Coming Home (A Klaus Mikaelson Story)

Prologue

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Prologue

                As he lay there on the road looking at the stars he thought back to the argument he had with his brother and brother's girlfriend last night. Why were they always trying to change him? He had already changed so much since coming back to this godforsaken town. But that still wasn't enough for them. He turned his head as he heard a car approach. Maybe he should show them what he used to be, see which him they prefer. Maybe then they would leave him alone. 

A part of him wanted her to hate him. It made it easier for him to deal with her not being his, but belonging to his stupid weak brother. As the headlights came over his body, he lay completely still. Not even breathing. He heard the car stop and a door open; he had to fight the smile trying to form on his lips. People were just so gullible in this town. He stayed where he was for a moment longer, he preferred for them be closer, to see the look on their faces as they tried to make sense of what was happening.

However he changed his mind when he heard a female voice call out from the car, "Paul, get back in the car. He might be one of them. Please?" He was up and lifting the man off the ground by the neck before anyone could blink. He bared his teeth, feeling the change on his face and loving it. This was who he was, what he was. Why should he change? 

He could feel the man struggling against his hold but to no avail, he sunk his teeth into the man's neck and sighed as the warm blood flowed down his throat. When the man's heart stopped beating he dropped him to the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Now for the woman, he looked up at her for the first time, she was no longer sitting in the car. But she was also not trying to run away. Instead she was holding a gun, pointing it at his chest, he laughed as he took a step towards her. She fired the gun and he stood there looking down at the hole in his t-shirt.

Something was not right, he then realised what it was. She had shot him with a wooden bullet, and she had been aiming at his heart. A feral growl broke free from his lips and before she had a chance to fire again he was on top of her. Her screams cut short as he savagely ripped into her neck. Once the bloodlust and anger passed he looked down at the dead woman. Wait a minute, she actually looked familiar. Why... 

Then he remembered. He had never actually met her, but he had seen plenty of pictures of her. He went to the man lying face down, the man whose face he had not looked at while he killed him and turned him over. This was not good. He ran from the scene at a speed that no human eye could follow.