Archive of Our Own

“This,” Five declares, brandishing Klaus in his arms, “Is our next apocalypse.”

Silence. Klaus whuffs helpfully.

“Five,” Allison says. “That’s a dog.”

Oh, good, Klaus thinks. They noticed. 

“Klaus,” Ben nags from the corner. “You need to tell them.” In response, Klaus yips at him petulantly and buries his face in Five’s blazer. In the corner, one of Five’s victims moans about their dead husband.

“No, Allison, it’s not just a dog,” Five scoffs. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Five,” says Diego. “Maybe you need to lay off the alcohol. How is a dog going to cause the apocalypse?” He gestures wildly at Klaus, like, see? Klaus woofs softly. Diego’s secret love for furry and cuddly things wins through, and his face softens. “He’s just a little guy.”

To Klaus’ delight, Diego crosses the room to scratch the top of his head. Klaus’ tail begins to thump against Five’s stomach as he shoves his nose towards Diego. Diego smiles at him with a fondness he has not turned on any human creature in all his 29 years of living. He doesn’t say yes, what a good boy, but it’s in his eyes. Klaus can sense these things. He is, after all, a dog.

Five bares his teeth and yanks Klaus away from Diego. Klaus whines, turning puppy-dog eyes on Five. They are tragically ineffective, on account of Five not looking at him.

“This is more than your puny brain can comprehend,” Five shoots at him primly. Klaus can feel the rage thrumming through his tiny body. Diego lost him when he mentioned the alcohol. Critical failure. “And stop petting the apocalypse.”

“You’re holding it, though,” Viktor points out, incredulous.

“Containment,” Five says stiffly. Klaus helpfully licks his cheek.

“Five, why don’t you take a step back,” Luther sighs. He looks at Klaus and a small, fond look blows over his face. Klaus looks beseechingly at him. “What makes you think this dog causes the apocalypse? Also, has anyone seen Klaus?”

Klaus barks. He is ignored. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Five says. “Klaus can run off if he wants, we have bigger things to worry about. To answer your question, Luther,” here he squints down at Klaus, face creased in distrust, “This isn’t a normal dog.”

Klaus licks his cheek again. He shoves his face into Five’s arm and whines. Begrudgingly, Five scratches him on the chin. Another ghost next to Diego begins to scream.

“How so…?” Viktor asks tentatively.

“He set a building on fire,” Five says flatly. Several people yelp, rounding on him with a suspicion that Klaus thinks is frankly quite flattering. He whines, tail thumping as he stares at them sadly.

"What did you do?" Ben cries. Klaus sticks out his tongue at him—or tries. It lolls out. Close enough. Ben seems to get the message, as his disapproving frown deepens to Disappointed Look #9.

“I mean, even so,” Allison says. “Why are you so sure that he causes the apocalypse?”

“I told you,” Five says, “The Commission will stop at nothing to cause the apocalypse. The apocalypse is—without question—the single most important event in human history. Every year past April 1, 2019 is another year that a correct timeline must be created from nothing. Every minute has an infinite number of potential corrections. In short, their workload increases exponentially with each hour past the apocalypse.”

“But he’s just a dog,” Diego says with an impatient gesture at Klaus. “Even if he can set things on fire.”

“Not according to the Commission agents I interrogated,” Five says thoughtfully. “They definitely seemed to expect that this dog was important. I’ve done some research—” more like a metric fuckton of research at the cost of his own health and safety, but they digress, Klaus supposes, “—And I’ve determined that this is a hellhound. An omen of death.”

“It’s what?”

“Five, are you sure?”

“Should it be in the house, then?”

“What do we do?”

“Klaus,” Ben whines. “Tell them.” 

Klaus barks and wags his tail. He squirms in Five’s arms and rests his head on his shoulder, pointedly turning his back to Ben. Ben, the asshole, simply floats through Five to glare at him. They hold a silent, angry conversation.

What do you want from me? Klaus communicates, giving Ben his best sad eyes. I'm a dog.

Ben throws up his hands in exasperation. Manifest me! Try to turn back! Anything.

Fuck you, Ben. I'm a dog, Klaus tells him. That's insensitive.

Fuck you, returns Ben. Look at them!

"What, so should we kill it?" Luther is saying, looking heartbroken.

Klaus shares an alarmed look with Ben. "See?" Ben hisses. "Klaus, do something."

Klaus shoots Ben a dirty look. Then he whines, pulling his eyes open wide and letting his head droop sadly.

"No way!" Diego cries. "Look at him! He's not hurting anyone!"

"We can't be sure of that," Five says thoughtfully, peering at him. Absentmindedly, he scratches the top of Klaus' head. "In many folktales, hellhounds are more than just omens. Contact with, looking into their eyes, or encountering them too many times can lead to death."

He's met with cries of outrage. Five rolls his eyes.

"I tested," he bites out. "Obviously. But it may still happen."

"Tested?" Allison asks, brows pulled low in suspicion. "What does that mean?"

Five waves a dismissive hand. "Those Commission agents that I interrogated," he says. Smiles slightly, that too-wide expression. "They won't be a problem anymore."

Internally, Klaus rolls his eyes. Five made that sound so sinister. Protecting his street cred and his calculated, temporal-assassin energy. In reality, those Commission agents probably got it off easy; they just had a puppy shoved at them from all angles. Klaus is a delight, thank you very much.

Not that it had been enough to save them, in the end. One poor sod is in the corner now, glaring daggers.

“At any rate,” Five says, “It won’t be necessary to kill it. It would get rid of our only lead.”

“So—what do we do?” Viktor asks slowly, looking relieved.

“Well,” Five says. “We need to observe it,” here he looks down at Klaus with an oddly pensive expression, fingers stilling on his head. “I hope someone here knows anything about dog rearing.”

Klaus, in the day that follows, is subject to extensive scrutiny from Five. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the presence of their little pint-sized murderer, but Five is an annoying shitheel on the best of days. Whenever Klaus tries to escape his iron clutches, he hears the familiar thwoop before Five snatches him up again. Fucking gremlin. Can’t get anything past this guy. Why did Klaus have to be stuck with the role of being his apocalypse fill-in? On good days he couldn’t even get Five to look at him twice, and now suddenly Five won’t let him out of his sight. Fucker.

The plan, at least, was to sneak away and try to humanify himself before his siblings cottoned onto his disappearance and started to terrorize the nearest drug dealers. Klaus anticipates at least three days, but Allison is all about ‘family’ now, and apparently that means daily family dinners and a lack of seething resentment and/or kneejerk dismissal. Honestly, Klaus doesn’t know what gives. Those two things have been the cornerstones of their collective relations for the past twenty years at least. 

“So can you turn back?” Ben asks, hovering behind him like a particularly disapproving roomba. A very tall, very emo roomba.

In response, Klaus paws at Five pointedly. I don’t know.

“Klaus,” Ben says, emanating disappointment. “You don’t know? And you’re still trying to keep this from Five?”

Well, yeah, Klaus probably would have said, if he was in possession of a human mouth. Five would never let me cuddle if he knew I was fully capable of processing that fact.

“You’re doing this because you want cuddles from Five?” Ben echoes incredulously, once again displaying his eerie grasp of knowing what Klaus is going to say even through rain, shine, a gag, six grams of cocaine, the lack of speech, etc. “Klaus, they think you’re going to cause the apocalypse.”

Five thinks everything is going to cause the apocalypse! Klaus protests. Maybe I’m trying to introduce light into his cold, dead heart. Via dog.

Ben sighs. “Klaus, just try to turn back,” he insists. “How did you manage to turn in the first place?”

