A/N: Ok, so it's been a little while but I have been working (somewhat) consistently on this fic for you guys like I promised. I know half of you hate me for the last chapter of A dangerous game and half of you love me, but I hope this fic makes up (or sustains or whatever) for that! BTW, you do not have to have read A dangerous game before this, but it does obviously contain spoilers for it, and the first few chapters may be a bit confusing to start with.
Enjoy, R&R :)
The plan was definitely not for him to find her first.
Caroline had been in England for four months now, doing nothing but chasing useless lead after useless lead after useless lead. She was downtrodden, but not exactly shocked. It was hardly surprising that no sane witch wanted to trust the foreign new baby vampire. The most information that she got out of any witch was just another name of another witch to chase up on. Caroline had tried the good cop scenario, bad cop and every other damn cop in between.
What she had learnt so far: the witch that had created the stake was named Emily May Hedden. For some reason still unknown to her coven, Emily May had been born with an abnormally ability to channel huge amounts of power, especially for such a young age. Even more extraordinary than that was the massive amount of control she managed to keep over it, able to perform spells as a teenager that would have challenged witches had practiced for decades. Emily was apparently scarily in tune with the spirits, so much that she was even able to contact the Bennett witches, who she was only very distantly related too.
It was the same Bennett spirits who had helped her craft the stake that could take down Klaus. Emily had made the weapon after Klaus had unknowingly used Emily's older sister as one of his errand witches, than had discarded of her in his usual grotesque way. The stake itself was nothing but an ordinary piece of oak, completely indistinguishable but for Emily May's initials carved in the base handle. In other words, impossible to find unless you knew where to look.
Not that any witch was willing to help Caroline in that department.
Finally, though, Caroline found a lead. It was a witch named Marilyn, a withered old lady who lived alone in a small flat in Chelsea, England.
"Why would I tell you where Emily May's stake is?" Marilyn asked, swirling her spoon around her teacup. "You're a vampire. You could well be compelled and working for Klaus."
"I take vervain every day." Caroline sipped the tea, which was laced heavily vervain as well, and willed herself not to flinch. Marilyn narrowed her eyes at Caroline over the table, trying to determine whether or not she was telling the truth.
"Still…" She said cautiously, "As with any other serial killer lunatic, Klaus has his own little groupies. Are you promising me that you're not just in love with him?"
Caroline didn't realise that she had crushed the china teacup in her hand until she felt the hot vervain liquid burn red trails down her palms.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that." Caroline mumbled, feeling her cheeks grow hot in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. This was shaping up to beyet another useless, misleading conversation again. "Why would you invite me inside your home if you that that I was working for Klaus?"
Marilyn waved off the question. "What was your reason for wanting to kill Klaus again, sweetheart?" She asked, her voice probing.
Caroline hesitated briefly, about to launch into the carefully constructed cover story of Klaus changing her against her will, tracking her down and wanting to kill her. She had never talked willingly about the Worst day of her life after it had happened, much preferring to burrow down all memories connected to that into the darkest parts of her mind that she rarely let herself visit.
"I want the truth." Marilyn spoke up suddenly, as if she had been reading Caroline's thoughts. Caroline bit her lip.
"He...wronged me." She said finally, the carefully selected words coming out haltingly. "And I want...justice."
"I'm afraid I'll need something a little more specific." Marilyn said. Caroline glared at her immediately, a knee-jerk hostile reaction that came with anyone who tried to ask too many questions. The witch stared back, her eyes scrutinizing. She knew something, something concrete that could finally kick start Caroline, that much was clear. And perhaps, she was asking so many questions because she was considering trusting Caroline. Why was Caroline hesitating? Making such a big deal about something that was probably going to be the easiest part of this entire journey? She was going to have to get over herself, how was she planning on being able to deal with physically attacking and killing Klaus if she couldn't even overcome her own emotional roadblocks? So far, this witch was the best and only chance Caroline had had in a long time, and like hell was she willing to give that up. Taking a deep breath, Caroline took the plunge.
