Note: I apologize to those who were confused by the timeline from my last update. To clear it up, the Prologue (Mother by a Cradle) happened in the present time while Chapter 1 (Girl in White) and Chapter 2 (this chapter) go back to the recent past to explain the events leading to the Prologue. Thanks brighteyescoldheart (formerly bubbblesmonster) for the reminder!

-o-

Chapter 2

Starry Night Over the Rhone (1888)

"Both she and I have grief enough and trouble enough, but as for regrets – neither of us have any."

-Vincent Van Gogh


New York City, where are your girls are pretty

All your men are running from somewhere or making a name for themselves

Are you looking for something, did you come from nothing

Are you testing the Lord with the cards that you've been dealt

Two months ago…

The Distillery is a quaint little bar near his gallery that Klaus frequently goes to when he needs to clear his head over a drink made of liquids other than scotch and water. The bar is neither large nor grand nor popular, but so long as there's no open mic night where somebody wails those 'songs' by… what's his name again, that Canadian teenybopper who bears a disturbingly striking resemblance to Ellen Degeneres?... it's enough for Klaus.

He comes into the bar on Tuesday night after a long day of arguing with Katherine. The bitch wants to do a series of nude paintings and Klaus has no objection to that whatsoever but when she clarifies how she wants to paint these nude paintings he almost gets an aneurysm.

"I want a live exhibit. You can open the gallery to public audience so they can watch me paint. The models will pose nude, I'll paint nude, and the paintings will be up for grabs as soon as they're done." Katherine says while checking her nails, like she's simply chatting with one of her girlfriends.

"You want to have eleven naked people, yourself included, displayed in my gallery for basically anyone to gawk at." Klaus rearticulates. Breathing feels ridiculously difficult right now and vaguely he wonders if his lungs are sucking in the 0.000524% of helium in the atmosphere instead of oxygen.

"It's going to be a hit." The brunette replies. "The publicity will attract a lot of buyers."

"You want a bloody exhibition, not an exhibit."

"Who cares? Sex sells, and the more attention I get, the better for your gallery. It's not like I'm asking you to be one of my nude models."

"Put a sock in it, Katherine. This discussion is not going anywhere."

"Why the hell not? If you want to be one of my models, you should have just -"

See, this is one of the eight thousand four hundred seventy two reasons why he detests Katherine Pierce. She likes attention and the lengths she'll go through to get it are utterly unbelievable. (It's a shame that his gallery is afloat because her paintings actually sell.) Reason number eight thousand four hundred seventy one, she argues like Niecy Nash on crack. The quarrel drags on for more than four hours until someone calls her and she has to go.

"This isn't over, Klaus." Katherine says before she finally leaves. And thankfully too because Klaus has begun to contemplate whether Finn's Cambridge law degree is sufficient reassurance that he would eventually be cleared of homicidal charges in case he lets go of self-control and strangles her.

"Bad day?" Gloria asks as the Mikaelson slips into his seat in front of the bar counter.

Klaus rubs his temples. "You have no idea."

The olive-skinned bartender leaves to mix him his usual Godfather on the rocks when he notices an unfamiliar blonde seated near the end of the bar counter. From his distance he sees only her profile, but strangely he's stricken by this odd feeling that's he's seen her somewhere before. At the same time, he's pretty sure that he doesn't know her.

"Who is she?" he asks Gloria when the later hands him his drink.

"I thought my bar isn't one of your pick-up points." Is the casual answer he gets.

Klaus shrugs. It's not. When he wants a fuck he gets a girl from some other random bar, never at the Distillery. It makes the chances of meeting again relatively slim, precisely the way he wants it.

He looks at her again. This time she glances at his direction and their eyes meet.

You know how supernovas are formed? Something contracts, collapses and compresses; gravity pulls, heat pushes back, something burns hot and fast and faster and faster until there's a massive cosmic explosion that leaves an entire galaxy shaking in its wake.

Inside, it's what Klaus feels. It's not love. It's something insistent, compelling and violent, the same force that makes a moth irresistibly attracted to light.

He stands up and makes his way towards her.

-o-

Where do you find peace in the middle of the city

Hard enough to find a friend when everyone's starting over again

I feel like a child in a world that seems shapeless

What I am most afraid is when I get sucked back in

The first day of work after her birthday in Cabo, Caroline hands Stefan her resignation letter. It says things such as "infinitely grateful for the opportunity to work for Salvatore Development", "acquired valuable knowledge of marketing and public relations" and "leaving to move on and pursue other career objectives in the interest of professional development."

