Here's the thing about fights: they always get messy. There is no such thing as a clean altercation, especially not when siblings are involved, and especially not when both sides have something to prove. Pride, old grudges, unresolved trauma they throw all that into the mix and things don't just get broken.
They get obliterated.
Now imagine those siblings are supernatural. Super strength. Super speed. Ridiculous durability. Regeneration that laughs in the face of common sense.
And voilà welcome to the current situation.
The apartment looked like it had been hit by a small, very angry hurricane. Furniture lay shattered, walls were cracked, counters split clean through. The kitchen faucet had been torn loose and was now enthusiastically spraying water across the wall.
Honestly, that was the good part.
The living room was worse. Blood splattered the walls and floor in violent arcs, smeared and dried in places, fresh in others. But the silver lining there were no limbs lying around.
So, you know, it Could've been worse.
At least the door was still intact. That felt like a win. Minimal structural damage to the entrance. Very considerate, all things considered.
'Well, on the bright side, this definitely didn't scream 'supernatural death match' to the neighbors… assuming they weren't already compelled to mind their own business and ignore the apocalypse next door by Niklaus.'
Michael sat properly and looked around the wreckage, hands on his chin.
"You know," he said casually, "this is all your fault, Niklaus."
He gestured vaguely at the devastation.
"Which one of us do you think is paying for all this, hmm? Because it's definitely not going to be me. And I'm fairly certain Alaric is not going to be thrilled that his apartment was—"
He paused then reconsidered.
"—actually, no. Destroyed. Let's be honest it's completely destroyed."
There was a low grunt from in front of him but Michael ignored it.
He glanced down at what he was sitting on which so happened to be Elijah's daggered body, sprawled beneath him like an inconveniently elegant piece of furniture… seeing as they'd destroyed all the other ones in the apartment.
"You really do have an unhealthy obsession with putting your family members down," Michael continued mildly. "You know that, right?"
He tilted his head in thought, "Finn and Kol? Sure. I can almost see the logic there. But poor Elijah? Rebekah?" He shook his head. "No. They don't deserve that, Niklaus. Not like this."
Michael lifted his hand, inspecting the torn sleeve of his coat and the jagged bite marks beneath.
"You know," he added thoughtfully, "you have a very mean bite. I mean, I do too but damn. Had I been anything other than what I am, I'd be in serious trouble right about now."
He then chuckled softly.
"I'm pretty sure you thought this would end very differently."
Another groan answered him. Michael still refusing to look at him as his wounds steamed faintly, flesh knitting back together with rapid, unsettling efficiency.
Michael watched his own regeneration with an absent mind as his body healed in seconds
"After breaking your curse," he went on, voice calm but edged with something sharper, "I'm guessing you thought you were above us all."
He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing just a fraction.
"But you're not the only one who's special, Niklaus." Michael rose smoothly from where he had been seated, stepping off Elijah's desiccated body.
"Thanks for the seat, Elijah," he added lightly, glancing down at his younger brother's still form. "You were very accommodating."
He then finally turned back toward the wall, "That title," Michael continued, voice calm but carrying weight, "was never yours alone."
The wall in front of him told the rest of the story. Klaus was pinned there with both his arms spread, torso bloodied, shirt long since torn away. Multiple wooden stakes impaled him through the shoulders, ribs, and thighs, locking him in place. Blood streaked down his skin and pooled at his feet as he strained, muscles trembling, teeth bared in fury and pain.
Michael looked at him with something close to disappointment and pity.
"Me and you, little brother."
He took a few unhurried steps closer, "So," Michael asked evenly, "are you ready to talk now, Niklaus?"
Klaus snarled, struggling against the stakes and got one hand free at last. "Get me down from here, Kan."
Michael tilted his head. "Only if you ask politely. Actually no Niklaus get yourself down"
Then the humor vanished and his expression hardened, eyes sharpening as he stepped directly in front of Klaus.
"Where is she, Niklaus?" Klaus growled but didn't answer, his hands gripping the wood embedded in his chest after removing the ones pinning his shoulders.
Michael's voice dropped, quiet and dangerous, "You've daggered them again and again," he said, "not because they betrayed you but because you're terrified they might."
He gestured back toward Elijah's motionless body, "That paranoia?" Michael went on. "It's your true enemy. It's an infection. And it spreads. It damages everyone who would burn the world for you, who love you and would never want to cause you excessive harm."
Klaus laughed bitterly. "Then why don't you undagger him yourself?" Michael didn't even look back as he gave his response.
"No," he said simply. "He made his choice. And you rewarded it with steel through the heart."
His gaze returned to Klaus, "Now," Michael said again, "where is she?"
Klaus roared with a brutal scream as he tore the stake from his chest, then another from his legs, blood spraying as wood splintered and flesh knitted back together. He ripped free the last one and collapsed to the floor in a heap, gasping.
Michael looked at him with an impassive expression. Then he clapped once. Slowly.
"Bravo," he said dryly. "Would you like another round of applause for taking your time, Niklaus?"
Klaus dragged himself upright, leaning against the wall, "So?" Michael prompted.
Klaus exhaled sharply. "I separated them all."
