A/N: So, I'm back with an update! Sorry for the wait!
As usual, I've written more than I expected, so this is going to be more like a three or four parter.
I have to say thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! It's a relief to know there are still dedicated klaroliners out there who still want to read my writing.
"I see Kaleb grabbed you a change of clothes from the lost and found," Alaric noticed with an amused snort as he observed his clothing – grey sweatpants and a black sweater with the Salvatore crest on the chest – not his normal choice of attire to wear in public.
"He's a brave vampire," he said of the student who had vamped to the site of the mill on a full moon as he crossed the threshold into Alaric's office slowly.
He and Alaric had a tentative relationship at best. Their history was complicated – rife with efforts to put an end one another – it was only through Hope and Caroline that they remained reluctantly connected now. He knew that Alaric would always harbour a level of hatred for him underneath the feigned niceties he put forward for the sake of their daughters, and he supposed that he couldn't blame him for his feelings. From his perspective, he supposed he would always harbour a level of mistrust of the human and self-proclaimed vampire-hunter who had tried to kill him on numerous occasions. Despite that, and ironically, there was a sincerity about him that assured him that his daughter would always be safe at this school.
Alaric was standing pensively by the fireplace, which was lighting the room with the help of a few dimly glowing lamps.
"Well, I needed someone with speed to bring Caroline back to the school while you dealt with Hope and Elijah," Alaric explained, reaching for his empty glass tumbler from atop the mantel.
Alaric moved to his desk and retrieved a second glass and a liquor bottle from one of the bottom drawers.
He raised his eyebrows curiously while Alaric filled both glasses. He was surprised that Alaric would offer him a glass.
"When you have teenaged students you have to keep this stuff under lock and key…and spell," Alaric explained, referring to the school's student witches.
At first, he smirked at the thought of Alaric having to manage dozens of intoxicated supernatural teenagers, but with Hope a student at the school, he was appreciative that Alaric had taken such precautions. He'd been a real teenager so long ago that he'd forgotten how mischievous they could be. It'd prompted him to consider whether he'd been too trusting of Hope and whether better measures would need to be taken back home in New Orleans to ensure that his most prized liquor was protected from being squandered away as a mix of choice at some teenage party.
Alaric rounded back from the desk and handed him a glass, which he accepted readily. It had been a long day and smooth taste of the bourbon was a welcome reprieve from what was about to come.
"How is Elijah?" Alaric asked curiously.
"He should be secure for the time being with the aid of the sleeping spell Hope did before she took off," he informed Alaric. He had placed Elijah in another one of the school's basement cells to keep him contained until he was ready to depart for New Orleans. In the interim, he'd enlisted Freya and her connections to the Quarter witches to scour their grimoires for any way to rid Elijah of the dark magic.
"Let's hope so - the cell he busted out of earlier won't be an easy fix and if he breaks out of another one this time he'll be full of dark magic in a school full of kids," Alaric commented, his tone of voice laced with bitterness and judgment as he tipped his glass towards him sarcastically before taking a generous sip.
"Well, perhaps if you hadn't put Caroline up to telling Elijah, we wouldn't be in this predicament," he pointed out, equally as bitter, mimicking Alaric's gesture with the glass before taking a sip of his own.
"What are you talking about?" Alaric glared at him questioningly.
"Oh come on. Caroline as my little distraction was the go-to trick years ago. Surely you haven't learnt any new tactics," he said flatly with a shrug. If anyone was pathetic, it was him, however, as he continued to fall for it.
Alaric scoffed, placing his glass back on the mantel, before turning to face him directly. "Clearly you have a selective memory when it comes to the past. You took over my body, sacrificed my girlfriend to break your curse and did a hell of a lot more to the people that I care about. Why would I try to sabotage your plan to sacrifice yourself?" he shot back, denying any involvement in the unexpected turn the night had taken.
He considered Alaric's words carefully. His accusation may have been premature. Alaric had wanted him dead in the past, and there was no reason for him to believe that his feelings had changed despite all that had happened over the last decade insofar as his daughter was concerned.
"Perhaps you were after a different kind of revenge – one where you could revel in me enduring the pain of my brother's loss and the scorn of my daughter," he suggested.
While he often dealt swift revenge to those who would dare cross him, he reserved the more tortuous forms of revenge for those who he especially despised; perhaps Alaric was no different.
Alaric seemed angered by his comment. "Let's be clear, my involvement in any of this has nothing to do with any personal animosity I might have towards you. I wouldn't put my daughters in jeopardy, exposing them to more magic with the merge looming in the not-so-distant future, for the sake of my own vendetta," he stated firmly.
Quiet, he looked away guiltily at his suggestion. As a father himself, he could understand Alaric's position. He knew exposing the twins to stronger magic could influence their impending merge and so Caroline and Alaric's choice to allow them to siphon the dark magic from Hope was not a decision either of them had made lightly.
