I disclaim. Title is from Explosions in the Sky.
A/N: Completely AU/AH. As per usual, my sincere thanks to reviewers! If everyone who alerts or favorites (or just reads and enjoys it) would please review, I would love it so much. I really do love hearing what y'all think and when I'm stuck on something, I go back and reread what everyone has said. So please, please, drop me a line. It's the ultimate form of encouragement!
Also I literally stared at the first 900 words of this chapter for days because even though I have everything sketched out (yes, even the end) I couldn't figure out how to move everything forward. Part of the reason (and this is On A Personal Note, so feel free to skip ahead to the chapter) for this is because I just moved back home from the UK and I miss England so much (and all the pre-Olympic coverage is so not helping). Anyway, I appreciate the patience, is what I'm getting at.
— All this to say: I really hope you enjoy! (And please review!) —
(Quick Note: Really gross imagery within. Ye be warned.)
the birth and death of the day
6.
"Vocare mortem," Bonnie chants and Caroline knows enough about Latin roots from SAT prep to remember that mortem means death—although she's pretty sure it's supposed to refer to the actual act of dying, not, like, Death-death. "Vocare mortem nex interitus." Caroline restrains a shiver.
The sky outside of the boarding house has turned grey, clouds rolling over the sun, and Dean says lowly to Caroline, "Maybe you should go home." She rolls her eyes and doesn't answer because seriously, what more damage can Death do to her? What can any of the Horsemen do to her, really? No, she's staying, because she has no qualms about putting herself in front of the people she cares about, especially when the risks are exponentially lower for her. After her non-response, Dean doesn't say anything else about her leaving.
Bonnie finishes her chanting with a whisper and she opens her eyes expectantly. When nothing happens, Damon says blithely, "Maybe he bitch-buttoned us." He jerks his head towards Castiel. "Or maybe he gave you the number for the Rejection Hotline."
No one dignifies his flippant attitude with a response—instead, they all sit silently for a few more moments until Dean finally quips, "So...anti-climati, much?" He stands and Sam snorts disbelievingly, "Understatement."
"It should have worked," Bonnie says worriedly. "It—everything was right!" She turns wild eyes to Castiel. "What happened?"
Caroline's stomach is filled with something that feels as heavy as lead. "I don't know," Castiel says quietly. "But I imagine we will find out soon."
… … …
The mother of all storms hits Mystic Falls, and if the good folks at Channel 7 weather are to be believed, it isn't leaving until it's dumped oceans of rain on them. Flash flood alerts are going up all over the state and rain patters heavily against the windows.
"That's the third time in an hour," Caroline comments as the living room plunges into darkness despite the fact that it's only noon. The front yard is swimming in water from the constant pounding of rain. Sam turns on the flashlight sitting next to his elbow, eyes intent on the book in front of him and Dean holds a lit candle out to her.
"Pretend you're Abe Lincoln," he suggests. At her blank look, he shakes his head. "Reading by candlelight? I knew skipping school would catch up to you, Care."
"For your information, I can recite the Gettysburg Address," she informs him coolly, snatching the candle out of his hand. The flame wobbles.
"Something that will definitely be useful later in life," he says with sarcastic sureness, nodding firmly and she scowls at him as she picks up the lighter from the coffee table. "Yell if Death pops in," she grumbles as she heads to her room. "Or, you know, don't."
She's flicking the lighter over the wick of a giant mulberry-scented Yankee Candle when her phone lights up: Huffington Post News Alert: Chicago's 2.7 million population urged to evacuate city as major storm brews. Caroline stares at it thoughtfully before sliding her finger across the unlock key.
As her eyes skim across the article, she shouts, her voice cracking in panic, "Dean!" and he comes running down the hallway, skidding to a halt in front of her door. "What?" he demands frantically, hands roaming down her sides in search of an injury, Sam following not three steps behind him; and she waves her phone in their faces, spluttering wordlessly. Dean snatches it from her, eyes scanning the bright screen and he scowls before he hands it back to her.
"Way to overreact," he grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and Sam raises a questioning eyebrow at her.
