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The Mikaelsons come back to Mystic Falls after decades of leave, and the town is shaken . Caroline's mother goes out earlier and comes in later, and Elena and Stefan and Damon all whisper together, and no one tells Caroline anything .
It's about the new arrivals, she knows that. The family. She's seen them around, a little, and overheard the others whispering about them. Overheard everyone whispering about them. Her mom on the phone, the neighbours, teachers at school — the history teacher, Mr. Saltzman, in particular . The Mikaelsons are slightly strange, she’ll admit, — all too good looking, but it's more than that. They move too fast, always look at you like they know something better. Something more . The blonde guy, Klaus, he’d looked at her so strangely , like he interested her. There's nothing interesting about Caroline.
Elena is all on edge about it, muttering about how it's bad news. Caroline thinks she and the Salvatores have beef with one of them, or something like that. She doesn't know, and it's not like Elena is having long chats with her nowadays. Ever since Stefan moved into town, their friendship has been slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass, and it seems almost useless to try and stop it .
It's been like that with everyone — Bonnie, Tyler, Matt. They always look tight and pinched and worried, and Caroline just doesn't get it. These years are meant to be the best years of her life. Only, she's released all her friends don't know her anymore. The worst part is, she doesn't even care. That anal, preppy Caroline has been dripping away for years, and she just doesn't care about anything anymore . She just wants to go to school, and get good grades, and get out of this town — don't get her wrong, she loves Mystic Falls, just ...not the people in it . Not what happens here.
She tries to ask her mother about it, at dinner one night. They're eating spaghetti bolognaise Caroline had made off by heart, but it tastes disgusting to her, so she pushes the plate away .
Liz looks at her, but keeps eating.
Caroline is overwhelmed with the desire to ask, suddenly . She’s been biting her tongue all this time, but she can't anymore. “Mom.”
“Yeah?” Liz says, barely looking up.
“What's happening?” she asks, and then realises it’s too vague, “like, with the town?”
She's about to open her mouth again to elaborate but Liz puts down her fork. “Caroline…” she sighs out, like she's in trouble but her mother is too tired to reprimand her, “there's a lot going on, okay?”
“Like what?” Caroline asks, and she knows she probably shouldn't, but she can't help it.
Liz shakes her head, “this isn't your place.”
“My place? It’s my town, and my life and — I, I just wanna know what's happening to everyone!” she raises her voice, and knows it's a mistake as soon as she does it, but she can't help it, she needs to know.
“Stop it, Caroline!” her mother snaps, and Caroline suddenly notices the tense way she's holding herself and the bags under her eyes .
She hangs her head low, eyes filling with tears of frustration.
She finishes dinner quickly and goes to her room, where she sits with the door open to the warm summer twilight, and she wishes she was normal . That she was allowed to go to the parties everyone else goes to, in the woods, but her mother always catches her sneaking out and never gives her permission when she asks . She thinks it has something to do with the Mikaelsons, but Caroline doesn't care, whatever the reason is . She's not allowed to go and that's all she knows.
—
It gets worse, if possible. She hardly sees her mother anymore. All she ever hears is, ‘I'm busy, Caroline.’ Elena's busy, and Tyler's busy, and Bonnie’s busy and it seems everyone else is busy, except Caroline .
Empty houses are her new language. She lays in the hallway, stares up at the ceiling, remembers the way the dust notes float through the air, captured in the full afternoon sun coming through the window . The way the house sits when it's alone is different to the way the house sits when it's filled with people. She wonders if she counts as a person anymore, or if she’s here so much the house has forgotten she’s not a roomba or a bedframe.
Somehow, her mother always knows if she leaves, even to go to the store for milk. She always knows, and Caroline thinks it's maybe the way she holds herself, all guilty. Her mom never wants her to go, and Caroline doesn't know why, and it looks like she never will.
She gets angrier, in those long afternoons after school. Elena’s out with her kinda weird Salvatore boyfriend, and Bonnie’s always with them, or looking over books at her grandmother's house .
But Caroline’s at home, in her dingy childhood bedroom. She should really renovate. She really should. It's too childish, with her baby-blue walls and old cheerleading medals and trophies and a few tattered pictures of her and Bonnie and Elena smiling together in preschool .
She always thinks about it but she never does, she just lies on the floor pinned by gravity like a butterfly on a wall, and lets the light slide across her, baking her . When she opens her eyes, it's dark and her mother is pulling into the driveway.
—
They're at a party that Caroline had begged and begged to go to and then snuck out recklessly . She'll have to pay for it in the morning, but she figures it's not like her mother can ground her, right?
Everyone’s busy looking at Elena, the center of the universe, and blonde pretty cheerleader Caroline is left behind, but she’s not alone, because there's a pretty boy standing next to her, even though it's his party, and she wants to know why but doesn't want to shatter it either, so they just talk about horses .
Then they don't. “What can I say, I fancy you,” he drawls, those eyes dripping over her. She can't quite deal with this, doesn't know how to.
“Why?” Caroline asks, because she can't fathom it, someone liking her more than Elena, liking her more than anyone .
He pauses, thinking, and then says slowly , tongue dripping under and over each word twice, “You're full of light,” he says succinctly , eyes looking at her the same way as he spoke .
Caroline’s alway thought he was smart, and she doesn't trust him as far as he can through him. Besides, she’s got this whole thing with Tyler at the moment, even if she gets so irritated at him sometimes. “Bullshit,” she says, “I'm not falling for your cheesy pickup line, you’ve probably said it to a thousand girls before.”
“Not quite a thousand,” he smiles strangely, and Caroline, if she had the sense, would have felt afraid.
—
She has to admit, the cheesy pickup line does work on her.
—
She's on her bed, flipping through a magazine from 2006 when there's a rap at the door. She puts her magazine down and slides off her bed suspiciously. No one ever comes around. Probably just a salesman. Yeah, a salesman (or woman). Selling bibles or wifi, or something.
She walks into the hall, squints at the vaguely human-shaped thing she can see through the door window.
Oh. It's not a salesman.
She panics, for a moment, freezing in the hallway.
He smirks at her through the little window in the door. Knocking again, louder.
She walks forwards, swinging the door open definitely. She will not be afraid, thank you very much.
“What are you doing here?” she gapes, eyes wide, “you can't just be here. How do you even know where I live?”
He sighs, drawling out in his accent — his fucking accent! — “Ou know, this doesn't happen to me often, but I couldn't stop thinking about you.”
She blinks in surprise. “That doesn't answer my question.”
