A/N: Blurg. So two things. Actually three, if I'm counting usual thanks for the follows and favorites. (Yes. Thank you!) The first thing is that, in case you're wondering, I'm planning on having about twelve chapters in this story. Or maybe eleven. But probably twelve. The second thing is that school is starting again for me, so I honestly have no idea what that'll do to my whole writing schedule. I apologize in advance if it's weird, which it probably will be. My goal is to finish this story before TVD and The Originals are on the air again in October.

It didn't take too long before Caroline started having dreams again.

There was one that showed up night after night, and it started with Elena. They were in the high school gym, the floor littered with paper cups, the scoreboard on the wall flashing. Caroline heard the click of her high-heeled boots as she weaved around the cups toward the center of the court. Elena sat there, crying in to her hands, illuminated in red by the scoreboard lights.

"What is it?"

Elena couldn't speak, only continued to sob, her hands covering her face. Caroline stepped forward, slowly realizing that the red wasn't just from the light—there was a gaping wound in Elena's neck, blood running down her side, staining her shirt and her hands.

"Oh my God…" she ran over to her. "What happened?"

Elena shook her head, still hiding her face from view. Caroline was starting to panic. She didn't know what to do, or what had caused this, or if whatever it was was still here, hiding in the shadows…

Why couldn't Elena just tell her? Caroline grabbed her face, forcing Elena to look at her. "Just tell me what happened, what was it…"

But when she finally showed her face, it wasn't Elena after all. Her neck cracked as Caroline turned it, and the face she saw turn pale was Jenna's. Her eyes were glassy and distant, and she slumped on the floor. Dead.

"Oh God…" Caroline backed away. She tripped over the cups on the floor that she'd thought were full of water. As she fell to the ground and felt the liquid run over her hands, she saw that it was blood, all of it was blood, in little paper cups…

She was running now, had to get out of the gym, had to get out—

But somebody was standing in her way. It was Stefan, his eyes empty and cold. "Have you forgotten?" he asked her. "Have you forgotten?"

And that was always the last thing she remembered.

The fragments of the dream always floated away in the early morning sunlight, smothered by Klaus's hands.

XXX

Summer felt like it was flying by, although everything felt like summer in New Orleans. She had spent only a few weeks here with Klaus—what was a few? Three or four or six? It was hard to keep track—but she would pass by a shop selling school notebooks and folders or catch a glimpse of the date on her cell phone which she hardly checked anymore and be reminded that the real world, with time passing and leaves changing, still existed somewhere out there.

She'd told her mother, hastily throwing clothes in to her suitcase, that she was going to Mexico. "You said I should travel more, right? Well, this is my last chance before college…" She'd said that there was no cell phone service, and not to bother calling. When she finally came back, she'd also have to think of a reason why there weren't any pictures or souvenirs.

She'd told Klaus about that, and he'd laughed, saying that she wasn't missing much, staying away from Mexico, and wasn't it so much better here? Obviously he'd started thinking about the fall, too.

There was time to worry about things like that, now that their situation with Marcel was quiet again. Even the witches were quiet. At first it had unnerved her. It had seemed too easy, too sudden, and she still looked over her shoulder whenever she went outside for the first week or so after the party. The deal Klaus had struck was simple: Marcel wouldn't hurt Caroline—or any of the Originals, if they ever decided to show their faces—and in exchange, Klaus wouldn't hurt Marcel or any of his clan.

"So, win-win, right?" Caroline had said.

"Right," said Klaus, although he wouldn't look her in the eye.

XXX

In the quiet, Klaus finished the painting of Caroline. The light was never the same after that particular rainy day, but Klaus had something like a photographic memory, at least when it came to her.

Caroline stepped in to the front room one day and it was just done, without any announcement or celebration. Klaus wasn't even in the room when she saw it. She stood there still, taking it in.

He had made her beautiful, that was a given. She recognized the girl in the painting as herself, but also, at the same time…not herself. Or maybe more herself. The girl, looking off in to the distance with a faint smile playing on her lips, radiated warm light in the cold grey atmosphere. She was Caroline the way he saw her: a light in the darkness.

She'd gone to find him, to tell him how much she loved the painting, but when she was standing in front of him, she couldn't seem to say anything. The word 'love' got stuck in her throat, and she couldn't think of a combination of words that would express what she wanted to.

That was a difference between them: between human Caroline and the person she was now. The human, younger version of Caroline was always desperate to say something, even if it was something she probably shouldn't have said. The new Caroline knew that there were some things you couldn't say with words.

