Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. Title is from Explosions in the Sky.

A/N: Really, seriously, intensely AU/AH. Oh, and Esther's a non-factor (because I hate her) (but also there's no room for her in this fic) (and I hate her). Also, I lied a little bit—I'm taking bits and pieces from most of Supernatural S4 instead of just the beginning (angel lore, Castiel, apocalypse, Lucifer—except Sam's not Lucifer's vessel).

A/N 2: I have no idea why I have 3 stories going on simultaneously (it's because I'm crazy). Happy Reading!

the birth and death of the day

1.

"There's a war coming, Caroline," Dean repeats solemnly and she shakes herself out of her fog.

"Yeah. You mentioned that," she says faintly, her grip on his arms tightening to fend off her sudden light-headedness. She wonders if vampires can pass out. "A war? Are you sure? How do you know? Is it coming to Mystic Falls or just coming? What's—"

"Breathe, Caroline," Sam cuts in and he has the presence of mind to look a little sheepish when she gives him major side-eye. "Sorry. Just…take it easy, okay? We're gonna tell you everything we know, so chill out."

"Okay," she agrees quietly, and Dean's eyes fall onto the birthday cake Liz had left on the counter for her yesterday morning. Most of the cake is still there because she had only taken some of it to Fell's Tomb to share with Elena, Bonnie and Matt (they'd all been way more interested in the beer). Sam sees what Dean is looking at and rolls his eyes at Caroline, who tries to smile but comes up wanting.

"What happened to team pie?" Sam asks sarcastically as Dean pulls away from Caroline and advances on the cake. He scoffs as he pulls a fork out of a drawer and pulls off the plastic cover guarding it.

"You don't turn down sex just because a woman isn't a supermodel, Sammy," Dean opines through a mouth full of fluff and frosting. He brandishes his fork at Sam for emphasis.

She still can't take her eyes off of Dean; afraid that if she does, he'll disappear and she'll discover this was all a fever dream. "Gross," she manages to say, shaking her head slightly; and he may be recently resurrected, but that doesn't mean she can't call him on his crap. "Sexist and gross." But a part of her is incredibly relieved that wherever Dean has been the past few months, he's still Dean and not some shell of himself.

"Think you can leave your lover alone for just a second and explain that handprint?" Sam asks waspishly, one eyebrow arched. Dean shoots Sam the middle finger, takes another bite of cake, closes his eyes and groans.

"I'm telling you," he says rapturously, "Liz Forbes makes a mean chocolate cake."

"It's not that good," Sam says impatiently.

"Why do you have a handprint burned into your shoulder?" Caroline asks again softly, interrupting them.

Dean chews slowly and says, "It's a really long story, Care. If you've got plans, you're gonna want to cancel them."

"You're either fishing for gossip or stalling. Give it up and start talking," she orders, channeling as much Bonnie Bennett into her tone as she can. She's being a bitch and she knows it; but she's terrified because Dean was dead and now he's not and he's talking about war. Sam smirks at Dean, who sighs dramatically as he picks up the plate with the entire rest of the cake on it and marches into the living room.

Dean drops down into the middle of the couch and Caroline, eyes still lingering over him as if he'll vanish into thin air if she looks away for too long, sits next to him. Dean rubs his chin and says, "I'm just trying to decide where's the best place to start." He looks over at Sam a little helplessly.

Caroline bites her lip and asks gingerly, "Where did you go after you—you know."

He frowns a little, looking down at the plate in his lap before sliding it on the coffee table. "Hell," he says simply and the way he says it, all flat and toneless and empty, makes Caroline's insides twist and her heart fracture.

"It was horrible. A month here is ten years in Hell, so. . ." he trails off and he's staring at the ground as though it can wipe his memory. "Whatever the darkest and most horrific place you can imagine is, Hell is worse."

The only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Caroline's eyes are welling up and Sam's hands are clenched together, even though she'd be surprised if he hadn't heard this already. She swallows the lump in her throat and waits for him to go on.

Dean runs a hand over his head and she thinks he must be giving himself a mental slap because he lightens considerably. "But I'm out and it's over now, so."

"So," she echoes. "A war? That handprint?"

He seems to be considering his words carefully. "So demons exist, right?" he finally offers, a little lamely. Sam's head drops back in frustration.

She stares at him and doesn't answer, her throat constricting.

"Look," Sam takes over, eyes on the ceiling. "Demons aren't the only things that exist, we know that. There's an entire spectrum of supernatural beings out there—" Of which I am one, Caroline thinks, and it dawns on her that she has no clue if Sam's told Dean about her . . . condition. "—And we've found out something exists that we thought was just a story."

There is silence again and Caroline thinks she might actually lose her mind if one of them doesn't tell her what's going on. All the possibilities are running through her brain and she can't really think of anything worse than demons and vampires, so it must be bad.

"Angels," Dean says finally. "An angel pulled me out of Hell."

Caroline's mouth drops open—her jaw actually, physically falls.

"Angels?" she repeats weakly. "Like—like the ones that visited Mary and the manger?"

Dean snickers. "Well, they're not really what I pictured, but yeah. The whole 'servants of God' thing."

Caroline's head is spinning. "So . . . so God's real too?" She seriously can't handle this, because this revelation can only mean that she really is eternally damned.