He smiles, and it's warm, and it's already too familiar, and it feels like she has not been forgotten .“Let me get to know you, Caroline, please ?” he asks, and how can she say no to that?
“My mom will be home soon,'' Caroline murmurs, and it's flimsy at best.
He shrugs, and says, “I'll go before she gets here. She won't ever know.”
She looks up at him coyly , smiling just a little. “If you're sure?”
He leans forward, “Oh, Caroline, I am so sure.”
“Come in,” Caroline says, inviting, “no one's home.”
—
“I have something for you,” he says, when he’s sitting in her childhood bedroom, which is a weird feeling. Caroline still hasn't done it up, to make it look like an actual teenager lives here. Now it's strange, like Klaus has been grafted here from another world.
She looks at him in surprise. “Oh?”
“From that night,” he says, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a square of folded yellow parchment paper, and hands it to her without much preamble.
She looks at him curiously , and unfolds it. Her face stares back up at her, drawn with convincing, tiny detail. She gasps, staring down at it in wonder. “Oh my god. You..you drew his?
He shrugs, “Yes.”
She laughs in wonder, tracing her own face with a finger, then the horse next to her. It's so lifelike, and so beautiful.
"Klaus," she just says, lost for words.
He raises an eyebrow. "Do you like it?"
She laughs at the understatement, and then flings herself at him. "Thank you," she mumbles into his neck, "I love it."
His laugh is a warm rumble. "I'm glad, Caroline."
—
“How was your day?” her mother asks across the dining room table. Caroline's skin is still tingling. They're eating meatloaf.
She shrugs. “Fine. Normal. Nothing really happened.” She thinks of him, with his curls, and wicked grin, and red lips. ' She won't ever find out.'
He wonders why her mother doesn't know, hasn't instantly sensed something is wrong.
Maybe it’s because she doesn't feel guilty.
He was right, perhaps .
—
He spends most of her afternoon with her, always turns up after she's home from school, and he stands at the door, looking through the window .
Once he's inside, they...don't do anything. If it was Tyler, they would be making small talk about their friends, or making out, maybe some groping but they never seem to get farther than that . Oh, Tyler. She still hasn't technically broken up with him. Oops.
But when Klaus is here, they lay on the floor, they laugh, they talk. He tells her about things he couldn't possibly know. Abou high society. About medieval Europe, about art and history and places she's never even heard of. Tyler doesn't talk about any of that, he talks about the Grill's new menu (not like Caroline can go eat it) and his sports or football or whatever
And it's the best part of her day. She looks forward to it the entire time between him leaving and him knocking. Occasionally , if Elena has the time to sit with her at lunch, she'll catch Caroline smiling into the distance and jokingly interrogate her about it . She assumes it's about Tyler and Caroline won't correct her and for a moment it all feels normal again. Then one of her weird boyfriends will come over and they’ll have a quiet, intense conversation, Caroline will feel so left out and Elena will grab her bag and leave with him, barely saying goodbye .
Her mother comes home after and Caroline praises how well she adjusted, how smart she is. I'm sorry, Caroline, that this has to happen, but it's for the best. the best. And Caroline will dip her head accordingly , and murmur, you were right. This is keeping me safe.
And Liz goes to bed happy each night, believing her daughter is dutiful, and well behaved, and safe, and Caroline will wait for the wolf to come and eat her .
--
Caroline opens her eyes sleepily , groans, turns over.
“Hello, love,” someone whispers in her head. She nearly shrieks, only his hand is clamped around her mouth. “Shh, shh,” he murmurs, as she breathes heavily into her palm. She spits garbled syllables into his hand, and he chuckles. “Be quiet, Caroline. Don't want mummy dearest waking up, do we?”
She glares at him as fiercely as she can, and he removes his hand slowly . She hits him wordlessly , he only catches her wrist after the third blow. “That's not very nice,” he mocks.
“I'm not trying to be very nice!” she hisses, and he raises an eyebrow, she lowers her voice. “What are you doing here?” she demands.
“Good morning, Caroline,” he says jauntily , and sits on the edge of her bed.
“Answer the question!” she scream-whispers.
He shrugs, looks around at her childhood bedroom. “I wanted to see you.”
She screws up her brow. “Uh—”
“Have I flattered you?” he interrupts, smiling smugly .
“No!” she shoves him off her bed, and he sprawls, landing heavily on her rug. He lets out a strong breath and reminds, “quiet, dear.”
“Don't break into my room at the crack of dawn, then!”
“Shush, shush, shush!” he reprimands, being louder than her.
She laughs, and leans over to help him up. “I’m sorry.”
“It's fine,” he mumbles, and kisses her, hands reaching up to hold her jaw, sliding around her waist.
She kisses him back fiercely . She thinks about Tyler, a little, and how they're still together. He calls her every so often and they hang out at school, and she kisses him goodbye sometimes, but it's not like this.
Klaus kisses her again, and she thinks again, oh, it's not like this.
Carolien hears her mom’s alarm ring in the room across the hall and freezes, pushing him off her
“What?” he murmurs, separating from her messily and slowly .
“The alarm!” Caroline whispers, sitting off, moving her fingers through her hair, “my mom’s gonna come and check on me in a minute.”
He sighs, and asks, “dear Caroline, why does the earth hate me so?”
“ I think you deserve it,” she says honestly , and he just shakes his head at her. “Corrupting a girl like me,” she tuts.
He looks like he wants to laugh, but he can't, so he just says, “you didn't need to be corrupted , love.”
She can't quite deny that, so “Come on, go,” she tells him, smiling.
He sighs and gets up, pulling his clothes into place, heading for the door.
“No, no, out the window!” she says, and he freezes, pivots, and looks at her like she's kidding. “Are you asking to get caught? My moms gonna catch you if you go that way,” she explains.
He laughs, “Out the window? Really ? I can get out the door before she even takes her next step," Klaus says confidently .
“Do you want to explain what you're doing here?” she levels back.
He sighs as if this is a long standing battle and shakes his head, declaring boldly , “For you, Caroline, I will disgrace myself in this way.”
“You’re going to crush my mother’s flowers,” she says mournfully , and looks at the flowers they had planted together this spring, before everything went to shit .
“Oh, this is so horribly teenage,” he groans, and drops out of her window, lands on the grass with knees bent. “I’m getting my shoes wet.”
“It’s just dew,” she says back, and he laughs at the notion.
“Caroline Forbes, for you, it’s hellfire.”
She tilts her head. “Since when have you become so Shakespearean?”
