Disclaimer: Sadly, neither SPN nor TVD are mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky, who should absolutely be a staple in your music library.
A/N: Still AU/AH. There's a few random pop culture references thrown in throughout this chapter—hope you recognize them (and don't just think I'm crazy when you read over them). As always, if anything is confusing, please let me know!
Also, I have exams next week, so there probably won't be an update until next weekend—I'd say Thursday at the absolute earliest. Enjoy and don't forget to review!
the birth and death of the day
3.
Caroline is sitting across from Sam in a booth at the Mystic Grill, her nose deep in her English assignment, pen occasionally scratching down notes. He hadn't said anything when she declined to help research ways to fight angels in favor of her English paper, but she isn't incredibly surprised by that. After all, Sam is the one who went to Stanford instead of hunting demons—the one who eschewed exorcisms and sawed-off shotguns for beer pong and late nights at the library pouring over law textbooks. Out of everyone, she knows Sam probably gets it the most. Understands that in spite of everything, she's holding out hope for Georgetown, Class of 2016. She doesn't ask what he's finding and he doesn't offer—a mutual pact of silence, for now at least.
They both are so engrossed in their own doings that they jump in unison when Matt drops down tiredly into the open seat next to Caroline for his break. Sam discreetly shifts his computer screen away and raises his eyebrows at Matt. "Everything okay?"
"I'm beat," Matt groans, reaching for one of Caroline's cheese fries and rubbing his forehead. She makes a sympathetic noise and he zeroes in on the book in her hand as she neatly folds the corner of her page down.
"Care, that paper isn't due for a week," he says half-exasperated, half fond. "It's Saturday."
She scowls at him, but her heart isn't in it. "Yeah, and Lauren Peterson is dead-set on knocking me out of the salutatorian spot, which is so not happening. Besides, you have to actually read the book before you can write the paper."
Matt closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the booth. "Have you talked to Tyler lately?" he asks, way too casually, and Caroline's eyes narrow in suspicion.
"No," she says pointedly and her voice drops in volume. "Seeing as how we broke up because he drugged me."
"Hold on, what?" Sam demands, snapping to attention, his jaw tightening. Matt glances at him and rushes to explain.
"We were going after Klaus, Care! He didn't—he vervained you to protect you," he says defensively, eyeing the look on Sam's face warily. "He—"
"I can protect myself," she informs him crisply. "And I definitely don't need someone to make my decisions for me."
"Care—"
"Matt, I know you're just trying to be a good friend," she says more gently, her hand going to his arm and her voice turning mollifying. "It's very—noble of you. But if Tyler wants this conversation to happen, he should come talk to me, not you. It isn't really your business, and it definitely isn't your fight, okay?"
Matt sighs as he stands up to return to work, expression defeated. "Just—talk to him, okay? He's kind of a mess."
Once Matt is gone, Sam arches his eyebrows at her. "Want to explain what that was about? Or do I have to pull out the brother card and beat someone's ass?"
Caroline rolls her eyes at him. "No ass-beating," she orders firmly. "He had good intentions, but a bad plan and even worse execution." She pauses before adding more quietly, "And I hate having my choices taken away."
Sam groans and stretches out in the booth, hand reaching to shift his laptop back in place. "You have the absolute worst taste in guys," he tells her fondly, pulling his phone out as it begins to chirp. Caroline sees Dean's name on the screen before Sam answers, sliding out of the booth. "Hey," he says into the speaker, catching Caroline's eye and nodding his head to the door before he walks through it.
Caroline reopens her book and picks her pen back up, determined to refocus her attention on writing this paper—but her eyes wander over to where Sam is pacing in front of the Grill. His face is taut with worry and his knuckles on the hand that is gripping his phone are white. She wonders what has gone wrong now, because they seriously cannot catch a damn break.
She tells him as much when he climbs back into their booth. He sighs and starts to pack up his stuff, shutting his laptop down and unplugging its charger. Catching his drift, she shuts her book and caps her pen, pulling her bag from its spot beside her onto the table. "Dean and I have to go to D.C.," he tells her, wrapping the cord into a tight ball and shoving into his bag. She freezes, staring at him and feeling very much like someone has just thrown ice water in her face.
"You're leaving?"
Sam glances up and stops rustling through the notes he had been scribbling when he sees her wide eyes. "We'll just be a day or two," he assures her, hand reaching over to grip her shoulder. "And Cas will stay here with you. You'll be fine."
Caroline knows he thinks that he's being comforting by telling her that but it so doesn't help. She opens her mouth to inform him as much when he says sympathetically, "Take it up with Dean, okay?"
...
"We've got to go, Care," and Caroline scowls because Dean's response is an exact duplicate of Sam's. Both Winchesters are gathering rifles and huge containers of salt and her chest tightens, worry spiking through her veins.
"What's so important in D.C. that you're packing an entire arsenal and dropping Apocalypse survival training?" she cries, hand shooting out to hold down the long, iron dagger Sam is reaching for. He pulls his hand back and sighs, looking at Dean helplessly.
"It's maximum two days. Probably less than that," Dean assures her, coming over to her and dropping both hands onto her shoulders. She's so not reassured, especially since the total number of days being spent on this trip have gone up. "You'll be fine. And Cas—"
"—is staying here," she says along with him. "Yeah, Sam mentioned that. Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn't!"
"Do I still frighten you?" Castiel wants to know and she nearly jumps out of her skin at his sudden appearance at Dean's side.
"You do when you just—Apparate out of nowhere!" she exclaims, her eyes shutting briefly and her hand going to her heart.
Castiel frowns at her and, then says to Dean in an undertone, "I don't understand. What is Apparating?"
