Written for the Klaroline Sweetswap exchange back in October for LaLainaJ.

This evening, as the witchlights hung low and splayed colored light across the blades of his cheekbones, Klaus walked through a city divided. It wasn't visible, not on the surface, not in the walls of the buildings or the cobblestone-lined streets, not in the spindly wonder of the Wickery Bridge as it arched over the churning water of the town's namesake. Mystic Falls was divided, instead, by the people.

Those with him, and those against.

And Marcel had cast his hand in such a bold move that Klaus would have marveled in it if he wasn't so enraged. Which was why he was outside tonight, walking through the streets, glaring up at the old wizard's tower that he had once gifted Marcel as a father would a son and would you believe the gall?

Klaus was counting allies tonight. He shot the cuffs of his coat after wiping his hands clean, the body of a vampire too slow to show his fealty sliding down to rest almost sleepily against the wall bordering the street. The sounds of the Harvest Festival at city center almost drowned out the scrape of skin against stone. A gas station festooned with the murky glow of witchlights drew his attention, the flash of blonde hair bright amidst the dimmed light. Three figures, two heartbeats.

He wondered if this vampire was on his side, and wandered in close to check. He'd never seen her before, though it wasn't surprising in a city this large. Her face was open, almost guileless, and the smile that broke across her face as she exchanged pleasantries with the clerk had his own mouth unconsciously lifting at the corners. He listened as her heels rang across the floor, watching as something dark passed across her face, fleeting but intriguing, and Klaus cocked his head, leaning back against the storefront across the street, a foot crossing over an ankle as he settled in fully invested.

She knelt down and Klaus watched something sparkling drop from her sleeve to the palm of her hand to the scuffed linoleum of the gas station, heard her exclaim in feigned surprise. The customer who'd been eyeing her ass from behind her in line knelt down next to her, eyeing the bright shine of jewelry in the blonde's hand, a chorus of surprise now, the ring up on the counter and the clerk joining in. "That's real, I'd swear it. My uncle works in the diamond district."

The girl's back was now to Klaus, annoyingly, but he could still hear her response. "Oh but, who could have dropped it? Someone's probably freaking out right now." Her voice rose. "What if it's an heirloom?" The customer pat her on the shoulder with a meaty hand that Klaus had an unbidden urge to sever at the wrist, but he was too amused to give the feeling much thought.

And there, right on time, the phone rang and the clerk answered, his face brightening as he listened and responded, pointing at the blonde and back at the phone. "Yeah, wow, a customer JUST found it. You're in luck!" A pause. "Well true, yeah ha ha would've totally been better not to lose it, but it's- yeah, hold on." He handed the phone to the blonde and her curls fell across her shoulder, her face turning so Klaus could once again see her - the lines of her profile and the sweep of long lashes. She was saying something into the phone in a soothing voice, but Klaus was distracted by the rasp in it, this rough contrast to her angelic looks.

Besides, he knew exactly what was going on, the smile that had started out in reaction to her own was now stretched across his face in a knowing grin, and he shot a text or two off to some hybrids, curious to know more about this enticing con artist in his own city. She turned her head then, shooting a glance that went straight to his own, and he noted she hid her surprise well at finding someone looking back, stuttering her words for just a moment in surprise as she handed the phone back to the clerk. Klaus walked away, because her loyalty wasn't in question tonight. She clearly played her own side, and he'd find out more about her later.

"Yeah she's offering a reward," Caroline said, willing her heart to slow down. That was the first thing her dad had taught her about the con - keeping calm was key. "People are lazy, Carebear. They want to believe. Make it easy for them." Easier said than done, dad. That stranger across the street at thrown her off.

But he was gone now, and she had a metric ton of medical bills to pay. She pushed herself back in the moment and adopted a confused look. "But that should go to all of us, yeah? I mean," she waved at the clerk, "it's your gas station, and you," she pointed at the customer whose eyes jolted up from staring at her tits ugh "you'd have found it if I didn't. I mean it was all bright and shining on the floor, no way you could have missed. So it's not fair for me to just take it all!"

"Did the lady say when she'd be here?"

"Yeah about an hour. Which...oh no!" Caroline let the realization dawn across her face. "Oh my god you guys, I can't wait here. I've got a job interview downtown in 20 minutes. It's an evening shift? I just came for some water because I get so nervous before interviews, you know, and I wanted to calm down and keep hydrated - they say to keep hydrated, right? For nervousness?" Panic edged into her voice and she inwardly smiled at the sympathetic expression on the clerk's face, the patronizing one on Mr. Sleazeball's.

"Relax," said Sleazeball. "You've got plenty of time to get there, we'll work this out."

