t bothering to hide tonight.

He met her gaze, the weight of her words settled over him like a soft, steady warmth. “So… tell me about Elijah. I only met him a few times, but I didn’t really know him.”

Hayley’s lips curved faintly at the name, though the sadness in her eyes betrayed her. “Well, he was the kind of guy who wore a suit no matter the occasion. Like—weddings, funerals, grocery store runs, you name it. Very old school, very proper.” She shook her head, almost laughing. “Honestly, he sounds really boring when I describe him this way, but he had this… presence. He had a heart of gold. He protected his family and fought for them no matter what.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Stefan said quietly, meaning it. “I can see why you miss him.”

Hayley’s eyes softened. “He was. And… I see a lot of those qualities in you, too. Elijah cared so much—sometimes I think he cared a little too much for his own good.”

Stefan huffed a wry laugh, taking a slow sip. “That does sound familiar.”

“Mm. Yeah.” Her smile was crooked, sad and fond all at once. Then, as if realizing the air was growing too heavy, she tilted her head and said, “Elijah had a great ass, too.”

Stefan nearly choked on his drink. “Wow. Okay. Are you saying my ass doesn’t compare? That’s harsh. Guess I need to get back to the gym.”

Hayley smirked, eyes gleaming for the first time that night. “I’m just saying, don’t expect me to hand out compliments for free.”

“Noted,” Stefan said, fighting a grin.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. They shared a small smile, and though it was brief, there was an unspoken understanding between them. No declarations, no promises—just trust being built, brick by brick.

For the first time in a long time, Stefan felt something loosen in his chest, the constant coil of guilt and loneliness easing in her presence. And from the way Hayley’s gaze lingered on him, maybe she felt it too.

A Few Days Later

The morning sun spilled through the window, casting warm light over the small kitchen as Stefan packed Hope’s lunch. The smell of toasted bread and fresh fruit filled the room, a small comfort in a world that felt unfamiliar to him.

Hope bounced around excitedly, her small backpack slung over one shoulder. “I’m nervous, Stefan! What if I don’t make any friends?”

Stefan crouched down to her level, ruffling her hair. “Hey, you’ll do fine. You’re smart, brave, and way more interesting than anyone else in that school. And remember,” he added with a small smile, “you have me and Hayley in your corner.”

Hayley appeared in the doorway, holding a mug of coffee. “I think you’re going to impress everyone there.”

Hope grinned. “You both always say that.”

Stefan chuckled softly. He glanced at Hayley and felt that familiar warmth he’d come to rely on over the last weeks. They’d grown closer—quietly, carefully—but it was a trust he hadn’t thought he could build with anyone after Klaus had left.

He pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Klaus: Hope’s first day at the new school. She’s nervous but excited. We’ll send pictures later. You’re going to be proud.

He hesitated before hitting send. Even though Klaus was miles away, Stefan felt the pang of missing him sharpen in his chest. He set the phone down and turned his attention back to Hope.

“Ready?” Stefan asked, standing and holding out his hand.

Hope grabbed it eagerly, and together they walked out the door. The morning air was crisp, filled with the hum of students arriving at the school. Stefan held Hope’s hand a little tighter, feeling both the responsibility and the quiet pride that came with being there for her.

As they approached the school, Hayley leaned closer. “You know, she really looks up to you, Stefan. I don’t think she realizes how lucky she is to have you here.”

Stefan shrugged, trying to hide the way his chest swelled at her words. “I’m just… doing my part. Klaus would want me to.”

Hayley smiled softly. “You’re doing more than that. You’re being a real family for her. And… for me too, I guess,” she added quietly.

Stefan caught her gaze, sensing the weight behind her words. A faint, warm tension settled between them, subtle but undeniable. For the first time in weeks, he felt like maybe this new life in Mystic Falls wasn’t entirely impossible.

Hope turned and tugged on his hand, breaking the moment. “Come on, Stefan! I want to see my classroom!”

Stefan followed her inside, glancing back at Hayley. She gave him a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that they were both in this together. And as the door closed behind them, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: a sense of home.

A Few Weeks Later

A few weeks later, Stefan found himself standing in front of Damon and Elena’s house. The invitation surprised him at first, but he’d agreed. Maybe it was time to see a piece of his old life, to reconcile with the ghosts of the past he’d been running from.

Stefan stepped inside, noting how lived-in and warm the place felt. It wasn’t New Orleans, and it wasn’t his home, but it was… homey. Pictures of Damon and Elena in places he didn’t recognize lined the walls. He realized just how much of a life they’d built without him.

“Stefan!” Elena greeted him warmly, enveloping him in a hug. Damon followed, offering a tight-lipped smile.

“Hey,” Stefan said, feeling a mix of nostalgia and unease.

Dinner was served in their cozy dining room. Conversation flowed cautiously at first—updates on Mystic Falls, a few jokes, old memories—but the tension was there, lingering just beneath the surface. Stefan tried to focus on being present, noticing small things: Elena’s laugh, Damon’s sharp observations, the way they seemed like a team he had once known.

When Damon asked about Klaus, Stefan found himself telling the story he’d rarely shared. “We first met in Chicago in 1920,” he began. “Klaus was… complicated. Dangerous, brilliant, and impossible to ignore. But there were complications. Mikael… his father, he was a threat. Klaus had to compel me to forget him and Rebekah to keep me safe. I thought I’d lost him forever. But… years ago in New Orleans, we found our way back to each other.”

“He compelled you? How?” Damon asked.

“He’s an Original vampire, Damon. He can compel anyone. And he only did it to keep me safe,” Stefan said, feeling a little defensive.

Elena listened intently. Damon leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know. Be careful with him, Stefan,” Damon said finally. “He doesn’t sound like someone you can trust completely.”

Stefan’s jaw tightened. “I know Klaus better than anyone,” he said coolly. “And frankly, Damon, I don’t need you to lecture me about him.”

Damon raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just… be smart, little brother. I’ve heard all the stories about Klaus Mikaleson.”

Stefan held himself back from rolling his eyes. Of course Damon had heard the stories of Klaus and the Mikaelsons and the centuries of bloodshed. That was all he knew about Klaus. Stefan knew that Damon meant well, but after so many years of not speaking it felt condescending.

“So where is Klaus now? Why are you with his daughter?” Damon asked, his tone cutting in its bluntness.

Stefan’s jaw tightened, the question landing heavier than Damon probably realized. He set down his glass, fingers curling around the rim for something solid. “The Hollow ruined everything for the Mikaelsons,” he said slowly, his voice low and measured. “They had to split apart to survive. Hayley and I were… left to pick up the pieces.”

Damon’s brow lifted. “So, he’s never coming back?”

“Freya, his sister, is working on a solution now,” Stefan answered, though even as the words left his mouth, he heard how fragile they sounded.

“But without a solution he’s gone… forever?” Damon pressed, his voice sharp in its lack of tact.

“Damon,” Elena scolded, shooting him a warning look, her hand brushing against Damon’s arm in quiet rebuke.

Stefan exhaled, the air burning his lungs. “I mean… if Freya can’t figure this out, then yes, it could be forever. I don’t know how long this is going to take. It’s only been a few months since it happened. It could be years. It could be forever. I don’t—” His voice caught, and for a moment he thought the weight of it all might crush him.

His chest ached with the helplessness, with the impossibility of carrying Klaus’s absence while still pretending to be strong for Hope and Hayley.

The silence stretched, heavy.

“Hey,” Elena said softly, her tone warm with reassurance. She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “I’m sure Freya will figure this out, and Klaus will come back. And I love that you’re stepping up to be there for his daughter. That’s the Stefan I remember. The one who always shows up for the people who need him.”

Stefan swallowed hard, his throat tight. He nodded, forcing a small, appreciative smile even though it didn’t reach his eyes. Her words were kind, but they didn’t touch the hollow ache inside him.

Damon broke the moment with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. “At least you’ve got Hayley around. She’s not bad to look at.” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it—as if he was trying to prod for a reaction.

“Damon,” Elena snapped, annoyance cutting through her usually gentle voice.

Stefan only let out a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head. It was easier than explaining, easier than unraveling the complicated tangle of loyalty, grief, and unspoken feelings that lived between him, Hayley, and the ghost of Klaus’s absence.

The rest of dinner passed with lighter conversation, but Stefan couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider in their world, even though he had once belonged there. He left the house feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and relief.

Back at home, the familiar warmth of the Mikaelson house wrapped around Stefan like a soft, protective blanket. The scents of baked bread and simmering coffee lingered in the air, the quiet hum of normalcy settled over him. In the living room, Hope and Hayley were sprawled on the couch, engrossed in something animated—laughter bubbling from the screen.

Hayley poked her head over the side of the couch when she heard the front door click. “Hey, you’re back,” she said, pausing the movie and gently nudging Hope, who had drifted off mid-scene. She lifted a blanket over her daughter’s small frame before straightening.

“How was it?” Hayley asked, moving toward the kitchen, the soft throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Awkward,” Stefan admitted with a chuckle, letting the word hang for a moment. “But… good. Strange, seeing their life. The parts of them I didn’t know existed.” He set his coat down on the rack and poured himself a drink, the liquid catching the dim kitchen light.

He took a slow sip, feeling the tension of the day slip away just a little. “They asked about Klaus, so I told them everything—the first meeting, the compelling, New Orleans… every detail.”

Hayley raised a curious eyebrow. “And? Did Damon give you any shit?”

“Just the usual,” Stefan said, his lips twitching in a small grin. “Be careful, don’t trust him. I… handled it. But you know… it was good to see them. It reminded me what family looks like, even if it’s not the one I’m used to.”

Hayley smiled softly, a warmth in her eyes that made something stir in his chest. “Well, I’m glad you went. And I’m glad you’re back here with us.”

Stefan felt that warmth settle deeper than he expected. Her words weren’t dramatic, but the weight behind them was undeniable. Glad I’m back here. With us. He swallowed hard, feeling a rare, quiet contentment.

He let a teasing smirk tug at the corner of his mouth, watching the way the light caught her hair as she moved around the kitchen. “You know, Damon had a thing to say about you, too.”

“Oh really?” Hayley said, turning to him with a curious tilt of her head. There was a playful gleam in her eyes, and Stefan felt a familiar tug in his chest. “And what might that be?”

“He said you’re… not bad to look at,” Stefan said, shrugging casually, though a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. “I think my brother might be into you.”

Hayley arched a brow, her lips quirking in a mischievous smile. “Hmmm, he’s not exactly my type,” she said, her tone teasing but light, brushing against the edge of flirtation.

Stefan’s grin widened. “Oh, I forgot—your type is men who wear suits to get groceries,” he shot back, leaning a little closer, letting the joke hang between them.

“Yes, and don’t forget they have to have great asses too,” she said, laughing softly, the sound warm and inviting. Her eyes lingered on him longer than necessary, and he felt the weight of it, that subtle pull they’d been dancing around for weeks.

“So, what did I miss?” Stefan asked, leaning against the counter, his gaze following her movements. She chopped vegetables with quick, precise motions, and he noticed how effortless she made even the simplest things look.

Hayley rolled her eyes playfully, a faint laugh escaping her. “Oh, the usual chaos. Pizza, sweet treats, fizzy drinks… and a certain seven-year-old who picked the movie and then had the audacity to fall asleep during it.”

Stefan chuckled, the sound low in his chest. “Sounds like I missed my chance to bribe her with ice cream.”

“Don’t wake her up with those dangerous words,” Hayley teased.