Dean waves his hand dismissively and says, "Nothing real, so don't worry about it." He folds his arms over his chest and gives Caroline and Castiel a brief once-over before shaking his head. Sam zips up the second of the two duffels and hands one to Dean as they start heading towards the door.
"Just so we're clear," Caroline fumes as she follows them to the Impala; in her peripheral vision, she sees Castiel falling in step next to her, face curious. "You're leaving in the middle of—"
Sam glances around furtively before saying lowly, "It has something to do with that, Care." He pops the trunk on the Impala and slings his duffel bag inside.
That stops her in her tracks. Until—"Then why isn't Castiel going? And why can't you tell me what's going on?"
"Too conspicuous," Castiel supplies helpfully, and Dean points at him approvingly.
"Give the man a prize. And you'd just freak out and worry, Caroline, because you always forget that this is our job. It's just another day at the office," Dean says, grimacing as he slams the trunk shut. Turning towards them, he rubs his hands together and channels John Winchester. "Listen up, you two." Caroline resists the urge to roll her eyes at him and instead sneaks a look at Castiel. He has an almost comical look of attentiveness on his face.
"You first, Precious Moments," Dean says, gesturing to Castiel. "Your job is to make sure freaky Dracu-douche doesn't kidnap her ass, got it?" At the bewildered look on Castiel's face, Dean pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Sammy, help," he groans.
Sam grins and points at Castiel, translating, "You baby-sit her." Caroline's mouth drops open in offense as he swings his finger in her direction. "And you baby-sit him. Don't burn the house down."
Dean nods appreciatively. "What he said." He fiddles with the Impala keys before holding an arm out and, irritation momentarily forgotten in favor of worry, Caroline steps into it.
"Just make sure you come back in one piece, okay?" she says in his ear, arms looping around his neck. His arms tighten around her briefly before he lets go and ruffles her hair fondly.
"You got it," he says, and when Sam hugs her, he promises, "We'll be fine. Don't worry."
They both climb into the Impala, doors shutting in unison as the engine starts to rumble. She and Castiel watch as Dean backs the car out of the driveway and turns onto their street, the car eventually disappearing down the road.
Caroline turns to Castiel. "I could use a drink," she announces, because seriously, the end of the world is coming and she can't really think about the fact that Dean and Sam just left on some mission that requires enough weapons for a small army. She really needs a drink or ten. "You down?"
He looks down at his feet before saying bemusedly, "Actually, it would appear that I'm up."
She snorts and says, "No, what I meant was—I'm going to go get a drink. Of the alcoholic variety. Do you want to come with me?"
His brow furrows slightly. "I don't drink alcohol," he tells her gravely.
She blinks at him in surprise before saying sunnily, "Well, now's as good a time as any to start!"
…
"You don't look like an angel," Damon comments critically, circling Castiel suspiciously. "Where are your wings?" He shoots Caroline an accusatory look. "I was promised wings."
She scoffs at him as she rummages through his liquor cabinet. "I'd have no problem if you decided to smite him," she says to Castiel, spying the good whiskey in the back and pulling it out. "You'd be doing the world a favor, really. Where's Stefan?" She unscrews the cap and pours two drinks, handing one to Castiel.
"Still trying to talk Elena out of this hybrid summoning. He should be on his way back soon. And speaking of Stefan," he plucks the whiskey bottle away from her indignantly. "He came back from your house the other night looking like a sad, kicked puppy. He wrote in that stupid journal for hours; it was so boring. I think he might have cried. So whatever you said," Damon salutes her with the bottle, "I commend you."
"God, you would," she grumbles, tilting her glass up and letting a sizeable swallow of whiskey burn down her throat. Coughing a little and her eyes watering, she gestures to Castiel. "The point of drinking is to, you know, drink."
"But you don't seem to have enjoyed it," he points out, eyeing his glass warily. "I don't see the point."
Caroline takes another sip, her insides warming. "Not everything has to have a point, Cas," she says sagely, and she's totally lying because the point—right now, at least—is to forget what's coming while they can still afford to. Damon smirks and calls her out.
"Wrong, Barbie. The point," and he jabs the bottle in Castiel's direction for emphasis, "is to get drunk." Castiel looks down into his glass and hesitantly takes a small sip.
"Cheers," she says, raising her glass to him and with a long swallow, she empties it.
…
"What's Hell like?" Caroline wonders out loud, stirring her fourth—maybe fifth? She's lost count—round with her finger absently. She looks over questioningly at Castiel, who is still nursing his first glass, face screwing up in distaste with every tiny sip.
Damon winces from his spot on the floor, cradling the empty whiskey bottle next to him. "Way to kill the mood, Barbie."
Both Caroline and Castiel act as though he hadn't spoken. "You don't want to know," Castiel tells her grimly, staring into the Salvatore fireplace and not meeting her eyes.
She pushes herself forward in her seat, swaying slightly, and says, a little despairingly, "It was really bad for him, wasn't it." It isn't a question.
"It's bad for everyone," he says in lieu of answering.
"I," Damon announces, standing slightly unsteadily, "am not listening to this morbid conversation." He drunkenly makes his way out of the living room, shooting Caroline a glare as he leaves.
"But you pulled him out," Caroline says, ignoring Damon's departure, eyes fixed on Castiel. Her words run together slightly. "You saved him."
His gaze shifts from the fireplace to his shoes and is he blushing? "You saved him," Caroline repeats firmly. "You don't know what that means to me. To Sam." She reaches forward and squeezes his hand, wondering why she was ever afraid of him because really, he's a teddy bear. Or she could be just drunk.
Castiel looks at where her fingers are grasping his and finally meets her eyes. "I was following orders," is all he says, and she shakes her head at him, a bit more fiercely than she means to because everything is still spinning a little when she stops.