"Yeah, the lady said it was a family heirloom? 600 for reward?" The clerk added, clearly wanting to help.

Mr. Sleazeball slid some bills from his wallet with an almost pompous gesture. the rich man's greed of earning easy money clear in his eyes. "I'll just pay you for your share now. We'll wait for Mrs.?"

"Gilbert. Mrs. Gilbert." Caroline took the money tentatively, tucking it in her purse. "I'm just so glad there's honest people out there that are willing to return it. So glad I found it with you guys. Aaaand," she started breathing exaggeratedly, "In through the nose, out through the mouth," she said, pausing in the doorway as she walked away, "Thank you so much. Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it!" With a last self-deprecating eyeroll, she was gone, 200 dollars richer and minus a fake ring.

Fell's Church was a neighborhood nestled just above the industrial section of Mystic Falls. Noxious fumes from the potion makers and the coal-fired engines of the plants below made the price of homes reasonably low in what would otherwise be considered a quaint part of town. Something that was necessary with the one-income family they'd become when Mr. Forbes had left. Regardless of the reason, Caroline loved the neighborhood, with the old wizard's house crowning the hill, its replica falls made out of ensorcelled glass. These falls sang when the wind blew, the air flowing through chambers wrought with ancient magic and filling the air with sound. Caroline thought it hauntingly beautiful, and even more fitting this time of year, when the harvest festival filled the nights with the floating glowglobes Mystic Falls residents called witchlights.

Caroline smiled as a girl waved from her yard, dressed up with a witch hat and vampire fangs. Caroline willed the veins to spread down her eyes and hissed, then crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. The girl shrieked with laughter and Caroline's heart felt light.

Her phone rang with a call she'd been dreading as she crested the hill, heading past the wizard's house in the final leg of her journey home. "I know, Bonnie."

"Care…"

"I get it, I do. I won't ask you again, if I can help it."

A sigh from the other end. "Look I know you need help with meds, but there's got to be another way."

Caroline scoffed into the phone, her lip curling unconsciously. "Tell that to Marcel. Raising the price on mom's medication has made it impossible to keep up. Bonnie - you know if there was another option I'd take it. I don't want to be like my dad, but I'll sure as hell use the things I learned from him to keep my mom alive if I have to."

Another sigh, the noise of running water. Bonnie must have been starting a potion.

"Well," Bonnie drawled, "you know I'm not the biggest fan of Marcel. Trying to control all the witch's power was totally a bad idea. In Mystic Falls?" Caroline could hear the scoff in her friend's voice and smiled. She could see her house now, a few blocks ahead, lit by the porch light her mom insisted on keeping on until Caroline was home each night.

"Why do I get the feeling there's a -but- coming?"
Bonnie laughed. "I'm just saying. Hate on Marcel all you want. I'm right there with you. But," they both laughed, "don't ever forget that Klaus Mikaelson is the alternative. Grams says that this town was a LOT bloodier when he was more actively taking part in running things."

"Eh I don't know, Bonnie. I mean, I'm sure I'd have a bone to pick with him too, but right now he's not standing in the way of my mom's access to medication that freaking keeps her alive. Anyway, look, I get it. I know you can't help anymore," Caroline said, continuing as she heard Bonnie start to protest. "I know I can count on you for almost anything, but I don't want you to be a part of my life of sordid crime." A pause as she climbed up to the porch, a slab of ancient weirwood sloping gently around her house, glowing softly from within. "I mean, I'll need someone to bail me out, right?"

Caroline hung her bag up, realizing her mom was still at physical therapy. She'd been injured in a shootout late last year, just after the harvest festival actually, Caroline realized with idle surprise. The bullet had been witch-laced, a curse that had spread out from the wound into her mom's entire body. Medication kept it at bay. Spellsurgery would fix things permanently, but affording it on disability pay was next to impossible.

Which was why Caroline was out in the streets, working small cons like the ring trick, selling fake vervain water to Mystic Falls tourists who'd come for the supernatural thrill, working every scam Bill Forbes had shown her as some sort of twisted father-daughter bond. Quick cons were always easier with another person, he'd told her when she was six. She'd been a quick study.

Still, small time stuff like that wasn't going to be enough. Caroline grabbed a bag of B positive from the mini-fridge - god forbid she store blood in the regular refrigerator - and sat down at the kitchen table with a folder stuffed with papers. Her masterwork. The con of all cons. The gig that was about to earn her enough money to pay for the spellsurgery so that maybe her mom's life could go back to normal. She leaned over her notes, chin resting in the palm of her hand, ticking off each item in her head one more time check check check.