"Did it ever dawn on you that maybe, after seeing so many people she cares for sacrifice themselves in spite of her that for once, Caroline did one impulsive and selfish thing in her life for herself and for Hope by intervening and saving your sorry ass?" Alaric countered.
Caroline had always put herself before everyone. It was part of what he admired about her. Though, even she wasn't entirely selfless and it was possible that Alaric had a point. Perhaps after everything Caroline had been through and lost, she was taking a stand. The possibility that she was taking a stand for him was equally frightening as it was exciting. While it was all he ever wanted, it came with a weight of expectation. Perhaps he had his answer as to whether she would let him go through with his sacrifice.
"I would have supported Caroline if she needed to consume the dark magic for one of your daughters," he replied quickly in an attempt to dismiss Alaric's suggestion. Caroline had been so sincere in her willingness to help him earlier that day.
Alaric snorted in disbelief at his comment causing him to arch his eyebrow in response, surprised by his blunt reaction to his comment.
"Bullshit – you carted your family around in coffins for centuries. You know damn well that you would have done the same as Caroline if the roles were reversed. Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot you would have pushed me into the circle in her place and killed me yourself just to stop her," Alaric said bluntly.
"Well…" he started to protest.
Alaric glared at him incredulously.
"I suppose you're not wrong," he admitted, hiding his guilty expression behind the rim of his liquor glass as he sipped, knowing that there was no point in trying to dispute Alaric's suggestion.
Alaric was right. If the dark magic had afflicted one of Caroline's daughters and she had chosen to sacrifice herself, he would have sought out every opportunity to spare her – inclusive of forcing Alaric to take her place if it was possible, regardless of how much Caroline might have hated him for it afterwards.
"Caroline didn't push Elijah into the circle tonight," Alaric pointed out, coming to Caroline's defence. "So, before you take any of your frustration out on her, remember that Elijah walked into that circle and consumed the dark magic willingly."
Indeed, Caroline had not forced Elijah to consume the dark magic, regardless of her involvement in his intervention. She wouldn't have been strong enough to force Elijah, even if she had tried. Elijah had made the choice to consume the dark magic on his own and without coercion.
"It is possible that Elijah caught on to your plans on his own?" Alaric proposed.
He shook his head.
"Elijah was oblivious as to my plans until Hope and I returned to the school and he tried to stop me. Caroline was in town with us and then she showed up at the mill just before Elijah consumed the dark magic. It's too much of a coincidence," he concluded, knowing that Caroline had somehow been involved.
"And Caroline knew nothing of your plans to let Hope run free in the woods for her first werewolf transformation – no one did, by the way," Alaric interjected, the frustration in his voice indicating that he was not just upset about the danger he had inadvertently put Caroline in, but the students at the school who were not immune to werewolf venom. "Caroline wouldn't have put herself at risk like that all for the sake of distracting you," Alaric replied quickly.
"Perhaps," he thought.
"Perhaps? You don't have the luxury of being the reckless hero when you're a parent, Klaus. Our daughters need us. Hope needs you. Elijah has given you an amazing opportunity…a second chance to be the father you started out to be," Alaric told him sternly.
He eyed Alaric suspiciously.
"What kind of parent allows another man to die for his child?" he retorted. It seemed cowardly that he could just allow Elijah to make the ultimate sacrifice for his daughter in his place.
Alaric shrugged effortlessly. "The kind who loves her…who wants to spare her the pain of losing both parents so young…the kind who puts her needs and wants before his own ego," he argued back.
The pain in Hope's eyes as they put Hayley to rest caused Alaric's response to sting him unexpectedly.
"I love Hope," he affirmed, unbothered by admitting that to Alaric, though it was his most significant vulnerability. "But it's the way of the world," he started almost dismissively, "children bury their parents, it happens every day and every hour."
He'd lived throughout a lengthy period in history where the life expectancy of humans was not nearly as long as it was today and illness ran rampant. Death was commonplace.
"Yes, it does," Alaric agreed. "But, Hope loves you, too."
He mused at Alaric's apparent change in opinion about his survival. "You were all too happy to help me succeed in my suicide mission earlier today…you just said as much yourself. Why the sudden change of heart?" he wondered suspiciously. "You, more than most, know that I haven't lived an honourable life, but doing this, taking the darkness into myself so that no one else is afflicted by it would be an honourable death," he pointed out, as though trying to convince Alaric to revert back to his earlier position, as if that would in some way help matters now.
Alaric scoffed, a disbelieving smile crossing his features as he shook his head disappointedly in response to his comments. He glanced into the fire as he considered his next words.
"Hope just lost Hayley. She just got you back. Elijah's willing sacrifice has given you another way…it might not be a fast track to father of the year and it will be a lot of work – teenage girls can be brutal," Alaric paused with a scowl, obviously having first-hand experience with the species.