"We don't know yet," Dean says and when Sam scowls at him, he amends, "We don't know yet, but Sammy here thinks so."

She meets Sam's eyes and it doesn't take him long to figure out what direction her thoughts have taken. "Care," he says, coming to squat in front of her and taking both of her hands in his. "We have no idea what decides where people go when they die."

"Sam," she wails softly. "I'm a vampire, of course we know where I'm going." Out of the corner of her eye she notes vaguely that Dean doesn't look surprised by her declaration. Well that answers that.

"Caroline," he says again, more than a little concern passing over his face. "Remember what I told you before?" She manages to nod between hiccups—You're not evil, Caroline—and he continues soothingly, "It's not what you are that makes you evil, Care. It's who you are and even more than that, it's what you do."

"But I've killed someone," she whispers and Dean does start in surprise at that. "I didn't mean to," she tells him pitifully. "I didn't know what I was doing, it was so much—" She hiccups again. "I don't wanna go to Hell, Sam."

Dean slides over closer to where she's sitting on the couch and wraps one arm around her shoulders. "You're not going to Hell, Care, and you want to know how I know?" She blinks up at him, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"I know because you're remorseful," he says and there's a quiet authority in his voice that reminds her simultaneously of John Winchester and Stefan Salvatore (before he decided he'd rather watch the world burn). "You have a conscience, Care, and trust me. That makes all the difference."

Her head drops onto Dean's shoulder and she feels him lay his cheek on her crown. The three of them sit like that for a while, with Sam at her feet, her hands wrapped tightly in his and Dean's arm around her.

God, she thinks, a little terrified at talking to something that seems so far removed from herself, if You're the one who brought Dean back, then—you know, thanks.

She sits up after a while and says softly, "So what's going to happen now? Why did an angel pull you out? Is everything going down here?"

Dean and Sam exchange glances. "I'm supposed to fight on the angels' side," he says quietly.

For the second time in less than half an hour, Caroline wonders if vampires can faint, because she feels dangerously close to passing out. Again. Her insides are like ice. "Angels are on one side? B-but what can beat angels? What do you mean, you're supposed to fight for them? And—and aren't angels the good guys?" Her voice pitches upward at the end of her rambling and she inhales to quash the hysterics that are threatening to rise.

"We're not all that sure," Sam tells her and Dean scoffs as she stares at both of them in disbelief. He elaborates, "We think they're kind of like people—good intentions, bad way of doing things."

"Also selfish," Dean adds tartly, eyebrows knitting together.

"What's fighting on the other side?" she asks, afraid that she already knows the answer. If a massive battle between angels and demons is going down, they're going to need a hell of a lot more than some salt, a few Devil's Traps and Bonnie's grimoires.

But Sam surprises her. "Everyone else," he says and her stomach drops through the floor.

When Caroline finds her voice, she can only stammer weakly. Dean stands up and starts pacing in front of the mantle.

"It's not just a war that's starting here, Care," he explains, his hand going to the back of his neck. "It's the Apocalypse."

…..

Caroline has never been incredibly religious. She kind of believes in God, definitely more so after she had found out demons were real; because really if there's so much darkness that exists, there has to be an equal amount of light too. She likens it to the way Bonnie had explained witchcraft to her—the balance of Nature. Plus, she's a vampire. There's really not much she won't accept as being possible.

But the Apocalypse? She gets that being terrified of the world ending has become super trendy—hell, half her cheer squad takes the Mayan calendar seriously. She always rolls her eyes at them because come on. (And Elena had told her a while ago that apparently Elijah and Klaus were responsible for a bunch of fake ancient drawings, so who's to say they didn't make up a doomsday calendar just to screw with people? Typical.)

But Dean and Sam are wearing similarly somber expressions, and she can't think of a good reason to doubt them or the angel that pulled Dean out of Hell.

"But why do angels want to start the Apocalypse?" she demands tearfully. "I thought—they're in Heaven right? So don't they have it pretty good?"

"We're still figuring the 'why' part out," Dean sighs, propping his legs up on the coffee table. "Meanwhile, the Bible's become Sammy's new best friend. Pretty sure their game plan's all in there."

"There is another option," Sam says cautiously and Dean shoots him a 'don't even go there' look, piquing Caroline's curiosity immediately.

"Oh come on!" she protests as Sam elects not to continue. "Don't we need all the help we can get?"

"The thing is," Sam says carefully, "This . . . person isn't exactly trustworthy."

Something about the way Sam lingers on the word 'person' makes Caroline's eyebrows slash together. "Who is it? Is it a demon?"

"Okay, look," Dean breaks in. "It's the angel that pulled me out of Hell."

Caroline's mouth drops open—twice in one day, jeez, she thinks, a little shocked. "The one's whose handprint—you've met him? Or her?" she adds as an afterthought.

"His name is Castiel," Dean says, "and he seems less—vengeance-y than the others we've met. But that doesn't mean he's on our side, or that anything he says is the truth."

Sam grumbles, "We should just ask him—"

"And risk tipping off the Host of Heaven that I'm not exactly keen on killing everyone I love? No thanks. Forget about asking Cas," Dean advises sardonically.

They fall into silence.

"So . . . what happens now?" Caroline finally asks uncertainly, looking from Sam to Dean and clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking.

"Well," Sam says, "Now we come up with a plan."

A plan. They have to come up with a plan to fight freaking angels because they want to destroy the world.