Stefan promptly feeds the letter to the shredder.

"You're not with the company because you were his girlfriend." He tells her softly, eyes kind. "And you shouldn't leave just because you're no longer together."

Caroline bites her lip. Oh, if Stefan knew what was happening, he would scream at Damon to leave.

"Please, Care. You don't have to work for my brother. Report to me instead. Just… just stay."

And because Stefan will always be the brother that she never had, she ends up staying.

She does not talk to Damon for the next eight weeks, doesn't look at him even once. Nobody has the guts to ask what led to the fall-out – that is, nobody except Elena.

"Did he hurt you? Did he cheat on you? Oh, Care…"

And Caroline has to fake a smile and say that she's over Damon and she doesn't want to talk about it anymore. Elena is kind, too kind, and Caroline will never ever be able to tell her that "We're over because he loves you, not me."

But then something happens. It's a gray, cloudy day when Giuseppe Salvatore feels a numbing pain in his chest as he drinks his three o'clock coffee in the President's office, and in a split second everything changes forever. When his secretary enters his office fifteen minutes later, the Salvatore patriarch has succumbed to cardiac arrest and no amount of CPR or electric shock from a defibrillator can bring him back.

Stefan goes with the ambulance that brings his father's body to the hospital. Elena is by his side, holding his hand and never once letting it go. To Caroline, this only means that in his twentieth floor office, Damon Salvatore is by himself, grappling with the conflicting emotions that his father's death stirs in his chest.

She enters Damon's room for the first time in two months. He's crumpled on the couch, eyes blank, glass of scotch in hand and an almost empty bottle of Macallan by the table.

She doesn't say anything, keeps her eyes on the floor for the first ten seconds.

And then… she embraces him.

She puts her arms around him and for a moment everything is Daroline and nothing hurts. She remembers the comforting way that Damon held her when her own father died two years ago and she can't deny the fact that she made it through because someone was there for her, and that someone was Damon.

It's that exact point in time when she finally realizes that what he told her in Cabo is true. He tried. He had been there for her for the past two years because he tried to love her as much as she loved him - he just couldn't do it because there are some things in this world that are not meant to be.

Damon eases his head into Caroline's shoulder. He doesn't cry – he's Damon fucking Salvatore, for Christ's sake, and Damon fucking Salvatore does not cry, especially not for the death of that bitter old cow who unfortunately is his father – but his chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm and Caroline knows what it means.

She also knows deep in her heart that even though she will never forget what Damon did to her, she has forgiven him.

Everything is well for the next couple of months until one morning Damon strolls into the ground floor cafe for their usual breakfast and he finds Caroline there in a miserable state of dejection.

"So…" he says, plopping down a seat.

Caroline looks at him glumly, stabbing a cinnamon roll with her fork. "Brady cheated on me."

"Hm."

"Hm? Brady cheats on me and all you can say is hm?"

Damon rolls his eyes. "Fine, who did he cheat with?"

"I don't know, some cheerleader named Jules. It's all over the internet. Listen to this." She reads an article on her phone from an online entertainment site. "Bears QB caught in smoochfest with Saints cheerleader two hours after dinner with girlfriend."

"She's a Saints cheerleader? Those girls are hot."

Caroline doesn't even pay attention to the comment. "I just don't get it. We were okay. Everything was okay. Why did he cheat on me? And barely two hours after he took me out to dinner!"

"Oh, Barbie." Damon sighs dramatically. "You wouldn't sleep with him. You were so not okay."

"What?"

"The guy's an NFL player. He's good looking, he's rich and he's popular. Do you have any idea how many girls throw themselves at his feet? And then his girl won't bang him because of this weird need for an emotional connection blah blah."

"But we've only been going out for three months –"

"The point is, he's a pro athlete with testosterone levels higher than his salary cap and you wouldn't sleep with him. Even if you really like him and he really likes you, your story has no other ending but either breaking up or cheating."

Caroline's face falls like she just found out that production of curling irons worldwide has stopped. "Is it wrong to want to be in love with the guy I do it with?"

Damon shrugs again. "I don't know how to answer that. But I'm going to tell you that the first year we were together and you wouldn't have sex with me until, in your words, you were in love with me with your body and mind and heart – Christ that is so soppy by the way –fuck, it almost drove me insane. And until now I honestly don't know how on earth I got through that."