Stefan’s eyes softened as he glanced toward the couch, where Hope lay curled beneath the blanket. For a fleeting moment, he felt the weight of everything else—the Hollow, Klaus’s absence, the chaos of their past—fade into the background.

Stefan let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, the uneasy edges of his life were starting to settle. Maybe friendship, maybe something more, was quietly, tenderly blooming in the corners of this new life. And it was good.

A Few Months Later

Stefan’s phone buzzed while he was making coffee one quiet morning. He smiled at the notification—Klaus. The name alone made his chest tighten, memories threatening to spill over. He hesitated, thumb hovering over the message.

I’m in Atlanta. Would love to see you this weekend.

Stefan’s heart caught. Atlanta. The city where, so many years ago, they had stolen a morning for themselves in a small hotel room, wrapped in each other, untouched by the outside world. He could feel the warmth of Klaus’s body next to him even now, remember the way their bodies had filled the space as sunlight poured through the curtains. His cheeks warmed, and he shook his head, as if to clear the memory.

He typed a reply almost on instinct: I’ll be there.

By the time Stefan arrived in Atlanta, Stefan felt a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation. He checked into the hotel and made his way to the suite Klaus had texted him about. The door opened, and there he was—Klaus, unchanged and magnetic as ever, leaning casually against the doorway.

“Stefan,” Klaus said, and his voice alone made Stefan’s pulse quicken.

“Klaus,” he breathed, stepping inside. Stefan fell into his arms, almost instinctively and inhaled his familiar scent. Klaus wrapped his arms around Stefan, holding him tight.

It was like no time had passed at all. The months had melted away, replaced by the immediate comfort of being near him. Stefan could see the subtle signs of the life Klaus had been living—the way it took a toll on him, but the essence of him, the man he loved, hadn’t shifted.

“How have you been?” Klaus asked, his tone casual but curious, eyes scanning Stefan as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

“I’ve been… holding on,” Stefan said, the truth wrapped in understatement. “Hayley and Hope have been keeping me grounded. Hope’s school has been… good. She’s thriving. And, well… Damon and Elena have been around too.”

Klaus’s gaze softened. “I’ve missed so much,” he murmured. “But seeing you now… it feels right again. Tell me everything, Stefan. About Hope, about Hayley, about you. Everything I’ve been missing.”

Stefan felt warmth spread through him. They fell into easy conversation, sharing updates, small victories, and stories, the kind of intimacy that only came from years of knowing someone to their core.

And for a moment, in that hotel room in Atlanta, it felt like the Hollow, the distance, and all the months apart hadn’t existed at all. It was just Klaus and Stefan, together again, even if only for a fleeting weekend.

The city lights stretched beyond the hotel window, painting the room in amber and gold. Stefan set down his bag and turned toward Klaus, who was leaning casually against the balcony, watching the skyline.

Klaus’s lips curved into that dangerous, knowing smile. “Fuck, I’ve missed you. You smell exactly the same. Intoxicating as ever,” he said, burying his face in Stefan’s neck.

Stefan felt his pulse spiking. Being here with Klaus again, so close, was intoxicating. He remembered the stolen morning in Atlanta from years ago—the heat of Klaus’s skin, the unsteady hands exploring, the feeling of déjà vu – like he’d done this before with him.

Klaus turned, his gaze softening as he studied Stefan. “You’ve grown stronger too, Stefan,” Klaus ran his fingers down Stefans’s biceps.

Stefan swallowed, the weight of his longing pressing against his chest. His hand brushed Klaus’s arm, feeling the warmth, the certainty beneath the surface. “I missed you, too,” Stefan admitted, almost a whisper.

Klaus’s hand captured Stefan’s, pulling him closer. Their eyes locked, heavy with unspoken desire, old memories and new tension swirling together. “You have no idea how hard it’s been, not being near you… watching from afar.”

Stefan’s resolve weakened, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against Klaus’s in a tentative, feather-light kiss. Klaus’s growl of approval was low and hungry, grounding Stefan in the moment.

He trailed kisses along Klaus’s jawline, fingers threading through his hair, feeling the old heat spark between them. “Let’s move to the couch,” Stefan said, guiding them back inside. Klaus nodded, following closely behind him before crashing onto the couch.

Stefan sat on Klaus’s lap, straddling Klaus’s waist between Stefan’s thighs, and trailing open-mouth wet kisses down Klaus’s neck and his jawline. Stefan could feel Klaus’s arousal pressing against his thigh.

Klaus pulled him closer, pressing his body against Stefan’s, their breaths mingling. When Stefan rocked his hips against Klaus, he gasped. “Fuck, you’re so good at this,” Klaus murmured against his lips, “even after all this time apart.”

Stefan’s lips curved into a small, teasing smile. “I know you, Nik.”

The tension coiled tighter, each touch, each whisper building. Clothes became irrelevant, a distant memory, as they fell into the rhythm of rediscovery. Stefan marveled at how it still felt so effortless, so right, even with the weight of the past months pressing on them.

Klaus flipped their positions, so Klaus was straddling Stefan’s lap, and Klaus sank down on Stefan’s cock, riding him. “Fuck,” Stefan groaned, rolling his head back. Klaus gripped the headboard to balance and continued mercilessly grinding down on Stefan’s cock, Klaus’s dripping erection hanging between them.

Stefan reached for Klaus’s cock, pumping him in rhythm with Klaus’s hips. “Jesus,” Klaus groaned as he came.

Later, as they lay tangled together, Stefan traced the line of Klaus’s shoulder with a feather-light touch, memorizing every inch like he was trying to etch it into his skin. Klaus felt solid and unreal all at once, the man who had haunted his dreams for so long, now lying beneath his hand.

“I don’t want to think about being apart again,” Stefan admitted softly, his voice breaking in the quiet.

Klaus’s fingers ghosted over his cheek, slow and reverent. “Then don’t. We’re here now, Stefan. That’s all that matters.”

Stefan let out a low groan, burying his face against Klaus’s chest. “I just wish it didn’t have to be like this… I miss you.”

“I know,” Klaus murmured, his own voice strained. “I miss you too. I miss our life in New Orleans—the nights that never ended, the mornings we never wanted to leave the bed.”

Stefan lifted his head, searching his eyes. “I could stay with you. We could spend every day like this. New cities, new places, no one to answer to but each other.”

For a moment, Klaus almost let himself imagine it. But then his expression hardened, his jaw tight. “Stefan,” he said, clipped and firm. “Hope is only okay because she has you.”

“That’s not true,” Stefan countered, shaking his head. “Hope has Hayley.”

“Hayley is only keeping it together because you’re there,” Klaus replied without hesitation. His voice cracked just slightly. “You steady her. You steady them both.”

Stefan frowned. “Hayley is stronger than you give her credit for.”

Klaus’s throat worked as he swallowed. His hand cupped Stefan’s face now, thumb brushing beneath his eye. “Please, love. It’s killing me not to be there with them. Every day I wake up and I ache to go home, and the only reason I can stand it is knowing you’re there. I need you to be there. Do it for me.”

The words nearly undid Stefan. He closed his eyes, pressing into Klaus’s touch like he could hide in it, like it might be enough to silence the storm inside him. A long breath trembled out of his chest.

“I hate that you make sense,” Stefan whispered finally. His lips brushed the heel of Klaus’s hand, a kiss that was half-devotion, half-surrender. “But I’d burn the world down if it meant not having to let you go.”

Klaus’s eyes softened, pain flickering through them. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Stefan’s. “Then hold onto me now, while you can,” he whispered. “Because when morning comes, we’ll both have to pretend to be stronger than we are.”

And in that silence, wrapped in each other but already mourning the goodbye they hadn’t said yet, Stefan realized just how much this love would cost them both.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Mystic Falls, 8 Years Ago. After Atlanta.

Stefan’s boots crunched on the gravel driveway as he approached the house, luggage in hand. The air smelled faintly of rain and fresh grass, a stark contrast to the warm, bustling streets of Atlanta he had just left behind.

Hayley was waiting at the door, her arms crossed, a soft smile on her face. “How was Atlanta?” she asked, her voice gentle but tinged with curiosity.

Stefan set the bags down and let out a long breath. “It… was good,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Seeing Klaus again—it’s like no time has passed, but at the same time, it’s a reminder of everything we’ve missed.”

Stefan felt a tight knot form in his chest. Part of him couldn’t shake the guilt that came with still being in touch with Klaus, being able to see him, to feel pieces of the life he had lost—but Hayley hadn’t been so lucky.

Elijah had compelled himself to forget her entirely. Stefan understood why, logically—he thought it would be too hard to stay away if he remembered, to resist the pull of family and duty. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less to watch Hayley carry that absence with her.

There was a quiet ache to it, one that wasn’t loud or dramatic but still persistent. Stefan could see how it weighed on her, the way she sometimes lingered in moments that reminded her of Elijah, or how a fleeting smile could mask a sadness she didn’t want anyone to notice. It was a grief that felt permanent, different from Klaus’s occasional absences or the temporary losses Stefan had endured.

And every time he felt that tug of guilt—every time Klaus’s name crossed his mind, or he heard from him—he couldn’t help but wonder if he should step back, if he should protect Hayley from that reminder of what she had lost. But then he’d see her laugh with Hope, see the strength and warmth she carried herself with, and he’d realize that the least he could do was be there for her, in the ways Elijah no longer could.

Hayley nodded, stepping closer. “I can only imagine. Are you… okay?” Her eyes searched his, concern blending with something warmer, something that made Stefan’s chest tighten.

Before he could answer, a small voice piped up behind them. “Stefan! Did you see Daddy?”

Hope ran toward him, her little legs moving quickly, hair bouncing with every step. She threw herself into Stefan’s arms, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Where was he? Did he say when he’s coming back?”

Stefan lifted her effortlessly, holding her close. “Hope… he’s… he’s okay. Klaus is fine. He’s thinking about you every day.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but a pang of longing tugged at him.

Hope’s small fingers traced his arm. “I miss him!”

“I know, sweetheart,” Stefan said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I miss him too. But we’ve got each other, and I promise, we’ll make the time fun while we wait.”

Hope’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did Daddy tell you stories about when he was little? Or did he take you somewhere fun?”

Stefan chuckled, ruffling her hair. “He told me some stories. And yes, we went to some fun places. How about this -- I’ll tell you about the rest over ice cream later, okay?”

Hope’s grin widened. “Okay!” Stefan set her down gently, and she ran back to the house.

Hayley stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on Stefan’s arm. “You’ve been really patient with her, Stefan,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s… good to see.”

Stefan glanced at her, a brief spark of warmth flickering in his chest. “She makes it easy. She’s… amazing, Hayley.”

“She does get her sweet tooth from me,” Hayley admitted with a grin.

“Oh, I believe it,” Stefan teased, leaning casually against the front door. “So… are you thinking cookie dough or pistachio tonight?” His tone was light, but he couldn’t help noticing the easy way she moved, the little quirks that made her unmistakably Hayley.

Hayley raised an eyebrow, tilting her head in mock indignation. “How could I possibly be asked to choose between my two favorite flavors? That’s so casually cruel.”

Stefan laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re right. That was horribly rude of me.” He moved closer, watching her with a gentle warmth in his eyes. “I mean, really, a person shouldn’t have to play favorites when it comes to dessert. That’s unfair.”

Hayley’s lips curved into a soft smile, and for a moment, the night felt quieter, softer, as if the world outside had paused. “Well, maybe you should pick for me then,” she said teasingly, though her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

And in that quiet moment, with Hayley by his side, Stefan felt a small measure of peace, even as the memory of Klaus lingered in the back of his mind, sweet and painful all at once.

