"Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday, you will be loved"
"She'll come, Elena," Damon muttered, his frantic pacing betraying his faith in his words. "She always comes." He nodded definitively, his knuckle cradled against his chiselled chin, deep in thought.
Elena sighed, her hands stroking across her dear friend's clammy skin. She knew he could not feel her comforting touch, but was at a loss at how to fix things. Lately, this had been the status quo; but what could you expect when you're suddenly thrown into the world of the supernaturals? Even now, as a vampire, she felt helpless in the face of her friend's suffering, watching him die a slow, torturous death. And if she did not arrive in time, she would lose another of the few friends she so desperately fought to keep alive; and he would become another lost soul, doomed to haunt her memory for the rest of her undead eternity.
"It's not fair," She cried, tears of frustration blurred her sight. She lifted a sleeve to mop up the tears. She'd be damned if she fell apart again; not this time. "We called her hours ago. Where is she?"
A gust of wind. A blur of blonde hair, and suddenly she was there – as if carried into the room by a supernatural gale, standing before the shivering mass that lay in agony on the Salvatore's antique lounge; the door still creaking on its ancient hinges.
Her impassive expression softened as she leant down, ignoring the others in the room. Her slender hand reached out to stroke the hair from his face, a gesture of kindness that occured few and far between in her thousand years of existence. "Sweetheart," her velvety voice crooned, as she continued to stroke his face, her stony eyes brought to life with concern, and, dare anyone say it, sadness.
Without another word, the new comer lifted her wrist to her lips, extending her sharpened teeth towards the porcelain perfection of her skin. The blood flowed swiftly as she lowered the wound to his mouth, watching him rouse from his delirium to drink the rich elixir greedily. His hands wove around her arm, clamping her in place as he continued to suck the cure from her open veins, and she suddenly found her gaze met by a curious pair of blue eyes; misty with sleep, but altogether alert and awake.
"Thank you," he rasped, almost seeming to read her mind; he stopped drinking the very moment she registered discomfort at the thought of him bleeding her dry. "Caroline…"
Her undead heart fluttered at the sound of her name uttered through his blood stained lips. She fought to keep her expression stonily impassive as they regarded each other once more; though the electricity that flowed between them seemed to affect everyone in the room. All eyes were trained on their wordless exchange.
"Klaus," Caroline quipped, though she could hardly muster a witty retort in her befuddled state. They had just exchanged blood, a ritual that was both intimate and sacred between vampires; a fact that failed to go unnoticed in a room full of them.
"What took you so long?" Damon demanded, breaking her from her revery.
For the first time, Caroline noticed the others in the room. Though her expression remained effortlessly blank, her deep blue eyes flashed with the faintest bit of anger.
"Not that it's any of your business, Damon," Caroline drawled lazily, pulling herself to her feet once more. Her whole body tightened, as if a coil wound itself within her, waiting for the right moment to spring. "But not everyone you meet happens to be stuck in this black hole you call a town."
Damon replied with a smirk, regarding the older vampire with eyes alight with amusement. In his eyes, he had won. She came running for Klaus, and she gave them exactly what they wanted. She saved him.
"Oh, but you must be so fond of this particular black hole," He retorted. Gotcha.
How dare he! Caroline seethed. She felt the untameable rage bubble up from the darkest depths within her; her slender frame trembling with the violent rush of anger that fought to control her body. She was a slave to her emotions, and this time was no different. Klaus' presence be damned. She needed to assert her authority. He needed to be taught a lesson.
Within the slightest fraction of a second, she stood before him, her eyes gazing into his own as if she could see to his very core; and indeed she could. She could see the fear, the wall of bravery he stupidly hid behind to conceal his true terror. He knew she was stronger, more powerful than he could ever be, and she was not one to let him forget that.
"Don't you ever forget what I am," she fumed, her threat breaking the stillness of the room.
Elena remained silent, standing frozen in horror as she watched on helplessly. There was nothing she could do against an Original vampire. It all happened so quickly. And yet, through Elena's new vampiric eyes, she watched the events unfold as if it were played in slow motion: those pale, delicate fingers reaching upwards, placing themselves expertly upon his chin, the other hand caressing his temple. His eyes widening in fear at her touch, before disappearing altogether. He fell to the ground in an instant – his neck contorted unnaturally, his body inanimate.
Elena gasped, her eyes darting from Damon's slumped figure to the angry monster towering over him. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, and to her relief, that was the last she'd ever see of Caroline that horrid night.
She left just as quickly as she came: slipping through the door like a whirlwind.