Chapter Seven: Confessions

"And that is why, Caroline, I'm coming to New Orleans."

Caroline's hands shook violently as she gasped and dropped the phone, taken aback by Damon's love confession. The air escaped her as she staggered backwards, seating herself on the edge of the closest chair. "This can't be true. It's just a nightmare, Caroline. Soon you'll wake up and he won't love you anymore," she prayed, attempting to swallow the dryness in her throat. Damon knew that she was married, that she was happy, and yet he had still decided that he now loved her.

"No no no no no…" a constant stream of denials became her mantra as she stared pensively at the floor. Back when she'd known him, the older vampire had used her, abused her, and she hadn't exactly appreciated his initial efforts to murder all of her friends. Whilst she knew she had a knack for overcoming these circumstances — as she had previously done with Klaus — she hadn't seen Damon in years. She couldn't fathom that he could even feel friendship towards her, let alone love. Her feelings for him were purely platonic, verging on the edge of what she had believed to be a mutual dislike. His admittance to his affection for her not only made her uncomfortable, but also complicated her already exhausting relationship with Klaus.

"Caroline, love, whilst I appreciate that 'no' is a very sophisticated and elegant word, your new-found obsession with the term is tempting me to rip my own ears off. I suggest that you either find a different expression to satisfy your voice or find an alternative way to use that pretty little mouth of yours. You'll soon realise I have a few ideas for that last recommendation." Caroline's eyes flashed up, her mind immediately registering her husband's speech. She responded to his words by shaking her head at him, attempting to indicate that she was in no mood for his badly timed sarcasm. Much to her annoyance he only winked at her, a sardonic smile sneaking onto his face.

Not now, Klaus," she sighed, placing her head in her hands. She dug her nails into her forehead, her hands trying to claw Damon's confession out of her memory. When he saw blood dripping from her nails onto the floor, Klaus imprisoned her hands, holding them tightly against his chest.

"Now, now, sweetheart. Let's not get too hasty. That's an antique carpet from the 1880s and if you haven't noticed, it's white. I would much prefer that you bleed yourself to death in the kitchen. I find that the tiles in there are rather unpleasant and I'd like an excuse to replace them. By all means, make your mess, but please take it elsewhere." Klaus' smirk only grew wider as Caroline grew more and more irritated with him. He was always unperturbed in these situations, continuously meeting every event with tenacious sarcasm. Here she was, again trying to think of some way to rid them of the new difficulty Damon had created in their lives, and all Klaus could do was joke about it. Granted, he did not know what was going on, but she still desired that he'd take her personal dilemmas more seriously.

Whilst she didn't want Damon's attention, the voicemail he'd left her had all the facts right. He was selfish, he was making a bad decision, and he would never have her. However, despite the veracity of his words, he was still wrong about one thing. He'd told her she was happy. The truth was, Caroline wasn't happy, and she had no idea why she felt like she would never be again.

Klaus' playful smirk quickly dropped when he suddenly noticed a malicious maelstrom thundering through Caroline's eyes, obliterating the stars that had always resided there even in daylight. He quickly adopted a more serious countenance, continuing to intertwine their hands on his chest.

"Love, dealing with your personal issues wasn't exactly on my itinerary for today. However, since it's you, I'll make an exception and elevate your fickle drama to the top of my priorities. Caroline, would you care to tell me what's going on?" Klaus moved one of his hands to her face, keeping the other one wrapped around both of her hands on his chest. When her eyes shifted away from him, he moved his other hand to her cheek, forcing her to look at him. "What's wrong, love?" His voice was gentle and soft as he attempted to coax the issue out of her. Confusion and hurt drilled into Klaus' heart when Caroline attempted to look away from him again, shame now inhabiting her pupils.

"Caroline, sweetheart," Klaus said, his words becoming a little more forceful, "I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong." He watched her closely as she wordlessly tugged her hands out of his grasp, reaching for her phone on the floor. Knowing she would probably regret this decision later, she found Damon's message and passed the phone to Klaus. Caroline moved to the opposite side of the room: not just to get away from his inevitable anger but also to hide from the possibility of having to listen to the recording again. She only heard snippets of Damon's confession as she wearily watched Klaus' face slowly becoming adorned with a furious frown.

She winced when she heard her phone smashing against the wall above her, a million tiny pieces of glass raining on her head in an idealised dance, sharpened with exquisite and fastidious pain. When she looked down she saw the small, sparkling shards embedded into her skin, coupling with her blood in a distinctive design of terrorised beauty. Hot, wet tears followed, joining the sharp and fiery dance initiated by her blood and the glass. None of this was her fault. Klaus had never been an abusive husband. When he'd expressed anger towards her in the past it had been in calm yet overly sarcastic tones, his displeasure shining through the expression on his face and the sound of his voice.