"Did you read it?" she demands of Dean, shoving the phone in Sam's hand. "I don't think we summoned Death, Dean—I think we released him!"
"That makes zero sense," he says reasonably as Sam frowns thoughtfully. "People die every day, Caroline."
She shakes her head and says frustratedly, "Yeah I get that, but this is 3 million people, Dean! Can Reapers even handle something that big by themselves?"
"We still have his ring, though," Sam points out incredulously. "Doesn't he kind of need that?"
"No," Castiel says from behind Caroline; she jumps in surprise and then groans, "What did I say about the whole Apparating thing, Cas? Jeez."
He ignores her and says, looking entirely world-weary, "The spell summoned Death, but he is under no obligation to respond to the summons—to us, that is."
"This is becoming like a thing with you," Dean remarks, looking annoyed. "Not telling us important things that would be just a tad helpful to know beforehand."
Castiel shoots him a disgruntled look. "I didn't know. Rest assured, if I had, we would not be in this precarious situation."
"I'm right, aren't I," Caroline says pessimistically. "He's going for Chicago, for like, a big splashy opening act or something." Castiel nods slowly. "It would appear that way."
Dean crosses his arms. "So, what, Death's just gonna wipe out the entire population of Chicago? Not very subtle. At all."
Caroline's mind is racing a mile a minute. "We have to go to Chicago—we have to tell him what's going on because he's doing exactly what the angels want!"
"Is there any chance that Death is on the other side?" Sam posits quietly, hand cupping his chin.
"No," Castiel insists stubbornly. "Death is a Horseman, and they are only to be used in the Lord's Apocalypse."
"But you don't know if Death thinks that," Dean grouses in frustration, nearly stamping his foot. "Shit, Cas." He points at Sam and says, "Pack a bag, we're going to Chi-town."
Caroline catches his arm and says pleadingly, "Let me come with you." Dean gives an indelicate snort and says, "Keep dreaming, sister," and she turns to Sam imploringly. "I can help!" she insists and Sam gives her a fond, placating smile.
"You're helping by staying here," he tells her gently, offering her phone back to her. "Keep an eye on Michael, but don't get too close to him, okay?" She rolls her eyes and says pointedly, "Is Cas supposed to baby-sit me again?" Because that had gone so spectacularly well—her mind flashes back to Klaus pressing her forcefully into the stove, eyes flaming and she has to stop herself from flushing.
"I'm going with you," Castiel says firmly to Sam and Caroline's mouth drops open in protest, her eyes flashing to Sam's accusingly. Sam shrugs and he follows Dean down the hall as Castiel takes Caroline's forearm in one hand, pulling her around to look at him.
"Listen to me, Caroline," he says urgently, eyes searching hers. "You must be vigilant in keeping watch for the other Horsemen. Now that Death has been released, the Host's own search for the other three will be even more vigorous."
"Great," she mutters darkly. "So not only do I get to hold down the fort, I have to keep both eyes open for what, Pestilence? Like, as in freaking spiders?" She shudders. "I don't handle spiders well, Cas."
"Pestilence is the forbearer of disease, Caroline, not arachnids," Castiel says bemusedly, the spot between his eyebrows wrinkling. "And you must also watch for the other Horsemen—Famine and War."
"I think War's already here," she grumbles and Castiel shakes his head. "No," he says warningly. "I believe you will know when War arrives."
Well, if that doesn't send a chill up her spine.
… … … …
Dean, Sam, and Castiel leave before the power comes back on and Caroline is vaguely creeped out by the eerie stillness that has settled throughout the entire house. The way the flickering candles send shadows dancing across the walls doesn't exactly help, either, and every urban legend she's ever heard at a sleepover runs through her mind. It doesn't even matter that Dean and Sam debunked most of them (creepy dolls and dripping faucets being two of her recurring nightmares at eleven years old)—they continue to run through her mind, and after all, Bloody Mary ended up being real.