He shrugs broadly . “On this eve, my love.”
She grins as she watches him walk across the lawn, kicking at the grass and holding a grimace on his face. It’s just dew, you baby! She wants to say again, but he’s too far away. He makes it to the pavement, where he unlocks a car, (some black sleek thing) and waves high above his head before he gets in. Caroline realises he's still at the window like a fucking fool, so she blushes quickly and shakes a hand at him back.
She wonders if any of her neighbours have seen, and then realises she really , really doesn't care. At this point, her mother could find out and I wouldn't stop her.
—
“It's my birthday,” she tells him. He's in her room, her tiny childish room she feels embarrassed about sometimes, but he doesn't seem to care. Her mother isn't home, because she’s never home. She was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, thinking about her math homework when someone knocked . She ignored it, shutting her eyes. Then they knocked again. And again so she rolled to the side and got to her feet and as soon as she stepped into the hall — cooler, here, in the shade — she saw him, looking at her through the screen, smiling that smile .
He smiles at her, kindly, eyes lighting up with interest. “Is it, now?”
“I’m seventeen,” she tells him, proud.
He’s still smiling, warmly . “Congratulations,” he whispers, and Caroline feels like she’s done something to be proud of. Such an achievement, to be seventeen. It's just a filler year, she thinks. Just a year you’ve gotta get through to get to eighteen.
She exhales heavily , happily . She can't stop smiling. “It’s — it's surreal.”
“How has your birthday been?”
“Oh, Elena texted me and my mom made pancakes this morning," she recounts happily .
His eyebrows raise. “That all?”
She shrugs. “Everyone's busy. It's fine.”
He scoffs at the thought. “It most certainly is not.”
“It is. I — I'm used to it.
“Caroline, I'll let you in on a little secret. There is a whole world out there, waiting for you. Great cities and art and music, genuine beauty. And you can have all of it. You can have a thousand more birthdays with me. All you have to do is ask.
“I'm in highschool,” she just says, her heart seizing.
He looks at her softly . “you don't have to be. I could...take you away.” she wonders if he's ever offered this to anyone else, if he's ever offered himself to anyone else. The thought makes her head spin with confusion, and panic and a kind of aching want. She wants it. She wants it so badly . But.
She's in highschool. She has her mom here, and all her friends, and her entire life and she just — just can't. It's stupid, and crazy and she doesn't even know who he is, really . What he does. Where he's from and where he's been, all of his history. She hasn't even met his family, for god's sake, and she's pretty sure he can't meet hers.
“Uh — I — I can't,” she stammers, trying to clear her head.
“Why not?”
“My mom would never let me, she’d be chasing after me forever.”
“She could be convinced , I think .”
Caroline laughs at the thought. “Uh, you don't know my mom.”
Klaus looks like he wants to tell her something, and nearly does — Caroline knows that look — but in the end he just ys, quietly , meaningfully , “For now, Caroline . You'll want it someday.”
“For now?" Caroline scoffs, “I want college too.”
He nods. “And you can have that."
“I'm not asking you,” she retorts hotly . Acting like he controls her future, who the hell does he think he is?
He laughs. “One day, Caroline Forbes, you will want that. And I'll take you.”
She melts, "talk a big talk, huh?”
He smiles like he’s gonna say something sharp and witty back, but then he just murmurs, “I got you something,” it's as close to shy as Caroline has ever seen him, the look on his face right now .
“You did?” she asks him, doubt fluttering in her chest, as he moves across the room, where he’s left his bag by the open window, where a breeze carries over into her room .
“Of course,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“Oh,” she just says, and she’ll think out this later.
“It’s not much,” he warns, “but —” he pulls out the shiny black jewelry box and flips it open.
It’s gorgeous. Linked rows of diamonds, silver and delicate and impossibly beautiful. Impossibly expensive, Caroline would bet, too, but she doesn't ask about that, just for once she doesn't demand information .
“Where did you get this,” she gapes, not really expecting an answer.
He looks at his hands and murmurs, “It was...worn by a princess almost as beautiful as you."
Her hands shake, and he pushes it towards her. She takes it in her hands, and looks up in shock, where he grins back at her. She looks back down to the bracelet and wants to smile so violently her head splits into two, like halves of a bright orange .
Sef finger herself forward, into his arms, and he isn't ready for it, but soon enough he relaxes, and his body moulds to his, arms wrapping around her .
“Thank you,” she whispers into his neck, and he just hugs her tighter.
The ridiculousness of the situation hits her and she leans back, reeling him, but his hands leave her soulfully .
“What would they say, if they knew you were here, on my birthday doing something almost…” she trails off, because she doesn't know the word .
“Nice?” he suggests, then grins like a wolf, “They’d roll in their graves, my siblings.”
“They're not dead.”
He grins, and Caroline feels as if he’s laughing at a private joke when he says, “Aren't they?”
—
Tyler's at her house, since they are doing this weird thing where they are dating, but not really , since Caroline thinks she hates him, a little .
Anyway, her mother had invited him for dinner — she's been trying more lately, and she thinks Tyler is the perfect, appropriate boyfriend . Caroline thinks of Klaus, and his dark grin, and how much the others hate him.
Tyler’s in her room, waiting for dinner to be made , and Caroline’s forgotten all about the picture, or, she looks at it so much she hasn't realised it’s abnormal .
What's this?” he asks, and he's looking at the drawing that sits perched on her desk.
Fear seizes her heart, and she doesn't know what she's so afraid of. “Nothing,” Caroline says, laughing it off nervously .
Tyler’s still looking at it, intently . “Who drew this?” her mother didn't even notice, why did he have to?
Caroline appears to his shoulder. “No one, Tyler. Stop it, put it down.”
“No, Caroline,” he says, and finally looks at her.
“Tyler, why does it matter?” she asks, desperate. You can hear it in her voice, she plead, cracking along the edge of her syllables. Ba d idea. Now Tyler knows it's important.
“Because I care about you,” he says, looking at her from the picture and back again. “Who drew this?” she doesn't say anything, just stares with wide eyes. “If you can't tell me...fuck, that just says something about our relationship doesn't it?”
“What relationship,” she spits, just to be mean.
“You're fucking ridiculous,” he snaps, dark eyes boring into her.
She scoffs a laugh, throwing her hands in the air, “ Maybe , Tyler.”
Jesus Christ, Caroline,” he swears. “I— don't even know what to say to you. Really . What's wrong with you?”