In a flash he was in front of her, hastily removing as many shards of glass from her body as he could. "Love I'm sorry." His voice was panicky and shaky, as if he hadn't known what the consequences of his action would be. "My attentions were focused on Damon Salvatore's message and I failed to realise that you had moved. I believed you to be beside me and, in order to quell some of my anger, I threw the offending object without considering where I had thrown it." Both Klaus' voice and face had become more desperate, begging her to believe that he hadn't known she was there, praying that she believed he would never intentionally hurt her.

Caroline hissed as he yanked a particularly large piece of glass out of her cheek. "Caroline, sweetheart, forgive me. Please. I promise it was an unintentional offence." She noticed that his tone had evolved to sound more deliberate, determined to make her understand that he needed her to redeem him from his accidental violence.

She attempted a small smile, but only managed a weak grimace as he continued to quickly wrench out the shards of glass dotting her skin. "Perhaps I will forgive you, but only on three conditions." Klaus paused for only a moment to raise his eyebrow at her before continuing on with his glass-removal mission. "Firstly, you owe me a new phone." He gave a slight nod, glad that this first request was simple and one which would have been completed even if she had neglected to demand it from him. "Secondly, we relocate to New Orleans as soon as possible. We need to be there when Damon arrives." Caroline evaluated Klaus' face, shrinking away from him slightly when his eyes narrowed a little. "And as for my last condition. When I go see Damon, and I will see Damon, I will go alone. No escorts. No spies. No over-protective husband to watch over me. Just me, by myself." She knew that this would be the hardest condition for Klaus to come to terms with, but she knew that when she went to speak with Damon she would need to face him alone.

"Love, I can condone the first two, but I will not tolerate your last request." Klaus looked her straight in the eye as he pulled the last glass fragment out of her now torn and tattered arm. Caroline felt her anger rising, her blood beginning to boil as her eyes became narrow slits.

"You will tolerate it and you will respect my choices, Niklaus. I am a grown woman who makes her own decisions. You've forced me to make my own decisions for our whole married life! You've been there for how long? Four or five months in the last three years? Don't tell me that after all that time I've spend alone, you've finally decided to step in and control me because it suits you. I'm going to see Damon, alone, and that is final." Caroline had discovered that the only way to deal with Klaus' anger was to respond to it with her own stubborn fire. Eventually, he would grow tired of arguing with her. He loved her too much to quarrel with her for long and she knew that he'd soon give in. She was surprised, however, when he was a lot easier to convince than she'd originally expected. She watched as his eyes softened, the anger on his face now replaced by worried distrust.

"The Salvatore brothers are highly talented in seducing women who are already spoken for. How can I be sure, Caroline, that all you will be doing is talking?" Caroline was saddened that her husband's trust issues had again resurfaced. She'd thought that he'd realised that love meant loyalty and she was not the type of person who would be unfaithful to anyone she was with, let alone her husband.

"Niklaus, there is nothing to worry about. I had Damon a long time before I had you, but I chose to leave him because he was controlling, he was cowardly, and he didn't love me. When I married you I made a choice. I chose to be with you, and only you. I love you, Niklaus. Do you understand what that means? I means that I chose you over the other 7 billion people in the world. It means that I decided to remain by your side always, even in times when we have no hope. It means that I chose to fight for you until the very end. It means that I chose to be loyal, faithful to only you for an eternity. It means that I love you, all of you. The good side and the bad. It means that no matter what Damon tells me, no matter what he decides to do, he will never take away how we feel about each other. Nobody can take any of this away from you. I've given you everything I have. And if that's still not enough for you, Niklaus, then I really don't know what is."

She watched him slowly nod his head and bring his defeated eyes back to hers. He softly pressed his gentle lips to hers, using the gesture to show her that he was grateful for her heart-felt speech.

"Then, love," he said slowly, quietly, still unable to fully process the sentiment behind her words. "We'd better collect my sister. It's time we returned to New Orleans."


"I'm Marcel, and you're currently in my city." Disregarding Marcel's handshake scornfully, Damon turned and bent down to pick up their bags.

"Come on brother, we're obviously not welcome here." The dark haired vampire's lips curled up in a scowl, not pleased but also unsurprised at how things turned out. Having lived in New Orleans in the past, Damon was accustomed to the heavy supernatural activity throughout the city and he expected that they run into a little bit of trouble here and there. Mindful of the fact that the entire staff of this hotel were probably vampires, Damon, attempting diplomacy, reached into his wallet and took out a sum of cash, shoving it into Marcel's chinos. "Let's get the hell out of here, before he changes his mind," he whispered to Stefan as he made to walk out. Stefan, acknowledging Damon with a nod, knelt to gather his belongings, but a firm grasp on his elbow hindered his efforts.

Dropping the formalities, Marcel frowned, "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to leave." With a scarce flick of his chin, three more of the dark-skinned vampire's men surrounded Stefan, two securing his arms and the last blocking him off from Damon's view. The older Salvatore forgot completely about leaving the building. He wouldn't leave without his brother, but the rational part of his mind knew that starting a fight now would result in far too many casualties, including both Stefan and himself.