"Why is this happening in Mystic Falls?" she wonders, fingers plucking at the loose strings of a sofa cushion.

"We've been trying to figure that out too," Sam says grimly and Caroline offers, "Maybe we're on a Hellmouth." Actually, that would explain so much.

The mood considerably lightened, Dean snickers and Sam says, "Yeah . . . we'll keep looking."

….

"Show me," Dean whines from his seat across from her in the booth. "I want to see it." He looks around and whispers conspiratorially, "Your vamp face." Caroline rolls her eyes at him. She's had Dean back less than three hours and they've already fallen back into older brother, little sister mode.

"It's gross and weird-looking," she tells him, shaking her head and popping a fry into her mouth. "And we're in public, so no." She's not about to vamp out at him in the middle of the Grill. "Idiot." She's missed him so much.

"Wimp," Dean retorts, leaning back in the booth and scowling at her.

"Children," Sam scolds lightly, trying to steal a fry from Caroline's plate (she smacks his hand away) and raising his eyebrows at both of them. After dropping an Apocalypse in her lap, Dean had declared that he was hungry and ushered both of them into the Impala. You just downed the entire rest of that cake, Sam had said in slight awe. How are you hungry?

"Were you . . . surprised when Sam told you?" Caroline asks, then immediately feels stupid; because of course he was surprised. People don't go around expecting their stepsisters to turn into immortal creatures of the night. Dean's smirking at her and she blushes a little. "You know what I mean."

He tilts his head at her and says slowly, "I wasn't happy about it, that's for sure."

"Makes two of us," she mutters and Sam raises his hand slightly, saying, "Three of us."

"But we've run into vampires on the road before," Dean continues seriously, "So I wasn't, ya know, worried about your soul or any of that Buffy crap. Just . . . pissed someone killed you." There's a solemn silence before Dean brightens and winks at her. "Plus, I kind of wanted nieces and nephews and since Samantha here is like lady-repellant—" Sam throws a fry at him and Dean ducks. "Dude, that had ketchup on it!"

Caroline is giggling a little into her Diet Coke when her phone starts buzzing, Bonnie flashing across the screen. She pushes her hair away from her ear to answer, and says, "Hey Bon, what's up?"

Sam and Dean are arguing over dessert when she hangs up—Seriously, Dean, you ate over half of Caroline's birthday cake, why do you need pie too? Dude, Sam, what do you have against pie?

"Hey," she says, waving her hand in between them. "Stuff's happening, we've got to go."

Once they're all piled in the Impala, Dean says, "So what's the big rush? Hair emergency? Boy problems?"

"Maybe, but I don't think so this time," Caroline says darkly under her breath, twisting her ring around her index finger.

"Probably vampire drama," Sam comments to him. "Lots and lots of vampire drama."

Dean waits a beat then says, "Dude, come on. One of you has to explain." Sam glances back at Caroline and gestures towards her.

She sighs and gives Dean a brief rundown of Stefan and Damon's eternal tug-of-war over girls who look like Katherine Pierce, of Original vampires whose angst gives fourteen-year-old girls a run for their money even as they spin tales of seeing the world; and when she finally stops, he says, "Holy crap. It's like supernatural Gossip Girl."

Sam snorts and says, "You would think that."

"Hey," Dean retorts. "I happen to be a connoisseur of fine television. Bitch."

"Jerk."

Caroline rolls her eyes even as her heart swells.

….

Bonnie's sitting on the floor of the witches' house with her eyes shut, candles dotting every corner of the room and Emily Bennett's grimoire open in front of her.

"This is spooky," Dean stage whispers to Sam, and Bonnie opens her eyes.

"Hey, Caroline," she says warmly, her eyes sliding over to where Dean and Sam are hanging back. "Welcome back, Dean." Caroline starts in surprise.

"How did you know?"

Bonnie shrugs and gestures around her. "The witches," she says simply.

"Right," Caroline replies sheepishly, sitting down across from Bonnie. "The witches. So they decided to forgive you because you helped hide Klaus's coffins? High price, especially considering that plan failed spectacularly."

Bonnie smiles a little before saying, "I think we've got bigger problems than Klaus, Care." No kidding, Caroline thinks. Just another normal day in Mystic Falls, where our problems are bigger than yours—and she winces because she's inadvertently reminded herself of bunny hunting with Stefan and I'm just thinking about how it's Tuesday.

"Yeah, I know," Caroline responds wearily. Bonnie looks at her quizzically and Caroline says, "You first. I'd bet my college tuition that we're worried about the same thing." Bonnie laughs a little, but it's a forced sound and Caroline's worried.

"They want me to leave," Bonnie tells her, and the flames on her candles spiral up suddenly. Dude, she hears Dean whisper; she had half-forgotten they were still there. "They keep saying 'revelations' over and over—revelations, revelations." She stops, biting her lip. "And I've been having these dreams."

"Witchy dreams?" Caroline wants to know shakily. Bonnie nods and Caroline's heart drops.

"I'm in the middle of the town square, and there's all this light. So much light it hurts to keep looking," she says, and in her peripheral vision, Caroline sees Dean stiffen slightly. "Everything's destroyed or burning, and there's just . . . bodies. Bodies everywhere." Bonnie shuts her eyes tightly and the candle flames reach heights higher than Caroline's ever seen them. "There's . . . there's you, and Elena, and Matt, and Jeremy . . . It looks like the end of the world, Care."