Klaus pointedly turns away from Ben and paws at Five’s knee. Five, who is bent over a piece of paper and scribbling with manic intensity, looks up irritably.

Up? Klaus projects, looking at him hopefully.

“Mr. Pennycrumb,” Five says, looking at him with a strange furrow in his brow, “I have work to do.”

Up? Klaus tries again, pawing more insistently. He whines for good measure.

Five picks him up, frowning heavily.

Take that, Ben, Klaus thinks, squirming onto Five’s shoulder. I’m going to get so many hugs from Five.

Ben throws up his hands in exasperation. “I’m going to go check on Viktor,” he says grumpily. “Have fun cuddling Five while he researches the best way to kill you.”

Low blow, Benny. Klaus eyes Five’s incoherent chicken scribble with newfound wariness. He whines and noses Five’s neck, prompting a hiss. Then, while Five is reeling, he ragdolls onto his shoulder and clings on for dear life. Five might be a tiny little genius in schoolboy shorts and knee socks, but Klaus has the unique ability to spontaneously transform into the clingiest creature on the face of the Earth. Five wants to kill-slash-moderate-slash-trap him? He’s not gonna know what hit him. 

“Viktor,” Five says with a unique blend of terror and relief, striding into the kitchen with Klaus by the scruff. “Good, you’re here. Take this creature away from me.”

“Um, sure?” Viktor says, bemused. “Don’t you want to keep an eye on it, though?”

Five shakes his head vehemently with a dirty look towards Klaus. Klaus yips, tail wagging. “No,” he hisses. “I have—research. Work. I don’t have time to entertain the—whims of this—creature.”

Five deposits Klaus into Viktor’s outstretched hands. Or, tries. Klaus wails, scrabbling to hold onto Five. When Five finally pries him off, with an intense air of suffering, Klaus whines. He prides himself on his ability to cry on command, and it seems it hasn’t failed him, even as a dog.

“It, uh, seems like it likes you,” Viktor says, hiding a smile.

“Unfortunately,” Five hisses, glaring like a wet cat. He backs away, refusing to crumble under the weight of Klaus’ puppy dog eyes. “Viktor, don’t let him out of your sight.” Then, begrudgingly, “His name is Mr. Pennycrumb.”

Thwoop. Bye, Five. Klaus messily shoves his head towards Viktor’s arms, begging for pets and quite pleased with himself.

“Well,” Viktor says, obligingly giving him several scratches to his chin. “Aren’t you cute?”

An hour in, Viktor gets tired of giving him attention and starts busying himself with his violin. With him distracted, Klaus perks up. He creeps down onto the floor, trotting away, before—

“Diego? What are you doing here?”

Diego freezes, deer-in-the-headlights. "Nothing," he says, unconvincingly. Then, in the least convincing subject change ever, "Have you seen the dog?"

Look at him. What a scrub. All hopeful and shit, trying to hide that he was excited about a dog. Pfft.

Despite his better judgment and enticed by the potential blackmail material of proof that Diego has a warm and fuzzy heart, Klaus trots closer to listen. He may be a dog now, but when he is capable of teasing Diego again that bitch isn't going to hear the end of it. 

"Huh?" Viktor says, looking around. "He was just here. Fuck, Five is going to kill me."

“He’s missing?” Diego asks, alarmed. He swivels his head around like an owl. “Come on, he can’t have gone far.”

Klaus briefly considers. The inevitable collapse of Diego’s already fragile street cred when he starts cooing at a puppy, versus Klaus’ vested interest in having human limbs. In the end, he decides, fuck it. How far will Diego’s dignity fall? Plus, they’ll fawn over him. Klaus loves being fawned over. As a dog, he can get away with so much shit.

“There he is!” Diego cries. He rushes over and scoops him up, cradling him like a baby. Klaus barks and licks his nose. Diego laughs, scratching his chin. Not fair, this bitch never laughs at my jokes when I’m human. Fucker. 

Diego, true to form, fawns over him. “You’re such a good boy!” he cries, delighted, as Klaus squirms and Diego excitedly scuffs his cheeks. “Who’s such a good boy? Oh, who wants to play fetch?”

Klaus barks then licks a wet strip up Diego’s ear. To his credit, he barely flinches. Klaus would not be surprised if he didn’t notice at all. You give a Hargreeves a single creature who holds no resentment at all and it's like the coming of fucking Santa. Who would have thought. Klaus contributes more to the erosion of this family’s emotional constipation as a dog than he ever did as a human, take that, Ben.

Viktor coughs. Diego whirls around, face red. Helpfully, Klaus places a paw on his face and tries to clamber onto his hair. Diego picks him up and deposits him there absentmindedly, all while stammering “I-I-”

“No, I get it,” Viktor says, amused. “You like dogs.”

“What did Five say again,” Diego mutters, studiously avoiding eye contact. “Containment?”

“Sure, Diego,” Viktor says. “Sure. Containment.”

Klaus whuffs. Then he starts gnawing on Diego’s hair.

Diego, as it turns out, is not very good at playing fetch. Klaus gets hit in the face by a tennis ball going a solid 20 mph no less than three times before he gives up and goes whining to Viktor. Ben, the traitor, who has by now wandered back, laughs so hard he begins to wheeze. Diego lingers in the background looking guilty and begging for his affection while Klaus cries and pointedly ignores him.

Diego gets so heartbroken that he bribes Klaus with several strips of bacon under Five’s nose, and all is forgiven.

By the end of the day he is still not given any opportunity to escape his family's iron grasp. As such, he is subject to the lovely time of being able to hear his family talk about him behind his back. Joy.

"Klaus isn't back yet?" Allison asks at dinner, frowning at his empty chair as if glaring at it hard enough will bring Klaus running. "I can't believe he skipped family dinner." 

"Yeah, Klaus," Ben says pointedly. Klaus whines and curls into Diego's lap.

"Who cares?" asks Five, frowning at the notebook he'd grabbed before being bodily forced out of his room to dinner. Something about communication and eating at least one meal a day. Klaus doesn't really get it either. "Good for him, managing to escape."

"Five," Allison says reproachfully. "This is important. Klaus should know better."

"If I have to be here, so does Klaus," Diego mutters. Klaus jabs him in the stomach for that one. In response Diego only strokes his back. Luther sends a longing glance at him.

"Should we go looking for him?" Viktor volunteers, frowning. "To his credit, he hasn't missed a family dinner yet."

Oh, no. Ben glares at him meaningfully. Klaus' head whips up.

Time to utilize one of his many skills: diversion. Klaus clambers onto the table and beelines for Five. He steps on the mashed potatoes (sorry Mom) and makes it to his notebook before Five notices and bolts up, a look of panic in his eyes. It's a beauty to behold. He yanks his book away and brandishes it like he's facing down some kind of rabid fly.

"Get away from me, demon!" Five hisses, scrambling away. "No, Mr. Pennycrumb! Away!"

Klaus yowls mournfully, pawing at the air. Then he yowls again. And again. Turns in an uneasy circle, getting mashed potato paw prints all over the tablecloth, and turns his best puppy dog eyes on Five.

"Oh, god—get it down!"

"Mr. Pennycrumb?"

"That's the name that Five chose—"

"Five, what's wrong?"

"Is it dangerous?"

Klaus whines. He gets up, paces in another uneven circle, then dodges Diego as he tries to pick him up. Then he backs up, with a determined, meaningful stare at Five.

The realization hits him. Five gapes at him and takes several uneasy steps back. He lifts his book like a shield, glaring at him. Don't you dare.

Klaus dares. Klaus sprints for the edge and leaps at Five.