"My best friend was a witch." She said after a moment, looking down and watching the vervain burns heal slowly on her hands. "My other two best friends were both vampires, but they didn't kill humans to feed. They tried. I loved them all. So much, I loved them all so much." She met Marilyn's gaze. "Klaus murdered them all, just a flight of stairs down from where I stood. And I am going to kill him. No matter what it takes."
Marilyn stared back at her, the small flat except for the dull, rhythmic ticking of the wall clock that emphasis ed each long second of silence.
Marilyn clasped her hands under her chin, staring at the ceiling as if in prayer. "I don't know where the stake is." She said finally. "But I know someone that does."
Caroline began to protest immediately. "All I've heard is your exact words-"
Marilyn held up a hand to silence her. "Be quiet." Caroline mouth twisted into a frown.
"Like I was saying, I know for sure this person knows where the first hint is."
"The first hint? What is this, some sort of scavenger hunt?"
Marilyn grinned, showing her crooked dentures. "Of course it is. I only met Emily May once, but she was once of the slyest women I ever met. This is not a straightforward task, Caroline. Know that before you take yourself any further. Any who, I know that my great niece Janice knows where the first hint is, because she told me so. When you meet her, tell her that Marilyn sent you, and that I'm cashing in my favour from Puerto Rico. She'll definitely help you."
"Okay, great. Yes, I can do it. Thank you, thanks." For the first time in months Caroline felt a spark of optimism. Marilyn's lead would definitely help her., bring one step closer to ending this once and for all.
"The only problem is finding Janice."
Caroline's optimism faded as quickly as it had appeared.
"What do you mean?" She asked, gritting her teeth.
"Anyone who knows anything about Emily's weapon is in hiding, child. You're not the only one looking for Emily May's stake." Marilyn's grin faded, and Caroline didn't need to be a genius to figure out the other party of people that were undoubtedly searching for the stake. Subconsciously, her eyes flitted to the windows and doors, triple checking that they weren't being eavesdropped. Caroline knew what she was up against, however, and had been nothing but careful with approaching and talking to witches. She was confident that they were alone.
"Well, do you know where Janice is?"
"Last I heard, a week ago, she was still here in Chelsea. Here," Marilyn got up and shuffled into her kitchen and to her fridge. She pulled a photo off it, and a thousand and one magnets went clattering to the floor in a succession of noise. Marilyn ignored it and handed Caroline the photo. It was a photo of a teenager about Caroline's own age, wearing a teal string bikini and a pair of aviator sunglasses. They were shading the top half of her face, but Caroline quickly noted the broad nostrils on the nose, the slightly puckered top lip and the sharp chin. She went to hand it back to Marilyn, the image ingrained in her mind, but the old woman shook the gesture off.
"Keep it. You don't know how long searching for her will take. I have piles of Janice's silly little selfies here." Marilyn laughed, and laid a gentle hand on Caroline's shoulder. "I may not like what you are, child, but I do like what you're fighting for. Do me a favour and try and do it peacefully, ok? I don't want innocents to die for your own personal vendetta. If you ruin my town, I'll have to return the favour."
Caroline managed a smile. "I don't drink from the vein." She told Marilyn. "And I don't have the sort of conscious that would allow me to kill."
"Keep it that way." Marilyn settled herself back into her chair and sipped her tea. "All the best, child."
"Thank you." Caroline said sincerely, her first solid clue since this had begun clutched tightly in her fist.
Marilyn had been wrong. Janice wasn't just difficult to find. She was impossible. Caroline had spent over two weeks now, combing every pub, restaurant, coffee shop, school, mall and library for a glimpse of her. She had lost count of all the strange looks she had received due to over creeping at strangers' noses and lips. So far, nothing. Caroline decided to give Chelsea another week, before trying to branch out. She considered compelling some humans to give her a hand looking for Janice, but had gone off that idea almost immediately after remembering that was the same tactic that Elena's psycho birth mother had taken. No, thank you.