"Doesn't matter," she asserts, although Dean's comment about being supposed to fight on the other side with the angels tugs in the back of her brain. But she isn't dealing with that at right this second because everything is turning into a nice haze. "Thank you, Cas." Her hand drops off of his and she leans back into her seat on the couch.
He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just looks at her with an odd expression on his face as she finishes what's left in her glass.
"Need more whiskey," she mumbles, more to herself than to him; and as she makes her way over to Damon's liquor cabinet, walking slightly crooked, Castiel asks, "Did you talk to Dean about Hell?"
Her fingers pause in their dance over the bottles. "A little," she confirms quietly. "But I didn't want to ask too much. In case he had, like, PTSD or something." She decides she'd rather have rum, and clasps her hand around the neck of the bottle. Glancing back at Castiel's impassive face, she explains, "Post traumatic stress disorder. Like, when a soldier comes home from war but wakes up thinking he's still there and freaks out. Stuff like that." She uncaps the rum bottle, uncaring that Damon might really break her neck if she drinks all of his good alcohol. "I didn't want to make it worse," she tells him, returning to her seat, bottle in hand.
They sit in silence, the only sound coming from Damon's drunken fumbling in the kitchen.
"We were many," Castiel says finally with faraway look in his eyes and she pauses in mid-drag straight from the bottle. "Three garrisons were sent down into the abyss to rescue Dean Winchester." His voice is so bleak that Caroline shivers. "It was not a solitary effort."
"Did you…" Caroline hesitates, unsure if she wants to know the answer to this question. She goes on anyway. "Did you lose anyone?"
Castiel fixes her with a sharp look. "Yes," he says gruffly. He doesn't elaborate and she doesn't ask.
He takes a deep breath and looks like he is steeling himself as he says, "Hell…Hell is darker than the blackest corner of the earth. You see no one and no one sees you, but you hear them." Castiel pauses and Caroline's entire body has gone ice-cold. "All there is…all there is for eternity is screaming and pain. And darkness."
"And a month is ten years," she whispers faintly, hand gripping the neck of the rum bottle so tightly she hears the glass crack. "He was down there for years." Her vision blurs and she feels tears slip down her face. She wishes they were the effects of all the alcohol she's had to drink and not because of the ache in her heart. "Sam didn't come back until a month after they left—after it happened," she tells him hoarsely, biting her lip. "I don't think he'd eaten or slept in days. I never...I never asked. And then he'd disappear for weeks at a time...everything bad happened after Dean—after Dean was gone." She inhales shakily, the feel of a pillow forced over her face flaring in her memory. "And nothing was okay until he came back. Until you gave him back to us."
They fall silent again.
"Deep, depressing talk better be over," Damon warns as he re-enters the living room, and then he sees the rum bottle in Caroline's hand. "Hell, Barbie, you know how expensive that stuff is?" She turns her tear-stained face towards him and he falters. "Well don't cry about it," he mutters, dropping back into his spot on the floor and holding his glass out to her.
She wipes at the tear tracks as she fills it and forces her voice to be light. "Shouldn't Stefan be back by now?" She tips the bottle up and drinks straight from it because she needs that lovely haze back now, thanks.
Damon shrugs exaggeratedly and waves his hand widely out in front of him. "I'm sure he and Elena are recounting the tragedy of their Romeo and Juliet love story. Probably some hot and heavy joint journal-writing going on. Maybe some longing stares if they're feeling really frisky."
Her voice is harder than she means for it to be. "Careful, Damon. Your bitterness is showing." Castiel watches their exchange with the same interested look on his face as when he had watched Sam and Dean squabble about light beer and turkey bacon (It's fake bacon, Sammy. It's a bird masquerading as a pig and I'm not eating it).
Instead of snarling at her like she expects, Damon's head drops back against the couch so that his forehead is pressing into her thigh and Caroline's eyes widen as she gapes down at him. "What does he have, Barbie?" he bemoans, and he must be smashed because he never talks like this. "I could be good. I would be good, if she asked me."
Caroline really doesn't want to comfort Damon Salvatore of all people—she still vividly remembers fangs at her throat and you're useless and shallow, Caroline. Plus, she has always, always preferred Stefan—she had been ready to forgive him for everything he had done with Klaus (on condition that he actually apologized) right up until he nearly drove Elena off of Wickery Bridge. She of all people understood sacrificing yourself for your brother. But after the Wickery Bridge nightmare, Elena had cried in Caroline's bed until she had literally passed out mid-sob, so now both Salvatores are on her shit list and neither one has really given her any reason to reconsider.
But Damon looks so pitiful that her heart softens despite herself. "Damon," she says gently, briefly hesitating before squaring her shoulders—in for a penny, in for a pound, Forbes—and brushing his hair off his forehead. "She has asked you to be good." He stills and she continues on, "And you have got to stop treating her like a five-year-old."
"But she acts like one," he protests petulantly, voice muffled because half of his face is pressed into the couch.
"No," Caroline corrects. "Elena acts like she's eighteen, because she is. It just looks childish and immature to you because you're old. Stop pushing, try not to sleep with any more Originals, and just be nice. It'll help. Promise."
He grunts and rolls his head away from her. "You're one to talk about Originals."
She takes a long sip of rum and says sourly, "That's all you took away from that? And I'm definitely not sleeping with any Originals."
"Not yet," he sings out. "Don't think all those secret looks have gone unnoticed. And you went to his house alone."
"How the hell do you know that?" she demands tensely, glancing at Castiel, who frowns at her. Dean and Sam will definitely hear about this and she is so not looking forward to it. The atmosphere is suddenly much more hostile.
"Original baby bro told Original baby sis, who told me," he says smugly. "You suck at covering your tracks."
"He and Elijah are going to help us with—"
"Yeah," he cuts her off. "I get it, they can get us shit we need to fight, win, whatever." His voice turns serious. "But you're a damn idiot if you think you can reel him in for Apocalypse Now and then toss him back after the grand finale."