The book clatters to the floor. Klaus, hooked tenuously onto Five's arm, begins to slip. Five, shoulders up to his ears and looking like a drowned rat, is holding him out as far as he can away from him.

With a great sigh, Five grabs Klaus and burrows him against his chest. With an expression of great suffering, he begins to scratch Klaus under the chin.

Klaus yips happily. Tail thumping against Five's blazer, he covers his face in licks.

"Oh my god, Klaus. For fucks sake."

"I—what?"

"It… seems like it likes Five?"

"Unfortunately," Five says. Klaus lifts his chin to give Five a better angle to scratch. He obliges.

Diego shoots Klaus a betrayed look. "No way," he cries. "How is Five the dog's favorite?"

Klaus barks at him. Then he nuzzles Five's cheek. Five endures it with a long-suffering stare. Diego's mouth drops open.

"I played with you!" he squeaks, indignant. "I gave you bacon! I—"

"Bacon?" Five asks, frown dangerous. "That's unhealthy for a dog—"

"You hit him in the face with several tennis balls," Viktor volunteers, and Diego deflates.

"But why Five?" Diego cries. "Five is a tiny manchild who hates affection."

"Don't call me tiny," Five warns. Klaus licks his nose, paws flailing. "And I'm the only sensible adult here. If there's any manchild, it's you. Or Klaus."

At the mention of himself, Klaus launches himself unsteadily at Five's shoulder, overbalancing. Five reaches up to steady him with a frown.

"Can I pet him?" Luther asks, eyes enormous. He looks disturbingly similar to a tiny elementary school girl asking if she's allowed to bring her hamster to class. 

Five sighs. "You may," he says, somewhat begrudgingly.

Luther approaches. He places a single fragile hand on Klaus' back, feather-light. He pets him once, then twice, eyes lighting up. It's surprisingly endearing.

"Hi, Mr. Pennycrumb!" he exclaims, voice high. "How are you?"

"Oh my god," Diego says in the background. He is ignored.

Klaus throws Luther a bone (ha) and licks his forearm. Then he nuzzles it, because Luther is kind of pitiable. Luther melts (case in point), looking like he's on the verge of tears.

Everyone kind of… lets Luther have his moment. Eventually Five, who has until now been awkwardly holding Klaus out to Luther, proves unable to stand the sheer proximity to something warm and cuddly and deposits him in Luther's arms. Luther looks elated and anxious in equal measure, rushing to support all of Klaus' flailing limbs.

"Keep an eye on him," Five orders. "I'm going to get some work done." Thwoop.

Luther creeps back to the table, holding Klaus reverently. He sets him gently on the table and gives him a tiny pet on the top of the head.

"He's so cute," Allison says, leaning forward to get a closer look at him. Smiling, she offers a hand for him to sniff (Klaus stares at it dumbly for several moments before remembering, right, that's what dogs do) before scratching him under the chin. 

Blissfully, the rest of dinner goes by without mention of Klaus.

Afterward, Klaus has even managed to slip Luther's supervision. Ben, whose nagging has reached new highs, follows.

"You've had your fun," Ben hisses. "Can you finally be serious now?"

Oh, foolish Benjamin. Klaus is never serious. Regardless, Klaus skirts around a corner and then noses the door closed behind him.

"Can you turn back?" Ben asks, practically thrumming with anxiety.

Klaus turns up his nose at him, sits on the floor, and concentrates. He imagines himself, human limbs and all, two legs and everything. He tugs at his chest, straining for anything.

Klaus cracks open his eyes. The floor has new paw-print scorch marks, and he is still a dog.

"Oh, Klaus," Ben says, sounding far too sympathetic. "Can you try to manifest me?"

Klaus hunches down and tries to reopen the familiar pathways to make Ben corporeal, tugging sharply at where his power is and directing it towards Ben. Nothing happens.

Klaus whines. He turns in an anxious circle and tries again. Nothing. Desperately, he tries again— 

"Klaus, the floor is on fire!"

Klaus bolts up. He shares an alarmed look with Ben. How the fuck did people put out fires? Usually Klaus didn't concern himself with putting them out and more setting them himself.

Stop, drop, and roll? That sounded right. It was—a saying, or something? For fire?

Good enough for him. Klaus launches at the fire and rolls.

"Klaus, what the fuck!"

Klaus barks, shaking out his fur. I put out the fire, he thinks pointedly, staring at Ben. 

“Most people don’t put out fires by throwing themselves at it.”

Well, it worked, didn’t it? Klaus whines, nosing the charred floorboards. He might be a dog, but at least he can put out a fire. A dog. He’s a dog. He can’t turn back.

Klaus lays down on the burned patch and considers setting another fire. At least then Ben wouldn’t start nagging him about his new potentially permanent dog-hood. 

Maybe it was okay. It wasn’t that bad to be a dog. It was only a matter of time before Five or Allison or someone gets a pamphlet about the wonders of spaying and neutering and gets his balls chopped off, but. At least he got to get cuddles from his siblings whenever he wanted. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to make Ben corporeal again, but at least he could beg bacon from Diego whenever he wanted and at least Five could tolerate him as a dog—

The floor is smoking again. Klaus gets up and paces an anxious circle around the room.

His family likes the dog. They like dog-Klaus. There was no shut up, Klaus, or go away, Klaus. Dogs are cute. Klaus—was annoying. Useless. One day with the dog and Diego is professing his love and Five is accepting a source of affection that doesn’t come from a mannequin. The dog could probably fight better than him, anyway, with the fire. 

It was fine. It was fine. Klaus likes being a dog! It’s fun and he doesn’t have to worry about Diego stabbing him and he has his family wrapped around his tiny paws. Okay. Klaus could do this. Klaus was—better as a dog. Klaus could do this. Maybe he would just live out the rest of his days with four legs and no balls and the name Mr. Pennycrumb—

“Klaus,” Ben’s voice says from behind him, exasperated, “You’re not better off as a dog.”

Klaus turns to look at him. There’s a piece of couch in his mouth—when had that happened? Klaus eyes the newly-ruined couch and decides it doesn’t matter. Just like his new furry problem. It’s not like he could do anything, he might as well just—accept it.

Klaus whines again and runs off with a ruined couch cushion in his mouth. He launches at the table and begins to gnaw on the leg.

“Klaus,” Ben sighs, voice nearing. His face fills Klaus’ vision as he kneels next to him. Uselessly, Ben reaches out, hand hovering over Klaus’ fur—

His hand touches.

Ben can touch him.

The two of them freeze, staring at each other. Ben’s mouth hangs open, staring at his hand as if expecting to see blue. It remains the color of skin. 

Klaus launches at Ben. Ben, against all impossibilities, catches him. Klaus barks, tail wagging furiously, and curls into Ben’s chest with a whine. Ben pets him softly, and he’s touching things, touching things without clipping out halfway through, and Klaus can finally hug his brother.

Ben isn’t warm; his skin actually seems to emanate a faint chill. Regardless, it’s strangely more soothing than being held by any of his living siblings. Klaus wriggles, craning his head up to cover Ben’s face in licks, but the exhaustion hits him all at once. 

Safe, his lizard brain tells him. Comfortable. Ben’s presence wraps around him like a blanket. 

Klaus burrows into Ben’s chest, supported by his arms, and his eyes slip shut.

"You absolute imbeciles—"

"Five, calm down—"

"No! I trust you guys with one thing—one! And then you go and lose the apocalypse—"

"Five?"

"I cannot tell you how crucial it is that we keep an eye on that dog—"

"Uh, is that him?"