Stefan lingered in the kitchen long after Hope had gone to her room for the night, the quiet house pressing in around him. They ate the ice cream, had a little bit of both flavors when they couldn’t choose, and shared stories about Klaus.

Stefan poured a glass of whiskey and leaned against the counter, staring out the window at the starry night. Atlanta felt like a dream he had only just woken from, and yet, the ache of Klaus’s absence gnawed at him.

Hayley entered quietly, her steps soft against the hardwood floor. “I appreciate you being so positive with Hope tonight, even when you’re clearly hurting” she said, leaning casually against the doorframe, watching him. “Are you holding up, okay?”

Stefan forced a small smile, setting his cup down. “Yeah… just thinking,” he admitted. “About Atlanta. About Klaus.” His chest tightened at the words, a mixture of longing and guilt stirring inside him. “It was… good to see him, but now he’s gone again, and it feels like—” He broke off, unable to finish the thought without bitterness creeping in.

Hayley tilted her head, her expression gentle but probing. “You’re feeling abandoned, aren’t you?”

Stefan’s lips twitched. “A little,” he confessed. “I know he has his reasons… but it’s hard not to feel like we’re left behind.”

She walked over, setting her hand lightly on his arm. “I get it. I miss him too. And I know Hope does. But…” Her thumb brushed across his skin, and Stefan felt a spark he didn’t entirely expect. “You’re here. You’re with us. That matters more than anything else right now.”

Stefan exhaled, letting some of the tension leave him. “I know. And I… I love being here. I just… I miss the old days, when it was simpler.”

Hayley gave him a small, teasing smile. “Simpler? You mean when Klaus was compelling you to forget ever meeting him and Rebekah?”

He chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the melancholy. “You’ve got a point. Nothing was ever simple with Klaus.”

There was a quiet pause, the two of them standing close in the dim light of the kitchen. A subtle tension hummed in the air, neither of them fully acknowledging it, yet both feeling it.

Hayley broke the silence first, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “I spoke with Rebekah the other day. She and Marcel are in New York now—they’ve got a nice apartment in the city.”

“That’s wonderful,” Stefan said, letting a small smile touch his lips. He had grown close to Rebekah and Marcel over the years, and hearing about them stirred a pang of nostalgia. More than ever, he felt the absence of familiar faces, of people who had once been constant in his life. “I’m glad they’re doing well. Still no word on Elijah?”

Hayley’s smile flickered, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Last I heard… he’s playing piano in some bar in Italy.”

Stefan’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry, Hayley. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been—losing him in a way that feels so permanent.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor, her voice quiet and raw. “Sometimes I wish he hadn’t done it. The compulsion. Sometimes… I hate him for forgetting me. How could he?”

“Hayley—he loves you,” Stefan started, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“He loved me,” she said sharply, her voice trembling. “The Elijah I was in love with… he doesn’t exist anymore. I’m haunted by our memories, Stefan. Me, and me alone.”

Silence stretched between them. Stefan felt helpless, unsure how to bridge the gap between her pain and the words that might soothe it.

“Fuck,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I’ve clearly had too much to drink.”

“Hey, you’re allowed to have an emotional breakdown every once in a while,” Stefan said gently, taking a step closer. “This… situation is beyond shitty, Hayley. And you’re handling it better than I would.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wet but defiant. “You don’t have to say nice things to me just because I’m crying.”

Stefan reached out, taking her wrists in his hands, grounding her in the moment. “I’m not just saying things. I never say things I don’t mean. You’re an incredible woman, Hayley. A force of nature. It’s a shame Elijah doesn’t remember you… how could he ever choose to forget someone like you?”

The unspoken tension between them thickened, palpable in the quiet kitchen. Stefan felt the pull, the warmth that radiated from her, the weight of shared grief. He wanted to close the distance, to let his emotions take the lead—but loyalty to Klaus and the past held him back.

Hayley’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, sensing his hesitation. “We should probably get some sleep,” she said softly, stepping back slightly. “Big day tomorrow… and Hope will be up at the crack of dawn.”

Stefan nodded, forcing a small smile of his own. “Yeah… you’re right.” But as he watched her leave the kitchen, he couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward her—an ache mixed with comfort, desire, and the complicated weight of their shared history.

He poured himself another drink and sat in the quiet, letting the tension simmer quietly beneath the surface. Stefan heard Hayley running the shower in her bedroom. Stefan closed his eyes, thinking of Klaus—and of how complicated love could be.

Present Day: Mystic Falls

Stefan sat alone in the quiet of the Mystic Falls house, the evening settled like a soft blanket over the town. His hands rested on the edge of the table, wrapped around a mug of coffee. His mind, however, was anything but quiet.

He thought of Klaus—of the first time he had seen him again, eight years ago in Atlanta. Only a few months after the Hollow stole everything from them. The memories were vivid: the hotel room, the intimacy they had shared, the warmth of Klaus’s presence that always seemed to pull Stefan in completely.

Stefan visited Klaus in random cities over the years. Paris in the spring. A tucked-away flat in London during a gray winter. A smoky jazz bar in New Orleans when Klaus dared slip back home. The visits were always brief, stolen fragments of time before Klaus disappeared again into the chaos of his curse and his enemies.

But Stefan waited all year for them.

He told himself not to—that Klaus had made his choice, that he belonged to another world now, a world full of wars and burdens that Stefan could never quite shoulder. Yet when Klaus’s number appeared on his phone, Stefan always went.

Each reunion carried the same familiar rhythm: the sharp intake of breath when their eyes met after months apart, the smile Klaus tried to hide but couldn’t, the whiskey poured like a ritual. They’d talk for hours, trade secrets, laugh like no time had passed. And when night fell, they inevitably found themselves tangled together, skin to skin, clinging like they’d been starved of touch.

Then morning came. Always too soon. And Klaus would vanish again, leaving only the echo of his voice and the ghost of his touch.

For Stefan, the waiting was agony. But the hours they had together—the weight of Klaus’s hand in his, the way he called him love when no one else could hear—those hours were enough to keep him going.

But now? It’s been three years of silence. No calls, no texts, nothing. Stefan felt the irritation coiling tighter in his chest with each passing day. How could Klaus abandon him this way? How could he abandon Hayley, abandon Hope—his daughter? The thought burned in Stefan’s mind, unfair and unrelenting.

He shook his head, trying to push it away. Life in Mystic Falls had been unexpectedly pleasant over the last eight years. The quiet rhythm of the town, the small routines with Hope and Hayley—it had grounded him more than he thought possible.

Hayley had been the constant, the anchor in the storm Klaus had left behind. She was strong, capable, and endlessly patient, and every day Stefan found himself noticing the small things about her—the way she laughed at Hope’s antics, the warmth she brought to the kitchen when she cooked, the way she always seemed to know when he needed her presence without a word.

And then there was Hope. She had grown into a teenager who reminded him of Klaus every single day—those sharp, intelligent eyes, the stubborn streak, the moments of unexpected softness. But she also had Hayley’s steadiness, her kindness, and her laugh that could light up a room. Stefan loved watching her grow, seeing her as this perfect combination of both parents. And yet, a pang of longing settled over him. He wanted more. More connection, more intimacy.

His thoughts drifted again, this time toward Hayley. The feelings he had begun to recognize in himself—they were no longer just the occasional flicker of admiration or gratitude. They had grown quietly, imperceptibly at first, into something more dangerous, something thrilling. A crush, yes—but more than that. Desire mingled with care, and the lines between loyalty and longing had started to blur.

Stefan exhaled slowly, letting his frustration with Klaus and his growing desire for Hayley intertwine into a tangle of emotions he wasn’t ready to unravel.

He closed his eyes, imagining Klaus’s face, Hope’s smile, and Hayley’s presence beside him. The three of them together in some perfect, impossible balance. It was everything he wanted—and yet, it was just out of reach.

Stefan opened his eyes and let out a sigh, feeling the heat of longing mixed with the ache of abandonment settle heavy in his chest. He knew one thing: the past had shaped him, but the present was his to navigate. And maybe, just maybe, the future could still hold something worth fighting for.

A few nights later, Stefan wandered into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck. The sun had dipped low, painting the room in shades of gold. Hayley was perched on a stool, arms crossed over the counter, a mug of tea warming her hands. Hope sat nearby at the table, sketchbook open, pencils scattered across the surface.

“Hey,” Hayley said softly, noticing him hovering by the counter. “What’s up, Salvatore?”

Stefan gave a small shrug, setting down his own mug. “Just… thinking.”

Hayley tilted her head, curiosity softening her gaze. “How dangerous.”

He laughed softly. “I’m thinking about Mystic Falls,” he admitted, glancing over at Hope, who was doodling with fierce concentration, pretending not to listen but clearly absorbing the tone of their conversation. He cleared his throat. “Last time I left I really thought I’d never come back.”

Hayley smirked. “You’ve settled in well here.”

Stefan felt a faint flush creep up his neck. “I do my best.” He paused, glancing down at his mug before meeting her eyes again. “But… it’s different without Klaus.”

Hayley’s expression softened, and she leaned on the counter a little closer. The warmth of her presence brushed against him in a way that made the tightness in his chest loosen just a fraction. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know it’s hard.”

He swallowed, letting the vulnerability hang in the air for a moment before she broke it with a practical suggestion. “Why don’t we have dinner with Damon and Elena again next week?”

Stefan thought about that, feeling a quiet gratitude swell in his chest. Over the last eight years, he had slowly let Damon and Elena back into his life. They weren’t the same as before—trust had been rebuilt carefully, boundaries had shifted—but the sense of connection was there again.

Stefan remembered dinners at the Grill, playing darts in Damon’s garage, even the absurd idea of Damon teaching Hope to drive in his fancy car—a proposal both Stefan and Hayley had politely declined. Damon was making the effort to be part of their lives again, and it mattered more than Stefan would admit out loud.

“We could do that,” he said finally, a small smile tugging at his lips. Then, teasingly, he added, “Although… Damon won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Hayley laughed softly, leaning back against the counter with that easy confidence he had come to adore. “He seems like the kind of guy who only wants what he can’t have,” she said, smirking.

“You’re not wrong,” Stefan admitted, a flicker of amusement in his tone. But underneath the teasing, there was a pang of something more complicated—a mix of protectiveness, attraction, and a hint of guilt for the thoughts he couldn’t fully voice.

Hayley’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary, and Stefan felt the quiet tension between them, warm and undeniable, threading its way through the kitchen like a current.

Hope, meanwhile, had been watching with quiet fascination. She paused mid-stroke, eyes darting between Stefan and Hayley. The way Stefan’s hand lingered near Hayley’s when he reached for his mug. The way Hayley leaned just slightly closer than necessary.

“But don’t worry, Stefan, as I mentioned before, he’s not my type. I don’t think Damon even eats ice cream,” Hayley scoffed, rolling her eyes in mock disgust.

“Oh, definitely not,” Stefan teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “He wouldn’t even know the difference between ice cream and frozen yogurt. Dessert is not his specialty.”

“Exactly,” Hayley said, shaking her head with a laugh. “We’d have nothing in common.”

Stefan swallowed hard, feeling the slow burn of something more than friendship weaving between them, subtle but undeniable. And as he looked at Hayley, he realized he wanted more than just her support—he wanted her.

Hayley leaned back against the couch, casual and relaxed, but her gaze lingered on Stefan in a way that made his chest tighten. A laugh, a tilt of her head, the quiet attentiveness she always carried—it drew him in like a tide he didn’t want to resist. He was aware of every small gesture, and it both thrilled and unnerved him.