"Grow up," she orders herself out loud, and thunder answers her, making her jump slightly, gripping her flashlight tightly. "You're a vampire, Caroline," she reminds herself in a whisper, even as every creak has her mind racing with images of serial killers and scenes from Texas Chainsaw Massacre—even though she could totally take Leatherface. She comforts herself with that.
She pulls one of the molding books Sam had left on the kitchen table towards her and flips to the pages that have a gas station receipt wedged between them to hold his place.
The sketches of the Horsemen are kind of terrifying—they catch her eyes and are nearly hypnotic in their nightmarish quality. Slowly, her fingers brush down the page, eyes wide as she reads. Death will ride a pale horse and there will be a great Reckoning. Capital 'R' Reckoning. Ominous.
Lightening cracks through the sky and Caroline jumps approximately ten feet in the air, hand flying to her chest. "That's it," she says to the empty kitchen, snapping the book shut and reaching for her car keys. "No more."
The drive to the Salvatore boarding house takes a little bit longer than usual because the rain is falling so thick and heavy that her windshield wipers can barely keep up. There are no lights on at the Salvatores' when she pulls up, though she isn't surprised—she had figured the power was out all over the town.
"Hello?" she calls out, pushing damp bangs out of her face and Stefan says from the small hallway next to the door, "Hey, Caroline. What're you doing here?"
She drops her bag to the floor and says, "I was home alone. Got freaked out."
"Did the burglars come for you while you were home alone again, Kevin?" Damon asks mockingly from behind Stefan, pushing past both of them on his way to the living room; she rolls her eyes at his back.
"Dean and Sam both went to Chicago to find Death," she tells Stefan, slipping out of her sopping wet raincoat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Before she can elaborate further Damon calls out, "Do ya think he's like some kind of massive Cubs fan? They are cursed, after all…or maybe he really likes deep-dish pizza—but then, who doesn't?"
It's Stefan's turn to roll his eyes and he takes Caroline's elbow to lead her into the kitchen. "Castiel thinks the spell just released Death—or, if it really did summon him, the 'summoning' part is more like a suggestion."
"I wonder what Death could do to us," Stefan muses, leaning on the island in the center of the kitchen with his head tilted. At her confused look, he explains, "We kind of cheated him, right? Bet we're not his favorite species."
Caroline gapes at him. "Seriously? You think he could do something to us? Oh my God, of course he can do something to us—he's Death!" She takes a deep breath and glares at him. "Thanks for giving everyone—and by everyone, I mean me, specifically—something else to worry about."
He shrugs apologetically. "Just trying to plan ahead."
She sighs and rubs her forehead wearily. "How are we gonna do this, Stefan? We're up against something that's bigger than anything we've ever dreamed of—bigger than the Originals for God's sake." She looks up at him, a little desperately. "How do we do this?"
Stefan looks down at his hands and says slowly, "We just…do it, Care. It's not like we have a choice. It's not just our lives at stake here, it's the entire world."
Their power flicks on and she holds her breath hopefully as it doesn't immediately turn back off. Stefan looks up at the light hanging from the ceiling. "You can still stay here, if you want."
She nods enthusiastically. "Yes please."
All of Sam's books lay spread out on the Salvatore coffee table, their flat screen turned on a muted CNN. "This one is sexy as hell," Damon comments sarcastically, flipping his book around and showing them a sketch of a terrifying beast with multiple heads and long, sharp-looking claws. "When does he show up?"
"Hopefully never," Stefan says firmly at Caroline's horrified expression. "Unmute the TV, Damon."
Damon mumbles something about not being a manservant, but does as Stefan asks and the three of them stare at the screen as the pretty blonde reporter says in distress, "And in addition to the destruction threatening Chicago, there have been a breakout of what officials can only call—cannibalistic incidents in Philadelphia. Authorities say—"
Caroline's blood goes cold. "Cannibalistic incidents?" she repeats faintly.
"Maybe it's the zombie apocalypse," Damon offers glibly, but even he sounds slightly disturbed at the idea of someone eating another person's face off.
She shakes her head slowly. "No," she whispers, staring in disbelief at the twenty-odd mug shots lining the screen. "It's Famine."