Caroline leans over and wraps her arms around Bonnie, pulling her close. Bonnie's head drops into where Caroline's neck and shoulder meet and she feels wetness. "Hey," she says firmly. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. And Jeremy's got his ring and Elena's got Stefan and Damon, so we're all gonna be fine, Bon. We're all going to be fine." She's pretty sure Bonnie doesn't totally believe her (she's not sure she believes herself either) but whatever; her best friend is a wreck and Caroline's sure as hell going to do everything in her power (and in Sam and Dean's) to make sure the people she loves are safe.

She doesn't let go and Bonnie doesn't pull away as Caroline says, keeping her voice warm and comforting, "Do the witches have any advice? Tips on avoidance?"

Bonnie's breath catches as she sits back, wiping at her eyes. "They haven't offered any, but I haven't asked either."

"Okay," Caroline says, going into 'I'm cheer squad captain and you'll do what I say' mode. "So you ask them what to do if you decide to stay and ride this thing out. I mean they were super accommodating when Klaus was threatening to kill you, right? They seem pretty invested in your safety."

"Invested in the continuation of the Bennett line," Bonnie corrects her, a little bitterly. Caroline reaches over and takes Bonnie's hand.

"Well, I'm invested in you safety," she says firmly, "And we're going to figure out how to make sure your dreams stay dreams." She motions for Dean and Sam to come over.

Bonnie surreptitiously wipes at her eyes again as Sam says kindly, "It's okay, Bonnie. We," he motions to himself and Dean, "kind of know what's going on."

When he's done explaining about angels and the Apocalypse and how the battle lines have basically already been drawn, Bonnie shudders. "I'll see what I can find out," she promises. "And if there's any way to stop it. Oh, and hey Care?"

Caroline stops mid-walk to the doorway. "We should probably fill in Matt and Elena," Bonnie advises.

"Right," Caroline says slowly. "What about Stefan and Damon?" Bonnie scowls a little before nodding.

Caroline bites her lip before venturing, "What about—the Originals?"

The flames spike and she flinches backwards slightly. "It was just an idea; that's why I asked," she defends to the hundreds of dead witches she knows are listening.

Bonnie shakes her head. "Only if we end up in the worst case scenario."

…..

"Elena!" she calls as she opens the front door to the Gilbert house, holding it open for Dean and Sam behind her. "Elena, where—" she jumps as she turns right into Damon. He leers down at her and she sees Sam glare at him next to her.

"Sup, Barbie?"

Elena, God bless her timing, saves Caroline from having to respond. "You're still here?" she says snippily to Damon as she comes down the stairs and pulls Caroline into the living room. Caroline's eyebrows go up, but whatever—it's not like she's concerned about Damon's feelings.

When Elena stops, it's like she notices Sam and Dean for the first time. "Oh—hey, guys," she says uncertainly, turning back to Caroline. "You said it was an emergency," Elena prods her.

"Yeah, it is," Caroline says, glancing around. "Where are Alaric and Jeremy?" She lowers her voice, "And where's Stefan?"

Elena lists them off, "Ric's grading papers at his apartment, Jeremy's working at the Grill, and Stefan's—"

"Probably off doing something boring, like self-flagellating or bunny-hunting," Damon drawls, looking directly at Caroline when he says bunny hunting. "Should we really be talking about this in front of strangers?" He moves to stand next to Elena and stares pointedly at the Winchesters.

"You don't even know what this is, and they're not strangers," Elena snaps, stepping away from him and closer to Caroline, who notices that Elena's going out of her way to not only tell Damon what's what, but to physically elaborate. Tension is crackling between the two of them. "They're Sam and Dean."

"And they can help," Caroline adds, choosing to ignore the Damon-Elena weirdness for now. She'll ask Elena about it later. "They're hunters, like Alaric."

Dean's eyebrows shoot up and he gives Caroline a look. She shrugs, because really, once he mentioned the freaking Apocalypse was happening in her backyard, she's pretty sure all bets were off as far as keeping Sam and Dean's day jobs a secret was concerned.

Damon snorts and drops gracefully onto Elena's couch. Elena rolls her eyes at the back of his head and goes to sit next to him.

Caroline glances at Sam quickly, and begins carefully, "The witches started communicating with Bonnie again. Something really big is coming—big enough that Bonnie's ancestors warned her to get out of town."

"Spit it out, Barbie," Damon says and Sam crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at Damon.

Caroline has always sucked at breaking the news to people, so she grits her teeth and dives right in, "It's the Apocalypse, basically."

….

"So wait," Damon drawls slowly, pointing his glass filled with Ric's alcohol at Dean. "You were in Hell. And then you weren't. Because an angel pulled you out. And now there's a huge, biblical war coming that's going to destroy everyone and Judgey's dead ancestors are screaming flee?" He stops to down another enormous gulp of scotch before continuing, "This has got to be some kind of elaborate joke. I'm impressed Barbie, very well-played."

"It's not a joke," she shoots back. "You want to see the handprint that's burned on Dean's shoulder?" She gestures at Dean, who mumbles something about not being sideshow attraction, thank you very much.

Damon pauses and does his crazy-eye thing at her. "Kind of gay don't you think?"