Five whips around. Then he does a double-take.

"What?" Diego cries. "Mr. Pennycrumb—"

"Shh," Ben says. "He's sleeping." He is ignored. Ben would be more offended if he thought they could actually hear him. He tries to tap on the table, frowning when his hand goes through. Klaus, however, remains firmly tucked in his arms.

A dog— Klaus. Ben gets to pet a dog. Even if said dog was Klaus. A smile breaks out across his face, and he gently scratches the top of his head—he's soft. It's been so long since Ben has felt textures.

"Why is the dog levitating," Luther says blankly. "Is that something hellhounds can do?"

"No," Five says blankly, squinting at Klaus with his brows pulled low. Thwoop. Ben stumbles back as Five appears right in front of him.

"Interesting," Five whispers. To him, it must seem like Klaus floated backward several steps. He waves a cautious hand through Ben, and Ben hisses in offense.

"Is that, uh, safe?" Viktor asks.

"Most likely," Five murmurs absentmindedly. He reaches out to touch Klaus' head, then walks around to study him from all angles. One foot goes through Ben's knee.

Slightly annoyed now, Ben backs away. A bit hesitant to let go of Klaus but overall just hoping the debacle will be over, he eases Klaus over to Five. Five, whose eyebrows are now all the way up to his hairline, takes him.

Klaus stirs, one eye cracking open. He whines, glaring at Ben. Ben glares back, though he can't resist the urge to stroke his back again.

"What was I supposed to do?" he returns, placing his hands on his hips. "They all thought you miraculously learned how to sleep-levitate."

Klaus barks petulantly. Good! Let them!

"I think Five was about to start bringing out the EMF readers," Ben says morosely. "Lugging one of Dad's electricity readers all the way here."

Klaus howls in a weird kind of disjointed laugh. Five the ghost hunter.

"What's he looking at?" Viktor whispers.

"Interesting," Five mutters again. "Everyone, stay put. I have tests to run." Thwoop. Five is gone, having kidnapped Klaus along with him. Ben sighs, then floats upstairs.

Throughout the next day, Five keeps his grubby little paws firmly on Klaus, no matter how much Klaus badgers, whines, clings, or attempts to wreak havoc on Five's work. Any and all attempts to run off are thwarted before they even get off the ground. Five has some kind of scary sixth sense.

"Maybe you should try to communicate that you're Klaus," Ben comments, overseeing his misery with a cocked eyebrow and giving him an occasional scratch between the ears. Everytime he does, his mouth quirks up and his eyes soften in an unconscious show of wonder. It makes Klaus’ tiny puppy heart ache.

Why? Klaus whines. They're just going to be disappointed in me.

"So they don't decide to kill you," Ben says bluntly. "Or castrate you."

Good point. Klaus will cede that one to Ben. How so?

"Morse code?" Ben offers. "Maybe you can try writing with like, your claws. Or your fire."

Klaus mulls it over, then begins barking.

It turns out, Five is not only stupider than Klaus thought, he is also stubborn as a fucking mule. Any and all sound Klaus makes is gamely ignored for the hour it takes for Klaus to give up. Klaus shoves his nose into his neck and begins barking. He gets a distracted swat and a ‘ go away’. He gets onto Five's desk and starts burning paw-print messages onto his desk—no dice. Ben tries to write a message in Klaus' fur, which ends up illegible.

"Maybe you should try your powers," Ben suggests by the second hour. "You can still see me, and the other ghosts, so clearly you still have your powers. Somehow you made me be able to touch you—maybe it's just different?"

By the time Allison comes in to kidnap Five for dinner, Five's room is in half-burnt tatters, and he still has made no progress on either front. 

“Klaus still isn’t back?” Allison says disapprovingly with a dangerous glint in her eyes as they all settle down to eat. “That’s strange.”

Klaus tumbles onto the table and howls, trying his morse code. Nonplussed, Five scoops him up and sets him on his lap. 

“It’s Klaus,” Diego offers, cutting through his steak. “He’s probably just getting high somewhere.”

Oh, fuck you, Diego. Klaus barks as much in morse code. That bitch isn’t getting any pets for the next two days.

“Are you sure?” Viktor asks, frowning. “He’s been doing so well, though.”

“Actually,” Five says, looking up. “We need to find Klaus.”

We do? Klaus thinks wildly, somewhat stunned.

“You do?” Ben cries.

“We do?”

“Yes,” Five bites out, stroking Klaus’ fur. “When Mr. Pennycrumb was levitating earlier, it looked as though something—or someone—was holding him. Sometimes, his fur would flatten out as though someone was touching him. There’s a distinct probability that it was a ghost of some sort. Plus, because Mr. Pennycrumb is a hellhound, an omen of death, this situation relates to Klaus’ domain, so to speak. If nothing else, he might have a unique take on the situation.”

“Huh,” Ben says, impressed. “See, Klaus? They’re going to look for you!”

Klaus barks, unimpressed. Only because Five thinks I’m a lead. Then, hear that, Benny? Five thinks I might have a unique take on the situation. I have the best takes.

“I hate to say it,” Five says. “But the timing of his disappearance is also suspicious. Coupled with everything else, he’s our best bet.”

Klaus, uselessly, barks his morse code. Five frowns at him and scratches the top of his head.

“Uh, is the dog okay?” Luther asks. “He’s been barking a lot.”

“Ignore it,” Five says offhandedly, cutting into his steak. “He’s been doing that all day.”

“You think something happened to Klaus?” Allison asks, concerned.

Five glares at his meal. “Possibly,” he says. “The hellhound, the disappearance, the possible ghosts—it all relates to him.”

“Well, then we need to find him!” Diego cries.

“Of course, you idiot,” Five hisses. “That’s what we’re doing. Did Klaus mention anything strange to any of you? Where was the last time you saw him?”

“I saw him two days ago,” Viktor contributes. “He was just going out to buy clothes…”

“Alone?” Five asks.

Viktor frowns. “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “He said Ben was with him?”

“Ben doesn’t count,” says Diego. “He can’t drag him away from the nearest alley.”

Klaus frowns, sharing a betrayed look with Ben. Ben did too count.

“Maybe he, er—fell off the wagon,” Allison says gently.

Ow, Allie. Klaus hunches down grumpily in Five’s lap. Five’s new Commission fanboy glares from where he’s standing over Five’s chair. Klaus chooses to take that as support rather than just his perpetual state of being.

“Maybe,” Five says dismissively. “But that’s neither here nor there. Did you notice anything strange about him? Did anyone else see him around then?”

“I saw him earlier that day?” Diego offers. “He was trying to get Mom to teach him how to make waffles. Nothing out of the ordinary—for Klaus, that is.”

“Same, for me,” Viktor says.

When everyone else chimes in with various negatives, Five frowns. He spears a piece of steak and chews it thoughtfully.

“I’m going to investigate some of my sources from the Commission,” he announces after he swallows. “The rest of you, go look for Klaus. Try his old haunts, look through the department store he went to, whatever. Don’t let Mr. Pennycrumb out of your sight.”

With that, Five unhinges his jaw, shovels his half-eaten steak into his mouth, deposits Klaus on the floor, then blinks away. The Commission ghost startles and glares into space with the target of his hatred gone. Begrudgingly, he begins to trudge away. It’s kind of funny, actually.

“I wish he would bother with goodbye once in a while,” Diego grumbles. He reaches down to scratch Klaus on the top of the head, but Klaus skitters away.

Up, he whines at Ben.

“They’re going to freak out,” Ben tells him, bemused. “You can’t just start levitating in front of them.”

Up, he whines again.

“No, Klaus.”

