Author's note: Caroline and Bonnie are having a bad day. First, there's a dead body they need to get rid of, and then they meet a dimpled psycho in the woods who believes he's an ancient supernatural creature who then kindly offers to help them bury the body.
Warning: Mentions of domestic abuse.
"Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim."
—Nora Ephron
Surprisingly, Caroline didn't learn how to dispose of a body during her Ocular Pathology IV class. Or her Human Neuroanatomy and Physiology class. Or any of the other courses she took to become an optometrist. She was starting to think her optometry school hadn't properly prepared her for real-world situations. Like a dead body.
"I don't know about you, but I'm seriously considering asking Virginia Tech for my money back," Bonnie grumbled, shifting slightly to get a better grip on the feet.
Stumbling a bit over a sharp rock, Caroline cursed. "Bonnie, we're medical professionals. We should know how to clean up a crime scene properly."
"We're optometrists! And I doubt binge-watching CSI Miami magically imbued us with the skillset we need to pull this off."
To pull this off. God, was this even going to work? Caroline still wasn't entirely sure how this all happened. She and Bonnie had opened their practice about a year ago, and had hired their painfully shy receptionist, Elena, almost as soon as she walked through the door. There was something about her eyes that made you want to help her. Haunted eyes. Something was off, but they couldn't figure out what it was at first.
They'd wanted to make her feel included, like a part of their team, so they kept inviting her to lunches and dinners and drinks with the rest of their staff, only to be given a mumbled excuse about needing to be home on time. Then, her silver locket had fallen behind a desk and she'd had a panic attack as she clawed her way between the heavy furniture and the wall to retrieve it, still shaking even after she clasped it back around her neck. Noticing everyone's confused expressions, she'd flushed red, stammering that it had been a gift from her boyfriend, Damon.
He was featured in every story Elena told; not that she opened up much. She never mentioned any siblings or friends, and while Caroline and Bonnie had no real reason for concern about their employee's home life, they couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. And then the accidents started. A sprained wrist from backing into a shopping cart. A black eye from running into a door. A dislocated elbow from falling down the stairs. The flimsy excuses worried them, and when Caroline spotted the finger-shaped bruises underneath Elena's scarf, she realized they'd been right to worry.
"Why did we let it get this far? We should've done something sooner," Bonnie sighed, frustration evident as she stepped around a fallen tree trunk while carrying her end of the corpse.
Caroline shook her head, glad they were carrying the body facedown. She had no interest in seeing that flat, dead stare ever again. "We did the best we could," she reminded her. "We researched and did everything that hotline said to do to get Elena to feel safe enough to come to us."
And they had. They'd cautiously approached her, almost like a skittish colt, and let her know that they were concerned about her safety and that she always could come to them for anything. At first, Elena had been angry and defensive, denying the abuse despite her freshly bruised jaw that she hadn't bothered trying to explain. But Caroline and Bonnie had been persistent, offering their unwavering support and listening without judgment. They helped her make a safety plan like the domestic abuse hotline had urged them to do, empowering Elena to slowly start to take control of her life.
A few days ago, Elena finally left Damon, and Caroline and Bonnie immediately put their safety plan in action, taking her to the local shelter they'd researched. The case manager at the shelter had warned them that it was common for the abuser to stalk their victim's workplace to try to intimidate coworkers into revealing their victim's location. While they'd been wary, they'd foolishly thought Damon would start with Elena's friends and family first. They'd been wrong.
A sharp crack, pulled Caroline from her thoughts, and she was sure the terrified look on Bonnie's face matched her own. What if they'd been followed? After what felt like an eternity of standing in place, dangling the corpse between them, no further sounds were heard and they quietly resumed their unpleasant task. The familiar wave of guilt washed over Caroline as she thought again of all the different ways they could've helped Elena sooner. "We should've known, Bonnie. It's not like Damon was suffering from uveal coloboma. He just had plain old crazy eyes and we ignored it." And we were almost too late.
"But we weren't too late," Bonnie insisted vehemently. "We stopped it. We stopped him."
Caroline regarded her friend with a grim smile. "Yes, we did." Damon had stormed into their office, tossing around furniture and bellowing at the top of his lungs to tell him where they'd hidden Elena. He'd cornered them in the first exam room, and it was around the fourth time he'd called them 'nosy bitches' that something in them snapped.