Hope, meanwhile, returned to her drawing at the table, her pencil scratching against paper. Her eyes flicked up toward Stefan and Hayley now and then, lingering a beat too long. She watched the closeness between them, the quiet intimacy that wasn’t meant for her yet still seeped into the air. A knot of unease tightened in her chest.

Because this closeness, this gentle warmth, wasn’t just comforting, it was erasing something else, too. The space left by Klaus, the absence that had always been a shadow over their lives, seemed to shrink whenever she saw them like this. She didn’t want to admit it, but the thought scared her: that maybe, slowly, they were moving on. That maybe, in the quiet of these small, tender moments, they were forgetting Klaus.

And somewhere in the soft hum of the kitchen—the clinking of mugs, the rustle of paper, the faint aroma of leftover dessert—something fragile and new was beginning to take root between Stefan and Hayley. But for Hope, it wasn’t a promise of comfort. It was a warning, a whisper in her heart that the balance of their family was shifting, and that she might need to do something to bring Klaus back before the world they had known changed forever.

Chapter Text

Flashback: 3 years ago: New York City

The last time Stefan saw Klaus was in New York City. It was summer, the air thick with heat and the smell of asphalt after rain. The city was alive, but Stefan felt hollow as he waited. Hope was twelve now—twelve—and every day she grew a little taller, a little sharper, a little more like both her parents. And Klaus was missing all of it.

When Klaus finally showed up, Stefan couldn’t hold back the frustration that had been festering. “Klaus, it’s been over a year. Where the hell have you been?”

Klaus smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know how it is, Stefan. I’m always on the move. Can’t stay in one place too long.”

“That’s not good enough,” Stefan snapped. “I get that this is hard, but once a year? That’s all I get? That’s all Hope gets? This is killing me too, you know.”

Klaus’s face softened. He reached out, like he wanted to touch Stefan’s arm, but stopped short. “I know, love. I’m sorry. It’s just… hard to see you sometimes.”

Stefan frowned. “What does that mean?”

Klaus’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Every time I see you, it reminds me of what I don’t have. Of what I can’t have. I feel like I’m disappointing you—disappointing everyone.”

“So that’s my fault now?” Stefan asked, hurt bleeding into his voice.

“No,” Klaus said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s the bloody Hollow’s fault. But I’ve lost everything, Stefan. My family. My siblings. Any semblance of a life worth living.”

“You haven’t lost me,” Stefan said firmly, his chest tight.

For a moment Klaus’s eyes flickered with something raw, something close to breaking. Then he whispered, “Feels like it’s only a matter of time before that happens too.”

“Klaus, listen to me—we will find a solution,” Stefan said, his voice low but determined.

“It’s been five fucking years, Stefan.” Klaus’s voice snapped, harsh and clipped. “I appreciate the optimism, I do. But at some point, we have to be realistic.”

Stefan stepped closer, his temper flaring. “So that’s it? You’re giving up?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Klaus asked, and there was a crack in his voice that nearly undid Stefan. “Tell me, love—what am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to reassure me,” Stefan said, his voice rising. “Tell me that everything will be okay. That we’ll figure this out. That this—” he gestured wildly between them “—isn’t just wasted time.”

“Don’t be so naïve, Stefan.” Klaus’s words were like ice.

“I’m naïve for believing we’ll get past this?” Stefan’s voice shook with anger and desperation.

“There are no lives to get back to,” Klaus bit out. “It’s been five years. Hope is growing every day without me. I’d be surprised if she even remembers me at this point.” The admission broke in his throat.

“Of course she remembers you!” Stefan shouted, pain lacing every word. “You’re her fucking father. I could never replace you, no matter what I do. But maybe—just maybe—it would help if you called more. If you picked up the phone instead of disappearing for months at a time.”

Klaus exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “This is impossible, Stefan. I don’t want this for us. I don’t want us to be like this.”

“I don’t either,” Stefan admitted, his voice falling quiet.

That night felt different. Their argument lingered in the air like smoke, unshakable. When Stefan finally sank into Klaus’s arms, it was with an ache he couldn’t name. Klaus held him tighter than usual, clutching him like a man trying to stop time. Stefan buried his face against Klaus’s neck, wishing he could.

And then, as the silence settled, the air shifted. The flowers in the vase by the window wilted in an instant, curling in on themselves, and the faucet across the room turned on, gurgling with blood.

Klaus stiffened. “Bloody hell. Rebekah must be back in New York. I have to go.”

“Klaus,” Stefan said, his heart lurching. He wanted to tell him not to leave, to finish the conversation, to talk about their future. But the words stuck in his throat.

“Take care of them,” Klaus said instead, his voice soft but final. He looked at Stefan then—really looked at him—like he was trying to memorize his face, to etch it into memory.

And Stefan knew, deep down, that Klaus was already halfway gone.

When the door closed behind him, Stefan had no idea it would be three years before he saw him again.

Present Day: Mystic Falls

The house was quiet when Stefan finally stumbled through the front door, the faint smell of whiskey still clinging to him. He’d underestimated how much he needed the night out, even if it had been… messy.

Hayley was on the couch, half-leaning against the cushions, a glass of whiskey in her hand. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her hair had fallen loose around her shoulders. She looked smaller somehow, vulnerable in a way Stefan rarely got to see.

“Hayley?” he asked softly, setting his coat down.

She looked up at him, her lips curving into a faint, tired smile. “You’re home,” she said, voice wavering. “I didn’t think you would be.”

He walked over, kneeling slightly to meet her gaze. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

She sighed, swirling the whiskey in her glass. “Hope had her first kiss today. Some boy she’s been crushing on. She came home so excited to tell me, and all I could think about was how Klaus was missing all of this. Missing her,” Her voice cracked slightly. “And I just really miss Elijah right now. He always knew the right thing to say.”

Stefan felt a pang in his chest. He knew the emptiness of absence too well. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I can’t bring them back, but I can… be here with you now.”

Her eyes searched his, shimmering with emotion.

Before either of them could think twice, Stefan leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to hers. The kiss was soft, careful, almost questioning, and when she responded, it was with the smallest, trembling sigh of relief.

They pulled back slightly, just enough for her to murmur, “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Stefan chuckled softly, a low sound that rumbled in his chest. “You’re right… that was inappropriate. I think I’m… drunk,” he admitted, his lips twitching in a sheepish grin.

Hayley’s laughter joined his, soft and musical, but then she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his harder this time. Her hands slipped around his neck, and before Stefan could react, she had crawled into his lap, her body warm against his.

Stefan’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close, feeling the soft weight of her against him, and in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only her—Hayley—and the quiet, electric heat of something new, something he hadn’t let himself hope for until now.

“You… you feel like home,” she whispered, burying her face against his chest.

Stefan smiled, brushing a gentle kiss against her temple. The warmth of her body against his, the rhythm of her heartbeat, made everything else fade away.

“Hayley…” he said, his voice low, raw with emotion. Every word felt heavier than usual, weighted with all the longing he’d kept buried. He’d never actually imagined this happening, and yet here she was, panting in his ear and grinding her hips against his growing erection.

Her eyes met his, wide and luminous, and the unspoken words between them were louder than any confession. She reached up, tracing a fingertip along his jaw, lingering where the tension in his muscles betrayed the pull between them. Stefan leaned down slightly, their foreheads touching, letting himself savor the closeness.

“Please,” Hayley whispered, and Stefan was instantly undone.

He slipped her tank top over her head, letting his lips find hers briefly before trailing down to her breasts, teasing and nipping at her sensitive skin. Hayley gasped, tilting her head back, fingers threading through his hair as she arched into him. Her body moved against his, soft moans escaping in breathy bursts.

With a fluid motion, Stefan shifted them, lifting her with surprising ease and lowering her onto the couch cushions. He peeled off her leggings, revealing skin that was impossibly soft. She smelled faintly of bergamot and whiskey—warm, intoxicating, unforgettable.

His hand found her already soaking wet, and he paused for just a moment, amazed. “All this… for me?” he murmured, a teasing note in his voice, though his eyes betrayed how captivated he already was.

“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” Hayley admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She looked down for a moment, then back up at him, vulnerability and desire mingling in her eyes.

“It’s been a long time for me too,” Stefan said, his voice low, almost rough with need. The space between them was shrinking until there was nothing but the faint scent of her hair and the warmth of her skin.

He paused for a moment, his hands brushing hers, their fingers entwining instinctively. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, the words loaded with care and anticipation.

Hayley’s gaze met his, steady and earnest, though her lips trembled slightly. “Please, Stefan… don’t make me say it,” she whispered. There was no hesitation in her tone—just trust, just surrender.

Stefan smirked as he eased into her, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch. Hayley’s head fell back against the pillow, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as her body stretched to take him. He moved carefully at first, cautious, his hips rolling forward in search of that place he knew would unravel her.

The moment he found it, she cried out, breathless and raw. “Stefan—fuck.” Her cheeks flushed crimson, her eyes glinting with wild hunger.

“Shh,” he murmured, brushing his mouth against her ear as his pace deepened, steadier now. “Don’t want to wake Hope.”

Hayley bit down on her lip, stifling another moan, her arms winding tight around his neck to pull him closer. “It feels so good,” she gasped, her words breaking on the rhythm of his thrusts.

“You’re so wet,” Stefan groaned. It had been years since he’d been this close to a woman, and the difference hit him like a wave. Her body was soft, curving in ways that made his pulse quicken and his breath catch. Every subtle movement, every shiver of her skin against his, felt electrifyingly familiar yet brand new.

Stefan realized he had forgotten just how intoxicating it could be—the way warmth, touch, and desire could fuse into something almost dizzying. It wasn’t just the physicality; it was the intimacy, the unspoken trust, the way she let herself be completely present with him. Every sigh, every brush of her hand, every glance held a quiet magic that left him feeling simultaneously grounded and lightheaded, like he’d been missing a part of himself he hadn’t even known was gone.

He pressed a little closer, savoring the contours, the softness, the scent of her, letting the moment stretch out, memorizing it with every sense. It wasn’t just euphoria—it was recognition, connection, and a heat that went far deeper than he’d expected.

“I’m close already,” Hayley gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Faster, Stefan.”

He obeyed, quickening the rhythm of his hips. The heat between them built like wildfire, every movement sending shivers up his spine. Sweat traced down his back, dampening his shirtless skin, and his forehead was slick with the intensity of the moment.

Her body arched against his, gripping him tightly, every shudder and gasp echoing through him. “Fuck… Hayley,” he groaned, his own pleasure mounting as he felt her tremble beneath him.

The world narrowed to the sensation of her—soft, warm, alive beneath him—and he lost himself completely. Her name slipped from his lips in a ragged moan as their bodies moved together in a perfect, frantic rhythm. And when the release came, it was explosive, his own tension breaking in tandem with hers, leaving them both gasping, trembling, and caught in the quiet aftermath.

They collapsed together onto the couch, their bodies still tangled, hearts hammering in unison. Stefan rested his forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of her hair and the faint warmth of her skin. For a long moment, neither spoke; words felt unnecessary, almost intrusive after the intensity of what they’d just shared.

Hayley’s fingers traced small circles along his chest, tentative at first, then more confident as if mapping him, memorizing him. “I… I wasn’t expecting that,” she whispered, her voice soft, vulnerable.

“Neither was I,” Stefan admitted, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. He could feel the lingering heat of their closeness, the slow easing of tension, the fragile trust forming between them. “But I’m glad it happened.”

Hayley smiled faintly, leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder. “It doesn’t feel… wrong,” she murmured. “It feels like it should have happened a long time ago.”