She'd imagined sleeping with him, more and more since they'd kissed, though she'd been trying not to in the midst of everything. She hadn't exactly planned on it, but she hadn't exactly not, either. And though she'd wanted it to happen, with his temper and history and ages of experience the idea was also a little…intimidating.

But he had surprised her. He undressed her slowly, so much so that she was on the point of begging him to, god, just do it already. She was used to high school boys, who were frantic and needy and fast. Klaus was none of those things. He seemed awed by her, taking the same care he would—and did—with a work of art. What she remembered most from that afternoon was the soft purple light and Klaus's skillful hands and him saying over and over again, "I love you, I love you" and not expecting her to say it back.

Caroline fell asleep in his arms that night and awoke the next morning with the memory of that dream, hearing those words for the first time: "Have you forgotten?"

XXX

"I need to do something," Klaus announced suddenly one afternoon. "About this whole Marcel situation."

It might have seemed out of the blue, if Caroline hadn't been paying attention. She'd noticed the looks Klaus gave Marcel's clan whenever he saw them out walking. She'd been all too aware, just as he was, that, yes, they weren't technically fighting anymore, but it was still two against however many and those weren't the kind of odds that Klaus liked to play. And he wasn't the type to keep underground.

"It's just a problem of numbers, really," he said, and he was half talking to Caroline, who was listening from the next room, and half thinking aloud. "I just need more people, that's all."

"Hasn't that always been your problem?" Caroline asked. She was in the bathroom, putting a curling iron to her hair in a lazy, experimental kind of way. The days were boring lately. She was getting used to Klaus's schedule, and he liked to be out at night.

He laughed softly. "Yes, I suppose so."

"What about Elijah or Rebekah? I thought they were supposed to come with you."

Klaus came to stand at the doorway, watching her work. "They're not exactly reliable," he said.

"Well, who else, then?" she asked, setting the curling iron down on the counter.

He ran his fingers absent-mindedly through her newly formed curls. Caroline's hair was stubborn and liked to be straight and settled in to a soft wave under his hands. She had been trying to concentrate on planning, Marcel, needing more people…but, god, it was difficult to concentrate these days when he touched her. She closed her eyes. "I don't know," he said. "Why don't we go find out?"

XXX

Over the past few weeks, the two of them settled in to what Caroline almost could have called a domestic routine, though it sounded funny to say. They both slept late, and spent the late afternoon and evening out somewhere in the city. Caroline was sure that at some point Klaus would run out of places to show her, restaurants to take her to, galleries and parks and bars and late night jazz clubs where they danced close and she shivered as he whispered in her ear everything he wanted to do with her when they got back home. But though she still liked to tease him for being an encyclopedia of the city, she wasn't hoping for him to stop any time soon.

On this evening, though, Klaus wasn't exactly thinking of sight-seeing. As they swept through the streets, he had his eyes set on people passing by—though he also scanned corners and building tops for Marcel's boys. He still suspected, and Caroline couldn't blame him, that Marcel was keeping tabs on them both.

"So, what are we looking for exactly?" she asked.

"I'll know it when I see it," Klaus answered cryptically.

They weaved past people on the streets until they came to Chartres Street. It was a side of New Orleans that Caroline didn't often see with Klaus, who was used to fine, expensive things. A line of dive bars and strip clubs dotted the street, just now starting to let in patrons dressed in tank tops and painted gold jewelry.

"Seriously, Klaus, enough with the mystery. What are we doing here?"

He turned back, scanning the crowd again for anybody he might have seen with Marcel. He must not have seen anybody, because he lowered his voice and said, "We're looking for people. Humans." He smiled. "Recruits."

"What?"

"Look, if it comes down to me and Marcel, the fact is, the two of us aren't enough against his family. I need to have more people on my side. And they have to be strong…"

"So, they have to be vampires." Caroline finished the thought for him.

"Exactly."

This gave Caroline a small uneasy feeling, and she couldn't explain why until she started to actually say it: "So, you're just going to take random people off the street and turn them? What if they don't want to be vampires?"

"It seemed to work out fairly well in your case," Klaus said mildly. "Look, why do you think we're here? We're finding people who don't have much of a life and giving them a new one. It's a…public service, isn't it? I started doing it before you came here—you remember the girl who answered the door when you first arrived?—and I didn't hear any complaints."

"So," said Caroline, holding on tight to her disapproval, though she knew she would probably give it up eventually, "You just assume everybody on this street has no life?"

"Of course not," he said. He took her hand, jerking his head toward the sign above a small place on the corner called The Gold Mine. "Come on. I'll show you."