Immediately, both Salvatores sit straight up and turn identical what in the holy hell expressions towards her. "Care to elaborate on The Walking Dead there, Barbie?" Damon growls and Stefan says gently, "What are you talking about, Care?"
"Famine," she says again. "One of the Horsemen. Come on, it fits—cannibals, people eating people, hunger…"
Damon looks mildly impressed. "Look at you, Barbie, getting all smart on us."
She doesn't even have the energy to tell him to fuck off. "Philadelphia isn't all that far from here," she says weakly.
"What are you thinking?" Stefan wants to know, eyes narrowing. "Caroline, we are not running right into the middle—"
She waves him off and says passionately, "We have to! If there's any chance we can convince Famine—"
"Did you miss the part where humans are freaking eating each other?" Damon demands incredulously, ice blue eyes sweeping over her face in disbelief. "Have you lost your damn mind? We're not going and looking for that!"
"If we can convince him that this isn't right—that it isn't, like, God or whatever, but some stupid rebellion, maybe—"
Damon cuts her off again and she aims a kick at his shins. "Try that again, Barbie, and just see what happens. And what makes you think that Famine even gives a flying shit that this doesn't have the Big Guy's seal of approval? Maybe he's just happy to go on a giant, disgusting binge."
"Come on," she pleads, turning to Stefan. "This is about the world, remember? We have to try everything!"
"Stefan, don't," Damon warns but Caroline knows victory when she sees it and Stefan only hesitates for a moment before he nods resignedly.
… … … …
"We need him," Caroline insists, even as she feels like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
"Nope," Damon disagrees, popping the 'p' sound exaggeratedly. "I refuse to be stranded in the middle of your sexual tension with Big Daddy Hybrid, Barbie." He throws a saucy wink at her in the rearview mirror. "Come on, it'll be like old times—we can even make out in the backseat of the car once we get to Philly."
"How about you go to hell?" she suggests tartly, crossing her arms stubbornly, and from the passenger seat, Stefan groans. "Just shut up, Damon. Caroline's right, we need something bigger to help us out here."
"I resent your implication that Klaus is bigger—" Damon starts to say and Caroline leans forward with sudden, vicious intent. "Look, Damon," she snaps, and even she's surprised when her voice goes scary-intense. "We need the backup, so just shut up and freaking drive." Stefan silently hands her his phone and she scrolls down to the Ks, ignoring Damon's grumbling under his breath.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Stefan?" Klaus drawls silkily into the phone and Caroline leans back into her seat.
"It's Caroline, actually," she says lowly, and there is a long pause on the other end of the line. "Something's happened and we're going to Philadelphia."
"We?"
"Me, Stefan, and Damon," she clarifies, giving the back of Damon's seat a kick for good measure; he shoots her a glare in the rearview. "We—look, it's a really complicated thing, but basically Famine is there and we're gonna try to talk him out of, you know, destroying the world." She pauses. "Okay, so I guess it's not that complicated."
"What are you asking, Caroline?"
She sighs and explains, "We need more manpower and you can't be killed."
There is silence on the other end of the line and Stefan says lowly from the front seat, "There's no way—"
"If you would like for me to meet you three in Pennsylvania," Klaus says amusedly, "then really, Caroline, all you have to do is ask."
She feels her face flush; it only gets warmer when Damon leers at her over his shoulder. She grits her teeth and says quietly—needlessly, since Damon and Stefan both have super hearing—under her breath, "Meet us in Philadelphia, Klaus."
He gives this low laugh that absolutely does not send a shiver down her spine and says genially, "See you soon, sweetheart."
As soon as she hands Stefan his phone back, Damon chortles smugly, "Barbie and Klaus, sittin' in a tree…"
"Shut up and drive," she snaps, sliding her earphones back in her ears and cranking up the Katy Perry to drown him—and her growing nerves—out.