Nothing is wrong with her. Nothing. This whole fucking town is wrong. Everyone in this town is keeping things from her, that's wrong! Her friends keep things from her, that's wrong. There is nothing wrong with her . “Get out,” Caroline snaps, burning with quiet fury.
Tyer looks up at her, shocked. His mouth is gaping open and his eyes are wide, he looks like a stunned fish.
“Get out,” she says again, and, fuck, this feels good. You stay out! You're not allowed here!
He stammers, “Caroline, what— You can't do this!” but he's still walking backwards out her bedroom door. She follows him.
“ I think I can,” Caroline says, and feels like laughing.
Her mother comes out into the hall, and she's as shocked as Caroline pushes him out “what —?” Liz starts, and stops
“Get out of my house, you jerk!” she says, and he steps backwards out the door, looking at her like he's the lost puppy she's kicking.
“I don't even know who you are, anymore,” he tells her.
“Then we’re done,” she snarls, in his face. “Get out!”
“I don't know what the fuck got into you,” he says again, like that will change anything as he staggers out into the porch and leaves hurriedly , not even looking back . Caroline watches him go and feels her bubbling in her chest. She takes a long breath and smiles the barest hint of a smile.
“Caroline?” her mother asks, behind her.
Caroline stops smiling, and shuts the door.
“Why did you do that?” Liz asks. Her image of a lonely and nice daughter is shattering.
She watches his car start, and whispers. “I don't like him.”
Her mother asks her more questions, but Caroline doesn't answer, just walks back to her room and opens the window and hopes .
He doesn't come.
—
It's nearly dark. Her mother still isn't home. Caroline thinks it's so funny, the person she's trying to catch in her teenage daughter's room while she’s gone looking for him, he’s coming through her window . She knows that's what is happening. She doesn't know why they care about Klaus or his family, or why they're here, or why Caroline has to stay inside, or why everyone is being so goddamn weird but she knows that it's so incredibly funny her mother is out there and they're in here .
He knocks at the window, and she opens it, and then she binks and he’s inside. It happens like that everyday. She never says you could just come to the door, and the one day she does, he says she never answers. She didn't, once, but Caroline doesn't say that either. She thinks he just likes climbing through her window.
“Hi, love,” he grins, and it's familiar, at this point.
“Hi,” she says, smiling back.
He sighs, and drops into her armchair. “God, I’m tired.”
She laughs, a little, and sits at the desk. “Do I want to know?”
She opens his eyes a crack, looks at her. “I’m sure you do.” She looks up at him suspiciously , but he just smiles back. “How are you?” he deflects, the bastard.
“Tyler and I broke up,” she says carefully , non committedly .
His eyes are keen when they look at her, “did you now?” Caroline nods silently , and he asks again, “what happened?”
She shrugs, laughs to herself. “He was a dick," and he was always a dick.
Klaus smiles widely , "I don't doubt that at all.”
“He saw your drawing," Caroline nods at the wall, where it sits in its frame
His eyes flick to the framed art on the wall then back at her, then he draws, “Oh, I bet he didn't like that,” with the ghost of a smile on his face and that look in his eyes, you'd think he was proud .
She shakes her head, and savours the words, saying them slowly , "he really didn't."
—
“What do you do?” she asks him, like she's been dreading and trying to ask for the last — she doesn't know how long. Ever.
“Me?” he asks, looking up from his book. Well, her book. It's from her bookshelves.
She shrugs, and explains, “ All of you. Your family.”
“I paint. Rebekah complains. Elijah tries to look grown-up, Kol fools around,” he lists, and then grins, but it’s not the same grin, not the crooked wine that means he’s happy, even if he won't say it . It’s dark and sharp, and she’s reminded of crocodiles looking up at her at the zoo, only Klaus isn't captive. “And we do business.”
“Business?” Caroline asks, pushing it. She should have just let it rest, because Klaus tuts, and looks at her, and says, “Come one, love. Let's not talk of that,” in his warm voice, and nights like these, with the purple dusk and the golden glow of her lamp, he looks at her like no one ever does .
“I want to.”
“Why?” he asks, and his eyes are back at the book. He turns a page.
“I want to know you,” she says softly , looking up at him through her lashes. That usually works.
“You do. You don't need business for that.”
She's opening her mouth, saying something smart back, smart enough to get him to confess whatever he doesn't want to, because he really doesn't want to, but she's still going to try — but he silences her protest with a kiss .
She doesn't ask again. She wonders if one day she’ll resent him for this.
—
He visits again and she kisses before he can say anything funny, witty, sharp, sarcastic or demeaning .
“Hello,” she says, after a moment, when they separate. He's got his hands in her hair, and is looking down on her fondly .
“Hello,” he grins warmly , and leans down to kiss her again.
She kisses him back, strongly , and then as he tries to pull them both back towards the bed, she breaks the kiss. “Hey, hey,” she interrupts, murmuring between their mouths.
“You alright?” he asks, pausing.
“Yes,” she says, and he wraps his arms around her again, “You know what you were talking about?” she asks.
“I talk a lot, Caroline,” he says, kissing her neck. “I’ve been considering breaking the habit. Like, right now.”
She tips her head back, eyes fluttering shut. “On my birthday.”
“Sure,” he mumbles, and is working his mouth up the column of her throat.
“About birthdays and art and music and the whole world out there. And you.” he pauses, going ice cold still. “I want it.”
“You want it?” he murmurs, disbelieving. She wonders who hurt Klaus, who made him like this.
“I want it all, everything the whole world has to offer. I'm not going to be stuck in Mystic Falls forever. I want Paris, and Morocco, and Cameroon, and Russia, and Indonesia, Brazil and Australia and Amsterdam . And I want to see it all with you.” She doesn't know what she decided all this, it was sometimes after yesterday, when she had wondered about the end of this, and then she realized there will never be an end . She doesn't want it to end.
“You're serious?” he asks, voice low with wonder.
“No. Just kidding,” she says, joking but he deflates. “Yes, I'm serious,” she says, poking him in the ribs.
He laughs and crowds her mouth with kisses. “I am going to show you everything, Caroline Forbes,” he crows triumphantly , and he's grinning wide and true, not dark at all .
“Everything?” She asks, and, fuck that sounds nice. Everything. Just for her. She knows everything, that sounds nice.
“Oh my fucking god, Caroline. Ev-ver-y thing,” he draws out, stretched like taffy in his mouth.
She laughs, and kisses him, and kisses him.
—
They're sitting in bed, after, sheets cast around them, Caroline leaning against the headboard, Klaus a warm weight next to her .
