Notes: A little what if drabble…
Sanctuary
(A little idea I had post TO's finale. Current canon-ish and Rated K+.)
Klaus isn't in New Orleans.
It's shock that hits Caroline first leaving her gaping as the waitress walks away. It's not a possibility she had ever considered – that he would just be gone, without a word or a direction. She has no idea what to do next. There's no one else who would help her, not a single soul she could trust with Josie and Lizzie's safety on the line.
Lizzie gets impatient first, tugging on Caroline's hand, "Mommy? Where's your friend?"
God, Caroline wished she knew. "I…I don't know, sweetie."
The waitress swings by again, her eyes raking over Caroline's deflated form. She must be wearing her bewilderment plainly, or maybe the other woman just knows the look of desperation. Probably sees it a lot in her line of work, people searching for answers in the bottom of a glass.
Hell, if she didn't have the twins with her Caroline would have asked for a bottle.
She pauses in front of Caroline, head tipped to the side. She rattles off an address and Caroline's forehead creases in confusion. "It used to be a church," she elaborates kindly. "A sanctuary for anyone who needs one. Ask for Vincent."
Caroline knows it's the best offer she's going to get. She hasn't slept in more than 24 hours, her bones feel heavy and it's only the sneaky sips of blood she's taken from gas station attendants that have her on her feet. She smiles tightly, "Thanks. I appreciate it."
"Good luck," the other woman offers, spinning on her heel and heading across the bar.
Caroline can't help but think that she's going to need it.
She's wary as she climbs the steps to the building she'd been directed to, taking in everything she can. She'd sent Alaric a text with the address, just in case. The façade is weathered, the stained glass windows gorgeous. There are brilliantly colored flowers blooming in planters along the walkway.
It feels peaceful and welcoming and Caroline's cautiously hopeful that this place is exactly as advertised. A sanctuary, somewhere she can rest and figure out a next step. She pushes the door open, taking Josie and Lizzie by the hand, placing herself in front of them as she walks in. She'd spoken to them when they'd gotten out of the car, told them how important it was that they kept quiet do as she said. She felt terrible about scaring them but they'd both nodded solemnly, eyes huge and lips pressed tight. They're great kids but these last few days have worn on them. As much as she's tried to keep calm and collected she knows they can feel her tension and it's led to their own nervousness and subdued reactions.
If they've finally caught a break maybe they can all relax a little.
The room they walk into is unassuming. The floors are well worn and big mismatched chairs and sofas take up space in haphazard groupings. It's also empty of other people but Caroline hears footsteps approaching. The man who enters is wiping his hands on a towel, his smile friendly and open. His eyes widen, taking the three of them in, "Can I help you?"
Caroline straightens her spine, meets his eyes steadily, "Are you Vincent? I was told that you might be able to."
"I am." He steps forward cautiously and Caroline stiffens, pushing the girls behind her more firmly. Her fangs are seconds from dropping and she's ready to go for his throat. He stills, holding up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. Any of you. What do you need?"
"A few days to regroup. A bed. Some food."
"Some blood?" he asks knowingly.
"Yes," Caroline clips out, eyes narrowing.
But Vincent doesn't react, doesn't try to throw her out. His head tips towards the hallway he'd just emerged from, "Kitchen's that way. I was just going to start dinner. I don't know if I've got much that's kid friendly but I can probably do some Mac and Cheese. The good stuff, not that neon junk."
The girls peek out from behind Caroline's legs (cheese is something of a magic word where they're concerned) looking up at her with identical hopeful expressions. She smiles down at them reassuringly, running her fingertips over their heads for a moment before looking back at Vincent. She takes a leap because she had no other choice, "That would be great. Thank you."
The kitchen is homey, a long battered table with bench seating dominating one side. Vincent excuses himself for a minute, comes back with a tub of crayons and an armful of coloring books. "We don't get a lot of kids," he explains to Caroline. "But I figure it's best to be prepared."
Thanking him again she settles the girls at one end of the table with the books and a couple of juice boxes. They're soon chattering quietly, scribbling away and Caroline approaches Vincent tentatively. He hands her a mug, the metallic scent unmistakable. It's O+, not her favorite, but beggars can't be choosers. Caroline takes a sip, "I feel like a broken record but thanks."