"I'm not reeling him in!" she cries defensively. "And what is with the fishing metaphors?"
He stands up and tips his glass in her direction. "That's the thing," he says resentfully. "You have no idea that you're stringing him along." Her eyes go wide because he seriously cannot be concerned for freaking Klaus.
"God," she scoffs at him derisively. "Projecting much? Get a clue, Damon. You expect Elena to fall head over heels for you—after everything you've done—just because you've been halfway decent for a few months! Klaus is a lot of things, most of them horrible, but he isn't delusional."
"We'll see, Barbie. You do what you gotta do, and everything, but don't be surprised if he goes on a killing spree once he finds out it was all in the name of saving the world," he snaps, grabbing the rum bottle from her. "You know the way out." Icy blue eyes flick over to where Castiel is sitting, looking shell-shocked. "And take Angels in the Outfield with you."
...
"I don't like him," Castiel announces as she fumbles with her car keys. Caroline gives up trying to force her fingers to work and lets out a frustrated sound. "No one likes him," she tells him, "because he's a dick. And I am not nearly sober enough for this, and there is no way I'm letting you drive us home!"
"No," he agrees solemnly. "I can't drive."
One of the key rings looped over her index finger, she points at him and says, "When this is over, I'll teach you. But for now," she shoves her keys back in her bag and throws her hands up dramatically. "We walk."
He looks at her curiously. "Neither one of us would be hurt in an accident," he reminds her. She shakes her head at him. "No," she grants him that one. "But other people could be."
Castiel tilts his head as he regards her. "You're very caring," he observes and she blushes as she pulls him onto the sidewalk with her.
"People are important," Caroline says quietly, concentrating on not stumbling. The cool air is definitely helping to clear her head. "Just because everyone forgets that doesn't make it not true." She pauses before confiding, "I killed someone, right after I turned. I didn't mean to, I just—I had no idea how to stop it or how to control myself. I never knew his name and most days I can't even remember what he looked like." She focuses on the streetlamps so she doesn't have to look at Castiel's face. "But I never forget that he had people who loved him, people who miss him. And that I'm the one that took him away from those people." She bites her lip before saying, "I refuse to hurt anyone else."
Castiel stops and she turns back. "What?" she asks, suddenly very alert and listening for the sounds of footsteps. But there are only crickets and the occasionally dog barking.
"It is not up to me," he says slowly, admiration dawning in his eyes. "But I am fairly certain that you are not damned, Caroline Forbes."
Her eyes well up with tears that have been building since Damon kicked them out of the boarding house. "Really?" she whispers, voice cracking.
"Yes," he confirms. "You are more concerned with protecting the Lord's people than His own Host of Heaven. I cannot imagine that you do not deserve Paradise."
Warmth spreads throughout her limbs and before she can think better of it, she throws her arms around his neck and says tearfully, "Thanks, Cas." He awkwardly pats her back, his arms never fully reaching around her.
"You're welcome, Caroline," he says, and she detects a note of fondness in his voice.
"What's all this then?" She stiffens in recognition and releases Castiel before turning around.
Rebekah smirks at them and Caroline says sharply, "Have you considered going all Single White Female on someone else? Because I'm so beyond fed up with it."
"But you make it so easy, Caroline," Rebekah says idly, examining her nails. "And I'm terribly sorry that you're in the way of so many things I want, but you understand how these things go. It can't be avoided." Rebekah smiles wolfishly at her and the similarity to Klaus makes the hair on the back of Caroline's neck stand up. "You are head cheerleader, after all."
Caroline turns to Castiel and says conversationally, "You would think that someone who's lived for over a thousand years would be less concerned with what happens in high school." She meets Rebekah's eyes. "Whenever I get caught up in the drama, my mom says there's life after high school. But apparently no one ever told you that, Rebekah."
Rebekah gives her a falsely bright smile. "The difference between you and me, Caroline is that that's something you need to be reminded of. And you're being awfully rude, by not introducing me to your—friend, you know." The way she pauses over the word friend has Caroline making a mental note to warn Castiel about the possibility of having his neck snapped by a lunatic Original hybrid. "I'm Rebekah." She holds out her hand.
"Castiel," he responds formally, making no move to shake her proffered hand. She smirks as her hand drops back to her side.
"Moving on from Tyler so quickly?" Rebekah comments cattily and Caroline rolls her eyes.
"Cas is a family friend," she says indifferently. "Not that you would know anything about friends."
She lands a direct hit; Rebekah's face twists and she hisses, "If I find out you are playing with my brother, Caroline, I will string you up by your intestines and leave you for your adorable stepbrothers to find."
Before Caroline can think of a retort, Castiel says, his voice foreboding, "You will do no such thing," and, distracted, Caroline and Rebekah both look over at him.
Slightly mystifying and definitely intimidating black shadow wings are spread behind his back, bathed in the glow of the streetlight he has moved to stand under. Caroline is awestruck and a little touched at the display, and when she turns back to Rebekah, the other girl is pale.
"That's impossible," she says lowly. "That is not possible." There is very real fear in her eyes.
Before Caroline can point out (a little smugly because she's still tipsy enough to poke at the beast) that it is, in fact, possible since Castiel is right there and maybe Rebekah needs her eyes checked, she's gone.
"Great," she sighs, turning to Castiel. "She'll probably freak out to Klaus and he'll show up on my porch with a vendetta. Not that I don't appreciate your defense," she adds quickly, smiling at him a little. "Very gentlemanly."
"She is one of the first vampires," he observes thoughtfully, moving out of the intense light of the streetlamp. They resume walking back to the Forbes-Winchester house. "And she does not like you."