… … … …
Philadelphia is completely abandoned. The streets are empty of even stray animals, and the eerie silence from the absence of traffic makes Caroline's skin break out in goosebumps. There's a chill that settles right between her shoulder blades and something that feels like the same terror she had experienced when Katherine—so much like Elena—had woken her up in her hospital bed and pushed a pillowcase over her nose sinks in next to it.
"This is bad," Damon mutters ominously, his eyebrow twitching and his knuckles turning bleach white against the steering wheel. "This is so bad, Barbie. Easily your worst idea ever, and that includes sexing up a werewolf."
She can't find her voice to argue—not that she has an argument. Staring at the completely deserted streets of Philadelphia, she's not really sure why she insisted they come here.
"Any idea on where we should start looking?" Stefan wants to know and her hand curls around his headrest.
"We should find Klaus," she says softly before she leans back into her seat, wanting very much to slide down to the car floor and hide from the growing despair looping around in her stomach.
Damon parks the car under the covered parking lot of an empty gas station—empty like the entire rest of the city and she sits cross-legged on the hood of Damon's car, Stefan's cell phone dangling idly from her nervous fingertips. Her other hand slides to rest on her forehead as she wonders, Where do hungry people go?
It seems to take forever for Klaus's car to pull up and she looks up but doesn't hop off of Damon's car. "It appears that you have need of me," he remarks languidly, sunglasses that look incredibly expensive resting on his nose and Stefan scowls at him. She thinks vaguely that it's kind of a douche move to wear sunglasses when it's pouring rain.
"Let's just get this over with," Stefan says irritably and Damon's eyebrows arch as he smirks at Klaus. "We're taking your car," he says, tucking his keys in his back pocket. "Mine's a classic. Irreplaceable. You understand—can't just go shopping for a new one."
Caroline's hand falls down to her side and she straightens, staring at Damon. "Shopping," she repeats slowly, her eyes widening as something clicks in the back of her brain. Damon rolls his eyes at her.
"Come on, Barbie," he gripes. "Can't you think of anything else, just for a second?"
"Bite me," she snaps and before he can retort—and she knows exactly what he wants to say, because he's just that predictable sometimes—she continues, "Where do people go to eat and flirt and buy things they don't need? The mall." She fixes Damon with a triumphant look before turning to Stefan and Klaus. "Where's the biggest mall in Philly?"
… … … …
There are no cars in the expansive parking lots at King of Prussia Mall and Caroline stops in her tracks as they near the entrance. "It's silent," she whispers, heart falling down into her shoes.
"No it isn't," Klaus says flatly, and she can't see his expression from where she's standing. Damon pushes the trunk of his car open and heaves an axe over his shoulder before hopping back under Stefan's umbrella. "My money's on the one thousand year old hybrid, Barbie. Sorry." He claps his hand on Stefan's shoulder and the two of them walk a little ways ahead. Klaus dips his head low, mouth hovering over Caroline's ear as he avoids the edge of her blue and white polka dotted umbrella.
"I knew a Prussian king once," he says and the deep scratch of his voice makes the base of her spine tingle. "He was an utter fool."
Her hands clench into fists at her sides and she says archly, "I'm starting to think we might be too."
His hand rests on her lower back, propelling her forward even as she struggles to swallow around the lump in her throat.
"No, sweetheart," he says, thumb rolling over one of her vertebrae. "Doing what is best does not make us fools."
She sends him a skeptical look and says sarcastically, "Because you always do what's right."
He laughs and her skin prickles. "I don't recall saying that," he muses thoughtfully. "But I always do what I think is best." He gives her a grin that makes her shiver. "There is a difference, love."
She scoffs and is about to retort when she stops and looks up, realizing they've reached the entrance to the building.
"Any brilliant ideas, Barbie?" Damon asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and she shakes her head slowly. He sighs and pushes open the door.
Caroline nearly gags at the stench.
There are bodies everywhere. Some are already decomposing, squirming white maggots crawling over decaying skin and muscle. Young and old alike are strewn across the aisle ways, bodies in differing stages of rot.
But the worst is at the end, near the food court. And even though she's a vampire and she's seen things that would make other cheerleading captains never leave the safety of their covers, she almost runs.