"You're vile," she informs him disgustedly and he smirks, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Elena's still very clearly processing everything as she says confusedly, "But . . . angels."

Caroline nods sympathetically. "Not the holy, watching-over-you guardians Sunday School promised."

"What could angels possibly get out of an apocalypse?" Damon wonders idly. "Aren't they a little busy cloud-sitting and harp-playing?"

"You of all people should know that myth usually has nothing to do with reality," Caroline rebukes him. "Think less Cupid, more angry, avenging warriors with really big swords."

"And wings," Dean adds helpfully.

Damon mouths wings before tipping back his glass and swallowing its contents. "So, Mouseketeers. Any brilliant ideas?"

"Bonnie's trying to get answers from the witches—" Caroline starts to say, and Damon murmurs darkly, "Witches." She glares at him before continuing, "And we're researching everything we can think of."

"I'm so comforted," Damon says, toasting her with his empty glass.

….

Liz's Sheriff's car isn't in the driveway when Dean parks the Impala on the street, but Caroline's hardly surprised. With an ancient vampire-werewolf hybrid who might be actually insane and his lackeys running around, Caroline really counts herself lucky that she sees her mother at all these days.

"That Damon guy is a dick," Dean comments and then says, in what Caroline is pretty sure he thinks is a nonchalant tone, "Sammy mentioned that you and him…"

She opens her car door and gets out. "We 'dated.'" She makes finger quotes in the air, because compelled sex and serving as a one-stop, all-you-can-eat buffet isn't dating, not even in the loosest sense of the word (but she keeps that to herself, because Damon would die for Elena, and he can't do that if Dean or Sam kills him). "But it wasn't real and it didn't last very long." She slams the door to the Impala shut and heads to the house.

Sam snorts, "Thank God," under his breath as they follow her up her front yard and she would glare at him if she didn't also thank God. Her hand rubs her neck unconsciously.

Dean thankfully doesn't continue to press her about Damon, but does continue, "So this Klaus guy—the guy that almost killed Bonnie. He saved your life—"

"He didn't save my life," she corrects him, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. "He just . . . cleaned up his own mess."

Dean considers her as Sam walks around them into the kitchen. She hears the icemaker whirling and the cabinet doors being opened and shut. "Yeah, okay. But why do you think he did it?"

She shrugs. "I have no idea. Why does a psycho thousand year old vampire-hybrid do anything?"

Sam returns from the kitchen with a giant glass of—if Caroline isn't mistaken—Liz's best bourbon and says to Dean, "I still say we need to talk to Castiel."

"And I still say that's a shit idea," Dean snaps back. "Cas may seem like he's not that bad, but when it comes down to us versus them? He's on their side, not ours."

"I think you're wrong," Sam retorts hotly. "Come on, Dean, he got demoted because of his empathy towards us!"

"Wait, what?" Caroline demands. "You left this part out!"

"Because it doesn't matter," Dean mutters, pacing the front hallway. "In fact, it's more reason not to talk to him. What if he's all pissy and wants to prove he's still stoic?"

"I just can't see that happening," Sam says quietly, and light turns the bourbon in his glass a hazy gold.

"I told you—"

"I'm with Sam," Caroline interjects, "And it's two versus one, so—"

"The hell—this isn't a democracy, Caroline—"

"Look," she snaps, "I promised Bonnie nothing would happen to her, that nothing would happen to anyone we care about; and you said he likes you two, so I'm not seeing the risk. It's not like we're laying out battle plans and asking his opinion. We're just asking for elaboration on stuff he's already told you."

Dean's hands go up in capitulation and he says, "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you two when this whole thing blows up in our faces."

Sam sends her a triumphant, conspiratorial glance. "We definitely won't."

She waits before asking what's probably a question with an incredibly obvious answer that she's just not seeing. "How do you even, like, summon an angel?"

"You pray," Sam says, looking at her, amused.

She knew it had to be obvious. "Do you think God hears vampire prayers?" she wonders distractedly as she takes her shoes off and heads to the sofa.

"If God exists, then I'd say he hears vampire prayers," Dean says with a hint of annoyance still in his voice. He settles in next to her.

Caroline looks over at him, startled. "You really don't think God exists? Even though angels clearly do?"

"M'not getting into this right now, Care," he warns, his hand going to his forehead.

She doesn't push it. "Okay, so praying." She looks between the two of them. "Is there like . . . anything specific we have to say or do we just—"

"Dean, Sam," a gravelly new voice says. "Caroline."

….

Caroline can't stop staring. She knows she's being rude, and even worse, obvious, but she can't help it. Castiel is nothing like what she's pictured angels to look like (but she acknowledges that her limited imagination as far as angels are concerned is due to the giant illustrated Bible her grandmother had given to her when she was six—those angels were incredibly pale with long faces and fluffy hair). Castiel resembles those angels about as much as Caroline herself does. He's remarkably unremarkable.

Castiel seems entirely unperturbed by her staring—in fact, he seems entirely unperturbed by anything. Sam elbows her and she snaps out of it.

"Can I ask you something," she ventures and when Castiel turns his attention from Dean towards her, she shrinks back a little because it feels like he can see right into her soul. She doesn't wait for him to answer. "Am I damned?"

Castiel considers her, saying nothing for several moments. "I'm afraid that isn't up to me," he answers finally, and even though it's not the answer she was hoping for, it isn't no.