“Where are we gonna go first?” she questions, just to talk about it, to make sure he hasn't forgotten.
“I was thinking of a tour of Europe. I love Europe, you know,” he tells her, stroking her skin with his thumb.
“Hmm?” she asks.
He grins widely , reminiscing with real joy. “Oh, yeah. Britain first, London and Dover, Wales of course where I spent my childhood. It's lovely there, cold and a little wet but lovely — so green. Then, after that, France, of course. Paris, versaille, marseille, avignon, Lyon, the alps and the Pyrenees, the riviera, eze, nice, menton, Cannes, Ventimiglia"
“Of course,” she mirrors, putting on his haughty English accent.
He grins quietly , and continues, “Italy, next. We have to do Venice of course— there are so many people for you to meet in Venice — then to Rome, Florence, Tuscany, Sicily , Naples, Lake Como, Milan, the list goes on and on .”
“We’ve only covered three countries,” she says, aghast.
“We have many more, Caroline. You're so American.”
She hmps, but decides not to take offence. It’s fair. “How long will this take?” she critiques playfully , instead. “light years?”
“If I have any say in it,” he murmurs, kissing her neck.
“What about Scandinavia?” she asks, tracing his cheekbone, “I love Scandinavia,” she sighs.
“Then we'll do that too, Copenhagen and Denmark and mineral springs in Iceland.”
They plan their trip to every extreme detail, adding a gelato allowance into their schedule, and then another for renting the mobility scooters they’ll have to use . They talk until Caroline’s mother is pulling into the driveway
“Better go,” she tells him, not urgently . Liz has taken to sitting in the driveway for a few minutes.
“Better,” he sighs, and kisses her quickly .
She watches him languidly as he gets off the bed and dresses quickly , tugging his shoes on and making to the window before he stops and turns . “Caroline?”
She hums. “Yes, Klaus?”
He walks back to her, crouching just before her. “Are you afraid?” he asks her, like he is.
“Why would I be afraid?” she asks mildly , looking up at him.
He sighs, and stokes his hand up her arm, to her chin. He makes her look him in the eyes and tells her, rather sincerely , “You're leaving everything behind, Caroline .”
She's Caroline Forbes and she's not afraid of anything.
“There’s nothing to leave behind.”
—
The door opens, and closes, and her mother’s footsteps echo through the house.
“My mom’s home,” Caroline whispers, eyes wide. They've gotten dressed this afternoon, then undressed and redressed, and she's warm and happy and thinking of all the places they’ll go .
Klaus closes his eyes momentarily , and drops the hand from her hair. She mourns the loss, and wishes it wasn’t this way. She still doesn't understand why it is this way, just that it is.
“Caroline?” her mother calls out, through the empty house.
Caroline closes her eyes too, and swallows before she calls out, “yeah, Mom, I’m here.”
She looks back, and he’s gone.
She gasps, looking around her empty room.
“Honey?” her doors open, her mother’s looking in.
“Yeah, mom?” she asks, clearing their throat, wiping her hands on her skirt.
Liz looks suspicious. “Uh, nothing. Just ...dinner soon.”
“Okay,” Caroline says, and smiles until she closes the door and retreats slowly .
Caroline lets out a heavy breath and sits on her bed. She doesn’t know what's happening to her anymore.
--
It's after school, Caroline is at home (always) and just waiting for him. She's just putting on music she knows he’ll hate when there's a knock at the door.
Caroline pulls herself to her feet and wanders into the hall. It’s him, though the screen door, She smiles, calling out, “Klaus!”
He just looks at her.
She opens the door, “hi,” she says. “At the front door this ti—?”
“I've got to go, love,” he interrupts her nervously , eyes flicking over her. .
Klaus never sounds nervous. He looks rough, too. In a hurry, his breath is high and hitched and her hair is messy like he's been running his hands through it.
“What— why?” Caroline stammers, and she grabs onto him, everybit of him she can touch. His jacket is rough against her fingers, but she doesn't care.
“I'm sorry,” he just says, and leans forward to kiss her deeply , and it feels like goodbye. Why does it feel like goodbye?
"Is this about— about —" she asks, thinking of what she'd asked of him. Has he got cold feet? Does he not want her anymore?
"No," he gasps. "No, not at all."
“What’s happened?”
He shakes his head. “I can't tell you, but I've got to go.”
“Please,” she says, and realizes she’s nearly crying.
“I'll be back, one day, Caroline.”
“But — but Europe? Please,” she begs, mind filled with images of Klaus in places they haven’t been yet.
“I — I want to give you everything,” he tells her, “And I will,” he promises, “One day.”
“Then do,” she tries, pulling herself closer.
He avoids her eyes. “I've gotta go.” He pushes her away, stepping back from the doorway. “I'm so sorry, Caroline,” he says, and gets off the porch.
“Klaus?” she calls after him, “No—”
“I'm sorry,” he says again, and walks towards his car, and Caroline waits, shattering the doorway.
Klaus looks back at her, but he gets in the car, and he drives away and Caroline knows that he’s really gone, now.
Her mother comes home and she's still crying, a little, even though most of it has passed.
"Caroline?" her mother says as she comes in, "I was thinking takeout for dinner tonight.”
"Mom?" she calls, pushing open her doors, stepping into the hallway.
"Caroline?” Liz asks, stopping at the sight of her tear sheard daughter
“Mom,” she asks again, weakly .
Liz rushes forward all at once, "what's wrong? What happened?"
“He’s gone,” she sobs, and her mother goes and holds her, arms wrapping around her like she's a child.
“What are you talking about?” Liz asks into her hair.
“Klaus,” she sobs, and recognition lights up her mother’s face. She realizes what her teenage daughter has been doing while everyone else wasn't looking .
—
“Um, your friends are coming around,” her mother tells her, awkwardly . Liz doesn't quite know how to act, on the one hand, crying daughter. On the other, crying about a sworn nemesis. So she is stiff and cold and kind. It's strange.
“They're not my friends,” Caroline just sniffs. Liz blinks a few times, like that of all things surprises her. Caroline asks weakly , “Who?”
“Bonnie, Damon, Elena and Stefan,” Liz lists, then adds, awkwardly , “I thought it best not to invite Tyler.”
Caroline snorts. “ probably a wise choice.”
Liz smiles a little, then catches herself. “I've gotta —” she hesitates.
“Yeah,” Caroline says, just to be nice. Liz leaves her doorway.
Caroline waits.
