Does Death Have Angels?
DISCLAIMER: I hold no rights whatsoever to The Vampire Diaries or either of the novels mentioned.
A big thanks to LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou who gave this a read beforehand and gave me the courage to post it!
If you have enjoyed this story, feel free to have a look at my other stories, too!
Nobody should know their future.
Not their immediate future, that's alright, you can know that. But you mustn't peek at the ending.
You must not know where your journey will ultimately take you.
But what if your final destination is your immediate future? What if you know, for certain, that you are going to die? Within this very hour?
The answer is: it's not as bad as it sounds.
Okay, it is as bad as it sounds, you will die after all, but there is good about it, too. Such knowledge gives you power. Because, in this moment, you know something no one else on the planet does. You, and you alone, know the ending.
Isn't that nice?
.
.
Caroline Forbes knew all that.
Life taught her a lesson, you think?
No. Not life. That's where you're wrong. Because Caroline was special.
Life failed to teach her the things that matter, so Death took over for his little brother. To become who she had to be, Caroline had had to die.
It had not been pretty. It had not even been dramatic. No heroic lunge for the antagonist that threw both of them over the edge of a cliff. No hero she could throw herself in front of, no bullet to take. No selfless sacrifice.
Just a pillow over her mouth and nose, a brief and pointless struggle and then just dark nothingness.
That was the only thing that irked her about it - that she had been so ridiculously easy to kill.
And Death had taken her by the hand and had led her away from the sun, and he had fed her with blood and darkness to make her strong. He had claimed something in return, of course.
Death isn't generous.
But he took a liking of Caroline, so he only asked for a small price, only one life. (It was just a deposit payment and he would make her pay the rest later. Her prize was thirteen souls and not one less. But he did not tell her that.
Death doesn't share his secrets, and he never gives reasons.)
She grew strong under the protection of his black gloved hand, however she was not finished. Not quite yet. But he could not take care of it.
Death is a busy man, you see, he's got a lot of duties. He cannot hang around the same place all the time. So he sent someone else. An old friend.
.
.
Does Death have angels?
No. No, he doesn't. Not if you picture an angel in the classical sense, blonde, beautiful, and with huge, white-feathered wings. Pure and innocent. Always loving and selfless.
Death has friends. Well, that's what he would call them. It's not like they met for tea every Friday afternoon. It's people he helped out. People that he gave a second chance, people like Caroline.
Of course, he doesn't do it for free. But some of his friends are more than happy to pay him. Some leave a tip, so to speak.
.
.
The friend in question was such a generous customer. People had called him an angel of death, oh, they had given him many names over the years. He did not make the effort to memorise them all.
Pure and innocent were about the two adjectives that were the farthest from describing him, but blonde he was and perhaps beautiful too. No wings, though, just venomous fangs and strength beyond measure.
Oh yes, he was old and he had known Death for a long, long time now.
The moment he set eyes on Caroline, Klaus understood why Death had chosen her. Oh, she was perfect. She looked so pure, so innocent, with her cornflower eyes and her fine hair like gold and wheat, and Lord, she was beautiful.
A lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for.
And the best thing about it? She was Death's creation, through and through, strong and eternal. But there was not a shred of evil inside her, and that was what attracted him beyond anything else. She was a vampire, a creature of the shadows just like him, but she was so human. She was everything he longed to be.
Everything he longed to have.
He wanted her, maybe even needed her. He knew that she was strong enough to love him, strong enough to withstand him. But she was not ready for that yet.
He needed to call an old friend in to help.
.
The first time, she should have been celebrating life, but instead, she was dying. He had sent someone else to give her a little push and now she was waiting to lose her balance. Waiting to fall over the edge. Waiting to spiral down along the foaming water, off the cliffs and towards the inky black pool of darkness beneath.
That was when he turned up on her doorstep, his hair gold as the morning sky and handsome as day itself. And the sight of it almost made her heart stop.
He sure did look like an angel. "Are you gonna kill me?" she breathed and did not even feel ashamed to greet him that way. It seemed a justified question.
"On your birthday? You really think that low of me?" His voice was soft and she could not help thinking he did not sound like a killer.
"Yes."
He looked at her, blue eyes tender and soft. And when he spoke again, his voice was soothing her pain and she was so, so scared and maybe her heart wouldn't stop because of the venom after all.
But, if dying came as gorgeous as this, did that not just give the whole thing a bittersweet taste?
.
The second time, it was his own venom burning through her veins and he watched her. He lifted her on the couch when she collapsed, but remained motionless, though she begged and begged for him to just put her out of her misery, to save her.
Because she could see it, could see it in his eyes, see that he wanted to save her.
He was scared to lose her, because he cared about her, because he loved her.
It was insane, but there she was, dying there on Elena's sofa, entirely in pain and feeling how the venom ate its way through her body. And she was just so proud because she had proven it.
Somewhere inside the monster, beneath all that darkness and the bitter, bitter disappointment and the thirst for blood, she had triggered something good.
And with this love in his eyes he really did look like an angel.
She knew it was not enough. But - she knew she should not, should not, should not - she hoped.
"Anyone capable of love is capable of being saved."
It was just as much hope for her as for him and she knew it. Because it was not just her good heart that wanted him to stop being like this.
She just had to save him.
Death was standing just behind him, watching his back, while his lonely angel just sat there and looked at her, desperation written all over his handsome features.
.
This time, when his blood ran down her throat and his fingers caressed her hair, it changed something about her. She did not notice, how could she, but something fell into place.
Some barricade inside her was washed away, and all he had to do was wait. She was ready now, ready to someday forgive.
Able to love him one fine day.
And he could not wait for that day to come.
.
.
That night in the woods, did they really think there was no one watching?
Well, there was. Of course there was.
If Death gifts you, he doesn't just let you out of his sight.
And he was smiling when he walked away. They were his crown jewels, these two; his very own archangel and his glorious, kind counterpart. They were where he wanted them now, together. They would make each other stronger, and they would heal one another. He was happy for them, because, yes.
Even Death has a heart.
.
.
Death isn't evil. He only does his job, just like everyone else in the world. Maybe he'd like a desk job too sometimes.
You can ask him when you meet him. We all do in the end.
But don't worry, it's nothing to be afraid of.
He will help you up and brush the dust off your jacket. There's no hurry, so fear not. Death is patient.
He'll greet you, like an old friend, because the dead are his friends. It's lonely for someone like him.
He'll take you by the hand and lead you away.
Or maybe he'll offer you a deal.
He does sometimes.
Quotes:
"A lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for." -from A Scandal in Bohemia by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
"Even Death has a heart." -from The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
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