Klaus had his goodbye hand latched onto the wall, holding onto it as if it were the only thing keeping him on his feet. The short trip to the bathroom was only a few doors away, yet there he was, trembling with exertion and sweating profusely. His eyes were glazed with pain and despite the layers he was wearing, he was shivering to the bone and his teeth chattering audibly.

Staggering barefoot across the hard floor, his brother Ben was doing what he normally did best- witnessing the unfolding scene with growing concern, unable to do anything other than just watch him.

Just when Klaus thought that the worst of the detox had blown over, the last two days had hit him like a freight train.

He'd woken that morning to discover that he'd managed to sweat through his sheets.

Clammy, shivering and thoroughly miserable, he was unable to recall the last time that he had felt like this.

He was hot, cold, dizzy and nauseous all at the same time!

Just moments ago he'd almost landed face down on the floor, stumbling bleary eyed out of bed and tripping on a rogue knitting needle of all things. Ben had instinctively reached out to catch his fall, only to watch helplessly as his brother stumbled right through him.

"I wish I could help," Ben said dejectedly.

"You can, actually," Klaus replied, frowning as the hallway began to spin like a fairground ride.

"How?"

"Kill me," he exclaimed dramatically, "please! Its the most humane thing to do!"

"Maybe you should get someone."

"If I ask Luther nicely do you think he'll wash my back for me? Who am I kidding? We both know he'd probably try and drown me."

Although he'd never admit it, Klaus still wanted to retain what little he had left of his dignity. Long ago he'd surrendered to his reputation as the family disappointment. Even if he could make it downstairs without breaking all the bones in his body, he didn't need their dismissal or lectures right now.

He was clinging on to the edge of sobriety, physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. It wouldn't take much to send him over the edge and back into the clutches of narcotics.

Ben was the only person that could give Klaus the moral boost he so desperately needed. He knew that if his brother was going to finally beat the addiction, now was his best chance. The bleak reality was that if he didn't get sober now, then he probably never would.

At tragic as it was, it seemed as though loosing Dave had given him the push he had so desperately needed.

Ben just hoped that it was enough.

Klaus finally made it to the bathroom without further incident and began to fill the tub with warm water. As his stomach churned suspiciously his brother must have noticed him glancing over to the toilet bowl.

"Do you feel sick again?"

"No," Klaus groaned, clasping a hand to his pounding head, "worse than that. I feel... sober!"

There was a ghostly wail from the hallway as wondering spirits sensed him nearby. The noise resonated right through him as he shivered again, holding his hands over his ears.

Ben glanced over his shoulder and sighed.

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears," he said, and when Klaus glanced back he was gone.

He always wondered what his dead sibling got up to when he wasn't around. The other spirits weren't exactly ideal companions- most of the ones that were hanging around had lost what little they had of their sanity. Most tended to move on unless they had were victims of trauma or had unfinished business tethering them to the world of the living.

The Seance stumbled across the steamy bathroom, his garments thrown carelessly onto the floor while he tried not to trip over his own feet. He turned off the faucet and dipped a toe not so elegantly into the bubbles, satisfied with the scolding temperature.

His headphones were perched on the side of the tub, the music blaring loudly. He seized them with shaking hands and clasped them firmly over his ears, sinking deeper into the hot water.

He stayed like that for a while, eyes closed and pretending that he didn't hear the ghostly apparitions constantly demanding his attention. Sometimes even when he couldn't see the spirits he could still hear them calling to him, yelling, pleading, and screaming desperately.

Ben was always trying to convince him that he should try to help them, that maybe he could try to give them some kind of closure.

What was the point?

They were already dead.

Klaus was so tired, but he just couldn't seem to relax.

His fingers itched for a cigarette to hold.

It had become a customary habit to light up while he was soaking in the tub, but in his pitiful state of delirium he'd forgotten all about that lonely pack of cigarettes lurking in the depths of his coat pocket.

As his head throbbed irritably he tried to adjust the volume of the music. Fumbling with the buttons on his Walkman, his limbs felt numb, as though they were disconnected from the rest of his body.

He longed for something to dull the pain, a painkiller to take the edge away- just one.

Klaus knew better than that.

That was his problem, it was never ended with just one.

Each time he craved a fix he thought of Dave standing there beside him, looking hurt and disappointed.

'Don't you want to see me Klaus?'

The voices were distant now, barely whispers above the sound of the music.

He closed his eyes and slipped deeper into the warm water, imagining that Dave was laying there with him.