Hands facing upwards, Damon stepped forward cautiously, aware of the fact that there were more of his immortal kind hiding in every corner, braced and ready to pounce at any sign of a threat. "Look, we didn't come here to cause trouble. Just. Let. Us. Go." Damon emphasized every last syllable, trying to convince Marcel and every soul standing in the room that a conflict wasn't necessary; ironic, as Damon was usually the one to initiate dispute.

"Take him inside." Marcel's eyes were cold and uncaring, not even looking as Stefan was pulled away behind him, and down into the dark corridors leading to passageways below the ground floor of the hotel.

Damon, no longer able to contain his anger, allowed his fangs to tear through his gums as dark veins swelled and emerged just beneath his skin. Noticing the signs of an imminent threat, Marcel's men pounced upon the oldest Salvatore brother, making futile attempts to hold him down. Limbs flailing in a complex series of movements, Damon shook off each attempt to quell his feral rage. In what seemed like no time at all, his hands closed around Marcel's neck, fingers digging into dark skin. Blood flowed down from the wound, staining a mesmerizing tapestry in its wake. Damon's attention was momentarily ensnared by the twisted spectacle, and for one insipid moment he forgot his intentions to tear out the other vampire's throat. That one moment of hesitation, that one moment of ensnared attention, almost cost Damon his life.

Body lurching forward and contorting like a sick marionette, Damon's knees buckled and he sank slowly to the floor, dark blood staining his midnight black shirt, a gaping hole torn out the back. Falling backwards more rapidly than expected, Damon's head hit the marble tiles, black spots dancing before his eyes.

Using Damon's shoulders as a brace, Marcel wrapped his fingers around the stake, driving it deeper once more before wrenching it out and wiping the residual blood onto his jacket.

"I had hoped to interact with you in a more civilised manner. Had you not been so disrespectful, perhaps that may have been a possibility." Marcel's grin was infuriating, and along with the black swimming across his vision, red stained Damon's line of sight.

Unable to fight the darkness that craved to consume him, a faint ringing in his ears faded slowly, and he was briefly aware that it was coming from the phone he scarcely knew was held in his hand.


Small rays of light snaked in through the barred window, rudely awakening the older Salvatore. It wasn't only the harsh brightness assaulting his eyes, but also the deep burning that spread through his fingers. Damon quickly withdrew his arm, bringing it into the shadows as he slowly put the pieces together. He remembered what happened the night before, and he panicked for a moment, realising that he had absolutely no idea where his brother was. Wincing slightly, he pushed himself up against the cold and dreary cement walls, stained with years of graffiti, dirt, and dried blood. Finally accepting the fact that he was imprisoned at the bottom of the Hyatt, the first thought that came to his mind in order to escape was to break through the window's bars. Mentally shaking his head, he remembered that he no longer had his daylight ring on him, and attempting to do so would result in him bursting into a column of flames. Sighing deeply, he knew he was going to be held up for a long while. That, at least, was what he thought until he heard a phone ringing. Patting himself down, the familiar lump of his cell phone was nowhere to be found. Disgruntled, he stood up and began to pace behind the iron bars, hearing the phone - his phone - ringing over and over again. Stopping in his tracks, the ringing resounded throughout the cracked stone hallways, sound slightly muffled by the thick moss and mildew, courtesy of small droplets of water raining down from the ceiling. Damon looked up, hearing footsteps pause in the front of his cell.

"This," Marcel brought up his hand, holding Damon's phone lightly between two fingers, "has been going off all night. It's beginning to get on my nerves…" His polite smile turned into a scowl. "Let's put an end to it, shall we?"

Finally, the ringing ceased. Damon had a faint glance of the caller ID, and was confused to see that it was a private number.

Adopting a much friendlier façade, Marcel spoke. "Marcel here. May I ask who is speaking?"

Only hearing mumbling on the other side of the line, Damon turned his back to Marcel and faced the wall. Freezing in place, he heard something that perplexed him, yet at the same time evoked some of the happiest emotions he's felt in a long time.

"Oh, hello, Caroline! So nice of you to call." Damon turned quickly, noticing as Marcel's face paled in realisation as the mumbling on the other side of the phone continued.

"Oh...I wasn't aware you were acquainted with Damon. He's um… a bit held up at the moment." Marcel continued to listen to the faint voice on the other end of the phone as his eyes became more and more worried, quickly becoming filled with trepidation.

Without another word, Marcel unlocked Damon's cell, thereby letting him free, and wordlessly handed the phone back, pointing him up the stairs. There was still no sign of Stefan.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys! One of us is on vacation so it'll take a while longer for updates :) Anyways, we hope you enjoy the new chapter! Also, look out for our Christmas time one-shot called 'Infinite', which will be up really soon! Thank you for reading and please review! Everyone's support is very much appreciated x