Thirty minutes later Caroline packed away her notes at the sound of her mom's car down the street. She threw the kettle on and pasted on a smile as she watched her mom limp in the door, the dark magic visible, snaking out from the crook of her elbow, a tracery of darkness at the collar. Those first few days after the shooting, when the hospital couldn't quite figure out how to halt the spell with medication, had done their worst, and Liz sat down heavily on a recliner in the living room, her face the strained mask of the chronically pained.

It made Caroline angry and hopeless and frustrated and sad and determined.

"Oh thanks hon," Liz said absentmindedly as she accepted a mug of hot tea. "I hope you haven't been out too much today, the festival is bringing out the crazies in force. They even considered pulling me off of desk duty to help out." Her mom smiled a half-smile, wry and wistful, as Caroline sat down across from her and curled up under a blanket. "It's hard when that's where I want to be. But when your own employment can't fork up the cash for a spellsurgeon they can force captains on beats before me. Good for them to get on the streets every once in a while anyway." Liz peered at her daughter's face, taking a sip of her tea. "So what's got you distracted?"

"Yeah," Caroline answered automatically, the words registering a moment later. "Oh - sorry, I'm just thinking."

Her mom laughed. "Care, I can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears." She paused. "You're working too hard."

Caroline felt a spike of guilt. She'd told her mom she was working as a salesperson for a vervain water company (which was at least somewhat related to her gig tomorrow, she tried to tell herself). It wasn't like she could tell her sheriff mom who divorced her dad because of grifting that she was out there conning people for a living. But she'd tried the straight and narrow, and it simply wasn't enough to pay the bills. Her anger stifled the guilt. "You get anywhere on the medical reimbursements?"

Liz looked up from blowing on her tea, set the cup down with a weary gesture. "Caroline. I don't want you worrying about finances. I know I can only say so much, you're such a help, and I couldn't do this without you, but I'll find a way to make this all work. There's some things we can sell, some extra shifts I can pick up. This is not all on you." She dipped her head to catch Caroline's avoidant gaze. "Look, the council that raised the costs of my meds is a bunch of coddled jerks that Marcel is serving the city to on a plate so that he can get support."

"Yeah well he's on my shitlist too, don't you worry," Caroline grumbled.

"I'm not done." Liz raised a finger and Caroline shrunk back into the couch, cowed by the authoritative tone. She almost expected her mom to call out her full birth name. "Marcel and the Council are bad, but they're a known evil. Greed, corruption, power. Don't you ever forget that the Mikaelsons are worse. You've grown up during Marcel's reign, but the increased cost of medication is worlds apart from knowing you'd die in a heartbeat if you crossed the Mikaelsons."

Caroline was confused. "Yeah, Bonnie said the same thing. I get it, but why are you bringing this up?"

"Because Marcel did something, not sure what, I'm just hearing rumblings on the street. He did something that Klaus isn't willing to let slide, and there's a war coming. I'm surprised, you being a vampire, that they haven't asked you to choose sides yet."

"I pretty much stay out of the way."

"Good. Keep it that way. And never forget that both of the vampire kings are bad in their own way, but Klaus is the dangerous one. "

"Have you ever dealt with Klaus, or is this just from reading old cases?"

"Yes, I have." Liz shuddered. "He's less obviously charming than Marcel, probably because he's fond of threats instead of Marcel's sly camaraderie. But he's smart, devious, has a thousand years of studying human," she paused, considering, "and monster nature." Liz looked up, dragged an ottoman closer to her with a hooked ankle, settling in to the topic. "You know the history of Mystic Falls, right?"

Caroline shrugged. "I mean, what I learned in school. The wizards built everything, but they became so power hungry that they sucked the magic out of the world and created the veil."

"Right, and the Mikaelsons stopped them from destroying more than just Steven's Quarry."

Caroline snorted. "I've seen the statue of Kol in the city square, mom. What's this history lesson about, what are you trying to get at?"

Liz sighed. "Thousands of people died. Almost the entire town, really. Many died from the veil's creation, some from spells, but many more died as victims of the Original's bloodlust, fodder in the war between the factions, fuel for their supernatural fury," she said with a wry smile. "At least that's how the Council book puts it, and while it may be melodramatic, the point is this: better the devil you know. If Klaus really is trying to vie for power, who knows if the rest of them will come back, and who knows if Mystic Falls will even survive."

"OK, I get it. Though can I ask one thing?" Her mom nodded. "Can I still hate Marcel with the power of a thousand burning suns?"

Liz Forbes laughed and nodded again. "I would expect nothing less from my flesh and blood."