The remaining living are all huddled there, food strewn around people who are covered in vomit and blood. Caroline nearly passes out, her hand grasping for Klaus of its own volition, her fingers threading through his. He responds in kind, and she bites down so hard on the inside of her cheek that she tastes her own blood.
"Any day now," Damon whispers next to her, hand tight around his axe and she swallows to clear her throat.
"F-Famine," she calls out, and she unwittingly steps closer to Klaus, the arm attached to her hand holding his disappearing behind him.
"Lovely, isn't it," a creaky voice says from the side, and all four of them shift. Caroline blinks, taking a half step backwards and Klaus's fingers clamp down slightly on hers. An ancient old man in a motorized wheelchair wheezes at them, oxygen tubes snaking out of his nostrils.
"It's America," he rasps, rheumy eyes sweeping over the scene. "All you can eat, all the time. Consume, consume, consume." The disgust in his thick voice grows as he continues. "A swarm of locusts in stretch pants." A teenage girl in denim cutoffs doesn't even make a sound as the middle-aged woman next to her—her mom?—starts to gnaw on the girl's arm, tearing flesh from bone with blunt, human teeth. Caroline has to look away, face dropping into Klaus's upper arm as she fights tears.
She doesn't look up as she says pleadingly, "This isn't—this apocalypse isn't—"
Famine coughs and the sound is full of phlegm. "Oh my dear. I'm well aware of the angels' little...rebellion against God." His watery eyes focus on Stefan. "And you, Stefan—my boy. You are a child of my own heart." A small smile twitches over his yellowing teeth. "You are always hungry."
Damon snarls at him and growls warningly, "Back off, Locust-man." When Famine simply continues to gaze at Stefan expectantly, Damon steps in between their locked eyes, his back pointedly turned to Famine.
"Hey Stef," he says loudly, hands going up to Stefan's face. Stefan's eyes have glassed over, and his fangs are sliding out of his gums. "Look at me, brother." Damon forces Stefan's eyes to his. "Come on, Stefan," he says, voice quiet but still fierce and authoritative. "You've come so far, brother. Don't let this prick knock you off the wagon."
Famine chuckles and Caroline lets go of Klaus's hand to take several small steps towards him. "Please," she tries again, hands at her sides, palms up. "This isn't how it's supposed to go, right? There's protocols and—and rules you have to follow! What about when God comes back?"
He considers her and then his eyes flick past her shoulder. "Darling girl," he says, taking a moment to inhale a long drag of oxygen, rubbing his chest with withered, spotted hands. "That's the best part. There are no rules now. And God is never coming back." Famine tilts his head and Caroline realizes she no longer has his attention—he's focused completely on Klaus. "But you. Niklaus. You are the most interesting of them all."
"Damn it, Stefan," Damon growls, and distracted, Caroline rushes to help Damon restrain him.
"Stefan, stop," she begs, and it takes all her strength to keep her hold on his arm as he pulls away. "Please, Stefan, think about this—" But he breaks away from both of them, disappearing into the depths of the mall and Damon hisses, "God damn it," before flashing after him. Both of her hands are pressed to her mouth in silent desperation and fragments of thoughts race through her mind. She thinks that she might actually pass out when a hard arm wraps itself around her waist.
"Time to go," Klaus says roughly in her ear, and she pushes away desperately at him. He doesn't even seem to feel her struggles and she finds herself being pulled outside against her will, rain soaking through her clothes.
"We can't just leave Stefan and Damon," she protests, her voice cracking as it rises in pitch. "Let go of me, Klaus!" But he is immovable, snapping at her, "I refuse to allow you to get yourself killed over this," and before she quite realizes what's happened, he's pinned her to his car, his hips pressing down heavily onto hers to keep her from escaping.
His face is hardly an inch from hers and she stops breathing—stops moving—when she sees that his eyes are completely yellow. "Klaus," she whispers, her heart hammering against her ribcage and her hands cautiously cupping his face. "We can't leave them."