"Well you obviously made up for it our second year." Caroline said grudgingly. Damon was worse than a rutting stag – oh, if the board of directors knew what that table in the conference room had gone through, they would never hold another meeting in there again. Ever.

"You know what I think you should do? Get over that I-have-to-have-feelings-for-the-men-I-sleep-with crap and just enjoy sex for what it is."

The blonde frowns. As Damon had so eloquently pointed out, she's not really the casual sex kind of girl.

"Christ, Caroline. Just go to some random bar, flirt with some good-looking guy and have casual, recreational, no strings attached rebound sex."

She bites into a cinnamon roll and mulls over Damon's suggestion.

-o-

It must be hard to live in the midst of all those buildings

Where the changing of the wind don't seem a miracle at all

And by the hands of man it's a maze of bad habits

Where the rabbit in the hat is just a train in the fog

"Forgive me for the candor, love, but you seem awfully familiar – have we been introduced before?"

She looks up at him and immediately Klaus is seized by her eyes. There isn't an exact word to describe the ambivalent shade of blue-green or green-blue that they take, but the clarity that glasses her orbs is anything but indistinct. They speak to him like the stars speak to Van Gogh, sweet whispers like feathered kisses upon his tapered fingers, making him want to grab a brush and just start painting. She's like a Mediterranean morning after an Arabian night and hell, he doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"I don't think so…" she says, partly coy, partly hesitant. That a pick-up line... wasn't it? The alcohol buzz from her third Esmeralda isn't helping her decide.

Well he's really cute and his accent is really hot…

His eyes narrow for a moment before he nods slowly in acceptance of her answer. "I thought… never mind."

She can't believe it when he starts to turn around. Is he walking away? Isn't he into her? Did she just get… uh, turned down?

"Maybe we can get introduced now." The words come out before she can even think about it.

Oh no Caroline what are you doing?

He turns back to her and she bites inside her mouth so she won't say anything even more stupid. But to him, her eyes are doing all the talking.

Stay.

He breathes out deeply and manages a small smile before slipping on the seat next to her.

"I'm… Nina." She says, returning the smile.

He resists the urge to laugh. He didn't miss that pause before she said 'Nina' and if that wasn't enough, she was wearing a pretty little silver necklace that has a 'C' pendant. He highly doubts that she spells her name 'Cnina' with a silent C.

"Nicholas." Is the English equivalent of my name, and two can play this game. "Allow me to buy you a drink, love?"

She tells him that she's a regular corporate skirt downtown and he tells her that he's a horse trainer from England. (In all fairness, if art wasn't in his life he would honestly be working with horses.)

"Horse trainer, like for races?"

"More for equestrian."

"You mean like Anne Romney's horse?"

She cringes before she's even done saying 'Anne Romney'. Way to get laid, Caroline, gush about the Romneys. What if he's staunchly Democrat? She mentally smacks herself, forgetting in the midst of embarrassment that British people don't vote in American elections.

She shakes her head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I don't really know a lot about horses. The last guy I dated - the only horses he cared about were Mustangs. The ones that came from Ford with a sixty grand price tag."

"Then why are we talking about him?" he says with amusement.

She laughs. "I'll drink to that if you do."

The drink turns to two, and then three, and after five he loses count. They talk and he makes her laugh and often she does that to him too, but amidst listening to her voice he mostly gazes at her eyes. Inside his head he's already deciding what pigments to blend to arrive at that precise same shade of blue-green. He doesn't even notice that a good five hours has passed until Gloria pulls him aside and tells him that it's fifteen minutes to the 1am closing time.

"Are you taking her back to your place?" she asks.

Klaus kind of reels. "I am not relegating myself into the rebound guy she's looking for, thank you very much. I'll get her a cab."

"Look, honey, the only thing I care about is not having a drunk blonde who can't get home when I close shop in fifteen minutes, and she's starting to look tipsy. Can you get her that cab now?"

"Are you kicking us out?"

"No, I'm asking you to do something that might even be consider chivalrous. Get her home."

He shrugs as he goes back to his blonde drinking-mate. He looks at her for a good ten seconds to etch the color of her eyes in his mind (he won't ask to take a bloody picture, no he won't) before he tells her that the bar is about to close, may I help you get a cab.

For a moment Caroline wants to scream – did she really just spend the entire night with a guy who's turning her down? – but after the split-second heartache she feels relieved and smiles at him genuinely. Sour graping aside, maybe this is the universe's way of telling her that sleeping with someone she doesn't have feelings for just for the sake of revenge isn't something that she has to do.