He smirked slightly, relating to Alaric's comment, knowing how insufferable Hope could be at times.
"This way ensures that Hope will have one of her parents in her life a while longer," Alaric explained. "And despite everything you have done to me, and though you may not deserve to have Hope, Hope deserves to have her father."
He nodded, accepting the sincerity of Alaric's comment. While the two of them may not have cared for one another, Alaric had taken his daughter into his school – as Caroline had done – and treated her as he would have any other student, despite who her father was.
"At this particular moment in time, I don't think Hope much cares to have me as her father," he admitted with a sigh, recalling to himself how Hope had thoroughly berated him and Elijah at the mill before knocking Elijah out with the sleep spell to stop him from implementing the final step in the plan. "She took off before I could talk to her."
"I don't think that's true," Alaric said of his comment about Hope's desire – or lack thereof – to have him as a father. "Hope's currently in the library with Dorian pulling anything she can to help Elijah," he informed him. "She's just upset and she's scared. She doesn't want to lose you or Elijah. She loves you both."
His mind eased at Alaric's revelation – reassured by the fact that while his daughter may have been angry with him for not telling her of his true plans to rid her of the dark magic she still seemingly cared about both him and Elijah.
"You know," Alaric started, staring down into the flames of the fire before looking back up at him. "Deep down, Caroline loves you too. I think a part of her has since your time in Mystic Falls. She saw something in you that none of us did," he revealed. "If Caroline was involved in Elijah finding out about your plans, it's because she loves you."
He felt conflicted about Caroline's involvement in Elijah interfering in his plans. On the one hand, this unexpected turn of events meant that he might lose his brother forever and the prospect of not having his unwavering support terrified him. On the other hand, all he ever wanted, as far as Caroline was concerned, was for his feelings to be reciprocated, and Elijah's sacrifice was a way for him have Caroline in his life in the way he had always wanted.
"Where is she…Caroline?" he asked Alaric, his mind turning to Caroline and her current state – suffering from a werewolf bite his daughter had inflicted. He hated to leave Caroline in pain, but he had needed to ensure Elijah was subdued first before he could focus his attention upon her.
"She's upstairs in her room in the faculty wing. Emma is with her trying to help her minimize the effects of the bite, but she's not doing well. She's barely conscious. The bite is affecting her quickly," Alaric revealed.
He sighed as he polished off the remainder of his drink, setting the empty glass down on Alaric's desk. Caroline's quick decline was likely the result of her past exposure to the werewolf venom, he thought to himself guiltily, recalling his regretful involvement in those prior occasions.
"Look, I know that you may have a lot of mixed feelings right now when it comes to Caroline, but my girls are worried sick about their mom…" Alaric started, "and after everything they did for you today, giving Caroline your blood is the least that you could do for them."
He pushed through the partially open door to Caroline's room quietly. It too was lit by softly glowing lamps and the flame from a stone-framed fireplace.
For the briefest of moments he admired the soft feminine features Caroline had installed in the room to set-off against the harsh masculine solid wood paneling of the tudor-styled rooms. If the design finishes didn't confirm that this was Caroline's room, the scent of fresh flowers, berries and vanilla certainly did.
The sound of Caroline's hoarse cough urged his attention upon Caroline herself.
On a chaise, in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket and barely conscious was Caroline. Her back was exposed as Emma wiped a wet cloth over her wound, triggering whimpers of pain from Caroline. Knowing that Emma was a witch, he suspected that the cloth was soaked with spelled with herbs of some kind.
"You'll be okay," Emma spoke to her soothingly.
His chest tightened. While it hurt him to see her in such a horrible state, he also felt immense relief at the sight of her, having believed that their earlier moments in the town square that evening would be their last ones.
Caroline's normally golden hair was dull and damp from sweat and her body appeared to be shaking from fever.
Every werewolf bite that Caroline had endured at been his fault, he thought remorsefully. The first bite, he had put Tyler up to, the second, he himself had inflicted, and the third, well, he had indirectly caused by setting Hope free for her first werewolf transformation. Perhaps his choice in that regard was irresponsible, but he'd been focused on what was best for his daughter, not anticipating that any vampires would be roaming the woods on the school grounds under a full moon.
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like Caroline's sudden appearance in the clearing at the last moment may have been unplanned – a split second decision Caroline had undertaken, but why? He wondered to himself.
"Where am I?" he heard her ask Emma, clearly disoriented, a hint that the hallucinations and delusions might be starting to set in. "Where is Klaus? Did Tyler kill him? Klaus's blood," she murmured almost incoherently as Emma tried to reassure her. Indeed, she was spiralling quickly and it would only be a matter of time before she began to pose a threat to Emma and the students of the school – particularly the ones with human blood in their veins.
He cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Emma glanced at him in the doorway and Caroline's eyes fluttered open at the sound of his interruption.
"Klaus," Caroline mumbled, a sense of panic seeming to hit her as she tried to force herself up from the chaise.
Emma tried to intervene, placing her hands on Caroline's shoulders to discourage her from getting up. Disregarding Emma's hesitation, Caroline rose stubbornly with her blanket in hand, standing shakily with the support of Emma's hand, who stood beside her cautiously.
He observed her dishevelled state regretfully.
"You're here, you're okay," Caroline spoke hoarsely, though her relief evident.
"I'm here sweetheart," he affirmed, taking a few tentative steps into the room.
Emma exchanged unsure looks between them both before nodding towards him. "I'm going to go check on Josie and Lizzie to see how they're doing," she explained.
While Emma was not a siphoner witch like Caroline's daughters were, she was still a witch with plenty of experience, and an effective guidance counsellor, inasmuch as he had gleaned from Hope, Hayley, and his own monitoring of the school.
Setting the bowl of spelled herbs and cloth on the side table beside the chaise, Emma moved towards him and the door warily, eyeing him suspiciously. He was sure his sordid history preceded him and his current presence at the school had left much to be desired.
"Take care of her," Emma instructed him sternly, almost as a subtle warning or threat.
He acknowledged Emma briefly with a nod, his eyes following her over his shoulder as she exited the room and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with Caroline.
"Klaus," Caroline said, barely as a whisper, seemingly defeated and exhausted from the night's events. Her legs began to buckle underneath her and she likely would have collapsed had he not acted on his reflexes and flashed towards her to break her fall.
"I'm here, I've got you, love," he told her as he scooped her up protectively, guiding her back to her position on the chaise, though this time he had curled her in his lap with his arms wrapped around her, hoping that his embrace, coupled with the blanket and the fire would warm her enough to stop her from shaking.
This is not how he had imagined the day unfolding when he'd first arrived at the school this morning. He certainly had not expected that Caroline would be sat upon his lap trembling from his daughter's werewolf venom.
He fully anticipated Caroline to have a brief moment of clarity through the haze the venom had created to rebuff him, but instead, he found her relaxing against his torso, her head resting in the crook of his neck against his shoulder.
"Klaus…I've been looking everywhere for you," she huffed, as though she was out of breath, her eyes closed. "Rayna Cruz…What happened?"
The hallucinations and delusions were definitely running their course.
"Shhh…" he said, tucking a loose strand of hair away from her face before his fingertips traced down the side of her neck to her back, inspecting the wound his daughter had caused. "You need to heal, you need my blood," he told her, not disputing her interpretation of reality in an effort to keep her calm.
He could see her veins pop around her eyes, obviously sensing the antidote that was coursing through his body so close to her lips.
Caroline looked up at him unsure, seeking permission to feed from him and he gave her a slight nod of his head. Her hand curled around his neck, drawing him closer to her distended fangs.
She pierced his neck and he gasped under his breath. Despite the circumstances, warmth spread through him, and a euphoric feeling stirred in his chest, distracting him from the fact that her fangs were buried in his flesh.
He cradled her as she fed from him, his one hand stroking her hair to hold it back as she fed, while his other drew circles absently on the skin of her upper arm. Perhaps his embrace was bold, but he needed to hold her and based upon how her body relaxed into his, she didn't seem to mind.
He released a subtle satisfied sigh. In the proper circumstances, with the right intentions – or wrong intentions (depending on how you looked at it) – blood sharing could be very intimate, he knew. Perhaps this is why these moments always felt so intense and overwhelming for him whenever Caroline fed from him.
It didn't help matters that her lips were pressed against his neck, her mouth sucking his skin – as though they were back in the woods all those years ago.
When she was sated from his blood, she pulled back from his neck, seemingly stopping herself from instinctively licking the two droplets of blood that he could feel at the base of his neck from the puncture wounds she'd inflicted on him that were already beginning to heal.
She released a muddled laugh from under her breath which startled him and took him by surprise. Her eyes fluttered as she floated in and out of consciousness as her face contorted into a disgusted but curious expression. "Why do you smell like you bathed in Axe body spray and sweat?" she wondered randomly.
He chuckled briefly in response, as he discreetly took in the scent of the borrowed clothing he was wearing. Of course, they would smell of hormonal teenage boy.
Her muscles tensed against him as her eyes shot open, seemingly more aware as his blood began to work its magic.
"What did you do to Tyler?" she demanded anxiously, suddenly appearing frightened, the delusions still clearly wearing their final course before she was completely healed.
He pushed down a smirk in response to the apparent insult she had made of the personal hygiene habits of Tyler Lockwood. While he may have found it amusing, Caroline's delusions had led her to believing that the past was very real and in those delusions he was, at times, very much her enemy still. He didn't want to scare her or overwhelm her with too much information.