Michael's eyes narrowed. "What? Why would you do such a thing and not keep them with you?"
"Mikael found us," Klaus said. "Chicago. 1920. He chased us for over two decades nearly catching us."
Michael's mind clicked immediately.
'That's where you were supposed to meet Stefan but I derailed that part of history.'
"We couldn't move them together anymore because of his pursuit," Klaus continued. "So I compelled humans to transport the coffins. Split us apart."
Michael nodded slowly. "Go on."
"We ran," Klaus said. "Didn't stop until 1945 in New Orleans."
He lowered himself onto what remained of a chair, "Against better judgement we went back to the city we ran away from because of him. We went there for a witch for a cloaking spell something strong enough to hide us from our father. And also to check on old acquaintances who at the time was out of the city."
Michael's eyes widened slightly. "New Orleans…"
"That's where we met him," Klaus said quietly. "Stefan Salvatore for the first time in that witche's bar."
Michael's breath stilled at that piece of information with only one intelligent thought, 'Huh!?'
Klaus went on without even noticing the shocked expression on Michael's face.
"He was planning to ship out to the North African front to fight in World War II as a soldier."
Michael's expression darkened.
'No, no,no that wasn't supposed to happen like that. They weren't even supposed to know one another.'
"Rebekah took to him immediately," Klaus said. "And… I did too. He told about his exploits and how he'd been the ripper for a time and he also mention a man like brother who helped him out. Now, I think I know that was you Kan."
"We had a blast but you see before the witch could cast the spell to cloak us Mikael found us again and almost killed us all. We kept our presence quiet and killed all those who knew us but somehow he still found us."
Michael closed his eyes for a moment and tried to comprehend what he was hearing.
'So, they didn't get to see Marcellus, that would have been interesting to see the boy he raised become the king he could not.'
"I had no choice," Klaus said. "I compelled Stefan to forget everything."
His jaw tightened as he recounted the memories.
"Rebekah insisted on him coming with us. She wouldn't listen to reason and wouldn't let him go."
Klaus's voice dropped, "So I daggered her."
Michael just stared at Klaus. For a long second, the only coherent thought in his mind was:
'What utter bullshit is this? Are you fucking with me? Of all timelines, of all cities, of all wars and bars and witches, that was the coincidence?' The odds alone made his head hurt.
He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Right," he muttered. "Of course. Because why wouldn't reality be this stupid."
"So," Michael said flatly, "where is she now?"
Klaus, fully healed now answered with slight hesitation.
"New Orleans."
Michael closed his eyes for half a heartbeat.
'So she really is there after all kept in plain sight,' he thought. 'Figures.'
Before he could say anything else, his phone rang. He pulled it out, glanced at the caller ID, and sighed.
"Harry," he said as he answered, "not a good time."
There was no banter on the other end.
"We've got a problem sir," Harry said. "Death Dealers just ran into another dense gathering of Infernals."
"Then deal with it," Michael replied instantly.
"That's not why I'm calling," Harry continued. "The gate Brandon informed us of? It's not there. Or rathe it was there. Something else is waiting for us instead."
Michael frowned. "Define 'something else.'"
A soft ping sounded from his phone and Michael glanced down at it.
The image made his expression darken. An entity stood in the center of the frame easily eight feet tall, massive and distorted, its body wrapped in filthy bindings like a corpse. Thick chains were locked around its arms and legs.
'What the hell is that? A new type of infernal?'
Beside it stood a pale, beautiful and calm woman from the looks of it. She wore flowing robes that barely moved despite the chaos around her. Her eyes were cold as she stared straight through the camera.
Harry kept talking. "They wiped out one of our squads. All fifteen sir and it would seem their souls were taken as well from what we can tell."
Michael swore under his breath.
"Tell everyone to stand down and back off," he said sharply. "I'll be there soon."
He ended the call and stared at the last image on his screen for a moment longer.
'What the hell was that? What are you playing at Cade?'
'A chained brute built like an infernal Hulk…'
His eyes lingered on the woman.
'…and why do I get the feeling she's the real threat?'
"Trouble?" Klaus asked casually from behind him.
Michael slipped the phone into his pocket. "An annoyance," he said. "One I'll have to deal with personally."
He turned back to Klaus, "Looks like our little road trip to New Orleans together will be delayed."
Klaus smirked. "Good news for me, then brother."
Michael scoffed. "Don't get too comfortable. I'll find you once I'm done with this."
He glanced around the demolished apartment, broken walls, shattered furniture, water still spraying from the ruined faucet.
"Oh and while I'm gone," Michael added, gesturing vaguely, "try to pay for all this damage, will you?"
Klaus blinked. "Why do I have to pay for it?"
Michael smiled thinly. "Because I'm the older one here, and I said so. Duuuh."
Klaus sighed and closed his eyes out of frustration, weren't they just fighting to rip one another apart? When he opened his eyes again, Michael was gone.
Klaus exhaled slowly, irritation creeping back in, "How Infuriating," he muttered.
His gaze drifted to Elijah's daggered body on the floor. Klaus knelt beside him, his voice was quiet with something raw slipping through the cracks.
"Always choosing me," he murmured. "Even when it costs you everything."