He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been on two legs, the last time he’d walked in the skin of a man that had died centuries before. Everything was wrong, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. His muscles shifted under his skin, restless and aching, yearning to be back in the form they’d become so accustomed to. He wiped the blood from his lips, stepping into the steaming shower and watching the trails of red run down his body. Fighting a growl back down his throat, he quickly stepped out and dried himself off, leaving the water running and tossed the still fresh corpse in. He paused for a moment, staring at the young father he’d drained the life from, self-loathing stirring in his stomach as he turned away and pulled on the clothes he’d taken from the other. There had been a time, a vague memory lingering in the back of his mind, when he hadn’t cared one way or another about one human life. He’d even hated humanity for a time, finding pleasure in stealing life from them. Then he began making friends, friends other than Niklaus and the other hybrids, and as much as he played the fool, he came to understand what he actually felt when he looked into the faces of those he’d always believed to be the weaker species...he envied them. The ability to live a normal life, to have a family and grow old with those they loved. The strength to let themselves love, to pick themselves back up after the loss of someone they cared about. The determination to become stronger and to survive, even when all odds were against them.Â
And then he lost the people he’d let himself care for, because he chose pack, he chose Niklaus, over the rest. He chose to ignore his own desires, his friendships and memories, because Niklaus was his Alpha and his friend. Because he let himself believe that their friendship meant something to the other. Because he thought he could trust him. And maybe he did mean something to the Original, but his family meant something to him, and he’d treated them horribly at every turn. Marcus had no reason to believe he’d be treated any different, yet he held out hope. He burnt every bridge he’d made before he realized how horrible the choice he’d made was. So he shifted. Shed every bit of ‘human’ he had before disappearing into the woods. He’d already broken the sire bond, he hadn’t needed to worry about that since a decade after Klaus turned him, and with every other friendship in shambles, he had nothing to tie him to the world.
A glance at the news playing on the television was enough to tell him what he really needed to know. He’d been detached for more than a decade. Nearly sixteen years he’d been running through the woods, living with the wolves and occasionally helping a were that looked like they didn’t know what they were doing. He couldn’t help but doubt anyone he’d known was still around. Even if they were..would they remember him? Would they talk to him if they did? Mystic Falls seemed more and more unwelcoming with each passing moment, with each step he took towards the Grill. Still he pressed on, pushing the doors open and making his way to the bar as he listened to all the conversations around him, half hoping to hear a familiar voice. A laugh, or a curse, or anything, as long as it was familiar. Something to remind him why exactly he chose to return to a world he’d abandoned.Â
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