As she tried to climb out of his lap, he gently but firmly tightened his grip around her waist.
"Sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe. It's 2026. We're at the Salvatore School," he informed her, allowing her a moment to process as she glanced around the room. The tension in her body began to ease as she appeared to recognize her surroundings, though the puzzled expression on her features told him that she was still confused, nonetheless.
"Your daughters, Elizabeth and Josette performed a spell to help my daughter, Hope," he continued, hoping her memory would fall back into place.
She reached over her shoulder to where the werewolf bite had been, searching for an explanation, obviously still under the belief that he had been the cause of it.
"You were caught in the crossfire, bitten by Hope when she was in her werewolf form," he reminded her.
"I don't…understand," she struggled groggily, her eyes clenching shut as she tried to make sense of two competing realities – the one that was in front of her and the one that was in her mind. She was growing frustrated, sensing that her memory was amiss but she couldn't put her finger on it.
He gave her a sympathetic look.
"You're still disoriented from the werewolf venom," he told her. "You need to rest and let my blood heal you so that everything will become clear again."
She was unsatisfied by his response, but seemed to understand it nonetheless, knowing that her confusion stemmed from the venom and that once it had left her system the reality of things would become clear to her.
"Let me help you to bed," he suggested, shuffling out from underneath her so that he could stand and offer her his hand.
Tired of trying to decipher her conflicting thoughts and memories, she acquiesced with a nod. She stood shakily, clutching the blanket to her body as he led her to the oversized antique-framed bed.
He pulled back the blankets for her as she sat down on the edge of the mattress slowly.
"Here…" he said as he began to pull off the Salvatore sweater for her to wear to bed.
"What are you…" she started to ask confused, glancing down as though to avoid looking at his torso, before he extended the sweater towards her.
"Put it on for bed," he instructed her, wanting to keep her warm and knowing that she'd want to be covered lest someone come to check on her through the night or in the morning. "I'll find another," he assured her, assuming that he could find a substitute somewhere in the school – having already been through a number of wardrobe changes that day.
"Thank you," she said as she lifted her arms to help him dress her.
He glanced away partially, trying to give her privacy while simultaneously trying to help her slip her arms into the sweater.
"It's nothing that you haven't seen before," she reminded him as her head slipped through the neck of the garment.
Apparently her foggy memory had allowed her to recall their tryst in the woods – perhaps a lapse in judgment to her and a memory that she'd rather not remember.
"Well, I didn't want to assume that you'd want me to see it again," he retorted cheekily in his own defence.
Truth be told, he didn't think there was a day in the last decade that his mind didn't wander to thoughts of her creamy skin flush against his in the woods of the Salvatore property.
"You weren't that bad," she mused as she clenched the fitted sheet and pushed herself onto the bed completely and against the pillows.
He smirked, helping her cover herself with the blankets, tucking her into bed. If circumstances had been different, perhaps she'd invite him to join her and he would accept her invitation – even just to lie next to her while she slept.
"Sweet dreams, Caroline," he whispered to her as she eagerly allowed her eyes to fall shut.
He turned to leave, but she reached for his wrist while he was still close. He tensed, wondering if maybe his thoughts would become a reality – circumstances aside.
"Where are you going?" she wondered with concern, still seemingly unsettled by her clouded memory and confusion.
"I have to return to New Orleans," he informed her. "Elijah needs my help," he explained, hoping his reason would be sufficient without causing her anymore distress.
She nodded passively, appearing to understand though it was obvious her memories of the night's events remained uncertain. Her eyes fluttered open and shut as she fought the sleep she so desperately needed.
"Klaus, why do I have this horrible feeling that something is wrong…that something terrible happened tonight that I was a part of, but I can't explain it?" she said wondering, her eyebrows furrowing as the bridge between them tensed.
He frowned guiltily, regretful for having her involved one of his messes, while also frustrated that she was somewhere in between consciousness without a clear recollection of the night, preventing him from being able to question her as to what had happened with Elijah.
Refraining himself from giving any more details or questioning her about the nights events, he traced his thumb over the back of her hand.
"Rest assured, sweetheart, everything is okay. Our daughters are safe – that's all that matters," he told her.
This seemed to placate her once more.
"And just know, once things are a clearer to you in the morning, that I meant everything that I said to you today," he affirmed.
She gasped for air as she shot upright from a terrible nightmare, disoriented and confused.
In her dream – or nightmare – she was running breathlessly through the woods of the Salvatore property with werewolf Hope on her heels in pursuit as she tried to reach the clearing near the mill to stop Klaus and Elijah from making the ultimate sacrifice. With every stride she took to reach the clearing, it seemed to move further away, and every time she tried to cry for help no sound left her lips.