Klaus hated the smell of the harvest festival, that haze of cloying incense, the scent of unwashed bodies, the smell of trash from the almost impromptu street celebrations that marked this time of year. The scents all covered up the core of Mystic Falls, old soil and blood steeped in the magic of the old wizards. Well, old was a relative term, he thought, looking up at the tower he'd helped design, a tower that he'd given to Marcel for his headquarters before his protege had turned on him.

Threats were never to be taken lightly, but what really was a threat to an immortal? Only something that could breach that immortality was to be taken seriously, and Marcel had found it in the cure. This wasn't something Marcellus had stumbled upon, no, he'd have had to track down ancient rumors and at least a historian or two. And why? Klaus believed himself a lenient man, he'd given over the general running of Mystic Falls while he'd pursued breaking the hybrid curse and frankly didn't miss it much. Administravia was never his forte.

This was betrayal, pure and simple, and it had to be both resolved and punished. Starting with those who'd helped Marcel find his way through the skeins of rumor to the cure. Klaus' brother, Kol, had looked into it for Klaus a century ago, but the wizards hadn't left much of a paper trail, and the Mikaelson brothers had burned what they had found after committing it to memory. So now Klaus was on his way through these streets that reeked like a piece of offal whoring itself to meet up with the one man who would be the first in a long chain of people to be made examples of.

Whitmore College was an hour walk from her neighborhood, so Caroline took the tram, its spindly arm reaching up in homage to the days the cars had briefly run on electricity, some Council scheme that had served to waste tax dollars. Magic now powered the smooth sweep of the tram down the roads, hovering just above the surface of the stones. Caroline checked her face in the mirror, studying her altered appearance. Bonnie's charms were the best in Mystic Falls, thank goodness. Her hair was a short, dark bob, her nose sharper, chin just a little more pointy. Her eyes were the same, though, having learned through experience that a glamour on her eyes messed with her vision to the point of migraines. She smoothed her hands down her crisp pencil skirt, reciting the details in her head for the three hundredth time. She had been working on this deal for months, spending what little savings she'd managed to come up with to stand up fake business fronts, hire answering services, pay for six different wardrobes and the ingredients for Bonnie's charms. This was it.

And, if she was being honest, the moment was all the sweeter for getting to pull the wool over the eyes of Dr. Wes Maxwell. She could still hear his patronizing tone as the acting dean of Whitmore, telling her that she needed to "leave to make room for paying students", her situation be damned. She'd started plotting the next day.

The tram glided to a stop, and while she was still a few blocks away, she hopped off, using the walk to center her thoughts. By 10:57 she was waiting in the dean's office, binder in hand and smile pasted on.

"Ms. Stevenson, so sorry to keep you waiting," Dr. Maxwell's words rang with insincerity fifteen minutes later. "I've just been reviewing the mission statement with the board, you know," he said, conspiratorially, "keep the investors happy!"

"Of course, Dr. Maxwell. It was no trouble," Caroline grated through her teeth. "I think we're at a place where this meeting can go smoothly and quickly and get you back to your investors," she said, keeping the disdain out of her voice with considerable effort. "You've had time to review the water samples and the specifications for the new water system?" She pulled out some sheets from her binder, blueprints and specs she'd had drawn up.

"Yes, the recirculation method is remarkable, truly self-contained." Dr. Maxwell's eyes grew far away, envisioning a future. "We'll be a stronghold." Caroline didn't miss the change in tense and her heartbeat sped up, knowing how close she was.

"Did you have any other questions for me, Dr. Maxwell? Or are you ready for the contract?" Her voice was clipped, professional, on the edge of blunt. Months of convincing, months of fake expert testimonials, and she was finally here, on the cusp of receiving the first (and what would be the only) installment on a vampire-proof vervain water system. It was the right time to push. "How many vampire attacks has Whitmore seen this semester? How many blind promises can Marcel Gerard give you?"

Dr. Maxwell narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to study her. She held his gaze, confident and unwavering and he graced her with a small smile.

"As much of a fan of vampire politics as I, eh Miss Stevenson?" The question was more of a statement of intent, she watched him pull out a ledger, Time slowed as his pen drew towards the check, the scratch of the nib against the checkbook the sound of triumph in her ears, Dr. Maxwell's looping script starting to scrawl across the page until he lifted it, his face tilting upwards in surprise, and in a blink the chair was empty, the pen flying through the air untethered.

Caroline jolted her gaze up to see Dr. Maxwell pinned against the bookcases lining his office, held up by his throat, feet kicking ineffectually. She wasn't sure what to do, still caught in the moment of her triumph suddenly dashed. The stranger ignored her presence, muttering in a low accented voice that sounded familiar. His tone was casual, a contrast to the choking sounds Dr. Maxwell was making.