—
She hears them pull up, all in one car — Stefan’s, she's guessing — and piles to the front door, where her mother lets her in with a few quiet, worried words . They track down the hallway, to where Caroline is lying on her bed waiting. She stands, to get ready, then sits. She can't decide.
The door opens. Her friends look back at her. If that is what she should call them? They're just people she knows, and even then that definition could break down easily .
“Hi, guys,” Caroline says, weakly .
Bonnie gives her a small smile, Elena looks away, and Damon laughs.
“That all, Goldilocks?” he drawls, and she guesses it's good to know what hasn't changed. “ Just , ‘hi’? No, I've been skipping around with a Mikaelson.”
“I've been skipping around with a Mikaelson,” Caroline, says deadpan.
“Did you cheat on him?'' Elena asks, suddenly , a bit angry. Caroline has to concentrate to figure out she means Tyler.
“Is that why you freaked out? Because of Klaus?'' Stefan says, too, before she can respond.
Caroline takes a deep breath and explains. “I ‘freaked out’--” she draws heavy air quotes with her fingers “--because he was being a dick.”
“He said he saw a drawing of you,” Damon pipes up, “and you went crazy when he asked about it. Klaus...Klaus is a bit of an artist, isn't he, Stefan?”
Caroline’s eyes darted to her desk. Obviously , all of their eyelines follow. Caroline kicks herself.
“He’s got a landscape hanging at the Hermitage,” she deadpans, now that the damage is done.
Damon reaches over and grabs it defly , scanning it for one long second before he turns and shows the picture to the group.
“He drew that?'' Elena asks. Caroline doesn't know why she's acting so shocked.
Carline says silent. She's made this bad enough.
“Didn't think you had it in you, Caroline,” Damon whistles, looking up at her.
She shrugs, but there is a cold, tight sinking sensation in her stomach. “More than just a blonde cheerleader.”
That makes them all go quite, for some reason.
“What's he like?” Bonnie asks, speaking for the first time.
All the others look at her like she's crazy, but stay silent. They want to know the answer, too.
Caroline takes a deep breath. “He is…kind, and funny, and interesting — he has so many stories. He paid attention to me. He wanted to be around me. I was abandoned by everyone else, but not him.” Then she was. Tears form, but she blinks them away.
“You weren't abandoned,” Stefan says softly.
“Yes, I was,” Caroline laughs. “What would you call it, then?”
Silence falls, and everyone avoids her eyes.
“I don't know why we’re surprised, honestly ,'' Damon interrupts the silence.
They all look at him, even Caroline.
Damon holds up his hands, exclaiming, “What? Klaus is very charismatic, a bit of a people person and yes, I'll admit it, he’s a bit of a looker.”
“He's gone now, so,” she shrugs, and feels a little like crying again. Then she reminds herself now is not the time for that — be strong, Caroline.
“What did he say — exactly, Caroline?'' Stefan pipes up.
She shrugs, “I don't know. He apologised, said he had to go, that's it.”
“Did he say if he'd be back?”
Caroline glares at him. “He said he would be, but not for anything to do with you. For me.”
“You really think he's coming back for you,” Stefan says, and she's not sure if it's a question but either way his voice is gentle and solemn .
“Look, Klaus has more important things to do,” Elena scoffs, as if she really knows.
“He made time for me,” Caroline reminds me, eyes boring into them all.
“This is so crazy,” Bonnie scoffs, just in general. Caroline empathises.
“ I feel like I don't even know you anymore,” Elena murmurs, shaking her head. She steps away from them, sits on Caroline’s window seat. Caroline thinks of Klaus, and smiles to herself. Ironic.
“Elena, you don't know me,” Caroline snaps, “and you haven't for a while.”
ELena’s eyes go wide. “What?” she laughs, getting haughty and offended, “I've known you since preschool.”
Caroline scoffs, “I've changed since preschool.”
She shakes her head, and looks sad, genuinely sad. “Come on, Caroline. I still know you, and this isn't you.”
“Isn't it? I’ve felt more...more me with him than I ever have with you. You care about dances and highschool bullshit. I care about the world, okay I care about art—” she points a finger at the offending drawing, still held in Damon’s hand “— I care about travel and history and forming genuine connections with people outside of small-town Virginia !”
“Look, Care-bear, you don't quite understand,” Damon chuckles (he’s finding this funny?!)
“I fucking doubt that,” Caroline seethes, “You tell me anything about Klaus that I don't know, come on, please.”
“Well,” Damon says, but Elena jabs him with her elbow, cutting him off.
Caroline looks at them suspiciously, but continues. “He was born in London. He knows more about the Italian Renaissance than anyone else I know, he’s been around the world, and he actually fucking likes me . I'm not sure that you guys do.”
“What do you mean, Caroline?” Bonnie says, eyebrows creasing in the middle. “Of course we like you, we wouldn't be here if we didn't like you.”
‘When was the last time any of you talked to me?” Caroline asks, and it's not even rhetorical, but blank faces greet her. She laughs, a little hysterical, “You know what, you should blame yourselves for this situation, because if you'd taken an interest in my life, at all, you would have known about Klaus, because I would have told you, easily . If you'd asked.”
“Caroline —” she doesn’t want to hear it.
“Klaus is the only one that actually cares about me,” she says, and then her face falls, “But I guess that's in past tense. Because of you. You made him leave, and I doubt I can ever forgive you for that.”
“Caorline, I tried,'' Liz says, she has been silent and pressed into the corner this whole time, just watching. Until now. “I tried to keep you safe.”
“You tried ? You locked me up like Anne Frank!”
“I was trying to keep you safe,” her mother insists.
“I didn't need protection,” Caroline spits. “And you should have told me what to ‘ protect’ me from. Here's a radical, crazy idea, if you told me, from the start, maybe we wouldn’t be here!”
It was for nothing, anyway,” Damon says, “it's ingenious, actually. You leave for the day, you're working late to catch Klaus, and where is Klaus? With your daughter . You know, if the circumstances were different, I'd be clapping him on the back. ”
Caroline snarls, “Shut the fuck up, Damon. You don't even know him, don't act like it was some calculated choice.”
“You really believe that?'' Stefan asks, looking up from under his Hero Hair. “It's just a coincidence he took an interest in you?”
Caroline narrows her eyes, “What are you trying to say, Stefan? It's weird he picked me? I'm just a crazy, neurotic cheerleader with nothing of substance? He should have picked Elena like you picked Elena? Smart, pretty, wanted Elena next to crazy, bitchy Caroline is no competition, right?”