"Oh, she hates me," Caroline corrects him. "She's also a psychopath, but that runs in her family so I'm not sure how much we can really blame her for that."
...
Her phone ringing early the next morning yanks Caroline out of her slightly hung-over sleep. Fumbling around her nightstand in search for her phone, she peers blearily at the name then slides her finger across the unlock bar.
"Hey, Sam," she says, and she winces at how deep and scratchy her voice is.
"Sounds like someone had a good night," Sam greets her, chuckling. "How's everything going down there?"
She yawns and pushes her hair off of her forehead, sitting up. "The same as when you left. How's D.C.? Are you coming back soon?"
There's some noise in the background and Caroline pictures them in a nasty motel room with weapons and musty old books spread all over the floor, salt lining the windows. "It's going about like we expected," Sam tells her. "Should be home tomorrow, don't know what time. You and Cas getting along?"
"Yeah," she says, electing to not tell him about Castiel outing himself to Rebekah until they get home. "Where's Dean?"
"Picking up pie and Fritos from the gas station," Sam replies and Caroline snorts because that is so typical. "He said to tell you everything's fine, not to worry and he wants you to tell Liz he wants her spaghetti tomorrow night."
"I'll pass it along," she says dryly, kicking her legs out from under her covers and making her way to the bathroom, flicking on the light.
"He also said to tell you to stay away from—and I quote, 'Vincent van Vampire.'"
She rolls her eyes and leans forward to examine the slightly dark circles under her eyes, saying, "No need to remind me of that."
"Yeah, I know," Sam says with a laugh. "I think that Dean sometimes forgets you aren't eight anymore. He still thinks you need someone to threaten to shove kids' faces in the sand."
She laughs at the image in spite of herself. "Yeah, I can shove people's faces in the sand all by myself now," she says wryly, fiddling with the elastic on her boxer shorts. "I've got to take a shower, Sam, but—be careful, okay?"
"We always are," he says, and she hangs up and drops her phone onto the bathroom counter.
She feels much less hung-over once she gets out of the shower and puts clean clothes on. "Cas?" she calls into the hallway, buttoning her jeans and pushing damp hair out of her eyes. There's no answer, which surprises her a little. She tiptoes down the hallway to the living room and blinks in confusion when she sees the sheets and pillows that make up Castiel's 'bed' are neatly folded and stacked. There's no note.
"Not a big deal," she says to herself aloud. "Probably just some weird angel thing. No need to freak out, Caroline." Feeling appropriately chastened, she pulls a thermos out of the fridge and takes several long sips of B positive.
Several minutes later, she's locking up her front door and heading to the Salvatore house. There are enough early-morning joggers out that she can't flash herself over there, but the morning sun is peeking through the trees that line the sidewalk and the air smells like flowers so she isn't really bothered by having to walk normally.
Her car is exactly where she left it, but as she's about to open the door and get in the driver's seat, Stefan Salvatore says from the top of the driveway, "Damon wanted to have it towed."
She stiffens and glances over at him. "Thanks for saving me two hundred dollars and not letting him, I guess," she says flatly.
"It's the least I could do," he replies quietly, regarding her carefully. "I needed to hear what you had to say the other night."
Caroline shrugs at him. "I'm always available to bitchslap you with the truth," she quips with a lightness she doesn't feel. He makes his way down the driveway to stand in front of her.
"I know I have a lot to apologize for," he tells her, shame shadowing his face. "And I'm going to try to start making things right."
"Really?" she responds tartly, tilting her head at him. "Because I haven't heard an apology yet."
Stefan smiles a little and says sincerely, "Caroline Forbes, I am very sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I'm sorry for leaving, and for not being there when you needed me to be. I'm working on getting back to who I was and from the very bottom of my heart, I wish I had been better."
She fiddles with her keys and says softly, "I guess it's a start."
...
Today must just be the day for heart-to-hearts, Caroline decides as she parks in front of the Lockwood mansion. Mrs. Lockwood's car is nowhere to be seen, and Caroline figures she's probably still at church, assuring everyone that their town is completely normal, especially since there hasn't been 'animal attack' in months.
Caroline steels her nerves and rings the doorbell.
Tyler looks a little stunned to see her when he opens the door but he recovers well and says, stepping aside so she can come in, "Hey, Care. What's up?"
"How are you?" she asks, unsure of how to exactly start. Her hands twist awkwardly as she walks into his living room.
He shrugs. "Okay, I guess. You?"
She bites her lip before saying, "Fine. But we need to talk about something." He doesn't look at all surprised so she takes that as her cue to keep going. "About...us," she beings cautiously and he cuts her off urgently, "Care, I was trying to protect you because I love you!"
She winces, remembering the last time he'd said that, her hand going subconsciously to her collarbone. "I know," she tells him gently, "but I don't need you to protect me. I need you to protect you and that can't happen while you're sire bonded to Klaus." She pauses before adding, "I know your heart was in the right place, Tyler, but you can't make people do what you think is best. That's what people like Klaus do, not you."
Tyler's eyes harden and he says emotionlessly, "You know, Rebekah mentioned how you went over there to see him." Caroline's mouth drops open slightly because seriously, does Rebekah have nothing else better to do than gossip about her?
"And you think, what, that I dumped you for him?" she demands, defenses going up. "God, Tyler—"
"What am I supposed to think?" he snaps back and they're nearly nose-to-nose, glaring at each other. He blinks first and seems to visibly deflate. "I made a mistake, Care," he says softly, hands going to her arms. "And you have no idea how sorry I am."
She sighs heavily and says resignedly, "There's something you need to know, Tyler."
...
"I wish you wouldn't have told Bekah," Klaus says offhandedly and Caroline stiffens as she shuts her car door. When she turns around, he looks deceptively normal, right down to the stupid hipster cords around his neck.