Klaus whines and settles for curling up on Ben’s shoe. He stares mournfully at their siblings and internally debates if he can get away with burning a message into the floorboards before they can catch him.

Klaus ends up going with Viktor and Allison as they scope out clothing stores. Luther and Diego, presumably, are out there threatening Klaus’ old buddies. He hopes they don’t kill Tyrone—he was a cool guy. Or Ginny—she doesn’t deserve that. Oh, well.

Klaus flinches as they pass through a construction site and stop at the half-burned Gimbel Brothers storefront that had spontaneously turned Klaus from human to dog. Allison and Viktor take a moment to gape at the great burned hole in the wall.

“Well,” Allison says, eyeing it. “That seems like a good place to start.”

The Gimbels is near closing, but Allison and Viktor manage to squeeze in before it officially closes. From there, they’re able to interrogate the manager; thanks, Allison’s Hollywood career.

“Have you seen a man—about yay high, curly hair, greetings on his palms?”

“He was wearing lace-up leather pants and a crop top,” Viktor volunteers.

“Klaus?” the manager says. “Is that bastard giving you trouble? I keep telling him not to come back here.”

Klaus whines in response to Ben’s judgemental look. It’s John, he communicates. He loves me, really. He would never actually kick me out.

Allison laughs. “No, not quite,” she says. “We’re looking for him. Did you happen to see him around two days ago?”

“Two days ago?” John echoes. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t be surprised, though, with that damn fire.”

Allison and Viktor exchange a look. “Actually, could you tell us about that?” Allison asks. “What exactly happened there?”

“Hell if I know,” John grunts. “There’s a customer in front of me yelling about her expired coupons, the line’s twelve people long, and suddenly the fire alarm is blaring.”

Allison’s eyebrows are reaching her hairline. “Did you notice anything else?”

“Well—there was a bit of commotion before that,” John muses, scratching his beard. “I think something ran into the store? A squirrel or something?”

“A squirrel,” Allison says slowly. She turns to Viktor, who holds Klaus out in front of her. “Do you think it could have been him?”

Klaus barks, tongue lolling out. Looks up at John, all sparkles and innocence.

“Feel like I recognize that face,” John mutters as he gives him a once over. “Cute, though. Yeah, it could have been him.”

“Alright,” Allison says slowly as Viktor withdraws Klaus. “Well, thank you.”

“Klaus, what really happened?” Ben asks as the two (four) of them leave to interrogate more department store managers. “How did you turn into a dog?”

At the question, Klaus withdraws into Viktor’s arms, with a pleading look at Ben.

“You have to tell me eventually,” Ben says reproachfully. “This is important.”

Klaus whines and hides his face.

Predictably, the rest of the clothing store search does not turn up Klaus, as does Diego and Luther’s interrogation of the innocent junkies across the greater New York area. When they get back Five is irritably nursing a coffee, scribbling into his notebook. Klaus eyes the pile of dog-related items on the table with trepidation.

When they get back, Diego is seething and stomping ahead of Luther. Five, on the other hand, just… strides over and grabs Klaus. Tucks him into his chest like nothing happened, then looks expectantly at the rest of the family.

"So?" he prompts.

“Five, the department store where you found Mr. Pennycrumb—was it Gimbels?” Allison asks.

Five frowns. “Yes.”

“That might have been the same store that Klaus went to,” she says. “No other store mentioned anything about seeing him, and Klaus… frequented Gimbels.”

“There wasn’t any proof,” Viktor cuts in. “But it’s—a possibility.”

Five nods. “Interesting,” he says. “That’s another connection between him and Mr. Pennycrumb. We’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Ben says. “But Five is being kind of stupid.”

Klaus barks in agreement.

“Well, I mean,” Ben says. “I guess you turning into a literal dog is a bit of a stretch.”

Klaus shoots him a wounded look.

“Regardless,” Five says. “Luther, Diego, did you find anything?”

“Yes,” Diego bites out. “Luther, would you care to explain?”

Luther cringes, eyes wide and guilty. “I—” He looks down, then swallows.

“We ran into some junkies who said they saw him during apocalypse week,” Diego growls. “And they could have sworn he’d died.”

“What?” Five demands, leaning forward. “Were they sure?”

“Yes, they were sure,” Diego snaps. “He had no pulse for a full ten minutes, and his fucking head was caved in. Someone tackled him and he went down and stopped moving.”

“Really,” Five says, in a tone balancing between fascination and murderous rage.

“Klaus… died?” Allison murmurs, eyes wide.

“No way,” Viktor whispers. “He couldn’t have—”

“That’s not all, though,” Diego says, glowering at Luther. “He wasn’t just scoring a hit, because someone happened to be there. Even though we have never heard of this incident before.”

Luther shuffles his feet and looks down, shamefaced. “I—” he says again. He hangs his head. “I was there. After I found my moon research, I was just so—”

“You left our brother to die!” Diego snarls. “Where were you? He didn’t have a pulse for ten minutes!”

“I—It was my fault,” Luther says unsteadily. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Klaus must have gone after me to help me, I think he was trying—”

“What the hell, Luther?” Viktor cries, whirling on him. “I can’t believe you—”

“Luther, how could you?”

Klaus whines insistently. Five ignores him. He sends an alarmed glance at Ben, who frowns at him.

“They should hear this, Klaus,” Ben says, glowering. “Don’t distract them.”

Klaus whines harder and paws at Five’s arm. Five shakes him off absentmindedly.

“You left him to die?” Five snarls. “You didn’t even notice he was dying in front of you? What happened? No—who killed him, Luther?”

“I—” Luther says. “I don’t remember. I—”

“Then find the memory,” Five hisses. “I don’t care. You already fucked up, you better be able to tell me the name of the person who did this—”

Klaus howls, squirming free of Five’s grasp to chew on his earlobe. With a cringe, Five dislodges him, momentarily distracted. When he settles down, still visibly seething, he sends a poisonous glare at Luther and squares his jaw. When he speaks, it’s strictly to Diego, eyes passing over Luther entirely.

“What happened after that?” he asks, tone clinical steel.

“They say he just got up and stumbled away,” Diego says, shoulders hunched. “His head was fine. Some just chalked it up to a bad trip.”

“Fuck,” Five whispers, eyes narrowed. “What day was this?”

“They weren’t sure,” Diego reports, jaw twitching.

“March 29,” Luther says, voice small.

Five processes this, eyes narrowed as his brain works. “It seems,” he says, “That Klaus’ powers over death might extend farther than we think. It’s even more important that we find him.”

Silence falls over the family as they all process this.

“Were they—sure?” Viktor asks tentatively. “I mean, Klaus was fine, and they were junkies—”

“Pretty sure,” Diego offers, kicking a stray pebble on the floor with a furrowed brow. “They had some friends that were sober or relatively sober, and they all saw the same thing.”

“Find them,” Five grinds out. “Make sure that they saw what they saw.”

Diego nods grimly, expression set. Klaus barks weakly. The family returns to silence.

“Five, what did you find?” Allison eventually asks.

Five glares at the floor, absentmindedly stroking Klaus’ fur. “Not much,” he says. “The Commission hasn’t gone after Klaus or targeted him specifically. But there was…”

“Was what?”

“During apocalypse week, Hazel and Cha-Cha kidnapped him after they shot up the house,” Five says. “They tortured him for ten hours.”

“Oh god,” Viktor murmurs. The rest of the family sways in a stunned stupor.

“We didn’t notice,” Allison says bleakly.