Elena opens her mouth, “I’m not —”
“Oh, fuck you, Elena, acting like you're a good friend. You've barely looked at me since the Salvatores came to town!
Her cheeks blush, “That's not true.”
“Yes, it is,” Caroline says, all sad.
‘You've changed too,” Elena says, spitting fire.
Carolien nods in admission.
“You’re — you're cold, and unfriendly , and there's a reason no one wants to hang out with you anymore. It's not fun, Caroline.”
“I'm plenty of fun, Elena, or I woulld be, if I was very allowed out of my fucking house.”
“I know why I don't know you anymore. It's not because of any big worldchanging thing, it's because I haven't been around you. You excluded me, at the start, then I got locked up in the end. Tell me, how much time have we spent around each other since this thing started, huh ?”
“Caroline, you —” Liz starts, about to berate her or something, and Caroline is sick of it.
She rounds on her, spitting, “Oh, shut it, mom, you caused this.”
There is a moment of silence where Liz stares Caroline down. “I don't even know you anymore, Caroline,'' Liz says, hard.
“I wish I was sorry, mom,” Caroline apologises to her quietly .
“I— how long has this been going on?” Liz asks. She has a funny look on her face scrunched and concerned and confused and hoping, wishing it's not true.
Caroline shrugs, and doesn't look at her. She looks at her, regrets it, looks away and sends the next minute wanting desperately to look again and then regretting it when she does . “The night of that party they had,” she mumbles. “That's when it started.”
“What — what happened?” Liz stammers. All the others seem to have backed off the questions, and it seems like it's only the mother and daughter in the room.
“He just ...came and talked to me. I had gone outside, to see the horses. He asked if I liked them. Then it just ...snowballed.”
Something occurs to Liz. “Did he ever come in the house?”
She snorts. “I’m not allowed out of the house.”
Liz takes a step, looking around. She seems afraid. “Yo --you invited him in?”
“Why does that matter?”
“He's an evil man, Caroline,” Liz says harshly .
Caroline stays silent, thinking, no he's not, no he's not, no he's --
Liz interrupts her thoughts with a worried, intense whisper, "Caroline, you have to listen to me when I say this . Just once, listen to me," she pleads, and Caroline nods, slowly from the bed,and looks at her. Liz is pale, and so much thinner than she was before Klaus got here. "The thing is he's not -- he's not a man at all, Caroline." Liz's eyes are wide and very, very scared.
“What he fuck do you mean?'' Caroline says, bluntly , and Damon opens his mouth, and Elena doesn't jab him this time.
And Caroline learns.
—
She makes the decision hardly thinking, she’ll admit. It was more of an impulse. More of just a panic decision, fueled by what she knows more than what she wants. She doesn't pack anything,so she doesn't have time or the opportunity to think about it.
It’s nearly night and the others have long gone, leaving her with her mothers watchful eye.
She steps out of her room, and Liz is there, hovering in the hallway like always.
“Where are you going?”
Caroline lifts the towel in her arms. “Shower.”
Liz purses her lips. “Uh...okay.”
Caorline slides into the bathroom, flicking on the light and locking the door.
She takes a deep breath, meets her own eyes in the mirror.
Okay, Caroline you're doing this. She tells herself. Her eyes are red , and her lips are too pale, her whole face too pale, she looks like a ghost, a monster, with her hair lying flat against her head .
She tears her eyes away and turns the shower on.
She rubs her fingers against the car keys in her waistband, as a reminder, and opens the window soundlessly .
She slides her legs through, thinking of Klaus and how fast he always moved. She eats her own eyes in the mirror, but the cold night air flowing against her face has brought more color to her cheeks . She looks almost human.
That brings more confidence to her, and she pushes the rest of her body through, twisting her torso so she lands facing the wall, keeping a tight grip on the windowsill, even as it bites into her fingers . She dangles for a moment and then lets go, landing heavily but quietly at the side of the house. She flattens herself against the wall and tries to tell herself she can go back.
If she does, she'll never get another chance.
Caroline pulls the keys to her hand, grips them tightly , creeping towards the driveway.
She has to dodge her mother’s bedroom window, but the room is empty so it’s fine.
So, she's made it to the driveway unscathed. What the fuck does she do now. Caroline hadn't really thought that far ahead.
Caroline’s hands are shaking, when she unlocks the car, jerking the door open, falling inside in a haze of panic . The lights go on, the lock unclicks audibly. Her mother might have heard. She’s all out of time.
She starts the car frantically , backing out of the driveway without even looking. She speeds down her street and has only one thought on her mind: get out of Mystic Falls.
She starts driving and after a few minutes of quiet, gut-clenched fear she leans back to agent the seat. Her shaking fingers turn on the radio, flip to the right station. She checks her rearview again habitually , and it's empty.
Low rock starts to fill the car, and she sighs, relaxes a little. Stops at a red light.
She knows what he is now, Some part of her thinks he must be afraid, because Klaus does get afraid. He got afraid when she asked about his business, and when she ever hesitated about him. but she isn't afraid of him, who he is (who she is) infact, she really , really doesn't care.
She wonders if her mother had told her, Elena had told her, right from the start when the Mikaelsons rolled into town if it had been any different . If they'd still be in this situation, if he'd still have given her bracelets and drawings and snuck into her room. If she would still love him.
It hardly matters thinking like that. She's nearly out of Virginia, heading south. Really , she just hopped on the first motorway she could.
She wonders if they're following her. She rolls down the window a little and decides not to care.
She drives through the night.
—
The sun goes down quick, but it seems to take forever. Better-yellow melting into the horizon, blue and green like a bruise right above you, the cloudless sky disintegrating into black . You could mistake it for beautiful, if you tried, if you enjoy the high pumping blood and exhaust fumes of America's state highway system .
Still, she chooses to enjoy it. She counts how many dogs she sees in the back of cars, then how many buses and grandmothers and clouds that look like stars .
She’s passing Atlanta when her phone vibrates again. She ignores it, and turns on the radio. She's lost the rock station two states back, so she flips through them, hitting static more often than a song.
She sighs and gives up, resigns herself to the silence.
—
She stops at a gas station and stares at everyone in there, convinced Damon going to step around the corner with his horrible eyes or one of the strangers will turn and lunge at her neck, but nothing happens . She buys some water and some jerky and walks back to her car unscathed.
She gets in and locks the door, wonders what to do now.
Checking her voicemails is a good place to start.