He leads her out of the bar and walks her down the street where he can hail a cab. She assures him all the way that she can manage on her own and there's no need for him to accompany her but he does it anyway. When he sees that she's shivering from the cold fall wind despite the peplum blazer that she's wearing, he even puts his own leather jacket over her shoulders.

When a cab finally arrives, she smiles at him gratefully and he looks at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Thanks…" she says softly. "See you around?"

He nods, and he doesn't know why this is so much more difficult than it needs to be.

But then –

She stands on her toes and leans in to give him a peck in the cheek. He knows what she's trying to do and for some dumb and probably drunken reason, he purposefully turns his head so the kiss lands on his lips instead.

It burns.

Her arms tangle themselves around his neck almost the same time his hands find their way around her waist. She kisses him like she's going to die tomorrow and he willingly obliges her because he's really just relieved that she didn't break away and slap him after what he did. His fingers lace through her silky blonde hair as he draws her even closer, igniting a ravenous blaze of desperate, restless need through both of their bodies.

When they finally pull away from each other for the want of breath, he looks at her and then at the cab. "You should… get going."

"Right, totally." Caroline agrees, panting. She must really be drunk.

She gets inside the cab and he follows.

He doesn't know how they made it through the cab ride and the walk to his apartment but by the time they get into his room the only thing she has on is a lacy purple number and he is as near to being stark naked himself. She lands with a squeak on his slate blue sheets and suddenly he no longer cares whether he's a rebound guy or whatever. All that matters is the glorious feel of her body against his as he presses himself on top of her.

He raises his head to level with her eyes and he loves the strength and the helplessness and the lust and the innocence that he sees all swimming together in the cerulean surface.

"See anything you like?" she says suggestively as he gazes at her.

Where am I even getting the nerve to say these things?

His blue eyes rake down the supple body beneath his sinewy frame and he leers appreciatively. She is exquisitely beautiful and he doesn't need to be an artist to say that.

"Much." He says before bringing his lips into hers again, so deep and almost bruising that when she disengages from the kiss her lips flush into a lovely shade of amaranth.

"But you haven't seen anything yet." She tells him, and with that her arms leave his neck briefly to undo the clasp of her bra.

Lord, what the hell was he thinking when he told Gloria that he's not going to bang this girl?

He wastes not a second longer but allows her collarbone a faint lick before traveling downward and letting his stubbled jaw graze the valley between her breasts. She groans in a blend of pleasure and frustration, the earlier because he feels too fucking good against her skin and the later because he's not touching her in the places where she needs him to.

Her hands fist into his ash blonde locks, guiding his mouth towards the peaks of her breasts, but he growls and pries her hands away to pin them to either side of her head.

"Patience, love." He drawls, though he can hardly control himself as well.

He dips his head low into her chest and finally gives her what she wants. An electric jolt surges throughout her body as his tongue swirls around her, and he smirks as her head rolls back when he bites her gently. He takes his time licking, lapping and luxuriating in her, loving every breathless moan and every needy mewl that he elicits from her. Hell, he hasn't even started actually fucking her.

He lets her hands go and gives her a few minutes to catch her breath because she is going to need it when he moves in to rack more pleasure into her. In the mean time he takes in the flushness of her now sweat-damped skin, the way her bare chest rises and falls rapidly as she breathes - and he can't help but be pleased at the state that he reduced her into.

He decides then and there that he wants this - he needs this.

Opening her eyes, she beckons him to come closer and draws him again into her sweet, sweet mouth, kissing him fervently as she arches her body closer to his to create that deliciously maddening friction. But he pulls back because she closes her eyes when he kisses her and he wants to see – he has to see – those orbs when he brings her into abandon.

He reaches for his wallet, where he has a ready condom in one of the folds. It should be on the bedside table – except that it's not.

Shit. He must have left it in the bar.

She reads through the spike of auburn annoyance in his sky blue eyes and smiles as she soothes him with soft kisses along his jaw, ending by the shell of his ear.

"It's okay. I'm on the pill." She whispers.

He doesn't need to hear it twice.

When she wakes up the next morning, she is alone in bed and she feels sick as hell. She groans hoarsely, burying her head in the slate blue pillows –

Why are my pillows blue?

- and almost chokes at the realization that she is not in her room.

Oh my God.