“He mentioned it,” Diego mutters, every muscle pulled tense. “But I didn’t—Fuck—”

“He told me briefly during apocalypse week, but I was—occupied,” Five continues, beginning to pace up and down the length of the room. “After he managed to escape he stole their briefcase and—according to Hazel—made a round trip to wartime Vietnam.”

“Vietnam?”

“Christ,” Allison says. “Was he—was he okay?”

“He was there for ten months,” Five says.

“Ten months.”

“Jesus, this must have been right before he— God—”

Klaus whines, hiding his face in Five’s blazer. Five pays him no mind.

“It slipped my mind,” Five says begrudgingly. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him about it again. At any rate, I don’t see how it would be relevant now, but there’s always the chance.”

“We’re talking about Klaus being tortured and sent to the fucking Vietnam War here—”

“I know,” Five bites out. “We can address that once we find Klaus. For now, though, we need to focus on finding him.”

Diego glares, but begrudgingly relents at that. He crosses his arms, looking down at the ground. “He mentioned… losing someone,” he says. “Went to the VFW and started a fight when someone gave him shit over not being allowed to be there. At first, I thought he was just dating a veteran or something, but if—”

Viktor swallows. “Do you think he might have—tried to save them?” he asks. “If he managed to get a briefcase?”

Five’s expression spasms, before returning to neutrality. “Perhaps,” he says. “I’ve never thought Klaus to be particularly attached to any of his flings, or affected by death, but it’s a possibility.”

Klaus snarls, squirming in Five’s grip. Dave wasn’t just a fling, he couldn’t just say that—

“He said,” Diego says. “He lost the only person he loved more than himself. Klaus was—he was quiet.”

Everyone falls silent.

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Allison asks. “He never mentioned this—”

“That’s this family for you,” Viktor says, and Allison flinches.

“At any rate,” Five says. “I’ll do some more investigating, see if Klaus managed to get a hold of a briefcase. Tomorrow, everyone else should keep looking for Klaus, see if they manage to find any leads.”

Everyone agrees. Luther, shoulders up to his ears, nods meekly.

“In the meantime,” Five says, turning to Klaus. “I bought some things for Mr. Pennycrumb, because it seems that he might be here for a while. Some leashes, dog food so we don’t keep feeding him human food, and—”

Five hands Klaus to Diego and turns to the table. He brandishes a crate as he turns around, something exhausted but triumphant in his eyes. At the sight, Klaus balks, beginning to scrabble at Diego’s arms.

I am not going in there—

“Hey! Mr. Pennycrumb—”

“While we sleep,” Five says with relish, as though he sleeps at all, the fucking gremlin. “And so we don’t have another incident.”

“Klaus—”

Klaus yowls, fighting for dear life. He curses Diego’s gym routine as he struggles, biting down on his arm.

“Ow! Mr. Penny—”

Klaus breaks free, skittering away as Diego tries to catch him. He bolts for the other room, his siblings crying out in alarm behind him.

Five blinks into his path, a furrow between his brows. Klaus skids to a stop and makes a sharp left. Five blinks again and scoops him up, heedless to his frantic struggling.

"It's not so bad," Five promises in an almost-croon, which Klaus would appreciate if he weren't fighting for his damn life here. "You'll be out in the morning—"

Klaus bites his fingers. Five, the bastard, doesn't flinch, instead dumping him into the crate and slamming the door closed.

No, nonono— 

Klaus howls, throwing himself at the plastic wall. They close in on him, compressing his chest and lungs— 

Dad, let me out! Please—

Three more hours, Number Four.

"Klaus, it's okay, it's okay, calm down—"

Klaus shrieks, slamming into the crate bars. His claws scrape at the metal. It's unyielding to his efforts. Unfeeling steel and plastic, cramped and tiny—

Klaus! Klaus—

I'll kill you, fucking brat—

Let me out, Dad, let me out—

"Oh god, is he okay?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, he just—"

Concrete and dirt, centuries of dust collected from rotted flesh—

Five, Klaus howls. Dad, let me out! Please, please, I'll be good—Dad—

The smell of melted plastic hits his nose. A wink of light glints at him promisingly. Encouraged, Klaus slams into the wall, paws scrabbling at the plastic—

"Let him out! He's panicking—"

"It's fucking melting—"

"Is he on fire?"

There's a sharp hiss, and the crate clangs against the floor. Klaus throws himself desperately at the crack of light, the plastic distorting—

Freedom. Klaus gasps. He tears across the floor, flinging himself at Ben. Ben fumbles to catch him, smoothing his ears down.

"It's okay, it's okay, shh—"

Klaus slumps bonelessly into Ben's arms. He whimpers, distantly aware of Ben petting him soothingly, trying and failing to pick melted plastic out of his fur.

"I'm guessing the crate is a no-go," says Diego.

"You think?" mutters Viktor.

"I suppose," Five says, caught somewhere between peeved and chastened, "We can forgo the crate and have someone keep an eye on him throughout the night."

"That's not gonna be easy, he's fucking levitating again—"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"I'm not the one that made him start freaking out—"

Klaus shoves his snout into Ben’s emo ghost hoodie. He squeezes his eyes shut and blocks out the voices, startling as someone approaches. To his alarm, Ben’s hands fizzle and go immaterial as someone puts their hands through Ben’s and begins to pick him up—

Klaus growls, squirming free and jumping back over to Ben. He snaps at the hand as it tentatively approaches again.

“Maybe it’d be best to avoid bothering him for the time being,” Viktor says. “I doubt it’s a good idea to stress out the hellhound.”

“You have a point,” Five concedes. “I suppose I’ll move my work down here. I’ll take first watch.”

“That might not be a good idea,” Viktor points out. “You just caused a dog panic attack. Besides, how long has it been since you’ve slept?”

The family ignores Five’s protests and shepherds him upstairs. Viktor ends up taking first watch, and on his first Umbrella Academy mission gets to learn just how fucking boring it is to keep watch.

After Klaus’ heart rate calms, he gets bored and starts chewing on Ben’s fingers. Ben gamely endures it, being unable to feel pain. Then he gets invested in trying to reclaim his fingers and tugs his hoodie string off for Klaus to play with (Klaus doesn’t really understand the ghost physics of that—if he ever lets go of the hoodie string, does it disappear? Does it become an independent ghost string? Will it reappear in his hoodie if he loses it? Things for Five to answer).

Ben lets Klaus try to catch the string as he dangles it in the air, snickering as he overbalances and flails. Then, when Klaus is feeling stable enough to be set on the floor without scrambling over to Ben, he lets Klaus tumble around and chase it. Klaus plays up his clumsiness, because Ben is laughing and Klaus honestly doesn’t know the last time when Ben was this happy. 

They’re playing tug of war when Ben abruptly lets go of the string and Klaus tumbles backward. He blinks up at the ceiling, only to lock eyes with Viktor as he shakes himself off. He’s smiling.

Oh. Klaus must look crazy to him. Playing with an invisible string and an invisible person. Oh, well.

Klaus flops over and rolls, ghost string clamped in his teeth (there is one question answered, he supposes). He lets Ben rub his belly then attacks his hand.

“Asshole,” Ben says, with no real heat. Klaus yips.

Then, “Hey, do you want to try writing on the floor? Five isn’t here to stop you.”

Klaus considers it, then scrambles over to an empty section of flooring. He places a tentative paw on the surface and watches as it begins to smoke.

“Wait, Mr. Pennycrumb, you can’t just burn the carpets—”

Klaus barks. He focuses, and manages to center the heat in one of his claws. One of his dealers used to love wood burning—drawing on wood by burning it with a poker or some shit? Same deal. Klaus is an Artist.