"She was going to find out eventually and she kind of forced the issue," she replies archly, locking her car and turning her keys so that the one to her house is at the ready. She walks up her driveway and hears his footsteps as he follows her. "Something about stringing me up by my intestines and having my stepbrothers find me." Caroline unlocks her front door. "For some weird reason, the angel I was with at the time didn't appreciate that too much." She pauses before adding, "Also, I may have been a little drunk." She keeps to herself that she literally just spilled the beans to Tyler too. Klaus doesn't need to know that.
His expression barely changes but her stomach still flutters a little—nerves, she decides firmly and she keeps her face from giving her away as she crosses her threshold. When she realizes he isn't behind her anymore she turns around and sees that he's leaning back against the wooden railing that surrounds her porch. She raises an eyebrow at him in question and he shrugs. "It's rude to come in uninvited, sweetheart."
Caroline snorts, because seriously, these manners so do not mesh with everything else about him, especially his cold-blooded murderer side. "You already have an invitation," she points out haughtily.
"Only in the technical sense," Klaus says lightly, dark blue eyes fixed on hers. She sets her jaw and says snippily, "Do you have a reason for being here other than bitching to me about Cas freaking Rebekah out?" He looks annoyingly amused.
"I have something from your list," he responds casually, and she contemplates him before wordlessly walking inside, leaving the door open behind her. She hears him come in behind her and shut the door as she heads for the living room.
She puts her finger to her lips for him to stay quiet before she calls out, "Cas?" When there is no answer, she gestures for him to go on and he looks even more amused than he had on her porch.
Klaus pulls a long dagger out from his jacket sleeve and puts it down on her coffee table. Her eyes widen. "An Angel Killing Sword," she says, a little shocked that something has gone their way. That has to bode well for the future, right?
"How did you find it?" Caroline wants to know, eyes not leaving the sword as she sits down on the sofa, slightly awed with her hand going to her mouth. He remains standing, arms crossed over his chest and a small, self-satisfied smile playing on his mouth.
"A careless human lost it to careless vampire," he says easily, a predatory gleam in his eye and he looks more like the Klaus she's used to seeing. She has got to stop forgetting who he is.
She fingers the handle of the blade lightly. "So two people died for this," she murmurs without looking at him.
"I'd be a little more grateful, love," he warns, voice cooling considerably as he turns towards her mantle, his back to her; she shudders. "Tracking that dagger down was no easy feat. A little appreciation would go a long way."
She snorts in derision. "Fine. I appreciate that you ripped out all the necessary hearts to get your hands on this. Happy?"
"It'll do for now," he allows, eyes fixed on one of the framed photos resting above her fireplace. She really doesn't like how he's just standing there, contemplating whatever picture he's looking at, so she flounces up off the sofa and marches to his side, gaze following his.
The Forbes-Winchester mantle is a veritable shrine to their family: Sam and Dean's high school graduation photos sit next to Caroline grinning brightly in her cheerleading uniform; Liz and John's wedding portrait is next to a picture that Caroline's pretty sure became a Christmas card. It's Caroline's favorite of all the photos above the fireplace—her, Sam, and Dean during some family beach vacation not long after their parents had gotten married. Their hair is tangled and sand covers their faces; Caroline's smile is missing several teeth; and Dean is laughing at something off camera while Sam is just grinning up at the photographer goofily.
"Lovely family," Klaus says quietly and she almost jumps, having nearly forgotten he was there. Her first instinct is to tell him off—the same dark eyes that are so focused on her gap-toothed smile have probably watched as thousands of people—all belonging, at some point, to a family—died brutally and she cannot afford to keep forgetting that.
But she also knows that he carried his own family around in coffins with him everywhere he went in some twisted attempt to keep them safe, so she settles for diplomacy and says, "Yeah. They're pretty great."
He pauses as though carefully considering his next words. "How did your brother end up in Hell?" he asks, shifting to look at the pictures of Sam and Dean in caps and gowns. Caroline swallows hard because even though she's relieved that he seems to have relaxed, she would really rather not relive that particular moment in her life.
"It's a long story," is all she says, looking away from the mantle with an air of finality. He doesn't push the issue, instead turning to look back at the sword.
"Do you even know how to use a sword, Caroline?"
The mood sufficiently lightened, she goes over to pick it up and examine it. "Nope. Sam went through a pirate stage though. We fought a lot of duels with tree branches."
Klaus laughs and she thinks, not for the first time that he would be a lot less scary if he would just lighten up. "And did you win them?"
She smiles a little. "Only because I didn't play fair." At his inviting expression, she explains, "Pulled all the little girl tricks. Cried, pretended to be hurt, threatened to tattle, the works. Eventually he just started letting me win." She studies the sword intently before subtly peeking over at him.
She can count on one hand the number of times she's seen Klaus, the person who had been alive once, instead of Klaus the ruthless hybrid, but it's not hard at all to tell which one she is seeing now. His eyes are softer, his face completely devoid of arrogance, and she thinks if she had only ever encountered this Klaus, they could have been friends.
He looks so human in that moment that she says in a hushed tone, "Sam died." His eyes snap up to meet hers and Caroline continues purposefully, "Sam died and Dean made a deal with a demon to get him back." Her grip on the Angel Killing Sword tightens. "He traded his soul to save Sam and the demon gave him a final year before he died." She shakes her head and says, unable to stop a little bit of bitterness from creeping into her tone, "All three of us have died before. How messed up is that?" There are tears threatening to start gathering at the corners of her eyes and she bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep them at bay. She drops the sword back on her coffee table and walks into the kitchen to pull her thermos out of the fridge, standing against the counter as she drinks; her grip on her control waning. Klaus follows her into the kitchen and when he sees her face, his own turns sympathetic.