Stefan’s chest tightened at her words. He had imagined moments like this with her—sometimes vividly—but the reality was warmer, more grounding. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’ve wanted this… I’ve wanted you… for a long time,” he confessed, the words barely audible, as though speaking them too loudly might shatter the moment.

They lay there in quiet, the only sounds the soft hum of the cicadas outside and the faint creak of the couch. Stefan could feel the weight of everything—Klaus, the past, the uncertainty of the future—but in this moment, none of that mattered. All that existed was Hayley, the warmth of her body against his, and the quiet promise that they weren’t alone anymore.

Hayley shifted slightly, her fingers lingering over his hand. “Promise me we’ll be careful,” she said softly. “With each other… and with what we’re feeling.”

Stefan nodded, pressing his lips briefly to her forehead. “I promise,” he said.

Stefan felt the unspoken bond solidifying—the first threads of something new, something worth protecting, forming quietly around them.

A few days had passed since Hayley and Stefan had spent the night together. The memory lingered between them like a secret they hadn’t figured out how to carry yet. They moved carefully around each other in the mornings, trading shy smiles and brushing shoulders in the kitchen while they reached for coffee mugs. Hayley laughed a little too quickly at Stefan’s quiet jokes. Stefan found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye, the way her hair fell loose around her face, the way she tried to act normal.

There was nothing normal about it. Something had shifted, something irreversible, and neither of them knew how to name it.

Hope felt it too. She was sharper than they gave her credit for. The tension in the house was different now—not bad, not exactly—but it pressed against her in a way that made her restless. She saw Stefan’s smile linger too long when Hayley walked past. She noticed Hayley humming to herself in the kitchen, like she hadn’t in months. She knew. Something had happened.

And she hated it.

She thought she’d be happy—relieved, even—that her mom wasn’t so lonely anymore, that Stefan wasn’t drowning in guilt all the time. But instead, the sight of them circling each other with those stupid little smiles made her stomach twist. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Because no matter how much she wanted her mom to have this, all it did was remind her of what was missing.

Her dad.

Hope missed him so much it hurt. It was a hollow, gnawing ache that lived in her chest, a physical pain that made it hard to breathe sometimes. Every time she thought of him, she felt like the air had been stolen from the room. She couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone else was moving on without him—and if they did, maybe he really wouldn’t come back.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Roman understood. Out of everyone, he was the only one who really listened when she spoke about the ache of losing Klaus, about the way it felt like her family was unraveling. When she told him about the way Stefan and Hayley acted lately, he didn’t tell her to be happy for them. He didn’t pat her hand and say give it time. He nodded, eyes full of a quiet intensity, and said he got it.

He told her he had ideas. Real ones. Things they could do that might actually get Klaus’s attention, maybe even bring him home. But if she wanted to try, she’d have to trust him.

Hope’s heart hammered. She didn’t know if it was dangerous, or reckless, or if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. But sitting in that hollow ache, watching her mom smile at someone else while her dad was still gone? That felt unbearable.

Trusting Roman felt easier than doing nothing.

Chapter Text

Present Day: Mystic Falls

It started off like any other morning.

Stefan was in the kitchen, rinsing out his coffee mug and listening to the faint hum of the old refrigerator. The sunlight slanted through the window, catching in the dust motes that floated lazily in the air. For once, the house was quiet—no awkward bumping into Hayley in the hallway, no nervous laughter over coffee. Just silence. Calm.

And then Hope’s footsteps thundered down the hallway, shattering it.

“Stefan!” she screamed, her voice high, choked.

He turned instantly, the mug slipping from his hand and clattering into the sink. Hope stumbled into the kitchen, tears streaming down her cheeks, her little chest heaving like she’d run a mile.

“Something’s wrong,” she cried.

Stefan dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her arms. “Hope, hey, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s Mom,” she sobbed. “She went outside to take a call, and then she—she never came back. I went to look for her and… and—” She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out Hayley’s phone with trembling fingers. The screen was shattered, spiderweb cracks splintering across it. “I found this on the ground. She wouldn’t just leave.”

For a moment, Stefan’s body went numb, like the world had tilted sideways. He stared at the phone in his hands, cold and broken, and the weight of it pressed against his chest.

“Shit,” he whispered, his mind already racing.

Who would ever want to hurt Hayley? Who would risk it, knowing she was Hope’s mother? Stefan’s thoughts spiraled, faces flickering through his memory—enemies from New Orleans, lingering resentments from Mystic Falls, ghosts from both their pasts. But none of it made sense.

He forced himself to stand, forced his voice to be steady for Hope’s sake. “Okay. We’ll find her. We’ll find her, I promise.”

But inside, panic clawed at him.

His first instinct was the one he dreaded most. Klaus. He needed to call Klaus. Even though every attempt for the last three years had gone unanswered, even though Stefan had left voicemail after voicemail that vanished into the void, this was different. This was Hayley.

His fingers trembled as he dialed the familiar number. The phone rang once. Twice. Then straight to voicemail.

The same dead silence.

Stefan swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw the phone across the room. He forced the words out, low and desperate, into the recording.

“Hayley is missing. I need your help.”

He ended the call and closed his eyes, the words echoing back at him. For three years, he’d held this family together on borrowed strength, waiting, hoping Klaus would come back. And now, in the moment he needed him most, he wasn’t there.

Stefan opened his eyes and looked at Hope, her face pale, streaked with tears, clutching her mother’s broken phone like a lifeline. He pushed down his own fear, because she couldn’t see it—not now.

“Come on,” he said, gripping her shoulder, steadying her. “We’re going to find her. No matter what it takes.”

But deep down, Stefan already knew. This wasn’t just another crisis. This was the beginning of something much worse.

Hope sat curled on the edge of the couch, Hayley’s shattered phone clutched in her hands. She traced a finger over the web of cracks across the screen; her stomach twisted into a knot of guilt.

She hated lying to Stefan. He didn’t deserve it. He’d been the one constant these last few years—the one who picked her up from school, who sat through her awkward school plays, who told her stories about her dad when she couldn’t remember the sound of his voice anymore.

But this was bigger than Stefan.

This was about her dad.

If Hayley was in danger, Klaus would come. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, how long he’d stayed away, or what walls he’d built to keep them all safe. Klaus Mikaelson would never let Hayley fall. Hope knew it deep in her bones. And if she had to bend the truth, if she had to stage the danger herself—well, so be it.

Stefan had already called Rebekah, asked her to track Klaus down. He was pacing the kitchen now, his jaw tight, his voice low when he spoke to her on the phone. Hope’s ears burned with guilt, but she kept her eyes on the screen, on the jagged fractures like broken spiderwebs.

And then, suddenly—
Hayley’s phone buzzed in her hand.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Klaus Mikaelson. She almost dropped it.

She swiped to answer, her voice breaking out in a whisper she’d rehearsed a thousand times in her head.

“Dad?”

There was silence on the other end. A pause so long it made her chest ache. She wondered if he’d hang up, if she’d imagined it, if maybe her hope had made her hallucinate the sound of the phone.

And then— “…Hope?”

Her breath caught. It was him. The rough, accented timbre of his voice— undeniably him. Her father.

“I was looking for your mom,” Klaus said, his words tight, like they cost him something to push out.

Hope clutched the phone tighter, her throat closing. “So were we. She’s… she’s missing.”

Another pause. She swore she could hear him breathing on the other end, ragged and uneven.

Finally, his voice came low and certain, the way she remembered from her childhood—the tone that meant nothing in the world could stand in his way.

“I’m on my way.”

The call ended, but Hope sat frozen, her hand still clutching the phone, her heart hammering so loudly it echoed in her ears. For the first time in years, the impossible felt real.

Her dad was coming home.

From the kitchen, Stefan froze.

He’d only caught one word—one single word—but it hit him like a bullet.

Dad.

The phone clutched in Hope’s hand, the way her voice cracked, the silence that followed—he knew before she even said it out loud. His grip on the counter tightened until the wood splintered beneath his palm.

Klaus.

For three years Stefan had called, left messages, begged into empty voicemail boxes that swallowed his voice and gave him nothing back. Three years of silence. Three years of being abandoned. And now, with Hayley missing, Klaus decides to pick up the damn phone.

Hope turned toward him, her eyes wide and wet, the broken phone pressed tight to her ear. “It was him,” she whispered. Her voice trembled with hope, something Stefan hadn’t heard in her in so long. “He’s coming.”

Stefan’s chest ached.

For Hope, he forced himself to nod, even managed a tight smile. “Good. That’s… that’s good.” His voice sounded hollow in his own ears.

But inside, it wasn’t good at all.

Inside, it was a storm. Relief, because if Klaus was truly coming then maybe Hayley had a chance. Fury, because where the hell had he been all this time when they needed him? And something else—something darker, deeper—that Stefan hated himself for admitting even in the privacy of his own thoughts: longing.

Because no matter how hard he tried to bury it, Klaus’s absence had carved a hole in him. A hole that nights with Hayley, mornings with Hope, even fleeting moments of peace couldn’t quite fill.

And now he was coming back.

The thought both steadied and destroyed him all at once.

Stefan swallowed hard, looking at Hope, who was still trembling with relief. He crouched down, his hands resting on her shoulders. “We’ll find your mom, okay? No matter what. I promise you, Hope.”

But as he said the words, Stefan wasn’t sure if he was promising her—or himself.

Stefan heard him before he saw him.

That familiar cadence of footsteps, deliberate but charged with barely contained rage, echoed across the porch. Stefan’s entire body went rigid, every nerve ending on fire. For years he’d imagined this sound in his dreams—or his nightmares.

The door burst open without a knock.

Klaus stood there, framed in the threshold like a ghost out of Stefan’s past. The same storm-dark eyes, the same sharp lines of his jaw, but there was something different too—something weary, jagged, like the years apart had carved pieces out of him that hadn’t healed.

“Where is she?” Klaus demanded, his voice low but burning.

Stefan rose from the armchair, heart pounding so violently he thought Klaus might hear it. For a long moment, neither moved closer. They only stared, locked in a silence so thick it hurt.

“You’re really here,” Stefan finally said, the words falling out before he could stop them. His throat tightened.

Klaus’s gaze flickered—just for a second—from cold fury to something softer, almost pained. But then it was gone. “You said Hayley was missing.”

“She is,” Stefan said quickly, stepping forward. “We’ve searched everywhere—”

“You were supposed to keep her safe!” Klaus’s voice thundered, the walls of the house seeming to shake with it. He moved closer, eyes blazing. “That was the one bloody thing I asked of you, Stefan, and you failed.”

The accusation cut deep, but Stefan’s chest burned with anger too. “You disappeared for three years, Klaus. Three. You stopped answering. You left me here to hold your family together while you vanished into thin air. You don’t get to walk in here and act like I’m the only one who failed.”

Klaus was breathing hard now, his fury teetering on the edge of heartbreak. “You don’t understand what it cost me to stay away,” he said, his voice breaking for the first time. “Every day I wanted to call, to come back. But I couldn’t. For Hope. For all of you. The Hollow—”

“I don’t care about the Hollow!” Stefan snapped, his voice raw. “I cared about you. And you left me. Again.”

The words cracked out of Stefan before he could bite them back, the truth of his loneliness, his longing, bleeding into the air between them.

For the first time, Klaus faltered. His chest rose and fell, his hands trembling at his sides. He stepped closer, so close Stefan could see the shadows under his eyes, the lines of pain etched into his face.

“I never stopped thinking of you,” Klaus admitted, so quietly Stefan almost didn’t catch it. “But I thought… I thought you were better off without me.”