God, she missed Elena so much. No, not the time to think about it.
One disastrously boring and fruitless Thursday night, Caroline was in a club called Vendome, downing her third mojito. This was the seventh time she had been looking for Janice in this club, and she was slowly working her way through the entire cocktail menu. Apparently, some up and coming Kate Moss lookalike socialite was rumoured to be showing up sometime tonight, so the majority of the club's crowd were swarmed by the front entrance. The only people still dancing were the ones too drunk to care about the girl, or all the people who thought they were above fangirling over a reality show star. And Caroline, of course. Who already knew for a fact that this girl, whoever her name was, was not Janice, which meant she was nothing to Caroline.
A very drunk, middle aged man wearing very, very tight red leather pants stumbled up to Caroline, landing a meaty paw on her shoulder, and slurred out an invitation for a dance.
Caroline gritted her teeth into a polite smile, and wished that she was drunk. "No thank you," She said, downing the rest of her drink.
"Come on, sweetheart, I've got the moves." The old man began performing a set of particularly vile hip thrusts, losing his balance and falling over in Caroline, who tried to shove the dead weight off.
"I'm fine, thank you." She repeated, standing up.
"Come on, you sexy little tease!" The man said more insistently, his hand shooting out in the direction of Caroline's breast. Caroline flinched away automatically. Another hand clamped on the man's wrist, stopping it in its path.
"You have three seconds to move along, mate, before I rip your head off." The man who had grabbed the drunk man's wrist said, his voice a pleasant British lilt.
Caroline felt her knees buckles and herself fall back onto her chair, her legs no longer able to support her. The drink she was clutching in her hand smashed and rivulets of sticky liquid ran through her fingers and over her knuckles. She felt a cold, clammy sweat pool in her palms and armpits. No. NO. Oh, God, PLEASE no.
Slowly, Caroline lifted her gaze to look at him. He looked different, and the same, all at once. He had grown out his scruff into something that was almost a beard, and his blonde curls were looking wildly shaggy. Caroline usually preferred the clean cut look, but she couldn't help herself from thinking that he suited it, then blanch at the fact that Klaus' facial hair. was something she even let enter her mind. As if he could read her thoughts, Klaus' mouth spread into his trademark cocky smirk, his hand still wrapped around the drunk man's arm.
"Leave him, Klaus." Caroline said. "He's harmless." It was the first words she had said to him, this man that hand wrecked and changed her life irrevocably in less than a minute, in thirty five years. She was proud of the fact that her voice did not tremble, especially since she felt moments away to apssing out completely.
Klaus raised an eyebrow.
"I'll be the judge of that, love." He said. "He didn't look so harmless one minute ago."
Caroline grabbed the guy by the scruff of his neck and pulling him towards her, simultaneously trying to ignore the sudden spike in her sense as she inhaled the familiar scent and proximity of Klaus. She leant forward and looked into the drunk man's eyes, her pupils diluting.
"Leave this club and go to sleep. Drink some water before you go to bed." Nodding, the drunk man wrenched himself from Klaus' grasp and made his way to the front door, shoving through the large crowd that was still gathered there. Klaus said nothing as he left, instead taking the man's position of the chair next to Caroline. Caroline turned away from him and focused her gaze on her empty drink in front of her, her eyes blurring as she struggled to focus.
"Ahem." Klaus cleared his throat. "Would you like another, sweetheart?"
One part of Caroline was tempted to reply with one of her trademark responses, "Thanks, but I'd rather die of thirst", or something along those lines. She bit her lip before she could speak, so hard that she drew blood. She didn't feel comfortable sharing that kind of banter with Klaus anymore. Too much had changed. There was too much hanging in the small space between them. How could she playfully tease the man who had slaughtered her best friends?
"I'll get my own." Caroline said, instead, waving over the bartender. "Another." She requested, pushing her glass forward.