"I lost a brother once," he says quietly, coming to lean next to her. "We were together and—he was quite young. My—Mikael was never the same. He had always hated me, but," Klaus shrugs a little, "it turned into something else after that." His hand goes to the back of his neck ruefully. "I was desperate to keep my remaining family whole and after centuries of running I acted on that desperation."
She thinks back to Tyler and Homecoming and mumbles, "Good intentions but bad, bad execution." It's a strange feeling, bonding with the villain in the most recent chapter of her life. Caroline considers him before venturing, "If you were like this more often, people might actually like you. You wouldn't need a hybrid army or to sire bond people into wanting to be around you." Caroline Forbes, she thinks to herself. Here to bitchslap you with the truth. She feels a frisson of fear snake down her spine when his face turns thunderous, but she's pretty sure he won't be ripping her heart out this late in the game.
"Yes, well my hybrid army is due to arrive back in Mystic Falls any day now," Klaus says harshly. He straightens and his eyes narrow at her. "And since the secret is out, it would be best if you and your angel," he fairly spits the word at her, "came up with some sort of halfway decent plan. Before I have to resort to extreme measures." He leaves the rest of the threat unsaid—before I have to start hurting the people you love. Every muscle in her body goes rigid, because seriously, it's not like they're all sitting on their asses here, waiting to be smote.
With her temper flaring, Caroline has no idea how she's managing to keep her cool, or what possesses her to continue her giant leap over the line (that's a lie—she has a bad habit of not backing down when she's pissed, a trait she picked up from one Dean Winchester). She goes right for the heart. "I get it," she says calmly as he makes to storm out. "Your father didn't love you, so you're afraid no one else will either." He whirls around and she finds herself shoved forcefully into her stove, his arms on either side of her, trapping her in between them. His face is a hair's breadth away from hers and his eyes are turning yellow. Her breath catches but she clenches her fists where they remain at her sides and says with perfect composure, "I think you should leave now." She sends a brief internal thank you to God, or whoever, when her voice doesn't shake.
He's gone before she can blink.
...
Caroline leaves a note on the counter for Castiel telling him she's decided to spend the night at Bonnie's house (because she really doesn't relish the idea of being home alone when there's a possibly maniacal hybrid who happens to be extremely pissed at her wandering around) along with the number for pizza delivery, twenty bucks and instructions to tip. She leaves a separate note for Liz on the dresser in the master bedroom, making sure to mention Dean's spaghetti demand. As she makes her way down Bonnie's street, she tries to cajole Elena into joining their sleepover.
"Please, Elena," she begs dramatically into her phone. "We'll order Chinese food, watch Dirty Dancing, figure out how to fight angels…you know, girls' night!"
Elena laughs and says, "Fine, Care. But I'm eating dinner with Jeremy and Ric first, so you two shouldn't wait for me to order take out."
"Noted. Hey, Elena—which one hooked you? Patrick Swayze or angel war games?"
Her friend laughs again and Caroline beams. "Definitely Patrick Swayze," Elena says firmly. "Don't start the movie without me."
Bonnie opens her door before Caroline has even cut her engine off.
"You excited, Bon?" Caroline teases as she swings her bag out of the front seat.
"I think I figured it out," Bonnie says breathlessly, ignoring Caroline's question and grabbing her hand to drag her into the house.
"Figured what out?"
"That thing the witches kept repeating—revelations, revelations. I kept thinking I was going to see something, like in a dream or a vision, but that's not what it means, Care!"
"Okay," Caroline says slowly, dropping her bag onto the Bennett living room floor. "So what does it mean?"
Bonnie's eyes glitter and she points Caroline to the giant Bennett family Bible resting on the coffee table. "It means the Book of Revelation," she says reverently and Caroline's eyes go wide.
Once she gets her wits back, Caroline says, "Should we wait for Elena?" Bonnie shakes her head. "We can catch her up when she gets here."
Bonnie crouches down in front of her coffee table, opening the Bible to its final book. "It's very complex," she says, finger running down a page. "I can't make heads or tails of a lot of it." She looks up hopefully at Caroline. "Can we get your angel to help?"
"He's not my angel," Caroline reminds her. "And I haven't seen him since last night, so I don't know if he's even around." Bonnie frowns.
"But he'll come back soon right?"
"I think so," Caroline says, because she can't really imagine a scenario where Castiel just peaced out on them before the curtain on this whole thing even went up. "Do you think the witches mean anything specific about Revelation? Or was that just their warning hint?"
"It has to mean something," Bonnie says firmly. "Everything they say means something."
Something clicks in the back of Caroline's mind. Pretty sure their whole game plan is in there, Dean had said. "Bon," she says softly. "Cas said that—that this Apocalypse isn't God's doing, it's the Host of Heaven trying to draw Him out. It's not His version of how things are supposed to go. So…so what if the way to fight them is buried somewhere in here and that's what the witches are trying to tell you?"
Bonnie considers the thin pages thoughtfully. "But everything in the Book of Revelation is about destroying the earth," she reminds Caroline.
"Right, but shouldn't the things God uses in Revelation be for like, His use only? Isn't that His game plan?"
Bonnie sighs and rubs her forehead. "We need help, Care. Is there any way you can get Cas here?"
Caroline blows her bangs off of her forehead. "There's prayer," she offers, forehead bunching and eyes closing as she concentrates, making sure she adds her location to her Bat-signal. When she opens her eyes, hoping to see Castiel, it's still just Bonnie looking at her expectantly.
"Crap," Caroline mutters. "I guess—"
"Care," Bonnie says quietly, eyes focused on what Caroline hopes is Castiel behind her. She peeks over her shoulder and visibly relaxes.
"You should've left a note," she scolds Cas, turning all the way around. "I was kind of worried Rebekah had gotten you."