Stefan’s throat closed, his anger colliding with a rush of something he didn’t want to name. He wanted to hit Klaus, to scream at him for disappearing. He wanted to kiss him, to fall into him, to let the years of longing and silence collapse into something he couldn’t control. Every instinct warred inside him until he was left hollow and trembling, his fists curling at his sides.

“Klaus…” Stefan started, voice breaking with the weight of three years of unanswered questions. But the rest of his words evaporated the moment the soft sound of a gasp cut through the room.

“Dad,” Hope whispered from the doorway, her wide eyes filling with tears.

Klaus turned sharply, and for the first time since he stepped foot in Mystic Falls, his expression cracked. He was across the room in a heartbeat, pulling her into his chest so fiercely it was as if he feared she might vanish if he let go. His hands framed the back of her head, trembling ever so slightly as his lips pressed against her hair.

“My littlest wolf,” he murmured, voice thick, roughened with years of distance and regret. His whole body seemed to shudder as he clutched her tighter, holding on like a man anchoring himself to life.

Hope broke, sobbing against him, her small fingers fisting in his jacket. “You’re really here.”

Stefan watched, his vision blurring with tears he hadn’t given himself permission to shed. The sight cut through him—Klaus, whose presence alone had haunted him every night, now standing there alive, reunited with his daughter. The bond between them was palpable, magnetic, and Stefan could feel the longing in it, the ache of all the years they’d been denied. He knew what this moment meant to Hope after years of begging to see her father.

And over all of it, like a shadow creeping in at the edges, was Hayley. Missing. Out there, suffering, maybe worse. Stefan’s heart clenched, the full range of his emotions colliding—grief, longing, love, fury, helplessness. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break. He wanted to keep everyone in this room safe no matter the cost.

Hope pulled back slightly, tears still streaking her cheeks. “I’m so glad you came.”

Klaus’s jaw tightened, and his hand lingered against her cheek like he couldn’t let go. His voice was sharp, filled with urgency that cut through the fragile reunion. “I’ve missed you so much… but you know I can’t stay long, love. We need to find Hayley. Now.”

The words were a gut punch, pulling Stefan back to the cruel reality.

Stefan swallowed hard, forcing the hurricane of emotions into a box, locking them away. There would be no space for his feelings—for the ache of seeing Klaus again, for the unbearable weight of what was unsaid between them. Not now. Not with Hayley’s life hanging by a thread.

Stefan stepped forward, steadying his voice. “He’s right. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

For now, they had to set everything else aside—the anger, the love, the grief. Hayley needed them, and that was all that mattered.

The living room felt too small with Klaus in it—like his presence alone was bending the walls inward, suffocating. Stefan had already made the call, and within the hour Damon appeared, leaning casually against the doorway with that smug grin that never failed to irritate at the worst times.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Original headache himself,” Damon drawled, eyeing Klaus.

Klaus didn’t even bother turning to look at him, instead pacing in front of the window like a caged animal. “I assume this is the brother who never learned to hold his tongue?”

Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damon.” His voice was clipped, warning.

“What?” Damon spread his hands. “I’m just saying, if you think I’m thrilled to be dragged into a ‘find the missing hybrid’ search party, you’d be wrong.”

In a flash, Klaus was in front of him, fangs bared, eyes blazing gold. “Say another word about Hayley, and it’ll be the last thing you ever say.”

Stefan shoved himself between them before Damon could snap back. “Enough!” His voice thundered louder than either of theirs, his patience snapping thin. “We don’t have time for your ego contests. Hayley’s life is on the line. That’s the only thing that matters right now.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Klaus’s chest heaved with the force of holding himself back, while Damon smirked like he’d won some invisible game. But Stefan knew the truth—neither of them were winning, and Hayley was still missing.

“Look,” Stefan said, more measured now. “We need to figure out who would come after her. Think. Hayley doesn’t have enemies—not really. Not here.”

Damon’s smirk softened into something more serious. “Unless it’s about Hope.”

The words cut like a blade. Klaus’s jaw flexed, his eyes flicking briefly toward the hallway where Hope had retreated earlier.

Stefan pressed forward before the thought could spiral. “Whoever it is, we don’t have the luxury of wasting time. Every minute we spend arguing, every minute you stay here in Mystic Falls, Klaus—you’re putting Hope in danger. And all of us with her.”

The air grew heavy, tense and suffocating. Klaus stared at Stefan, as though he wanted to argue, to deny it, but he couldn’t. He knew Stefan was right.

“Then we find her fast,” Klaus said at last, voice low and lethal. “No delays. No distractions.”

“Fine by me,” Damon muttered, grabbing a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet. “But if this ends with Mystic Falls painted red, I’m blaming both of you.”

Stefan ignored him. His eyes stayed locked on Klaus’s, that unspoken current sparking again—the anger, the history, the need that neither of them had time for now.

“Then let’s get to work,” Stefan said.

Chapter Text

Present Day: Mystic Falls

The search stretched into the night. They split up, combing every lead, every corner of Mystic Falls and the woods that bordered it. Klaus tore through old contacts and compelled anyone who might’ve seen something. Damon used his particular brand of sleazy charm to shake down bar owners and night walkers. Stefan followed physical trails, his heightened senses tuned to every broken branch, every misplaced footprint.

But nothing.

It was like Hayley had been swallowed by the earth itself.

Each dead end piled onto the next, and frustration clung to them like smoke. The tension in the air wasn’t just emotional—it was supernatural. Everywhere Klaus went, life seemed to recoil. Flowers wilted in vases, fresh leaves curled black at the edges. A ceiling light popped in one of the motels they stopped at, glass raining down, startling the clerk so badly he almost fled.

Klaus didn’t even notice. His fury was bleeding into the world around him, poisoning it.

Stefan noticed. Everyone noticed.

The pressure in Stefan’s chest grew heavier with every passing hour. He could feel Hayley slipping through his fingers, though he had no proof, no evidence—just a gnawing dread that made his gut twist. He thought about her nervous smile in the kitchen, about the way she said his name the night they gave into each other. He thought about how alive she had felt in his arms. And now? Now she was just… gone.

And he was helpless.

Hope tried to hide her fear, but Stefan could see it in her eyes every time she asked, “Did you find anything?” Damon kept making smart-ass remarks, trying to cut the tension, but even his jokes felt hollow now.

And Klaus—Klaus was a storm ready to break, a hurricane with teeth. His anger was the only thing keeping him standing.

Stefan wanted to believe they’d find her, that it wasn’t too late. But that certainty he’d always been able to summon in the past was missing. Instead, every second ticked louder in his mind, screaming failure. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d promised Klaus, too.

And now, for the first time in years, Stefan Salvatore felt like he was running out of time.

Hope had been quiet all day, her eyes darting away when Klaus or Stefan looked at her too long. She chewed on her thumbnail until it bled, and when Stefan gently told her to stop, she nearly snapped at him. Finally, as the sun began to sink behind the trees, she broke.

“I have to tell you something.” Her voice was small, shaking.

Stefan froze, heart stuttering. Klaus turned toward her sharply, the storm of his anger finally cracking into silence.

Hope clutched Hayley’s broken phone tighter, her knuckles pale. “It’s my fault. Mom… she’s gone because of me.”

Stefan stepped forward, but Klaus raised a hand to stop him. His blue eyes burned into his daughter, equal parts fury and dread. “Explain,” he said, low and dangerous.

Hope’s breath hitched. “Roman—he’s the one I… kissed. I trusted him. I thought—he said—he could help me bring you home.” Her voice broke, and tears spilled hot down her cheeks. “He said Mom wouldn’t be hurt, that she’d just be taken somewhere safe until you came back. But now—now she’s not where he said she’d be. She’s gone. Actually gone.”

Her whole body shook with sobs. “I was so stupid. I just wanted you back. I just wanted my dad.”

Stefan’s chest tightened so hard he could barely breathe. The room seemed to tilt, like the ground itself was pulling away from beneath them.

But Klaus… Klaus surprised them both. He didn’t yell, didn’t rage. He knelt in front of his daughter and cupped her tear-streaked face in his hands.

“No,” Klaus said firmly, voice trembling just enough to betray him. “This is not your fault, Hope.”

“But—”

“This is mine.” His throat worked around the words like they were shards of glass. “If I had been here… if I had been the father you needed, you never would have done this. You would never have had to carry this weight on your own.” He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closing tight. “You’ve done nothing wrong, little wolf. It is I who have failed you.”

Hope’s sobs softened, but the guilt in her eyes didn’t fade. Stefan looked away, unable to watch the two of them without feeling like an intruder on something raw and sacred.

Finally, Klaus pulled back and steadied himself. His voice was clipped, controlled, full of command again. “We don’t have time for regrets. You’re going to help me find her.”

Hope blinked at him. “How?”

“A locator spell.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, the faintest of smiles flickering despite the devastation in his eyes. “You learned it at the school, right?”

Hope nodded, wiping her cheeks, determination slowly replacing her shame.

“Good,” Klaus said, standing to his full height again. The storm inside him was no less fierce, but it was now sharpened to a blade. “Then let’s bring her home.”

Hope’s hands trembled as she traced the words in the grimoire. Candlelight flickered across the pages, shadows dancing on the walls of the kitchen. Stefan hovered nearby, fists clenched at his sides, while Klaus paced behind them like a predator, his jaw tight.

Hope shot him a quick glare. “I can feel her energy, but… something’s wrong.”

Klaus stopped pacing, eyes narrowing. “Wrong how?”

“It’s… blocked. Someone’s masking her presence, or… shielding her. Whoever has her is at least ten steps ahead of us.” Hope’s fingers shook; frustration etched on her young face.

Stefan ran a hand over his face, sighing. “That’s not good.”

Klaus’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing inside him. “Someone is playing with us. I can feel it. She’s alive, but they’re taunting us—using her like a pawn.”

Even as they debated their next move, unease coiled around them. That night, the tension in the house was palpable. Shadows felt too long, the air too thick. And then, there was a knock at the door.

Klaus’s fangs bared instinctively as he moved forward, flinging the door open. On the doorstep lay a small, unassuming box.

He froze. Stefan leaned forward, heart hammering.

Hayley’s crescent moon scar—painfully familiar—had been carved from her back, perfectly preserved, and placed inside the box.

Klaus’s hand went slack, dropping the box to the floor. The sound of it hitting the wood echoed in the silence, sharp and cruel. He bent down, eyes wide in disbelief, stomach twisting with disgust and helplessness.

Stefan felt his blood run cold. “Klaus…” he said, voice tight.

Klaus’s jaw clenched, trembling with rage. “This isn’t just a threat. She’s in actual danger...” His voice dropped, thick with emotion and fear.

Hope stepped back, horrified, covering her mouth with both hands. Stefan reached for her shoulder, but she shook her head. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Klaus sank to one knee, running a hand through his hair, face pale in the candlelight. The room seemed to darken around him, his grief and fury almost tangible. The faint scent of death lingered, the weight of it pressing on all three of them.

“This is war,” Klaus finally growled, voice low and deadly. “And whoever did this… they will pay.”

Stefan and Hope exchanged a glance. Fear, anger, and helplessness mirrored in each other’s eyes. But Klaus… Klaus felt something even worse: sickening, suffocating dread that no amount of power could erase.

Hayley’s life wasn’t just at risk. It was a message. And the message was loud, clear, and terrifying.

The house was quiet except for the low hum of tension. Klaus sat at the kitchen table, fists resting on the wood, jaw tight, eyes dark with fury. Stefan leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Klaus couldn’t deny how strange it felt to be here with Stefan after all this time. Three years might as well have been three centuries. Stefan’s face was painfully familiar—every line, every shift in his expression carved into Klaus’s memory—but there was distance now, too. He felt like a stranger who knew him too well.

