Dinner in Paris doesn't go as planned, but Caroline should have known that calling Klaus would have bloody consequences. (For Klaroween Bingo: "No, don't come any closer!"
"No, don't come any closer!"
Caroline froze at the genuine fear in Klaus's voice, though all she wanted was to go to him. He kneeled on the ground, pain contorting his face as bones started to snap. "What's happening?" she asked, but she had a bad feeling she already knew.
Misery and rage rolled off him in waves. "They're forcing my transition," Klaus answered tightly, veins protruding from his neck at the effort it took to hold back the urge to turn. "You need to run, sweetheart."
Or my wolf will catch you.
It was supposed to be a simple dinner date. Of course, Caroline should have known that nothing involving Klaus would be simple. Instead of going to her high school's twenty-year reunion, she decided to head to Paris on a whim. Calling Klaus to meet? Not exactly what she called a whim. Two decades since she left Mystic Falls and the hope of a completely human existence behind her, and she still couldn't shake the guilt that the big, bad hybrid gave her butterflies she didn't dare explain. Well, maybe butterflies weren't the best metaphor - vampire bats flapping around all threatening and willing to take a bite of her at any moment seemed to more accurately encompass what the idea of Klaus did to her nervous system.
And that was just the idea; when she actually saw him waiting on the Pont des Arts with a rose dangling from his fingertips, Caroline would have sworn all those bats developed rabies (mentally apologizing for the unfair stereotype) with how frantically her blood started to race. "I thought I said you weren't allowed to buy me a corsage," she called out, pleased at the slow smirk spreading across his face.
Klaus turned to face her, eyes raking over the blue silk dress she wore and the long line of leg it showed. The hand holding the white flower rose toward her. "And here I thought your call meant a truce of sorts."
Rolling her eyes, Caroline was already striding toward him and accepting the rose, thorns and all. Apparently, she wasn't the only one with metaphors on the mind. "You know what I love about Paris?" she asked with an appreciative glance for the fine cut of his suit.
"The fashion?" he teased, tugging at his sleeve as though he dressed for her approval. "The food, the art?"
She shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving his. "Your cheesy lines almost work here," she answered, tossing the rose over the bridge and smiling at the small splash as it landed in the water. "And it's the perfect place for a fresh start."
His chin tilted up, almost stubborn. "Forget everything that happened, just like that?"
"Forget, no. No, I won't forget the pain you're capable of inflicting, or the cruel plans you have stored away at a moment's notice." Caroline reached for the tie he wore, stroking the delicate embroidery. "But maybe there's a chance for us to...be friends."
Friendly was definitely not the best term for the ensuing dinner, what with her foot halfway up his pant leg under the table with his hand individually caressing her fingers on top. It was nice to flirt, to let him adore her openly without the verbal cut she had once used as a shield against his charms. In Paris, though, Caroline was allowed to be charmed. They talked for hours over the course of the meal, Klaus regaling her with stories of the dishes they were eating or asking about her own adventures since the night he'd promised to be her last love. And for a moment - just a moment - she could admit the promise wasn't just the bluff of a man saying goodbye. But before Klaus had a chance to prove it, the witches showed up.
The dessert wine was dosed with wolfsbane and vervain, which Klaus regrettably failed to notice until he was spitting out the first sip. Wine and blood sprayed across the white tablecloth, the sores left on his mouth slow to heal. He grabbed her hand to flash them from the restaurant, eyes wary for enemies. "I didn't smell anything," Caroline said as they ran. "We should have been able to smell it."
"Not if witches are invol-" He stopped them short at a line of people blocking their way, hands raised. Breathing hard, Klaus gripped her arm too tightly. "Run," he murmured.
"Klaus, no-"
He shoved Caroline a few feet away, showing that the witches weren't focused on her. And she nearly did run, until he crumpled to the bricked road with a pained shout. "Klaus!"
"No," he gasped, hand pressed to his chest, "don't come any closer!"
Caroline snapped out of the mournful memory of what their night almost was, and instead worried how best to handle the situation at hand. There were two pressing threats, Klaus growing fur and the witches making him do it. "What do I do?" she muttered to herself, fists clenched before she did something stupid that got half of Paris killed.
"Run!" Klaus yelled again.
So, she did. Caroline flashed between two of the witches and grabbed them by their throats. Her nails dug into flesh, releasing the scent of blood for her fangs to drop. They scraped at her lip as she smiled at the group. "This is seriously your plan? To let a wolf - no, a hybrid - loose in the middle of Paris while you're standing within thirty yards? Even if I didn't know you're stupid enough to go after Klaus freaking Mikaelson in the first place, I would definitely question your strategy here."
Some of the younger ones turned to the old man in the center, whose eyes were trained on the girl Caroline held in her left hand. "D'accord," he said, and she didn't like that it sounded like an order. Sure enough, the girl pulled a stake from her jacket. Closing her eyes for a moment, Caroline tossed the girl away and bit into the other one's neck before dropping her to the ground.
With bloody lips and half the coven's attention, Caroline picked up the stake and the girl who'd tried to wield it, holding it over her very human heart. "Stop whatever you're doing to Klaus, and she lives."
"Kill them," Klaus groaned, his voice fallen savagely hoarse.
"Shut up." Caroline focused instead on the old man, and pressed the stake in until she could smell the girl's blood stain it. "You're about to have a bigger problem on your hands than just me. Stop."
The man scowled, a violent rage blooming behind his eyes. "Arretez," he bit out.
As soon as the others dropped their spells, though, Klaus had sped to remove two hearts. Caroline held onto the girl and made her watch as he tore off the old man's head, blood dripping from his bedraggled suit. "You see," she whispered into the girl's ear. "This is what happens when you match poor instincts with worse planning. Find yourself a coven with better self-preservation habits, and be sure to tell them what you learned tonight." She finally let go, watching the girl run off into the night. Turning to Klaus, she couldn't help but run her tongue over her fangs. "Are you okay?"
He reached for her face, tracing a thumb over the veins darkening her eyes. "You didn't run."
Her shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. "I don't leave my frien-"
Klaus pulled her toward him before she could finish the word, pressing his lips to hers in a hungry kiss. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she greedily sucked the blood lingering on his tongue. They were never really supposed to be just friends, anyway.