It was a relief to know that had been a dream, but she knew that it was based in reality. Her most immediate real memory was of reaching the clearing to see Klaus on the verge of surrendering himself to the dark magic while Elijah contemplated his intervention before she was attacked and knocked to the ground by Hope in her werewolf form.
She covered her eyes with her hands as she tried to adjust to the daylight trickling into the familiar room through the cracks in the drapes that concealed the large windows of her private quarters of the Salvatore School. Somehow, she had managed to make it back here to bed the night before. She wasn't exactly sure how that was possible, considering what little she could remember of the previous night.
Rubbing her eyes, she slowly started to peer through her fingers as she adjusted to the light.
Pushing back the heavy blankets she scanned the room, reacquainting herself with her surroundings, she jolted backwards and released a small but audible gasp when she spotted a haggard-looking Hope wrapped in a blanket on her chaise lounge staring pensively into the dwindling flames of the fireplace, a stack of what appeared to be old grimoires on the side table next to her.
Hope's attention quickly turned in her direction at the sound of her surprise and her movements on the bed, a brief look of relief overtaking her features.
"Hope?" she said with a questioning tone, acknowledging Hope's presence, though confused by it all the same.
It was unusual for Hope to be in her room – faculty quarters were generally off limits to students – though she'd made many exceptions for Hope when she was younger and plagued with nightmares that prevented her from being able to sleep through the night.
"Caroline," Hope replied, anxiety evident in her voice as she stood from the chaise hurriedly and rushed to her bedside. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?" she asked worriedly, giving her a once-over inspection for any sign of injury.
She clenched her eyes closed and opened them again in an effort to think clearly. "Things are a bit fuzzy, and I'm feeling a little rough," she paused, reaching over her shoulder and under the sweater she was wearing to inspect where she had been bitten. "But, I'm healed," she realized.
Hope smiled solemnly as she sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
She glanced down at the sweater curiously, knowing it was not a part of her wardrobe. It smelled of teenage boy – but intermixed she caught the scent of someone else – someone more familiar.
"Klaus," she spoke absently, trying to mine for memories as to what might have happened after she blacked out the second time. Obviously Klaus had healed her – his blood was the cure. She thought back to what she'd seen in the clearing by the mill before her memory failed her. "Where is your father? Elijah? What happened?" she asked Hope worriedly, unable to control her anxiety for Hope's sake as she became even more panicked with every query she made.
She watched Hope's features fall. While Hope seemed sad, anger seemed more prominent.
"Uncle Elijah consumed the dark magic," Hope revealed. "When I attacked you, dad transformed to his wolf form to protect you. Uncle Elijah took advantage of the opportunity to enter the circle and Josie and Lizzie transferred the dark magic into him."
The exchange she had with Elijah in the town square before he'd snapped her neck floated to the forefront of her mind. He had said that if Klaus's redemption required the ultimate price then it would not be Klaus who would pay.
"Is Elijah…" she started to ask, hesitating when she reminded herself that Hope was still just a teenager – a student – and Elijah was her uncle. She didn't want to be insensitive.
"Dead?" Hope completed her question bluntly. Her tone of voice sounded bitter and borderline hostile.
She waited for Hope to answer.
"Not yet," Hope replied pointedly.
She was relieved that Elijah had not yet succeeded in seeing Klaus's plan through for himself, but her stomach knotted at the same time knowing that Elijah had sabotaged Klaus's original plan. Klaus would not be happy with his brother. Klaus may not be happy with her if he knew of her conversation with the elder Mikaelson. Certainly, her appearance in the clearing had distracted Klaus and had given Elijah the chance that he needed to consume the dark magic, but Klaus had obviously healed her, though he was not here now.
"But, he will be unless we can destroy the dark magic before it destroys him. I knocked him out with a spell to stop him from sacrificing himself with the white oak stake," Hope finished.
Her attention turned back towards the grimoires on the side table. The school had compiled their collection of grimoires from variety of covens – the Bennett's included. She suspected that Hope had been awake half the night studying their pages, searching for an answer that would save Elijah from the dark magic.
"Where is he? Where is your father?" she asked, repeating her previous question, searching for the answer she most wanted to hear.
"New Orleans," Hope answered. "Dad stayed with you awhile last night after giving you his blood to ensure that you were healed and then he left with Elijah."
As Hope filled in her blanks, pieces of dreamlike memories sparked in her mind. Emma Tig had been in her room tending to her wounds with some herbal remedy as she lay semi-conscious, shaking like a leaf in faint convulsions on the chaise when Klaus had appeared worriedly in her doorway.
"I'm here, I've got you, love," she could remember him murmuring to her as he'd scooped her up in his arms, holding her in his lap, her head resting in the crook of his neck against his shoulder as he sat with her.
Incoherently, she had tried to ask him what had happened. "Shhh…You need to heal; you need my blood," he'd told her.