Castiel stares at her for a second, and she thinks he might be trying to discern if she's joking or not, before offering Bonnie his hand to shake. "Castiel. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett," he says politely.
Bonnie smiles back at him. "Yeah, you too." She gestures to the giant tome opened on her coffee table. "We're trying to find a way to stop all of this from happening."
Castiel sighs and sits down next to them. "The chances that you will be successful are very slim," he says bluntly and Caroline winces.
"But you're helping us," she reminds him earnestly.
"I am one and they are many," he says darkly and Caroline wrinkles her nose at him.
"I don't care what the odds are," Bonnie cuts in, her tone hardening. "We're protecting the people we love and if you won't help us, then I suggest you leave."
Castiel looks surprised and a little offended. "Of course I'm helping you. You just need to understand that you have very little chance of success."
"Thanks, Sunshine," Caroline says archly, more than a little Dean Winchester attitude seeping into her voice. "Because we hadn't figured that out yet." He looks confused and she clarifies, "Sarcasm, Cas."
His forehead quirks and then he says, "Your best option is to unite the supernatural creatures against the Host."
"Good!" Caroline enthuses, sending Bonnie a hopeful glance. "We've already got more hybrids coming—"
"You will need more," Castiel tells her sternly. "Demons, ghosts, the djinn, shapeshifters, tricksters—"
"How many supernatural creatures are there?" Bonnie asks faintly.
Castiel looks surprised. "Many. All are deeply invested in the continued existence of the world."
"Why would demons not want Lucifer out?" Bonnie says suddenly and Caroline feels like a huge idiot for not wondering that herself. "Isn't he like their leader?"
"No," he says sharply. "He would rule them with an iron fist."
Caroline's hands go to her temples. "Wait—so he's not in Hell."
Castiel frowns at her. "He is in Hell. Trapped. He has no control over the demons and if he were released, they would be forced to bend to his will. The demons will be eager to help, and they will bring the hellhounds."
"Hellhounds," Bonnie repeats, looking stunned.
He nods. "Hellhounds drag souls to Hell." Immediately he looks guilty and turns concernedly to Caroline.
She is frozen in place. "What?" she whispers, blood roaring through her ears. "They—they drag souls to—oh my God." Her eyes squeeze shut, one hand covering them. He's out, he's out, he's out, she repeats to herself internally. She squares her shoulders and says fiercely, "I'm fine. It's fine. Continue."
Castiel gestures towards the Bennett family Bible. "The creatures of Armageddon described in Revelation are to be used by the Lord, not by angels. They would not take kindly to the discrepancy."
"So they won't do what the angels say?" Bonnie asks confusedly and Caroline has to admit her head is spinning slightly.
Castiel fixes them both with a look. "They will not know the orders are not the Lord's."
Realization dawns. "We have to find them first," Caroline says softly. "How do you even find—" she glances down. "Four Horsemen?"
"I'm searching," he says tiredly and for the first time Caroline sees the dark smudges under his eyes and wrinkles in his khaki coat.
"Cas," Caroline says gently. "Go home. Get some sleep. We'll talk about it when Sam and Dean come back tomorrow."
Before he takes her advice, he reaches towards Bonnie and says, "May I?" Bonnie looks to Caroline for confirmation; when Caroline shrugs, Bonnie says, "Yeah, okay."
Castiel touches her shoulder and Bonnie gives a cry of pain, hand flying to her ribcage. "They can no longer find you," he says solemnly before nodding a goodbye to Caroline and vanishing.
Bonnie's eyes are watering when she turns to Caroline, hand still splayed over her side. "Hiding sigil," Caroline explains sympathetically. "Hurts like a bitch, huh?"
...
She wakes up in a tangle of limbs and Elena's elbow digging into her back. The sun is streaming through Bonnie's curtains as Caroline tries to slowly free herself from the pile without waking anyone else up.
"Care, so early," Elena mumbles in protest, burying her face in her pillow.
"Sorry," she whispers back, sliding her foot out from under Bonnie's knee. "I gotta get home. Tell Bonnie bye fore me."
"M'kay," Elena agrees sleepily before passing right back out. Finally detangled, she runs her fingers through her hair, trying to halfway tame it, and replaces her pajama bottoms with jeans.
She runs into Mr. Bennett drinking coffee in the kitchen. "Good morning, Caroline," he greets her warmly. "I would have woken you girls up in time for school—you didn't have to set an alarm."
Caroline smiles back at him and says, "Oh, no, Mr. Bennett, I left my school bag at home, so I needed to get up. Thanks for letting us stay over."
"No problem. Tell your mother hello for me."
She nods as she slips out his front door, pulling her phone out and calling Sam.
He answers on the first ring. "We're on the way now, Care."
"Good," she says brightly, climbing into her car. "Was everything successful?"
"I'd say so," he answers. "We won't be home before you have to go to school though."
"Since everything went fine, can you at least give me a hint what you were doing in D.C.?" she whines, pulling out onto Bonnie's street.
"Long story. Tell you at dinner."
"Fine," she groans, hanging up.
When she pulls into her own driveway, the Sheriff's car isn't there and Caroline feels a flutter of disappointment. She's barely seen Lid in days and she makes a mental note to come up with a sound argument for her mother to work less.
When she lets herself in, she spies Castiel sound asleep on the couch and smiles to herself as she makes her way into her bedroom. Dropping her bag on the floor by her door, she goes to her desk to start putting books into her backpack when she spies something glittering on her nightstand.
Apprehensively, she slowly makes her way to her bedside table and sure enough, the diamond bracelet she had returned to Klaus has found its way back to her.
A/N: Apologies for any mistakes. Hopefully this chapter is long enough to tide you lovely folk over until next week. Until then, let me know what you think and review!