When Viktor manages to scramble over and pick him up, Klaus has managed to write, in unsteady letters:

IM KLA

Viktor gasps. “Mr. Pennycrumb…?”

In his defense, the “U” was tricky. He couldn’t get it to curve. Klaus whines and paws at Viktor’s arms, trying to get back to his impromptu message.

Viktor mutely sets him down. Klaus pads back over to his message and adds the last two letters. Then, for good measure, keeps writing.

IM KLAUS. FUCK U 5 FOR PUTTING ME IN A DOG CRATE - ‘MR PENNYCRUMB’

Then, when Ben complains, BEN SAYS HI

“Klaus…?” Viktor murmurs, as Klaus begins to try and immortalize Ben’s scowling features in the flooring of the Umbrella Academy.

THATS ME

Klaus is trying to draw an accompanying dog to complete the visual when Viktor scoops him up and starts up the stairs.

"Well," Five says, looking down at the smoking floor as Klaus begins to detail an unflattering depiction of Five entitled 'LOCKED HIS BROTHER IN A DOG CRATE →'. "This certainly explains a lot."

“So,” Luther says, looking lost. “Mr. Pennycrumb is Klaus?”

"Does it?" Diego asks faintly, angrily rubbing his eyes. "Does it really, Five?"

Klaus barks, tail wagging. He is ignored.

"Well, yes," Five says. "If this dog truly is Klaus, then that would explain Klaus' disappearance, Mr. Pennycrumb's strange behavior—"

Klaus barks. Five sighs.

"Yes, thank you, Klaus," he says, as Klaus growls. "Your contributions are, as always, invaluable."

Klaus whines and looks at him beseechingly. Five gives a full-body twitch, as if physically restraining himself. Klaus decides that Five’s leg is a fascinating object to try and climb. Up?

"How do we even know if it's really Klaus?" Allison asks, kneeling in front of him. "If he listened to our conversations, he would know that we're looking for him."

“No, Klaus,” Five bites out, shaking Klaus off his leg, all embarrassed now that the secret is out that he’s been cuddling a creature fully aware of social convention. As predicted. Pathetic. Klaus sends a long-suffering look at Ben. “Tell us something that only Klaus would know.”

Klaus writes, U THOUGHT EATING BARK WOULD MAKE U TALLER.

“What—no,” Five blurts. “That was ages ago—”

Klaus burns a piece of bark in his drawing’s mouth. 

“Okay, so it’s Klaus,” Diego sighs. “Now what?”

Five’s mouth flattens into an angry line. “Now, I guess,” he says, “Klaus tells us everything he knows about his… situation.”

Hesitating for a brief moment, Klaus writes, MORSE CODE, then barks demonstratively. As much as he would love to vandalize all of his childhood home’s flooring, he feels like there’s probably a limit to the amount he can burn before the fire alarm goes off. He must be pushing his luck already with the amount he’s burned—are they broken, or something?

“Good idea,” Five says. “Okay. How did this happen?”

Ben leans closer with an accusing stare. Klaus whines, ears drooping.

“Klaus,” Five says reproachfully. “This is important.”

Klaus whines again, pacing. Nothing, he barks. Nothing important.

“What exactly happened?” Five demands, eyes narrowed. “I need to know all the details.”

Going for walk, Klaus barks. That was all.

“You just turned into a dog on the sidewalk?” Five asks skeptically. “Just—spontaneously?”

Klaus nods. Ben groans, and Five’s expression sours.

“Nice try, asshole,” he snaps. “What actually happened?”

I told you! Klaus tries.

“Oh my god, Klaus,” Ben says.

Klaus cowers. He turns in an anxious circle, then looks beseechingly up at Five.

Five crosses his arms and glowers. “If I pick you up, will you tell us?”

He considers it. Then he nods.

With a look of deep suffering, Five bends down to pick him up. Klaus squirms happily and licks Five’s face, just to see him cringe.

“Oh my god,” Diego says, with a look of dawning mortification. “So this entire time—?”

Allison shushes him. Klaus hopes that one of them gets this on camera sometime soon. Regrettably, he’s not able to capitalize on the opportunity to tease Diego on account of Five growing increasingly apoplectic with each second that passes. He settles for simply letting his tongue loll out at him. Diego looks, if possible, more disturbed.

Reluctantly, Klaus barks, Flashback.

“Oh, Klaus,” Ben says, somewhere between sympathetic and understanding. Klaus yips at him.

“Interesting,” Five says. “Possibly a panic response? Maybe it could simply be another unexplored power—but why a hellhound? You’ve tried to turn back, right?”

“Wait, wait,” Diego snaps. “Flashback?”

“From Vietnam, Diego,” Five clucks disapprovingly. “Keep up.”

Diego seethes. Luther looks heartbroken, like he’s the kicked puppy here.

“You were having flashbacks?” he asks. “You never told us.”

“Klaus…” Allison says, trailing off. “You know we would have been there for you, right?”

Klaus burrows into Five’s arms and shoves his nose into his forearm. 

“While unfortunate,” Five says, “Klaus’ atrocious lack of communication isn’t the point here,” like he’s any fucking better, “Klaus, have you tried to turn back?”

Klaus nods. Didn’t work. Set a fire. Tried to conjure Ben—didn’t work. Set fire.

“Hm,” Five says. “Fascinating. But you can still see ghosts?”

Klaus nods begrudgingly, eyeing Five’s Commission fanboy. He’s hovering creepily.

“Ben can touch you, correct?”

Klaus nods. Ben moves closer and ruffles Klaus’ fur.

“What about other ghosts?”

Klaus freezes. Ben’s head snaps up. The Commission grunt’s eyes sharpen with interest. He steps closer, hand outstretched—

“Klaus, don’t—”

Klaus scrambles up, paws scrabbling at Five’s arms. The Commission ghost looms over him, eyes glinting—

And touches him.

A wail rips out of him, and Klaus flails away and sprints. He skids to a stop to face the Commission ghost, hackles raised and teeth bared. A continuous keening whine rings through the air, and Klaus belatedly realizes it’s coming from him. Something smells like it’s burning. Smoke is rising into the air, and now the smoke alarm is blaring—

They can touch him. They can touch him. They can all touch him, and oh god—

The old lady sitting in the corner rocking back and forth and humming. The soldier cleaning his rifle as he sits at an immaterial table. The wailing woman in his room, the pulpy mess of a person that’s all gore from the waist-up, the road-rash-face, and even—

The ghosts at the—

Klaus! Klaus!

Dad, please—

Klaus—

I’ll kill you, fucking brat, I’ll string you up and suck up your intestines—

The inhuman things at the mausoleum, the things that taunted and screamed at him, oh, oh god, they always said they would get him—

Ghosts didn’t get tired, they never got tired, they weren’t bound by limits like human strength or the limits of the human body—

He needs to go. He needs to be human again, he needs to turn back, right now—

“Put it out—”

“Is Klaus doing this?”

Klausklausklausklaus—

Save me Klaus, help me—

I’ll take your liver first, eat it right in front of you—

Klausklausklaus—

The Commission ghost approaches, mouth quirked in a too-wide smile. A baying cry looses from his lips, and Klaus runs—

The fire alarm blares, and Klaus flinches from it, a momentary break in stride—

Dave, Dave—Nononono, don’t leave me—

Medic! We need a medic!

Leave him, soldier!

“Klaus, stop! Klaus—”

“Klaus,” someone says. “Klaus. You’re having a flashback. You’re in 2019. You’re safe. You’re back at home. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Dave—He needs—

“Can you open your eyes, Klaus?”