She pulls herself together despite the massive headache and forces herself to get up from bed. The digital clock on the bedside table says 6:38am and she cringes – she has to get the hell out of there. Thankfully Nicholas – if that's even his real name - is nowhere to be found and she assumes that he made himself scarce so she could make a not-so-awkward getaway, which is precisely what she plans to do.

She picks her clothes up from the floor, wearing them as fast as possible, but she can't for the life of her find her top. Her head is already pounding and she feels like she might throw up anytime so she forgets about the top and proceeds to wear a gray Henley strewn on the floor.

She walks out of the room as quietly as she could. She makes it to the living room and she's just a few feet away from the door when she hears footsteps coming.

Oh no.

She ducks behind the couch and squeezes her eyes shut. The footsteps grow nearer and nearer… until they pass and soon fade. She hears the sound of a door opening and then closing. After that she hears none more.

She stands up and literally runs to the door.

-o-

Now if you leave, will you feel defeated?

Cause you didn't take from the city as much as the city took from you

What if you'd stayed, what if you'd done what you were thinking

I'd rather you give up on life in the city than giving up on life too

Kol trudges down the apartment hallway looking royally pissed as he types a sarcastic "Haha. Very funny." message on his phone, addressed to none other than his detestably diabolical sister. Last week Bekah learned that Kol was boning Aimee Bradley- well he could hardly remember that her name was Aimee and he doesn't bother to ask what the last names of his fuck buddies are, how the hell is he supposed to know that she's Rebekah's college arch-nemesis?

Bex of course does not listen to Kol's explanation and promptly vows to make his life a living hell until he stops seeing Amy (which is kind of difficult because damn that girl can give a head). Today Kol woke up to a refrigerator that is, to his horror, stuffed close to bursting with one hundred freakin' cartons of commercial whole milk. Even worse is the fact that though he had torn the entire apartment up and down, he could not find his precious single carton of lactose-free organic skimmed milk.

He heads to his brother's place across the hall knowing that Nik drinks 2%milk (it's not the same but it's better than whole milk, ugh the calories.). He's about to press the doorbell when the door suddenly opens.

Kol's lower jaw unhinges itself in a manner reminiscent of a dim-witted chimpanzee. Standing in front of him is a gorgeous blonde who, despite obviously being hammered senseless, still manages to look incredibly – the fuck, is that Klaus' Henley that she's wearing?

He blinks thrice and looks blankly at the girl, who for her part has begun to blush.

"Hi... I, uh, ran out of... milk." Kol finishes lamely, still unable to gather his wits. "Is..." Shit what name did Klaus introduce himself as to this girl? "Uh, is... my neighbor in there?"

The blonde bites her lip and worriedly looks back at the apartment she is leaving. "Um yeah, he's... I'm sorry, I can't do this right now."

She brushes past Kol and hurriedly makes her way to the elevator.

Kol just stands by the doorway like a dork for ten seconds before he finally enters his brother's apartment. He walks straight into Nik's room where he finds the latter laying on the bed, eyes closed.

"I met your fuck buddy on her way out." Kol says.

Klaus doesn't budge. It was rebound sex. Of course she'd be gone in the morning.

"And what do you know, she's blonde! That's a first for you."

The older Mikaelson opens his eyes at his brother's declaration. He's about to ask Kol what the hell he means when he suddenly realizes that until last night every woman he's gone to bed with since leaving England is indeed a brunette with hazel doe eyes.

Just like Tatia.

(He doesn't know what's more disturbing – the fact that he had been sleeping with women who all look like the Petrova heiress or that Kol keeps tab on his sex life.)

"So is this gonna be a regular kind of thing since you gave her your shirt and stuff?" Kol asks.

"Shirt? I gave who what shirt?"

"You didn't give her the shirt you were wearing yesterday?"

"No. Why the hell would I give anyone my shirt?"

"I don't know. But that was what she was wearing when she left."

"...?"

"Shit, Nik. She stole your shirt."

-o-

Follow your dreams but beware of the illusions

You won't feel the void in your heart with the bank statement and the car

What is it worth, what is it worth, have you given up on freedom?

You spent your life working for keys to set you free when you were free all along

It's seven in the morning when Damon is awakened by lithe fingers tracing circles on his bare chest. He gets to yawn once before a smirking Andie Star devours his lips, morning breath and all. He gamely lets her roll on top of him as he kisses her back, but his mind is already wandering to the same image that he thinks of every day when he wakes up – another brunette with soft brown eyes and pale pink lips, who lights up the world when she smiles.