"Who is it up to?" she asks, but she's pretty sure she knows what he'll say.

"The Lord," he says simply, and she swallows hard.

Sam changes the subject quickly. "Cas—we're just not too sure what the angels are getting out of the Apocalypse." Dean grunts, "Subtle, Sammy," from Caroline's elbow.

"The point?" Castiel echoes, tilting his head at Sam.

"Yeah, like . . . the reason for it."

Castiel considers the three of them for long time before saying, "The Lord has been absent from Heaven for a long time now. Some of the Host of Heaven believe that if the Apocalypse is brought upon humanity, He will return." He sips the tea Caroline had made for him.

"Seriously?" she cries out, forgetting for a moment her fear and that this is an actual, real life angel in front of her. "The Host of Heaven is throwing a temper tantrum to get God's attention?" Dean snickers into his hand.

Castiel regards her calmly. "I suppose you could say that, yes," he agrees amicably. She gapes at him for a second before turning to Sam and saying, "Do all supernatural creatures have daddy issues?"

"Yes," he answers, and she's pretty sure he's only half-joking. "But some normal, natural creatures do too," and he and Dean exchange glances.

…

Castiel must actually be fond of Sam and Dean, Caroline thinks, because he hasn't, like, swished away in a huge ball of light yet and it's not like any of the three of them are going out of their way to entertain him. Sam confides to her that apparently humans fascinate Castiel, and Dean might actually be his best friend. Which Caroline supposes is kind of sweet, in a weird, what-are-our-lives kind of way.

When Castiel's been with them for two days, she comes home from school to find a wrapped box sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for her. On top of the box there is a thick envelope with her name written in elegant script on the front.

Dean is staring at the box like it might bite him if he gets too close and Sam is sitting at the kitchen table with his computer in front of him, eying it suspiciously from afar.

"What do you think is in it?" Dean asks as Caroline traces her name on the envelope before opening it.

She scans the thick, cream-colored card and says, slightly in awe at the sheer brazenness of it, "They're throwing a ball. The Originals are throwing a ball."

From his spot at the kitchen table, Sam points out, "There's something written on the back." She flips it over and reads aloud, "Save me a dance. Fondly, Klaus."

"No," Dean says immediately, taking the invitation from her and glaring at it. "No, no, nope, that is not happening. And what kind of name is Mikaelson?"

Castiel is watching the entire scene unfold with such a fascinated expression on his face that Caroline would laugh if she wasn't still slightly afraid of him.

"Son of Mikael," Sam informs him, and before she can lecture Dean on the marvels of modern feminism and how she can take care of herself, her phone buzzes and Elena says in her ear, "Did you get an invitation to the Originals' ball?"

"Yeah," she confirms, snatching the invitation back from Dean. "A ball. Freaking medieval. Too bad it's on Saturday instead of Friday, though. Can't use the football game as an excuse not to go."

Elena laughs a little then says, "Stefan and Damon pitched a fit. Elijah wants to talk to me when I go—" and Caroline hears Damon holler in the background, You're not going! Elena ignores him and continues as though she wasn't interrupted at all, "Since Damon and Stefan aren't invited—" she can see Elena in her head fixing both Salvatores with a glare as she emphasizes this, "want to be dates?"

Caroline brightens immediately and says in an exaggerated Southern drawl, "Why, Miss Gilbert, I do declare!" She giggles then says, "Yeah, sounds good to me. Hey, did your invitation come with anything?"

"Nope," Elena says. "Hey, Care, Jeremy's calling me. Talk to you soon, okay?"

"Yeah," she says, hanging up and running her index finger down the ribbon on the box. "Elena's going," she comments absently and Dean makes a face.

"How nice for Elena. You're not."

She rolls her eyes. "Think that's a good idea? Pissing off a volatile vampire-werewolf hybrid?"

"I think you should go," Sam pipes up and Dean says furiously, "No one asked you, Sammy."

"No one asked you, Dean," Sam retorts. "I think you should go and make nice with them. Keeps the peace, and it's one less thing to worry about."

Makes sense to her, so Caroline nods in agreement and before Dean can say anything, she pulls the top off the box.

"Holy crap," Dean says, clearly forgetting his argument as they both peer at the brilliant blue gown lying neatly folded at the bottom.

Caroline stares at it, mesmerized. She's never owned anything this nice, not even the dress she won Miss Mystic Falls in.

"Creepy Cinderella fetish," she hears Dean gripe and despite the loveliness of the dress, she's afraid she has to agree.

….

She bans Dean and Sam (mostly Dean) from the Mikaelson ball, and Sam tells her not to worry, he'll keep Dean away. Dean growls something unintelligible and Castiel, who still hasn't left (but she minds less and less because she's pretty sure Sam's right about him), looks at him as though Dean is a very interesting specimen under a microscope. Which to an angel, she supposes he is.

Elena honks her horn from the street and Caroline picks up her glittery shawl that Castiel is almost entranced by and says, once more for emphasis, "Do not crash this thing, Dean. Don't do it." He rolls his eyes at her and shoos her out the door.

"Nice dress," Elena comments appreciatively. "Is that a diamond bracelet, Care?" Elena's eyes are wide as she stares at Caroline's wrist.