He led her inside. The whole place was very un-Klaus. It was brick wall on all sides—cramped, dark, and noisy. Instead of a band, there was one man in the corner playing slightly out of tune guitar, though it was hard to see because he was surrounded by people milling around, dancing unenthusiastically, or taking shots of tequila from the bar. They took their seats at a table against the wall, and Klaus told her to keep an eye out for anybody drinking alone. Caroline did, reluctantly.

People came and went as the night wore on, mostly in large, loud groups, and Caroline kept leaning over to Klaus to ask, "Shouldn't we try somewhere else?" Every time he shook his head and touched her arm in a way that meant, "Just be patient."

They waited a while longer until Caroline spotted a man alone in the corner. He was young, probably in college. He had small, delicate features and wore a button-down shirt which looked overly formal in this environment. He was hunched over with a glass of vodka and a copy of The Stranger. Caroline tapped Klaus and nodded towards the man. Klaus looked over, and then back at Caroline, smiling approvingly.

"Well spotted," he said. "I think I'll go say hello." Klaus got up and approached the man. Caroline pretended to be looking at the wine list on her table, but really she was listening in to what he was starting to say from a few feet over.

The man didn't look up until Klaus pulled an empty chair back and said, "Mind if I join you?"

He gave Klaus a wary look, but said, "Okay."

Klaus sat down. "So, what's your name?" he asked.

"Jamie."

"Nice to meet you, Jamie, I'm Nik," said Klaus genially. "What's that you're reading?"

Jamie seemed like he was reluctant to be interrupted, but he showed Klaus the cover of his book.

"The Stranger. Bit dark, isn't it?"

Jamie shrugged.

"So why is it you come here to read? There must be quieter places…"

Jamie held up his hands, defensive. "Look, man, if you want the table you can just ask, but I'm allowed to be here—"

Klaus didn't seem perturbed. "I'm not asking you to leave. I was only curious," he said.

Jamie eyed him, and didn't let down his guard entirely. Still, he said, "I don't know…I like the company, I guess."

"So, tell me," said Klaus—and though Caroline couldn't see, she guessed he was using compulsion, to make the whole thing go quicker—"What brings you to New Orleans?"

"My girlfriend and I came here after graduation. But she…we broke up, and now I don't know what to do with myself. I can't find a job, and I'm pretty much stuck here."

"Feeling lost? Tell me the truth."

"Yes," said Jamie.

Klaus glanced quickly over at Caroline's table as if to say, "satisfied?" She gave a tiny, grudging nod, and he turned back around to face Jamie.

"Well, isn't today your lucky day, then."

XXX

Jamie wasn't upset to be turned in to a vampire, or even to drink human blood. Though Caroline wasn't sure whether or not that was because Klaus was still compelling him. It was almost dawn by the time the whole thing was done, and Klaus told Jamie to go back home and wait to hear from him.

For the next few nights, the two of them repeated the process, each time in a different place so as not to arouse suspicion: find somebody lonely, find somewhere quiet, and turn them. A middle-aged tourist with a fanny pack full of collected postcards; a teenager on permanent spring break; a young divorcee lost in a bottle of bourbon.

It was sort of exciting, in a strange way, but Caroline still had an uneasy feeling. She pushed it away night after night. She was getting tired of feeling guilty, and of trying to figure out exactly what Klaus was planning. It was easier to just go along.

XXX

She was in the gym again, in the scene that was becoming all too familiar. Elena sobbing on the floor, the little paper cups full of blood, and her running as if she was being chased, trying to get out. She'd had the dream countless times by now, but every time the panic felt brand new. This time it wasn't Stefan who stopped her. Of all people, it was Mrs. Lockwood, her skin bloated, drenched in water.

"Have you forgotten?" she asked.

Caroline woke up to a pounding that she'd thought was the sound of her shoes on the linoleum, but was actually somebody knocking at the door. She was out of breath, disoriented. She wondered who would be knocking in the middle of the night, then realized it was actually eleven in the morning. All these late-night trips were turning her in to a real nocturnal vampire.

Klaus was missing beside her. He must have heard it first. Caroline leapt out of bed, going through a mental list of people who would be knocking at Klaus's door and not liking the options at all.

But stepping in to the front room, she saw Klaus open the door—and Elijah stood behind it.

He had been about to say hello, but instead he took in the scene in front of him: Caroline, standing in the background, wearing a shirt of Klaus's that she'd been sleeping in, the painting of her still set up on the other side of the room, and Klaus holding the door open, looking like he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

"God," said Elijah. "What have you two gotten yourselves in to?"