And then there was Hayley.

Klaus had noticed the change before anyone spoke it aloud—the way Stefan’s protectiveness sharpened when Hayley’s name was mentioned, the way his jaw tightened, the way his voice carried just a fraction more desperation. It wasn’t just obligation. It wasn’t just about Hope.

Hayley meant more to Stefan now.

The realization cut deeper than Klaus wanted to admit. A part of him wanted to rage, to let his jealousy burn the room to ash, to remind Stefan that no matter how far he strayed, it was Klaus he had once called love. It was Klaus he had bled and burned and broken for.

But what right did Klaus have anymore?

His chest tightened with bitter clarity. He had abandoned them—Hayley, Hope, Stefan—left them to patch together some fractured version of a life while he kept himself at a distance, too dangerous, too cursed, too selfish to risk being near them. He told himself it was protection, that staying away was for their sake, but standing here now, Klaus could see the truth in Stefan’s eyes. His absence had carved a wound deep enough that Hayley had slipped into the empty space.

And maybe Stefan deserved that happiness. God, didn’t they all?

He wanted to want it for them. Klaus wanted to believe he was big enough, selfless enough to let go and be glad for them. But the ache in his chest told another story. The Hollow had stolen everything good from his life—his siblings, his city, his daughter’s childhood, the man he loved. Now Hayley’s life was on the line, too.

Klaus clenched his fists, shoving the storm down before it broke loose. There wasn’t room for his jealousy, not when Hayley’s blood might already be spilled. Not when Hope was still watching him with eyes full of fragile belief, as if his return meant he could still fix everything.

No, Klaus couldn’t afford to be furious. Not now. All he could do was swallow it, bury it deep, and pray to whatever god might still tolerate him that it wasn’t already too late to put his family back together.

“We need a plan,” Stefan said, voice tight. “We can’t just sit here. Whoever did this is clever, and they’re not leaving anything to chance.”

Klaus slammed a hand down, making the plates rattle. “Plan? Stefan, our plan is to save her before they hurt her more! Every second we waste…” His voice trailed off, broken by the weight of his own fear.

“I get it. I feel it too. But we can’t let it cloud our judgment. We need to think strategically,” Stefan said.

Klaus whirled, eyes flashing. “Stefan, she’s the mother of my child, and she’s at their mercy!”

Stefan held up his hands, voice rising. “I know! I know, but yelling won’t bring her back any faster.”

Hope appeared in the doorway, clutching a stack of dusty, old grimoire pages. “I… I think I might have found something,” she said, voice wavering but determined.

Klaus’s gaze snapped to her. “Hope, what is it?”

Hope set the pages on the table, flipping carefully to a marked page. “The spell on Mom… it’s cloaked, but the magic leaves residual traces. I think if I trace the witch who cast it, I can find where she’s keeping Mom.”

Stefan leaned in, skeptical but intrigued. “And you’re sure it’ll work?”

Hope’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s the only shot we have. I’ve been reading through every page of these grimoire entries. There’s a loophole in the cloaking magic. I can… I think I can trace it back to her.”

Klaus slowly stood, towering over her. His voice was low, heavy, but calm in a way that made Stefan glance at him with caution. “That’s my girl,” Klaus said, rubbing her shoulder.

Hope smirked.

Stefan exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “If this works, it’s brilliant. But… this witch is likely powerful. We need to be ready for anything.”

Klaus’s eyes softened briefly as he glanced at Hope, but the intensity never left them. “Do it,” he said.

Hope nodded and began reciting the spell, her hands moving over the ancient pages, following the precise, looping runes. The candles flickered, shadows stretching unnaturally across the walls. A faint hum filled the air, almost imperceptible at first, then growing steadily.

Stefan and Klaus watched in tense silence, the room charged with magic. Klaus’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw tight, as if the very air was straining against him. Stefan could feel the pressure building in the room, the tension between them raw and unspoken.

Finally, Hope’s voice quavered, “I have it… I can see her. The witch’s location.”

Klaus’s eyes narrowed, barely containing the relief, the fury, and the aching guilt coiling in his chest. Stefan stepped closer to Hope, placing a protective hand lightly on her shoulder. “Okay. Now we move. Carefully, fast, and together.”

Hope nodded, staring at the small, glowing map of the witch’s location. Stefan could feel Klaus’s energy shift—a lethal mix of hope and wrath.

The moment was tense, silent except for the low hum of magic and the quickened beats of their hearts. They had a lead. But Hope’s hands trembled slightly. She was scared—but determined.

Klaus turned to Stefan, voice tight with a combination of anger and unspoken apology. “She’s my family. And if she dies…”

“I know,” Stefan said softly, meeting Klaus’s gaze. “She’s my family too. And I’ll make sure she doesn’t.”

Klaus’s eyes flicked to Hope, then back to Stefan. For a brief second, the rage and mistrust between them seemed to fade. But only briefly. The hunt was just beginning, and the tension in the room was far from over.

Stefan swallowed hard, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Every step mattered. Every decision could mean life or death. He knew there was no room for mistakes—not now.

Chapter Text

Present Day: Mystic Falls

Stefan and Klaus reached the crumbling house, the energy around it humming with dark magic. Every step closer made Stefan’s stomach twist tighter. He didn’t know what they’d find inside, but he prayed it wouldn’t be too late.

Then Klaus froze. A tall, familiar figure stood near the front door.

“Elijah,” Hope said, in disbelief.

Klaus stopped dead in his tracks. His chest heaved once before his face darkened with shock and rage. “Bloody hell,” Klaus rasped. His voice cracked between disbelief and fury. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

Stefan saw it too—the tailored suit, the impeccable posture, the calm mask over Elijah’s face. But his eyes… his eyes were vacant. Cold. There was no recognition, no warmth, only resolve.

“Elijah,” Klaus said, his voice breaking on the name as they got closer.

“Turn back,” Elijah warned evenly, his tone sharp, unfriendly. “You don’t belong here.”

Klaus stepped forward, desperation breaking through his mask of fury. “Why are you doing this? Hayley is in danger. She’s in there.”

Elijah’s jaw tightened. “The brother of the woman I love is in danger. I will protect him at any cost.”

The words hit Klaus like a blow. His expression crumbled, a flash of raw devastation crossing his features. Elijah didn’t remember. He didn’t remember Hayley. He didn’t remember Hope. He didn’t remember him.

Hope looked at Elijah in disbelief. She didn’t remember much about her uncle, and she knew he compelled himself to protect them, but the words still hurt all the same.

“The women you love is inside,” Klaus yelled, unable to hide the hurt and shock in his voice.

Stefan barely had time to react before Elijah lunged at Klaus. The brothers collided with brutal force, the sound of bone and earth-shattering echoing as he slammed into a nearby tree. Klaus fought like a man possessed, every strike fueled by eight years of grief and rage, but Elijah matched him with his usual elegance—merciless, precise, unflinching.

The sky split open with a crack like the world itself was tearing. Hail pounded down in heavy, jagged chunks, smashing into the roof and shattering glass, exploding against the earth with sharp, icy thuds. Wind howled through the trees, bending branches like they might snap at any second.

And then came the snakes. Black, glistening, writhing shapes slithering out of the shadows, weaving between Klaus’s boots, between Elijah’s. A living, hissing tide that seemed to spill straight from the darkness.

All signs of the Hollow. The warning that they were pressing on a wound that should never have been touched. That their being here together was tearing the balance apart.

But Elijah didn’t falter. With terrifying precision, he grabbed Klaus by the collar and slammed him against the ground.

“Brother—” Klaus rasped, his voice rough with shock as his chest caved under Elijah’s forearm.

Elijah’s eyes burned like he was a stranger, not a brother. His movements were merciless, calculated, without hesitation. He was still the same elegant executioner, only now stripped of loyalty, stripped of memory.

Klaus shoved back with the full force of his hybrid strength, cracking the ground beneath their feet. The snakes scattered, but more kept coming, hissing louder, coiling up the porch, filling the air with a suffocating sense of doom.

Klaus staggered, but fury roared back through him, a wildfire. He lunged, tackling Elijah through a wooden beam, snapping it clean in two.

All around them, the storm built, the hail sharper, the snakes more frantic. It was as if the Hollow was feeding off their violence, urging them to destroy each other, devour what little was left of their family.

“Go!” Klaus roared at Stefan, blood already running down his cheek. “Get Hayley!”

Stefan didn’t think, he just moved. He grabbed Hope’s hand and yanked her toward the door. For a split second, he looked back at Klaus—his eyes wild, a man torn between fury and heartbreak. Hope used her magic to tear down the front door with a flick of her wrist.

Inside the house, the air was heavy with incense and blood. Stefan had one second to scan the room before the witch struck, as if she could sense them coming. Hope’s body crumpled beside him with a dull thud, her head striking the floor.

“Hope!” Stefan shouted, panic slicing through him. He spun, but hands like iron clamped down on his shoulders and slammed him to the ground. His chest cracked against the wooden boards, breath stolen from him. Two vampires he didn’t recognize pressed Stefan down, their weight unyielding.

“Well, well,” a cool voice said. Greta stepped forward from the shadows, her presence commanding, her smile razor-sharp. “You’ve made it just in time.”

Stefan’s gaze darted across the room—then froze.

Hayley.

Greta had her pinned against the wall. Hayley looked wrecked—skin pale and clammy, lips bloodied, bruises painting her arms like dark fingerprints. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, as if she hadn’t slept in days. She was breaking, and still she fought to hold herself upright.

“Let her go!” Stefan snarled, thrashing against the hands crushing him to the floor. “Let her go!”

Greta tilted her head, almost pitying. “Oh, sweetheart. You think you’re in a position to make demands?”

Stefan’s teeth clenched, fury roaring in his chest. He tried to turn his head, just enough to glimpse Hope—her small frame motionless, her hair fanned against the floor. He swallowed hard. Every instinct screamed that he was failing them all.

“Why are you doing this?” Stefan demanded, his voice sharp with desperation.

Greta tilted her head, smiling with the calmness of someone who thought the answer was obvious. “Because abominations don’t deserve to walk this earth.”

“What?” Stefan spat, shock and disgust tightening his throat.

“Hybrids,” Greta sneered, the word curling off her tongue like poison. “They’re an affront to nature. Vampires are the superior species—pure, eternal, divine. Wolves? Filthy creatures bound to the moon. And hybrids?” She gave a sharp, disdainful laugh. “A mistake. A corruption of what was meant to be.”

Stefan’s stomach churned. “You’re torturing her because of that? Because of your pride?”

Greta’s expression hardened. “Because of survival. If hybrids are allowed to multiply, they’ll destabilize everything. Wolves will rise under their protection. Vampires will fall from their throne. The balance will tip, and what we are—what I am—will be diminished.” Her eyes glittered, fanatic with conviction. “I won’t allow it.”

Her gaze slid past Stefan, toward Hope’s unconscious form on the ground. A smile tugged at her lips, slow and cruel. “And how convenient,” she murmured. “We thought we’d have to go hunting for the little princess ourselves, but here she is. You brought her right to me.”

Stefan’s blood went cold. His rage flared so sharp it made his fangs ache. He strained against the vampires, pinning him down, his veins darkening with fury. “If you touch her—”

“Oh, I will,” Greta cut him off. “Because she’s the greatest insult of all. The truest hybrid—born, not made. She’s proof of everything I fear. If I end her, I end the possibility of more like her.”

Her words sliced through Stefan, the reality of it sinking in like ice. He met Hayley’s exhausted gaze across the room. Her whole body trembled, but her eyes burned with fury, defiance, and something else—fear for her daughter.