"I'll have a Scotch. Clean." Klaus requested, his eyes trained on Caroline even as he spoke to the bartender. Caroline pointedly ignored him, trying to sift through the tumbling wave of emotions all battling for dominance. Grief. Confusion. Sadness. Disgusting, a tiny speck of relief and happiness at a familiar face. But overpoweringly, anger. She was so angry that she could feel every pore in her body practically vibrate. She hadn't allowed herself to feel any emotions in decades and now she was struggling to keep them below the surface, to fight the urge to jump up and smash every single thing in the room.
"Love." Klaus said, trying to catch her attention. Caroline's hands twitched.
"Caroline." His voice was laced with irritation now, an order rather than a request. Reluctantly, Caroline swivelled in her bar stool to face him, her upright with tension.
"I didn't realise you were in England." His familiar bravado sent Caroline tumbling through a pitfall of memories. Every word he had ever said to her, how the raw words they shared in private were so vastly different from the cruel things he would say in public, when he was trying to impress everyone by being the cruel and ruthless hybrid. The last thing he had ever said to her, "I should have killed you, too."
Caroline felt bile rising in her throat. She needed to throw up. This man, this man standing so fucking casually in front of her, was responsible for the pointless and pitiful thing she now called her life. He was the responsible for the Worst day in her life. He was responsible for the nightmares that plagued her every night. He was responsible for every tear she shed in the dark in the middle of the night, enveloped in nothing but misery and grief. She had lost everyone, just so that he didn't have to lose a child's game. He was responsible for the new Caroline that had emerged after her Worst day: hard, unfeeling, mean, careful to distance herself from anyone and everyone. He was responsible for bringing her to the verge of flipping her humanity switch.
The only thing that had held her back was the fear of not caring, or remembering her friends anymore. They deserved more than that. They deserved to be mourned, and cried over, and brought vengeance over. And that was exactly what Caroline was going to give them.
"I've been everywhere now. I just point to a map," She cleared her throat, trying to keep herself from screaming at him and attacking him. "And go there. It's not like I have ties to anyone anymore." There it was. The moment she said the words she saw Klaus' smirk shift a millimetre, displeasure dawning in his eyes. Did he expect her not to bring it up? What, did he expect her to forget?
The bartender poured up Caroline's drink and she downed it all in one swell gulp, wiping the residue off her chin.
"Thirsty?" Klaus asked, raising an eyebrow.
"More like a crippling desire to get drunk." Caroline answered.
Klaus frowned. "I prefer you sober. I believe people are more unbecoming drunk."
Caroline rolled her eyes. "I prefer you unjudging." She snapped, unable to stop herself. "And don't lecture me on drinking. You sound like me talking to my fiancé." Caroline knew when she said that it would shift the conversation immediately from her drinking. She wasn't in any mood to be lectured.
That piqued Klaus' interest. "Fiancé?" He asked, his voice raising in pitch. Caroline saw a hint of possessiveness flash across his eyes. How dare he? Ruin her life and then walk back into it thirty years later, throwing off shade about her behaviour and relationships.
"Yes. Eric."
"How long have you been seeing him?"
"I don't know. Three years, I think. Feels like a lifetime. I can't stand him."
Klaus' eyebrows shot up so quickly that it was almost comical.
"Pardon," He said, his voice at least an octave higher than its usual pitch. "May I possibly ask why you're engaged to him, then?"
No, you may not, you murdering psycho because you have no right to know anything about my life. Caroline couldn't stand this another minute. She didn't want to be here with him. She wanted to kill him. That was the whole reason that she was in this damn stupid club anyway. She didn't want to drink with this man, or tell him about her personal life, or to be asked question by the monster that had made her entire world stop turning. If she didn't leave right now, she would blow up at Klaus and probably give something away and ruin her entire plan. She couldn't let her friends down like that.
She stood up, gathering her handbag and slapping money down on the bar to pay for her drinks. Caroline turned to smile joylessly at Klaus, her face bleak and stained with bitterness.
"Haven't you heard, Klaus? It's my new lifestyle. I surround myself with people that I hate, so that when they are taken from me, they don't take everything I am with them."