She swiped her lips with her fingertips as she recalled feeding from him. Unlike times before where he'd offered her his wrist, she'd fed from the veins in his neck, her lips pressed against his skin as though they were back in the woods all those years ago. Had she been in a clearer state of mind, she might have opted to put some distance between them by feeding from his wrist once more, but she craved him close. His blood tasted like life, like warmth, and numbed the pain of the werewolf bite. He'd held her hair back while she fed, and once she had consumed all she could of him, she remembered him helping her to bed, tucking her in under the soft blankets that had enveloped her.
"Sweet dreams, Caroline," he'd whispered, vague memories coming back to her.
"New Orleans?" she questioned, snapping out of her thoughts, trying to pretend as though she hadn't zoned out lost in last night as her memories slowly came back to her.
The destination sounded familiar. She could have sworn that Klaus had told her of his plans to return to the crescent city the night before.
Hope eyed her suspiciously but nodded nonetheless.
"Guessing dad is hoping that Aunt Freya or the Quarter witches will be able to help come up with a solution," Hope replied. "Or, he's just taking him home," she added darkly with an indifferent shrug.
"And you stayed behind?" she asked Hope curiously. "Why didn't you go with them?" she wondered.
Hope remained quiet, intentionally ignoring her question by shifting her focus away from her concerned expression.
"You're angry with them…" she concluded for herself, pausing to see if her inference caught Hope's attention.
Hope turned back towards her, her eyes wide but watery. "Wouldn't you be?" she asked, not really looking for an answer to the question.
She waited for Hope to continue, sensing that she needed someone to listen.
"My dad used my first transition to trick me. He would have killed himself without even so much as a goodbye. Uncle Elijah was about to do the same before knocked him out with a spell. My dad was going to make me an orphan without a second thought. They were both ready to let me carry the weight of another relative's death on my shoulders. And on top of all of that, my dad thought it would be a good idea to let me roam free during my first transformation and I almost killed you - the headmistress of my school and Josie and Lizzie's mom – in the process," Hope said, releasing a long frustrated sigh as a stray tear slipped down her cheek.
Reaching out, she placed a hand on Hope's shoulder sympathetically with a small smile. Hope's guilt over attacking her explained why Hope had taken it upon herself to watch over her throughout the night.
"I'm okay, I'm here," she assured Hope. "Your father wanted you to be able to freely transform under the full moon – the way nature intended. As a vampire, I should have known better than to be in the woods," she pointed out, coming to Klaus's defense while also trying to make Hope feel better. "He was being a good father."
Hope scoffed. "He wasn't being very good father when he tried to sacrifice himself without even saying goodbye to me! Elijah wasn't being a very good uncle when he tried to do the same!" she said bitterly, her voice raised as her tears started to freely flow down her cheeks.
She sighed, knowing that Hope would react this way to Klaus and Elijah's actions. She had tried to warn Klaus in the town square. While Elijah consuming the dark magic was an imperfect alternative, she was relieved to know that Klaus had not succeeded in his plans for Hope's sake – and perhaps for her own.
Shifting forwards towards Hope, she sat herself on the edge of the bed and put her arm around her, literally giving her a shoulder to cry on as she had done many times over years that Hope had been a student here.
"If it's any consolation, I felt like your father and your uncle tricked me too," she related, trying to connect with Hope and what she was going through. "I didn't know that Klaus planned to use the white oak stake on himself to destroy the dark magic at first."
Hope rose from her embrace, wiping away her tears as she continued to sit beside her.
"At first?" Hope questioned. "You knew about the white oak stake? Why didn't you do something? Why didn't you tell me?" Hope said with an accusatory tone.
She sighed, feeling guilty about her involvement, even though it was Klaus's plan and Klaus should have been the one to tell Hope.
"It wasn't my place to tell you," she said in her defence. "I tried to get your father to tell you. I tried to talk him out of going through with his plan, but it seemed like there was no other alternative in the circumstances, and you know how stubborn he can be. Then Elijah confronted me about Klaus's true intentions with the dark magic. He knew that Klaus had other plans. I thought that maybe Elijah and I could come up with a way to buy your father some time – perhaps to find another way – but Elijah snapped my neck to stop me from interfering in his own plans to intervene in Klaus's. That's why I was in the woods – I was trying to get back to the school," she explained to Hope.
Hope's features softened, seemingly accepting her explanation as she lowered her head regretfully.
"Then I poisoned you with my bite," Hope continued the story. "If my dad had succeeded with his plan and killed himself, you would have been dead too," she said, clearly alarmed by the prospect of how much worse the night could have been.
She shrugged. "But I'm not," she reminded Hope, trying to get the girl to focus on the reality of their situation. "Perhaps you biting me is what saved your father," she pointed out, hoping it would make Hope feel less guilty. She didn't want Hope's first werewolf transformation to make her fearful or ashamed of her werewolf side.