"Sam and Dean went in on it together," she lies smoothly. She honestly has no idea why she was wearing the stupid thing—fine, that's a lie. It's beautiful and sparkly and it isn't the bracelet's fault Klaus gave it to her.

"Game plan," Elena says as she turns her car onto the long driveway that leads up to the Mikaelson house.

"Schmooze, dance, drink, play nice while you talk to Elijah, leave in one piece," Caroline recites, fiddling with her seat belt. Elena nods and adds, "And don't get out of each other's sight for very long."

Caroline thinks back to the invitation—Save me a dance—and agrees fervently.

Elena pulls up to a giant, sprawling house—mansion, Caroline corrects herself. The Mikaelson mansion dwarfs even the Lockwood house, which is no easy feat. A valet takes Elena's car keys, and when Elena comes to stand next to Caroline, they both simply gape up at the house. There's a fountain behind them.

"Jeez," Elena breathes, awestruck.

Caroline almost sighs yeah in agreement but catches herself and wonders instead, "Think they're overcompensating for something?"

Elena laughs and holds out her arm. "Shall we, Miss Forbes?"

Caroline smiles back and links her arm with Elena's. "Let's, Miss Gilbert."

…

"I'm pleased you could make it," Klaus says low into her ear, and Caroline stiffens, glancing around for Elena. She relaxes a fraction when she sees the other girl in deep conversation with Elijah and replies frostily, "You say that as if I had a choice."

He holds out a glass of champagne and she takes it because at this moment, she'd rather have alcohol than pride. "Of course you had a choice," he says and he sounds just as offended as he did on her birthday when she asked if he was going to kill her.

She snorts a little and says, "Right," then winces internally because the whole point of even coming to this stupid ball was to not piss him off. She sneaks a subtle glance up at him and relaxes a fraction more when he seems more amused than murderous.

Elijah's voice floats down from the extravagant staircase next to where she and Klaus are standing; as Klaus excuses himself and goes to stand with the rest of the Original family, Elena slips over.

Caroline opens her mouth to ask Elena about Elijah, but Elena puts a finger to her mouth and points discreetly at the staircase. Caroline turns and they're all standing there. Four brothers, one sister—her eyes narrow in dislike at Rebekah, who smirks back at her.

"What a good-looking family," someone behind her murmurs appreciatively and Caroline has to concentrate to keep her eyes from rolling right out of their sockets.

". . . So please join us in the ballroom," Elijah finishes, and Caroline realizes she tuned out his entire speech.

Before she can turn to tell Elena they need to speed up the game plan because she really doesn't want to spend her Saturday night here (especially when she has a recently resurrected stepbrother teaching an angel how to play poker at her kitchen table), Klaus is back at her side and Elena is gone.

He offers her his arm but doesn't say anything; only looks intently at her and he might have the darkest eyes she's ever seen that still manage to stay blue. She grinds her teeth together and takes his arm. Play nice, play nice, play nice, she chants internally.

The opening notes of a waltz start up and she takes a moment to silently thank Miranda Gilbert for insisting Elena enroll in cotillion, thereby ensuring that she and Bonnie enrolled as well. Reminded of their mission, Caroline tries to covertly find Elena in the crowded ballroom, but all the Originals are present, which means it's less likely someone's gnawing on her friend's neck in a dark corner. Satisfied, she turns her focus back to the dance steps.

Klaus isn't saying anything and it's really creeping her out; before she can stop herself, she says, "Why'd you invite me here if you aren't even going to talk to me?" As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes she could call them back—stupid brain to mouth non-filter.

His mouth twitches upward and he's definitely amused by her, which is probably the best reaction, considering. "What would you like to talk about?"

She shakes her head at him and says, frustrated, "You invited me, buster." He's definitely smiling now, and of course he has dimples.

"Fine," Klaus says genially. "How is your mother?"

Caroline stiffens, trying to discern if there's a threat hidden in there somewhere and he notices. "Ah," he says quietly, some of the amusement slipping away. "On to less personal topics, then? Like how ravishing you look in that dress."

She feels herself blushing and swears internally. "Ravishing, really?" she says, trying her best to sound flippant. "I think you've been reading too many romance novels."

He smirks down at her, and she's momentarily distracted by how different he looks when he's not snarling about how he's going to burn down the entire town. But before she can analyze that to death, she sees Damon and Stefan Salvatore out of the corner of her eye and she groans.

"Problem?" he asks languidly, and she wonders if he's got some sort of magnetic pull because once she meets his eyes she can barely force herself to look away. She swallows and she knows he notices.

"Stefan and Damon just walked in," she says, glancing over to the ballroom entrance. "Idiots," she adds under breath, shaking her head. The look on his face invites her to go on, so she says, "Elena told them not to come, but of course they think they can take better care of her than she can. So," she shrugs as he spins her slowly, "Idiots."

"And your two young men aren't here," he remarks casually, and her heart almost stops.

"Excuse me?" she demands, her hands clenching down on his. "Are you stalking me?"

He doesn't even look bothered by her accusation. "Of course not," he says easily as they circle around Rebekah and her date, some guy from the football team who Caroline thinks she may have dated for like a second in ninth grade.

"Rebekah saw you at the Grill," he says and she scowls at him.

"Yeah, well, first of all, your sister wants to take over my life, and it's annoying," she informs him tartly, not caring that Rebekah can hear her. He laughs at that, and she thinks, maybe if he wasn't such a horrible person, he could be kind of hot. "And second, those are my stepbrothers. God."