"Wesley - Wes, can I call you?" The stranger asked, his arm showing no signs of strain. Vampire, then, or wolf? Caroline sniffed. Both? "I'll take that as assent. I thought we'd come to an agreement, Wes. I leave you to your experiments, you stay out of my business, no?"

Wes tried to choke out an answer and the stranger shook his head, irritated. Caroline regained her mental footing and glanced at the check, but it was unsigned. She was too close to let go of this, too close, so she did the craziest thing she could think of.

"Is this pissing match going to last much longer? Because I was in the middle of a business discussion with Dr. Maxwell," she said blithely, as if this man wasn't holding a slowly dying man by his throat. She buffed her nails on her coat to exaggerate the point and the stranger looked up and smiled at her, a grin that broke across his face as he caught her eyes. It was a smile you gave to someone you recognized, someone you knew, and while he seemed familiar her whiplash brain couldn't figure it out in the confusion.

"Sorry, love, hate to interrupt, but Dr. Maxwell here - Wes - isn't going to be signing any contracts anytime soon." He lowered the man down and Dr. Maxwell's choking breaths filled the air, his hands scrabbling at his throat as he slid down the bookcase to the floor, his legs spread wide, pose incongruous in this stately office.

Caroline glanced up at the stranger's words with alarm. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't suffer traitors. And he -" the man's eyes darkened and he turned towards the dean, kneeling down at eye level. Caroline watched in horror as the man almost casually knifed his hand through Dr. Maxwell's rib cage and pulled out his heart, letting it drop to the polished hardwood with a slick thump. Caroline's breath stuttered before her self-preservation kicked in and she ran, vamp speeding through the halls of the administration building, cutting out the back entrance and dodging through bodies until she was blocks away, her breath heaving from human instinct.

It didn't take long for Caroline to get over the fear as she realized what she'd just lost, and anger rose in her chest along with a sense of despair that she swore she'd ignore in a moment, just give her a moment would you?, her breath choking in a checked sob as she stood on the street corner, arms folded across her chest as if to keep her heart in.

"You left your coat, love." The accented voice. She flashed away instinctively but hit up against the solid warmth of the stranger's chest, his voice a rumble in her ear. "Come now, let's put my little irritation with Dr. Maxwell aside." She glanced up at him and pushed herself off his chest violently as he grinned down at her.

"You!" Caroline yelled, drawing the curious gazes of a few passerby. She glanced around and quieted her voice, though the venom in it was unmistakable. "You're standing there grinning like this is all fun and games but I've got news for you buddy. This is my life, this is my mom's life, and you do not get to come around smiling and ruining something I've been working on for six solid months."

Klaus held his hands up in acquiescence. "Sweetheart."

"Do. Not. Call. Me. That."

"Then what? I need a name."

"Excuse me? What makes you think I want you to call me anything?" She looked up at him and inwardly cheered at the muscle ticking in his jaw. At least she had something. But why was this guy so intent on her? Was he here to kill the only witness? If that was the case, why wasn't she dead already? He was clearly faster than her, had a predatory set to his lean body that spoke of long years of a hunter's experience.

She was suddenly exhausted, the full weight of the last ten minutes hitting her all at once. She blamed the feeling for her loose tongue as she mumbled her name almost exasperatedly, her hand flying up and sliding through the short dark hair of her still-active charm.

"Caroline." Something in his voice stilled her. How could there be so much in three syllables? In a name drawled off of his lips? But there was, and she stopped and looked back at him in inquiry, her mouth set in a firm line.

"Caroline," he repeated, softer, as if he knew the power of his voice wrapped around her name, "Conning Dr. Maxwell would have gotten you killed. He's a dangerous man, love."

"I know about the Augustine trials, if that's what you mean." Her voice dripped with incredulity. "Apparently you don't know who you're dealing with, because my plans ar culous, and I don't miss glaring details like, oh, the hidden experimental vampires in Dr. Maxwell's creepy basement. So if that's what you had to tell me, then you're pretty much useless, mister."

Klaus was caught between anger and amusement and it showed on his face. "Mikaelson."

"What?" Caroline asked, her brows knitting.

"Oh, so your 'meticulous' plan didn't cover me, I see."

"Duh. No. Never seen you here before, but now you're apparently stalking me." Caroline squinted. "You're the guy I saw last night. Wait, who did you say you...?

"Mikaelson." He held out his hand and Caroline extended her own out of habit than anything else. He brought her hand to his lips. "Klaus Mikaelson." His eyes sparkled as her own grew large. "And I'd like to hire you."