"And put the dark magic into Uncle Elijah," Hope frowned, recognizing that the outcome was unfortunate, either way. "Dad will never forgive me. It's my fault."
"It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault," she said, trying to assuage Hope's guilt – and perhaps her own. She placed her hand over Hope's. "Elijah made a choice, too," she reminded Hope.
"Uncle Elijah can't die," Hope said, clearly distressed by the prospect as she gazed bleakly at the stack of grimoires that she had been reading through without answer.
"If anyone can help Elijah it's your father, your family, and witches in the French Quarter, I'm sure," she said, forcing herself to be optimistic about the situation for Hope's sake. "Just because you haven't been able to find any answers in there, doesn't mean it isn't possible," she said to Hope.
Hope nodded, though judging by her lack of enthusiasm she could tell that Hope didn't buy into her words of encouragement.
"You're not mad at my dad for not telling you about his actual plan at first?" Hope wondered curiously.
She shook her head decidedly. While she had been upset, feeling like she had been deceived by him, she understood his initial reluctance and ultimately why he had to do what he planned when it came to the white oak stake.
"I know that you and your father have a strained relationship because of his past and his absence, but he was trying to protect you, Hope. Being a parent isn't easy and sometimes you have to make difficult decisions for your children that they won't always like, or understand, but that are in their best interests. Klaus was prepared to sacrifice himself so that you could live and while I didn't agree with his decision not to give you a proper goodbye, I understood it. Everyone has their weaknesses – even your father; he might be brave enough to sacrifice himself for you, but he isn't brave enough to say goodbye to you – he can't stand to see you hurt. He didn't want that to stop him from doing what was right. Surely, you can't blame him for that," she explained in an effort to have Hope see things from a parent's – Klaus's – perspective. "He was doing his best to be a good father," she reminded Hope once more.
Hope hung her head regretfully.
"And I was being an ungrateful and hypocritical daughter and niece by refusing to go back to New Orleans and leaving my uncle to die without a goodbye," Hope concluded guiltily realizing the implications of her refusal to return to New Orleans.
"You were upset. It's okay. I'm sure that Klaus and Elijah understand," she reassured Hope. "Your father has done a lot worse when he's been upset."
Hope glared at her.
"Like murder your high school boyfriend's mother in revenge after he organized a hybrid rebellion against him…" Hope pointed out critically, her conflicted feelings about her father obvious.
She hadn't intended her comment referencing Klaus's temper to foster Hope's negative and bitter feelings about him. Clearly Hope had been doing some research about her father's history in her spare time at the school.
"That was a long time ago," she said in Klaus's defence, knowing the material in the history books at the Salvatore school contained a biased slant against the Original hybrid. "People can change," she reminded Hope. "What your father and uncle have done for you is evidence of that."
"Every book I've read and stories I've heard about my dad's time in Mystic Falls years ago suggests that he was terrible to you, Alaric, your friends, family," Hope listed. "He made your lives a living hell," she summarized. "And yet, you defend him, you care about him, about me, his family," she contrasted with puzzlement.
She smiled at Hope, remembering the same black and white way she used to view the world – how she viewed Klaus – when she was Hope's age.
"Well, a girl's secrets rarely make it into the history books you've been reading in the school library," she hinted, blush rising on her cheeks as she referenced her own complicated history with Klaus, sparking Hope's intrigue at her suggestive response.
Hope's mind seemed to be trying to fill in the blanks as a look of realization appeared on her face.
"You and my dad…" Hope paused, clearly now suspecting that her history with Klaus had been much more complicated than Hope had first assumed. "I don't even know how to finish that sentence," she said, seemingly stunned by her subtle revelation.
She laughed amusedly, standing up from the bed, feeling a little dizzy as she did so – still not one-hundred percent from the events of the night before.
"I don't even think I can finish it for you. There's a lot that remains unfinished as far as your father and I are concerned," she admitted to Hope, thinking about her time with Klaus in the town square the night before, as she pulled out an overnight bag from her walk-in closet. "But I can try and fill in some of the details on the way."
"On the way? Where are we going?" Hope questioned in confusion.
"I'm taking you home to New Orleans," she said simply.
A/N: Thoughts?!
The next chapter will very loosely focus on the Originals series finale episode – I say loosely because the circumstances in my version are quite a bit different than they were in the actual episode.
I do think the next chapter will pick up with Caroline and Hope. Surprisingly, I really like writing them together (and Caroline filling her in on some details about her dad). That aside, it will take me a bit to incorporate the rest of my own ideas for the finale in with the events from the actual episode, but don't give up on me!
In the meantime, feel free to pass me a review with your comments about this chapter and your hopes and dreams for the Original finale us klaroliners never received. lol.
p.s. thank you Livingdeadblondequeen who read through two different versions of this part which I eventually combined into one because I was torn between the two.