Rage simmered in Stefan’s gut, hotter than ever.

From outside came the violent crash of Klaus and Elijah’s fight—wood splintering, metal groaning, the unmistakable sound of flesh tearing. Klaus was battling his brother while the mother of his child was tortured merely feet away.

Stefan’s chest tightened with dread so sharp it nearly paralyzed him. The fight outside, Hope unconscious beside him, Hayley against the wall—this was unraveling faster than he could keep up with.

And for the first time since this nightmare began, Stefan felt the gnawing certainty of it—like all hope might already be lost.

And then.

It happened in slow motion.

The door exploded inward, Klaus and Elijah storming through like twin storms of fury. Hayley’s head jerked up, her battered face lighting with something fragile, something hopeful. Her lips parted.

“Elijah?” Her voice cracked on his name, disbelief and relief lacing that single word.

For one heartbeat, she thought it was over. That her Elijah—her steady, unshakable Elijah—had come for her at last.

But then her eyes widened.

Elijah didn’t come for her. He didn’t even see her. He slammed Klaus to the ground, pinning him with brutal efficiency, his face a mask of cold determination. There was no recognition, no flicker of love, not even a trace of memory.

The hope drained from Hayley’s eyes like a light being snuffed out.

Stefan felt his stomach plummet as he watched that realization hit her. The fight drained from her body, leaving behind only a terrible, quiet resolve.

She turned, her gaze locking on Stefan where he struggled against the vampires holding him down. His heart seized at the sight—her bloodied lips, her eyes glassy with tears, the weight of a thousand goodbyes in the way she looked at him.

“Look after her,” Hayley whispered, her voice breaking on the plea. She knew they were coming for Hope next and she couldn’t let that happen.

“No, Hayley—don’t—” Stefan thrashed violently, his throat raw from screaming. He yanked and fought against the arms pinning him, but it was useless. His veins burned with rage and helplessness as he realized what she was about to do.

Hayley drew in one last breath, steadying herself. Her trembling hands shot forward, grabbing Greta by the shoulders in a sudden burst of strength. Before anyone could stop her, she wrenched Greta’s daylight ring from her finger.

And then Hayley hurled both of their bodies through the shattered doorway and into the waiting sunlight.

“NO!” Klaus’s roar was guttural, inhuman, echoing through the walls. His body bucked under Elijah’s hold, desperation giving him the strength of madness. “Hayley!”

Stefan’s own scream joined his, a raw, violent sound ripped from his chest as he jerked helplessly beneath the vampires holding him down.

Outside, fire consumed them. Hayley’s body ignited instantly, flames devouring her battered form. Their screams tangled together until they both fell silent.

It was over in seconds.

Where Hayley had stood, there was nothing left but a pile of ashes curling in the sunlight.

The room went still.

Stefan froze, chest heaving, his ears ringing with the echo of her final words. His eyes burned as tears blurred his vision, the image of her last, broken smile searing into his memory.

The vampires who held Stefan down let him go, scrambling into the shadows.

Klaus staggered to his feet, Elijah thrown aside in his frenzy. He stumbled forward, staring at the ashes as if sheer willpower could force her back into existence.

And then it came—the sound.

A scream that tore through the world itself.

It wasn’t the battle cry of a hybrid, or the wrath of a thousand years of violence. It was grief. Pure, unrestrained, soul-rending grief. Klaus fell to his knees, the sound ripping out of him over and over, raw and jagged, as if he were being torn apart from the inside.

Stefan had never heard anything like it in his life.

He stood frozen, numb, watching Klaus break open in front of him. His own chest hollowed out with disbelief. Hayley—brilliant, fierce, stubborn Hayley—was gone. Burned away before their eyes.

The house seemed to hold its breath, silence crashing down after Klaus’s scream, as though the world itself mourned what they had just lost.

The smell of ash still hung in the air, suffocating. The space where Hayley had stood only seconds before was empty now, nothing left but a blackened scorch mark across the floor where the sunlight had devoured her.

Klaus staggered forward, chest heaving. His hands were shaking as though the ashes might slip through his fingers if he reached for them.

Stefan’s throat closed, his vision swimming. “Klaus—”

“Why did she do it?” Klaus’s voice cracked, low and ragged, stopping Stefan in his tracks.

“What?” Stefan asked carefully.

“Why was that awful woman harming Hayley?” Klaus’s eyes didn’t leave the scorched spot on the ground where Hayley had burned. His jaw worked like he was trying to hold himself together with sheer will.

Stefan swallowed hard. “She was targeting hybrids. Said they were an abomination. She wanted to go after Hope next, and probably you.”

Klaus’s head snapped toward him, eyes wild, like he couldn’t comprehend it. “Bloody hell, you can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Stefan admitted, his voice heavy with guilt.

Klaus let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, harsh and bitter. “All these centuries, all the monsters I’ve fought, the enemies I’ve made—and it’s this? This self-righteous vampire and her witch, deciding my family doesn’t deserve to exist?” His hand shook as he dragged it through his hair, eyes glassy with rage and grief. “Hayley died for this madness?”

Stefan’s throat closed. He leaned forward instinctively, wanting to bridge the impossible distance between them. “I’m so sorry.” His voice broke on the words, his hand reaching for Klaus’s arm.

But Klaus whirled on him, shoving him hard in the chest. “Don’t you dare.” His voice was shredded, hoarse with grief. “You were meant to protect her!”

Stefan stumbled back, stunned. “I tried—”

“Tried?” Klaus’s eyes flashed, wild, red-rimmed with blood. “She’s gone, Stefan. Because I wasn’t here. Because you weren’t enough.”

The words gutted Stefan more than the shove. He wanted to yell back, to remind Klaus that he’d been gone for three years, that Stefan had held this broken family together with duct tape and sheer desperation. But the devastation in Klaus’s face made the words die in his throat.

Stefan’s voice cracked despite his effort to hold steady.

“I loved her too, you know?”

Klaus’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. His brows pinched as though Stefan had struck him. “You must think I’m an idiot,” Klaus said, venom curling through every syllable. “I know you loved her, Stefan. It’s written all over your face since the moment I returned.”

Stefan’s jaw locked, but he didn’t flinch. His voice came out clipped, low. “We bonded over the loss of you, Klaus. You were gone for years—”

Klaus’s laughter was hollow, sharp as shattered glass. “How splendid of you to pass the time by fucking the mother of my child.”

The words hit like a blade. Stefan’s chest tightened with anger, his grief twisting into something hotter, uglier. He took a step forward, his eyes dark.

“Klaus.” His voice was a warning, low and steady, though his restraint was fraying by the second. “It’s not like I was doing it to hurt you, it just--”

In a blur, Klaus’s hand closed around his throat, slamming him back into the wall so hard it cracked. Stefan snarled, eyes flashing, and with vampire speed he shoved Klaus off, sending him crashing through a broken beam. Dust rained down, the air crackling with tension as if the storm outside had bled into the room.

“You abandoned us,” Stefan growled, stalking forward. “You abandoned me. What the hell did you expect me to do when she was breaking, when Hope was breaking, and you were too much of a coward to pick up the damn phone?”

Klaus lunged again, their bodies colliding with a force that made the house shudder. “I stayed away to protect you! To protect Hope! Every day I wanted to come back, and every day I knew it would only make things worse!” He threw Stefan into the remnants of a table, splintering wood beneath him.

“Bullshit!” Stefan roared, springing back up, his face shifting, fangs bared. He hit Klaus hard enough to send him sprawling. “You gave up on us. You forced Hope into doing something dangerous just to get your attention. You didn’t protect her, Klaus. You left Hayley vulnerable. And now she’s dead because of it!”

That word hung between them like fire—dead—and for a heartbeat both froze, staring at each other, grief mirrored in their burning eyes. Then Klaus’s rage surged again, hotter than ever.

“You dare blame me? You, who wormed your way into Hayley’s bed while I was fighting every day not to lose myself to the Hollow?!” Klaus’s voice cracked with fury, but underneath it was anguish. “You betrayed me, Stefan!”

Stefan staggered forward, chest rising and falling, eyes wet. “I’m sorry. I kept her alive. I kept Hope alive. I did everything you asked me to.” His voice broke. “Because you weren’t here.”

Klaus lunged again, tackling Stefan to the ground. They rolled, fists colliding, blows sharp enough to draw blood. Klaus’s roar shook the air, a wounded animal’s grief. Stefan’s own guttural snarl answered it, rage fueled by heartbreak. Wood shattered, glass splintered, the house trembling beneath the force of them.

“Fuck your sorry, Stefan. Apparently, it’s too much to ask you to keep it in your fucking pants,” Klaus roared.

Stefan’s fists curled at his sides, every nerve screaming at him to shove Klaus off, to bare his teeth. He wanted to lash out, to scream go to hell—because how dare Klaus act like he had the right to pass judgment after all these years.

But beneath that anger, a quieter voice gnawed at him. A voice that whispered he deserved this. That Klaus wasn’t wrong. Stefan had betrayed him. He had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

Stefan loved Hayley. Maybe not with the same fire that he loved Klaus, not with that centuries-long devotion that had shaped every piece of him—but with something steady, something that grew quietly in the hollowed-out space Klaus had left behind. Loving her had been… easy. Natural. She made him laugh again, made him feel like he could breathe when the weight of Klaus’s absence threatened to drown him.

And maybe that was the worst part of it all. Because Stefan hadn’t gone looking for it. He hadn’t meant for it to happen. But without her, he would’ve collapsed. Klaus’s absence had been a wound that wouldn’t close, and Hayley had been the only thing that kept him standing, the only thing that kept him human enough to survive those endless years.

So, when Klaus looked at him with all that fury and betrayal in his eyes, Stefan couldn’t bring himself to fight back. Not completely. Because some part of him—some guilty, grieving part—believed he deserved every ounce of Klaus’s wrath.

And yet, even now, standing in the wreckage of what they’d lost, Stefan still missed him. Every single day.

Finally, Klaus pinned Stefan, fangs at his throat, chest heaving. His hands trembled where they gripped Stefan’s shirt, knuckles white. Stefan didn’t fight—just stared up at him with tears streaking through the blood on his face.

And then—quiet, small, broken—Hope’s voice. “Stop…”

Both froze.

She was just waking up on the floor, squinting at them. “Please. Just stop.”

Klaus’s grip faltered. His eyes shut tight, jaw trembling as if he might tear himself apart from the inside. Stefan lay still beneath him, staring at the girl who had just lost everything, his chest tight.

Klaus released him.

The silence after was unbearable.

And then. “Mom?”

Hope stirred, confusion in her eyes as she tried to push herself upright. She looked around the ruined room, taking in the scorch mark, the broken beams, the silence.

“Where’s Mom?” she whispered.

Stefan froze. Klaus’s expression shattered. For a moment, no one spoke, the question hanging like a blade above all their heads.

Klaus moved first. He knelt beside her, voice trembling as he cupped her face. “I’m so sorry, my littlest wolf.”

Hope’s face crumpled, realization dawning all at once. “No. No, she—she can’t—” Her cry tore through the air, raw and unrestrained, and it nearly leveled Stefan. He turned away, tears hot against his skin, unable to look at her breaking.

Klaus rose, shaking with rage and despair. Elijah must have wandered off during the chaos of everything, he didn’t see him anywhere. He wanted to rip Elijah apart, to punish him, to make him remember. But all he could do was stand there, suffocating under the truth.

His family was gone. Hayley was gone. And Hope was sobbing on the floor like her heart had been carved out.