The first is from her mom. She sighs and uts the phone to her ear. Caroline, it's mom — I...come back, ple— she knows the answer to that one. Next.
Caroline, Elena says, haughty and PTSD-inducting, I know this is a shock, it was when I found out, too and —
Hey, Damon says. Hey, I’m sorry. Everyones was biting my head off about the way I told you and...it wasn't cool. I guess I can't relate. When I found out there were vampires, I was in love with one of them. Even if she was an unbelievably toxic bitch, like really —” he cuts himself off, Long story. Anyway, everyone’s really worried about you, and — Ugh. and it was getting good.
The next one’s from Bonnie. Caroline? Look, I know you wont pick up or anything, and that's fair. Um, I just wanted to say — I don't know Klaus. She sighs heavily, Or you, apparently . I don't agree with how the others handled it, I think we should have given you a chance. He sounds actually really sweet. Alright. Uh, you don't have to forgive me or us, just call me back so we know you're alive. She sighs. That one's kind of reasonable.
Alive, she texts to Bonnie, and that's all.
She sits, expecting Bonnie to text her back immediately, but she doesn't so Caroline groans and leans back in her seat .
She doesn't really know what to do.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She should call him.
Her hands shake as she reaches for her phone again. She finds him in her contacts and clicks call, holding it to her ear.
She clears her throat. The phone rings, and rings and rings, and it’s probably only three times, but it feels like forever.
The call finally connects, and she sucks in a breath.
“Hello?'' Klaus says, and his voice is so fucking fmailiar. He is somewhere loud, chattering and noise and ambient music behind him.
She opens her mouth to say something back — but she hasn't quite worked out what to say yet. She settles for something simple, like ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ , or ‘ oh my god I love you ’ but her voice catches in her throat and she is gripped with paralysing fear .
“Hello?” he says again, annoyed, “Oh, I swear to god I will rip your throat out and relish every moment of it—” and he would, Caroline thinks, mildly , “you slimy little coward, this is not a good time,” he growls .
“Will you?” Caroline asks, finally finding her voice. “Rip out my throat, I mean,” she clarifies.
“I— Caroline,” he stammers, like he's surprised.
“Klaus,” Caroline gasps, and she feels so much better, already. The bubbling nerves reside in her chest.
He chuckles. “I...I won’t rip out your throat.” He even sounds embarrassed.
“Promise?”
“Yeah, promise,” he says, and the background noise fades abruptly , and she can hear a door close. “Uh, are you alright? Has something happened?”
“I have to have a reason for calling?” she laughs nervously .
He sounds reproachful. “You do if you're being this strange.”
“Well, I want to see you. Can I?” Caroline asks, and watches two people crossing the car park from her side mirrors
He sounds suspicious. “Caroline, answer me, are you hurt?”
“No. No I'm not hurt,” she answers, and he sighs audibly .
“What's wrong then?” he asks, impatient and on edge.
“They all know,” she says gravely . “About us.”
There's a pause, and when he speaks his voice is something she's never heard before. “Oh. Oh, are you—”
“And I know,” she interrupts, “About you.”
He sucks in a breath. “Caroline, I—
She interrupted him again. “You know, I don't blame you. It seems that everyone I know is a vampire and doesn't think to mention it!”
“Caroline,” he says, trying to interrupt her. She bulldozes over him.
She sucks in a rugged, angry breath, “I guess I really shouldn't be surprised , at this point. Everyone in Mystic Falls is a vampire or knows about it. Except me.”
“Caroline, love. You need to calm down. It’s a lot, I know it's a lot but you need to breathe.”
She wants to spit and snarl and bite back but he's right, so he just watches the store front and takes deep breaths .
Her head floods with visions, with dreams, and even as angry and confused and scared as she is, she wants him, still.
“Let’s do everything we talked about," she remembers it all. Him in her room, asking her seriously , her heart beating in her chest. "You told me about great cities and art and music, I’m asking for it, asking for you. I’m asking for the world.”
“Okay,” he says,expelling a heavy breath. “Okay, okay, okay," he chants.
“I still want you,” he says to her.
"Well, that's a coincidence," she grins wide in relife. Still parts of her doubt.
He laughs at her, but doesn't say anything but, “Caroline Forbes, I can't wait to see you."
"Another coincidence," she murmurs.
“Where are you?”
“I--I don't know. On the road. Near Atlanta.”
“What happened?” Klaus asks.
Caroline shivers.
“Did you ever notice you little loverboy move a little bit too fast? Maybe something a little strange?” Damon asked. “You said he mentioned the Italian Renaissance. Ever use first person?”
Caroline scoffed. “You're all acting crazy.”
“Look, this is gonna be...hard to hear, Caroline, and it's gonna be had to process,” Stefan warned her
“Hear what? Process what? Tell me, goddamnit.”
“Klaus is an original,” Damon said bluntly ,and looked at her like she’s meant to know what that means.
Caroline shrugged, and just for the hell of it asked, “A what?”
Stefan answered for him. “One of the first vampires. Well, the first. The whole family is.”
“Vampire?” Caroline repeated, eyebrows high. “Come on, guys. I know you hate him, but this is a bit far. Vampires don't exist,” Caroline laughs.
Damon's face warped and bubbled, and he’s not - he’s not human at all, that's not human. His eyes are fucking red and there are veins under his skin.
“Yeah, they do,'' Elena sighed, from next to him. When she looked back at Damon, his face is normal, like it never even changed. He offered a frank smile.
Horror rose in Caroline’s throat. It all makes a little more sense now.
“Tell me later,” he says, in her silence.
She sighs with shaky relief then finds it in her to laghs, “Klaus, I—” she tries to form coherent thought. “I can't believe this is how my life has turned out. I was going to be a normal, nice girl and stay in Mystic Falls forever. Now, vampires exist and I'm in love with one of them.”
“Caroline?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
She relises what she's said and stammers, “Oh, I—
“You don't regret it?”
She smiles, thinking about it. “No, I don't regret it.” She feels too warm to regret it.
“None of it?” he asks her, voice wavering with hesitancy. “You sound like you miss that nice, normal girl.”
“No, I don't miss her. She was miserable,” and Caroline laughs, “I was so miserable.”
“Oh, Caroline.”
“I just ...it’s strange how this turned out, huh?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, but in my experience, it always is.”
“Oh, experience?” she teases, and starts the car.
He chuckles, “There's no one else like you, Caroline.”
He stays on the phone with her until she crosses city lines, then gives her an address.
She drives up, and he's waiting outside the door for her.