Vincent shrugs, opens a fridge, and begins pulling food out. "I meant this place to be for anyone who needed it. You're not my first vampire. First one who's had two baby witches calling her 'Mommy' in tow so I gotta admit to some curiosity."
He says it evenly, doesn't look at her, choosing to focus on what he's doing at the counter. "It's a long story," Caroline hedges. "And a weird one."
He chuckles, shooting her an incredulous look. "This is New Orleans. Weird is what we do."
"Yeah, I'm from a place like that too."
"Mmm. I can see that. Got you turned pretty young, right? How'd that happen?"
Caroline lets out a long sigh, gives him the short version, "Girl gets in car accident. Girl's best friend's asshat vampire boyfriend is persuaded to feed her blood. Girl somehow wanders into an epic feud between old vampires and ends up smothered with a pillow. Girl wakes up alone with no idea what's happening to her."
"I'm sorry," Vincent tells her softly, and he seems sincere. Caroline's not sure if anyone's ever said that to her, about how she came to be what she is, and meant it.
"It's fine," she tells him. "It made me better in a lot of ways. Stronger."
Though she sometimes finds herself wondering if that's true anymore. There are so many other people, not just the twins, that rely on Caroline, that constantly need things from her. She acts, does what she's asked, tells herself that it's for the best, that she's helping the people that she loves. That it doesn't matter that she no longer has any idea what she wants.
Klaus had been the last person to remind her that she'd once had dreams. And maybe that's why she'd come to him.
For all the good it had done.
Caroline shakes herself, takes another drink of the blood, casting her eyes down the table. Vincent's not the type to mind silences apparently, and he's worked steadily, has pots boiling on the stove and a pile of vegetables chopped on a cutting board. He glances over at her, "Do they know? What you are?" he asks, following her line of sight.
"They're three," Caroline deadpans.
"I knew what a vampire was when I was three."
Caroline studies him for a moment, a piece of the puzzle clicking into place, "You're a witch."
A smile tugs at his lips, "Guilty."
Caroline sighs again, trying to decide how much to explain. "They're witches, yes. But they don't know that either. They got it from their birth mom, but she died and the rest of that side of their family is seriously nutty and it's safer if the girls stay far away."
"That who you're running from?"
Caroline lets out a dry laugh, "Would you believe me if I said no?"
"I would," he replies genially. "But it's unfortunate that you've got so many problems."
"Truer statements," Caroline says, tipping her mug in his direction. "But it's not a new state of affairs. I'm just out of practice."
He turns, leans against the counter. "Can I ask what brought you to New Orleans?"
Caroline bites her lip, considers her words carefully. It's been years since she'd spoken to Klaus, longer since she'd seen him. Stefan had been pretty tight lipped about their interaction and Caroline hadn't really pressed, happy to have him back, even if that happiness had been brief. But Klaus isn't a guy who made friends easily, and he made enemies effortlessly. Caroline's not sure if dropping his name is going to help her here. "I have a friend who lived here. I thought he would help me."
Vincent raises a brow knowingly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Klaus Mikaelson?"
Caroline freezes, her grip on her mug tightening. "Yeah," she manages. "Him. How did you…"
"I got a heads up you were heading my way," he answers easily. "Now, I might not have known Klaus real well but a good friend of mine did. And she died because of it. He's not easy on people who care about him."
"It's complicated," Caroline tells him, unwilling to get into the details with someone she's just met, even if Vincent's been nothing but accommodating. "And we weren't always friends. I know what he can be like, trust me. But Klaus has come through for me, more than once. I knew he would again."
"Confident," Vincent remarks, more curious than anything. "How'd you meet him, anyway?"
Caroline snorts, "He tried to have me killed. On my birthday."
Vincent takes a moment to digest that, face flicking through several expressions, landing on mystified. "You weren't kidding about complicated."
"I wasn't," Caroline confirms. "He was the bad guy. I loathed him and he did some things that were pretty unforgivable. But the longer I'm a vampire the dirtier my own hands get and that maybe there are no good guys. At the end of the day I trust Klaus to keep me and them safe. That's why I came here."
The noise that comes from Vincent then in contemplative, his face creasing in concentration and maybe a little bit of dread. When he speaks his words are halting, hesitant. "There's a cemetery, two blocks east of here. You can't miss it. You might want to take a little stroll through there before you leave the city. I think you'll find it interesting."