As they watched this scrawny, hate-filled little man stomp closer to them, they shared a brief look, silently coming to an agreement before they each grabbed the hefty arm of the phoropter equipment, swinging it around with as much force as they could muster. The heavy metal head caught him in the temple with a very satisfying smack, and he immediately crumpled to the floor.
"I've never seen that much blood," Bonnie said quietly, glancing suspiciously at a thick stand of trees nearby.
Caroline shrugged, losing her grip and sending the body crashing to the ground. There was something deeply gratifying watching Damon fall face first into the pine needles. "Which is why we picked optometry. Less squishy bits to deal with." She recalled how they'd approached Damon's fallen form so carefully, waiting for him to leap up and grab them like something out of a horror movie. But that growing pool of blood was too big to ignore.
Visibly trembling, they took turns crouching down to check his pulse, realizing he was dead. Because they'd killed him. Knowing Damon's brother was a police officer, they didn't trust that he'd believe that it was self-defense. After all, how many times had he seen Elena's injuries and did nothing? "I'm glad we killed him. It's the only way Elena will be safe. The only way we'll be safe," Caroline declared, not bothering to hide her disgust as she angrily kicked his side.
"My, my what bloodthirsty creatures I've stumbled across," teased an accented voice, causing both women to jump in surprise.
Caroline looked up to find an attractive, smirking stranger casually leaning against a nearby tree. She exchanged a worried glance with Bonnie, rapidly thinking of excuses that would explain what they were doing. Consulting with a patient? Taking out the trash? She opened her mouth, having no idea what she was about to say, and ended up saying more than she meant to — as usual. "Well, we decided digging a hole in the woods for our receptionist's abusive jackass boyfriend was more fun than dealing with the policies of our patients' insurance. And it's not like he didn't have it coming, although I'd like to think that if we had planned out Damon's murder, it would have been way more elaborate than just beat him over his greasy head with optometry equipment! And I didn't rack up nearly $200,000 in student loans to go to jail over some loser asshole who beats his girlfriend!"
She didn't have to look at Bonnie to feel her horror. Quickly slamming her eyes shut, she fervently wished for the ground to swallow her whole. Of course, when that didn't happen, she remembered they were in the middle of the woods with a dead body and a potentially dangerous stranger and realized that scrunching her eyes shut probably wasn't the best way to deal with this bizarre situation.
He chuckled, gray eyes darkening as he casually swept over her form before giving Bonnie a polite nod. "Please forgive the intrusion. I couldn't help but overhear your intriguing discussion and decided to make myself known. I'm Klaus Mikaelson." He looked between the two expectantly, waiting for them to introduce themselves.
He raised an eyebrow at their pointed silence, and added, "Your reluctance to give me your names is understandable given the odd circumstances of our meeting. Perhaps if I share a secret of my own?"
His accented voice did funny things to Caroline, and she cursed her libido for being so needy. Especially at a time like this. Bonnie's face was completely closed off, but she recognized her nervous tick of flexing her fingers into fists as though she was getting ready to punch someone. Hopefully, Klaus didn't give her a reason to ruin that pretty face.
"While I commend you on a virtuous kill, experience has taught me this is your first one," he continued, clearly ignoring their looks of surprise. "I'm a thousand-year-old hybrid and have lost count of my kills. In fact, I'd just finished burying my dinner when I happened upon your delightful little exchange."
In her usual cut-through-the-bullshit manner, Bonnie asked incredulously, "Hybrid of what?"
Caroline whipped her head to her friend, exasperated as she accused, "Seriously?! Way to gloss over the lead! Or, did you miss the part where we're talking to a crazy psycho killer who thinks he's a Viking?!"
Klaus' amused grin revealed an unexpected set of dimples, and Caroline did her best to ignore that it seemed like he was purposely flashing them at her. Delusional psycho killer is not your type. "Vampire and werewolf," he said unexpectedly, almost purring the nonsensical words to her.
"Wait — what?!"
Caroline and Bonnie's perfectly timed response drew another amused smirk from Klaus as he explained, "In fact, all vampires and werewolves are descended from my family's bloodline."
"Right," Caroline said slowly, gesturing toward Klaus as she told Bonnie, "See? This is what I've been telling you about the dating prospects here — the hot ones are either dudebros or crazy."
Cocking his head to the side, he asked curiously, "Tell me, sweetheart, which is the greater evil?"