"Good to know," he says quietly, and there's something about the way he says that tugs at her stomach.

The waltz ends and he bows slightly to her; she returns it with the quickest curtsy she's ever done and zips off to find Elena.

"Barbie," Damon hisses, snatching her arm and pulling her into a corner. "Where the hell is Elena?" Stefan's glowering at her—nice time to decide to care, Stefan, she thinks viciously—and she wrenches herself out of Damon's grasp.

"She's a big girl, Damon," Caroline snaps. "Maybe if you treated her like a grown-up, she'd like you better." It's a low blow but she doesn't care.

Damon snarls back at her and Stefan says calmly, "Maybe if she didn't act like a child—"

"What are you two doing here?" Elena whisper-shrieks, appearing at Caroline's side out of nowhere.

"Taking you home," Damon informs her, and Elena takes hold of Caroline's arm tightly.

"I don't think so," she shoots back and Caroline feels like she's in the middle of a Mexican standoff because she's pretty sure Damon has no problem ripping her arm off at the socket and throwing Elena over his shoulder.

"Is there a problem?" a new voice says, and Elena relaxes into Caroline before letting go of her and taking Elijah's arm instead.

"Stefan and Damon were just leaving," Elena says, narrowing her eyes at them. The look on Damon's face is positively bloodthirsty and Caroline slips away because if anyone can handle that mess, it's Elijah.

She's tiptoeing down an empty corridor when she spies a room with no door and walks inside of it.

There's massive paintings hanging on the walls and she frowns as she recognizes some of them. She mentally adds art thieves under the long list of Original crimes as she stares up at a particularly colorful canvas.

"That painting," Klaus says from behind her; she's silently grateful when she doesn't jump, "has been shown in some of the most famous art galleries in the world."

She doesn't look at him. "Impressive," she says. "Did you buy it or did you compel your way to it?"

"That one, I bought. I tend to not use compulsion when I know I can get what I want," he says and she flushes, not missing the double meaning. She looks down, anywhere but at him, and sees pieces of paper with sketches on them littering the table in front of her. Caroline suddenly feels very shy as she asks, "Are these yours?"

He follows her eyes and his hand goes up to the back of his neck. She blinks in surprise. Is he embarrassed? "It's a hobby," he says ruefully. She forces her heart to harden because this is Klaus and he's tormented them for months.

"Elena's brother Jeremy draws," she tells him quietly. "So does Tyler." He stiffens slightly and she continues, her voice dropping several degrees in temperature. "But you wouldn't know that, would you? We're all just—just ants to you." She shakes her head a little and drops her gaze back down to the sketches.

"Am I supposed to apologize for trying to get what I want?" he demands and the air around them has shifted from amicable to tense. Caroline pushes a piece of escaped hair behind her ear.

"If what you want hurts people, then yeah," she says, looking him right in the eyes. "You aren't more important than everyone else." His eyes flash and she summons up all her courage to continue, voice soft, "Your happiness doesn't trump everyone else's." She straightens her back, gently unclasps the diamond bracelet on her wrist and holds it out to him. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept this."

"It was a gift," he snaps and she's more than a little scared of him as, once it's clear he won't take it back, she lays it down on top of a sketch. Every instinct she has is screaming at her to run, but she forces herself to stay perfectly serene. Externally, anyway.

"It's beautiful," she tells him as she turns to head to the door. "But I'm afraid I can't be bought."

….

After searching desperately, she finally finds Elena in the bathroom, dabbing at her eyes.

"What happened?" Caroline exclaims, wrapping her arms around her friend.

"Just—they're so annoying, Care," she says, voice cracking. "I'm not stupid, I'm not going to sell my soul to Elijah and they act like they're in charge of my life!"

Caroline strokes Elena's hair for a minute before announcing, "Okay, that's it," and taking Elena's small clutch, digging out the valet stub. "We're leaving."

….

"How was the ball, princess?" Dean calls out mockingly as she opens the front door. She sighs, kicks her shoes off and tosses her shawl on the table by the door. Castiel's eyes follow the shawl as it floats to rest on top of the plate her mother tosses spare change into.

"Eventful," she says with a sigh, fingers already working at the back of the dress. She is so ready for pajamas.

Sam is coming out of his room when he sees her. "Hey!" he says eagerly. "How'd it go?"

"Fine, I guess," she mumbles going into her room. Sam follows her, frowning a little.

"Did something happen?" he wants to know and she's about to turn to tell him that she just really wants wash her face and to go to sleep when she spots a small box on her bed.

"Seriously?" she snaps, snatching it up and opening it. Sam leans over her shoulder; and she swats at him, mumbling, "Nosy much?"

There's a rolled up slip of paper—"Weird thing to put in a box," Sam remarks—and when she unfurls it, she feels a familiar pull in her stomach.

It's a sketch, but it's her, and even though she's got a glass held up to her mouth, she's laughing at something and there's this light in her eyes that makes her wonder if this is how he sees her.

Scrawled at the bottom is: Thank you for your honesty. Klaus.

"Oh shit," Sam says softly.

"Yeah," she agrees faintly.

...

tbc.

A/N: I realize this might be confusing, so please please please don't hesitate to ask questions! :) Also, pretty please review!