It's an odd tip, but something about his demeanor, the weight of his gaze gives Caroline pause. She wants to press but his face has closed off and he's turned away his precise, measured, movements as he works on dinner inviting no further conversation.
Wandering through a cemetery isn't Caroline's idea of a good time but there's no way she'll be able to leave without doing it. Not when it seemed important.
Her curiosity would kill her.
The day was gorgeous, the skies clear and the sun out. She knew it would get humid later but there's a breeze and people are just starting to spill out onto the streets. The twins are happily munching on beignets and Caroline's got a truly excellent cup of coffee in her hand. Taking in the sights and sounds, the ones she'd been too tired to truly appreciate her first day in the city, Caroline can see why Klaus had loved this place, can hear his words in her mind.
'All I can think about is how much I want to show it to you…'
She'd made herself dismiss them at the time even if she'd listened to his message over and over again. It had only been five years but it felt so much longer. Caroline can't believe how young she'd been then. Wonders what she would have thought, at eighteen and freshly graduated, if she knew the strange twists her life would take. If that girl would have scoffed if told that one day she'd be on a street in New Orleans sorry that Klaus wasn't there to show her around like he'd wanted to.
The gates to the cemetery loom in front of them, imposing and unmistakable. There's no one around, and Caroline takes a deep breath before gently tugging on the girls' hands, leading them through. She hasn't been in one of these since she left Mystic Falls, where she used to sit and talk to her mother, needing someone who would listen and finding no one alive who seemed to have the time.
She's surprised that the peace she'd often found there at her mother's grave washes over her once more. This place is less depressing than she'd expected. The mausoleums are clearly built with love and care, the grounds well maintained. The girls are curious, peppering her with questions about the 'little houses' and the statues. Caroline answers as best she can, keeping it simple. She stutters to a stop, footsteps halting, when she hears something she shouldn't.
A heartbeat. Slow, weak but there. Behind a brick wall, a grave with no marker.
Caroline's own heart races, her mind making rapid connections. The brick's not fresh, as solid and dry as it is. And a human wouldn't survive behind it for very long at all.
'I think you'll find it interesting,' Vincent had said, with resignation in his tone.
It's Klaus. She knows it is. It has to be.
And leaving him there is not an option.
Caroline smiles down at the girls, hoping they've not picked up on her anxiety. Whoever put Klaus there will probably be pissed if she breaks him out so she's got to do this fast. She crouches down to the girls' eye level, "Mommy found her friend. And she needs to help him, okay? Can you girls go sit over on the grass for a minute?" She points to a sunny spot within her line of sight but far enough away that they won't be in danger when the wall comes down.
The retreat obediently plucking a couple flowers on their way over.
Caroline gets to work.
It's only one layer of brick thankfully. Punching right through the center where it's weakest leaves her knuckles bloody but they heal quickly only to open again as she tears away the wall until it's crumbled at her feet. She keeps her eyes averted, on her task, only noting the dark clothes and the grey skin of the figure inside.
She has no option once the wall is demolished and she swallows back a gasp when she finally looks at Klaus. His eyes are open but dull, lashes flickering weakly. She lays tentative fingertips on his chin, tilting it so he's looking at her. She has no idea if he can understand her, or what's wrong with him. If she had no trouble busting through that wall there's no way Klaus couldn't have. Something had weakened him, kept him trapped, and she'll need to find out what it is.
But not right now. They need to get out of New Orleans before someone notices that Klaus' prison has been disturbed. And she has no idea how long he's been there and she can't afford to have him starving and alert near the girls. Whatever's keeping him docile, and Caroline's betting magic, will have to stay in place until they're somewhere safer.
"I'm going to get you out of here," she tells him firmly. "Figures that I come to you for help and end up doing the rescuing, huh?"
Klaus can't respond and he's limp when she hefts him over her shoulder. The girls are watching her with huge eyes, hands suspended in mid-air with half a flower crown competed. Caroline smiles brightly, wishing that she'd maybe started easing them into her not so normalness before now. There's going to be a lot of questions on the drive.
She pitches her voice cheery, waves them over, "Let's go, girls! We need to get on the road."
They need to keep moving until it's safer, the current threats under control.
Then Caroline can figure out what happened to Klaus.