"Dudebros," Caroline and Bonnie both answered flatly. Although the women were still wary of him, they realized this wasn't getting Damon buried any faster, so they seemed to come to a silent agreement to start digging. Noticing the slightly irritated look on Klaus' face when she ignored the flirty eyes he kept sending her way, she cheekily threw a large shovelful of dirt and pine needles on top of what appeared to be his very expensive leather boots.
When Klaus didn't take the hint and continued to lurk off to the side, Caroline tucked several sweaty blonde strands behind her ear and told him irritably, "Do you mind, Mr. Werewolf-Vampire Viking? This is our spot to hide a body and we're on a schedule."
"My apologies. And Klaus is fine. I'm not one for formalities," he told them, nodding at their measly foot and a half they'd managed to dig. "Perhaps I could be of service? It's been my experience that the best way to ensure a corpse remains hidden is to bury it quite deep, and I'd be happy to assist as it seems you'll both be here well into the night otherwise."
"Nope," Bonnie said determinedly, taking turns with Caroline keep their eyes on Klaus as they continued to struggle to dig the grave. Caroline rolled her eyes at the ridiculous suggestion. Who was this guy? A creepy good Samaritan who got off on helping random broads hide bodies?
However, three more heavy shovelfuls and a twinge of back pain had Caroline reconsidering their stance. "What if you dig the entire hole," she blurted out, noticing Bonnie seemed less concerned than before, now that she too realized just how long it was taking.
"For that, I require a date with you, sweetheart," Klaus countered her offer, his devilish smirk making Caroline blush slightly.
Bonnie stabbed the ground with the end of her shovel, leaning against the handle as she shrugged at Caroline. "Honestly, a date with a psycho killer who thinks he's a werewolf-vampire Viking probably won't even crack your top five worst dates."
"Seriously?!" Embarrassed by her friend's judgy tone of her dating history, Caroline put a hand on her hip, telling Bonnie, "Fine. But you're coming with us and I'm bringing my shovel in case we have to do this again."
Klaus looked delighted as he reached behind a tree where he'd apparently stashed his own shovel and began digging the grave with enthusiasm. "Do many of your dates end in such a violent manner, love?"
"Well, there was the time you pushed that old guy into the lake at the Lockwood estate when he took you to that charity auction. He didn't drown, but he could've broken a hip if he hadn't been so hammered," Bonnie answered helpfully.
At Klaus' derisive snort, Caroline stomped in aggravation, "His dating profile said he was 30! Although, I guess I should've been more specific and asked if that meant he was 30 now or way back when Fleetwood Mac played their first gig. But I didn't throw him into the lake until that stellar moment when his wife showed up! Apparently, he was using a different definition of 'single' than I was."
The women started giggling, the adrenaline and stress of the night wearing them down until all that remained was hysterical laughter. The moment they quieted again, they were shocked to see that Klaus already had finished digging Damon's grave and was tamping down the earth with the back of his shovel. How in the hell...?
"I look forward to our date, sweetheart. I'll plan an activity away from any bodies of water though, just in case," he teased, exchanging phone numbers with Caroline as Bonnie led her away with a stunned look on her face.
Klaus watched the women leave, the enchanting blonde minx who'd stubbornly refused to give her name tugging at something foreign within him. What an intriguing creature. A stirring from the earth caught his attention and he watched in amusement as two arms hastily began clawing their way out of the grave. "Ah, right on time. Damon, right?"
"Those bitches! Thought they could kill me?! Nosy bitches get what they deserve and I'll make sure mine is the last face they see before they die," Damon choked out, furiously scrubbing his dirt-covered face.
Klaus observed the worthless man in amusement, only a heated flash of gold in his gaze hinting at the danger in which Damon was oblivious. "I could hear when your heartbeat returned to normal and the clever way you controlled your breath so the women wouldn't realize you'd merely been knocked out rather than killed. I also happened to overhear your many sordid crimes, mate."
He ignored the sputtering, half-hearted protests from the man and carried on in his silky tone, "However, given what I know of useless animals who beat women, I'm quite sure you're guilty of numerous offenses for which you've never been properly punished." Leaning forward, he allowed his fangs to emerge and relished in the stench of fear coming off of Damon in waves. "Allow me to rectify that grievous injustice," he proclaimed, messily shredding through the shrieking man's chest and removing his heart.
As he stared at the gory mess in his hand, he briefly considered gifting it to the blonde as the little firebrand appeared to be the type to appreciate out-of-the-box-style thinking, but instead decided flowers likely would make a better impression for their first date.
The bleeding heart of one's enemy seemed more like a second date gift.