Klaus struggles to open his eyes, focusing blearily on the shape in front of him. The fire alarm is blessedly quiet, the Commission ghost held off by a snarling Ben.

“Good,” Five says. “Now name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. Internally, in your case.”

Klaus sludgily works through Five’s instructions. Five things he can see: Five (ha), Ben, the ghost, the ugly renaissance painting on the wall, the decorative lamp next to it. Four things he can touch: the floor beneath him, the fur covering his back, the press of his leg to his flank, the roof of his mouth. Three things he can hear: Five, his own panting, the low-pitched hum of the lighting. Two things he can smell: the smell of burning wood, the smell of burnt plastic. One thing he can taste: the clammy neutrality of the inside of his mouth. Limbs shaking, he draws himself up and whines.

“Can I touch you?” Five asks.

Klaus nods, and Five draws him up into his arms.

“Was it the ghosts?”

Klaus nods again, burrowing into Five’s chest. Five makes a considering hm.

“Klaus, are you okay?” Ben asks, temporarily abandoning his post from where he’s threatening the Commission ghost to reappear at his side. In response, Klaus shoves his nose into Five’s shoulder. Ben hesitates. “Can I try something?”

Klaus nods tentatively. Ben returns his nod, then tries to touch Klaus through Five’s shoulder. His hand never makes it, fizzling apart as it tries to move through Five.

“I can’t touch you if my hand is going through something,” Ben says. “That means they can’t either.”

Klaus straightens, a tentative hope blooming in his chest. He begins to explain as much to Five.

“What,” says Five. “Klaus.”

I’m serious! Klaus insists.

"That is not what I said," says Ben.

“You mean to tell me that the solution to the apocalypse is to cuddle you for the rest of time until you manage to turn back?” Five asks incredulously. “Klaus, you cannot be serious.”

“Sorry, what?” Allison asks, brow furrowed. Oh. The rest of the family is standing by the doorway. Klaus waves a paw.

Five needs to cuddle to save me from ghosts, Klaus barks. Ben says they can’t touch through other things.

Five pinches the bridge of his nose. “Does anyone else work?” he bites out.

No, Klaus lies.

“Five,” Allison says, leaning against the door and tiredly massaging her temples. “Just do it. We’ll deal with everything in the morning.”

Guiltily, Klaus looks at his family; they’re all exhausted, with bags under their eyes, faces downtrodden. Five looks at them and comes to the same realization. He sighs, closing his eyes as if trying to summon strength.

“Fine,” he bites out. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. Everyone, go back to bed.”

With that, everyone disperses. Five looks at Klaus with an unreadable expression, then sighs and begrudgingly pets his back.

“I can tell you’re lying,” he grumbles. “About it needing to be me.”

Klaus licks his face.

“Finally, you’re in a form where your utter lack of shame is the norm for your species,” Five grumbles.

Eventually, Five pushes open the door to his room and returns to his (likely tragically neglected) bed. He crawls in, tucking Klaus to his chest, and curls around him. 

It’s—warm. It’s nice. He can hear Five’s heartbeat and feel his ribcage move up and down as he breathes. He doesn’t remember the last time he and Five have been so close for so long. Even as children, the few hugs Klaus could score were begrudgingly given, let go as soon as he was able. And then Five was gone, and there were no more of those, and he spent around seventeen years thinking he was dead.

I missed you, Klaus thinks, nosing closer. I missed you so much.

Klaus falls asleep feeling safe, thinking of lost childhoods and missing years.

Klaus wakes up to hands around his throat. He flails, garbling helplessly. 

“What are you—” Five begins, face thunderous, then stops. “Klaus?”

“Mmph,” Klaus says. He desperately bats at Five’s hands. Mercifully, Five releases him. Klaus falls back, gasping for air, using his hands to brace himself against the wall—

Wait. Hands?

“Holy shit!” Klaus cheers, holding his hands aloft. “I have hands again!”

“And a functioning mouth, unfortunately,” Five says, massaging his temples. “Get out of my bed.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Fivey,” Klaus declares, brandishing one of his newly acquired pointer fingers at him. “You loooove us. You love puppies, too! Cute little puppies that you can snuggle and hug—”

“Get out,” Five snarls.

“Christ, no need to bring out the knives! I’m going, I’m going—”

“So you’re really back?”

“Yep,” Klaus confirms, flipping his hair. “Fully human and everything. Man, I missed having opposable thumbs.”

“Klaus,” Viktor says. “Did you really…?”

“What, have to endure doghood? Yes. It was excruciating.”

“Don’t lie,” says Ben, who is now visible and corporeal and able to deliver wisecracks to a full audience of six. “You loved getting fawned over.”

“Hush, Benny—”

“No, idiot,” Diego scoffs. “He means, did you really die?”

“Ah,” Klaus says. “That.” 

“We need to talk about the definition of ‘important information to share with the family,’” Five mutters, downing a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” Klaus protests. “I mean, it was questionable! Here I am, alive.”

“But you still died,” Luther says, all wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, Klaus—”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, big guy,” Klaus dismisses, patting him on the shoulder.

Diego chokes. “‘Don’t sweat it’?” he exclaims. “You fucking died!”

“Water under the bridge.”

“No, it’s not,” Ben says, exasperated. “You literally died, Klaus.”

“Well, it didn’t stick,” Klaus shoots back, sticking out his tongue. “Potato, potahto.”

“It definitely matters,” Allison cuts in. “What if it didn’t stick? Then we’d have lost you.”

Klaus bites back a would that be so bad? He has an understanding of tact. Sometimes.

“I just—” Allison breaks off. “I’m sorry, Klaus. We should have been there for you. We should have noticed.”

“What?” Klaus scoffs. “How would you have noticed?”

“We’re your family, Klaus,” Viktor says. “You died, and you went to wartime Vietnam, and got tortured—saying it all now, you went through so much. And we didn’t know.”

“I mean,” Klaus says weakly. “Where would this family be without a little miscommunication?”

“This isn’t a little miscommunication, idiot,” Five scoffs. “This is a series of incredibly traumatic events that we completely missed.”

“As dear papa taught us,” Klaus says with fake solemnity. “May he rest in misery.”

“Look, I just—I’m sorry we weren’t there for you, Klaus,” Allison says. “You can always talk to me, you know?”

“I’m so sorry, too,” Luther says, hanging his head. “It’s my job to look after you guys, and I failed.”

“Next time shit happens to you,” Diego says gruffly, “Fucking talk to me.”

“Oh—lighten up, everyone,” Klaus says weakly. “It’s fine. I’m fine! We’ve stopped another apocalypse—we should get a cake! We can get them to write in frosting, maybe ‘congrats on being human again,’ or ‘averted the end of times, smiley face.’”

Five narrows his eyes at him. Klaus sticks out his tongue. Whatever Five sees on his face must convince him, because he nods begrudgingly.

“Fine,” he says grumpily. “But we are having this conversation later. And you are not avoiding it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Klaus says. “Should we vote on flavor? I want an ice cream cake—”

“That’s not a flavor, that’s like, a cake genre—”

“‘Cake genre,’ are you even listening to yourself?”

“Well, what would you call it then?”

“A flavor.”

“It’s not a flavor!”

“Hey,” Ben says, as the family charges ahead bickering over chocolate versus lemon.

“Yes, mon frère?”

“We care about you, you know?”

Klaus falls silent.

“It’s not about the death, not really. It’s because you suffered, and because we almost lost you. We care about you.”

“Oh,” says Klaus. “...Getting sentimental on me, Benny?”

“Shut up,” Ben says, without heat. “And ice cream cake is not a flavor.”