His phone suddenly rings. Instead of disengaging himself from the lip lock, Damon simply lets his right hand fumble around the bedside table until he finally grasps the gadget. He looks at it for a second and then gently pushes Andie away because the display screen has the word "Caroline" on it.

"Hey." Damon says as he puts the phone to his ear. Andie proceeds to nip at his nape but he frowns and motions for her to give him space.

"Oh God, Damon, where are you I'm going to die I feel so sick I don't even know where I -"

"Hey, hey, calm down. What happened? Where are you?"

"I told you, I don't know! My head hurts so bad and I just got out of there and started walking away and I don't know-"

"Got out of where... Fuck, Caroline, did you hitch and ditch last night?"

"That's what you told me to do, didn't you?"

Damon groans. "You should've told me so I could've... Never mind. Where are you, I'll come and take you home."

"I don't know... Just... ugh, my head hurts -"

"What do you see around you? There's got to be a landmark or a restaurant or some kind of store..."

"There's this cafe nearby... Lumiere?"

The raven-haired Salvatore quickly opens his laptop and googles the cafe's location. "Christ, you're in Lennox. Of all the men in the world, why the hell did you have to bone a guy who lives in Lennox?"

"I don't know, I don't know, oh God Damon…"

"I'll be there in thirty minutes, just wait for me, okay?"

As soon as Caroline hangs up Damon is reaching for his clothes and his car keys. Andie looks at him with a resigned expression on her face before sighing.

"Caroline again?" she asks, bothering to mask neither her anger nor her hurt.

Damon avoids her eyes. "What do you mean 'again'?"

"I'm your girlfriend, you know."

"Yes, this is my apartment you're in and that is my bed you're on, isn't it?"

Andie shakes her head. She's had enough, can't take any more of this heartbroken frustration - but for one last time, she tries. "I know you two have been through a lot and she's your best friend and everything... but I can't do this anymore, Damon. It's me or her."

Damon doesn't answer. He's sorry for Andie but… he can't even choose her over Caroline, what more over the girl who really matters?

He slips his shoes on and then leaves the room without another word.

An hour later he's carrying a very hung over Caroline Forbes into her bed in her apartment. He makes her take a glass of Alka Seltzer solution while he gently berates her about what she did last night ("I could have gone with you to the bar and taught you the tricks of the trade.") before tucking her in like a good little girl. Except that no good little girl gets lost in Lennox with a massive hang over after a one night stand. (He can't resist quietly taking a picture of the hammered blonde before he gets up though – he seriously plans to hold this over her head for the rest of their lives.)

He's about to get out of her room when he hears her call for him.

"Damon?"

He goes back, sits at the end of her bed. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You totally owe me, Blondie. Big time."

Caroline knows that tone so even though her head is pounding she opens her eyes to look at him. "Fine, what do you want?"

"Can I crash on your couch? I don't feel like going to work today either."

Upon Damon's mention of the word 'work' the blonde immediately sits up and frantically tries to get out of bed. "Oh no, work, I have to submit a report to -"

"Chill. Your boss is on leave today." Damon assures her.

"Oh." the blonde blinks, calming down. "Right. It's your first month anniversary or something."

First month anniversary? Damon swallows. He totally forgot.

"Yeah, about that... Andie and I kind of broke up."

"What? When? Why?"

"This morning. That's why I wanted to crash on your couch. I just want to sleep it off for a couple of hours."

Caroline says nothing. She closes her eyes and moves over so the other side of the bed is free. Damon quietly slips beside her, keeping his hands to himself, because he knows exactly where the two of them stand.

It does not take long before both of them are peacefully asleep.

You came here with nothing, you're leaving with the same

Sometimes the road that you are walking on is going the wrong way

Just come as you are, when you leave you will be changed

Everyday is a gift, everyday is a gift and it's all slipping away.

-New York City, Among Savages

-o-

A/N:

1. Sorry everyone for the late update! I am working on three stories right now and I am still enslaved to my GPA so things are quite hectic.

2. We will be back to the present time in the next chapter, where a Klaroline confrontation is due. Lately I've been bugged by this crazy idea of Caroline moving in with Klaus... with Damon tagging along (just to annoy Klaus). Haha I can't imagine Damon and Klaus living in one roof. Can you?

3. Congratulations to the Klaroline Awards 2012 winners! I came up second in Best Debut Fic and third in Most Creative Author, but the nominations and votes really made me feel so loved. Thank you so much everyone, you inspire me all to keep writing! :)

Now please excuse me I have to start writing the next chapter of Solstice.