It takes only a second for the blue to return and her knees almost give out in relief as he turns his face into her hand. His stubble scratches against her palm and his fingers encircle her wrists, leaving bruises that fade almost as soon as they had appeared. "Do not move," he orders harshly and as he disappears back into the mall from hell, she believes he might actually do her violence if she attempted to follow him. Regardless, she has no desire to go back into that house of horrors so she stays rooted to the spot, eyes shut and telling God that He needed to get back form vacay like right now.
"Let go!" she hears Stefan yell and her eyes fly open to take in the blood dripping down Stefan's chin and shirt. Klaus slams him next to her and she winces as she hears the bend of metal and the crack of bone simultaneously.
"Calm down," Klaus snaps, and she winces when she sees his pupil dilate. Stefan stops struggling immediately and Klaus shoves him into Damon, who glares back.
"This was a fucking shitty idea," he snarls at Caroline, jerking open the back door of Klaus's car and pushing Stefan inside. "Next time you wanna try and play Let's Make a Deal with fucking psychopaths, Barbie, leave me and my brother the fuck out of it."
"I'm sorry," she whispers, but it's lost on the wind.
… … … …
Caroline elects to ride the three hours back with Klaus because he's not threatening her with bodily harm—like Damon—or simply staring at what's in front of him with all the liveliness of a post-op lobotomy patient—like Stefan. She has no idea what Famine said to him, and honestly, she doesn't want to know, because if Stefan has issues with craving blood too intensely, then Klaus definitely has issues with craving everything too intensely. And if she's really, brutally honest with herself, she'll admit that she, herself, is probably fairly high up on the list of what Klaus wants. Swallowing, she pushes that out of her mind to deal with later.
She concentrates instead on trying to reach Dean and Sam. Neither is answering their cell phones and Castiel has yet to pop into the backseat of Klaus's car, so she's officially starting to fight off severe anxiety. Her fingers jitter across the armrest that separates her and Klaus as she reaches Sam's voicemail—again. "Please call me, Sam," she says quietly into the speaker, and when she hangs up, she pulls her knees into her chest and stares at the sopping wet scenery flying by her window.
"This was such a stupid idea," she mumbles, defeated, and her head drops back against the headrest as she shuts her eyes. She tries to will her phone to ring, beep, vibrate, whatever—but it sits silently on her lap. "They aren't answering."
Klaus doesn't look over at her. "I'm sure it's nothing," he says flatly and it rings completely false to her. She shoots him a glare out of the corner of her eye but doesn't reply and they fall into an awkward, uncomfortable silence. It makes her fidget.
"Ok, what is wrong with you?" she bursts out after a few more minutes of hard quiet. She watches as a muscle jumps in his jaw and his hand flexes—then relaxes—against the steering wheel. "Nothing," he forces out between clenched teeth and she scoffs.
"Right. You're the picture of relaxation. You should be on a yoga poster with namaste written over your face." She snorts and crosses her arms over her chest.
His eyes flash and before she knows what's happening, he's pulling over and storming out of the car, seemingly impervious to the (albeit slowing) rain. Her mouth drops open and hangs there for a few seconds before she recovers and follows. Her hair and makeup are already to shot to hell anyway.
"The hell are you doing?" she demands, slamming her door shut behind her, and he whirls on her. Water flies off of him furiously.
"Do you realize how close you came to death today?" he bellows and she skirts away from the car because no way is she sacrificing an escape route. She pushes wet hair out of her eyes.
"Oh my God, do you think I'm a moron?" she snaps back, and they circle each other, glaring hotly.
"That is entirely up for debate, sweetheart," he growls out and, her temper getting the best of her, she kicks mud up at him. It doesn't do anything but make her feel a little bit better—she's too far from him for any of it to actually reach him.
"Seriously!" she shouts at him, throwing her hands in the air. "What in the holy hell did Famine say to you to make you freak out like this?" And she has to stop herself from slapping her palm to her forehead, because did she not just say to herself that she didn't want to know? God, she so doesn't want to know.
In the blink of an eye, he's right in front of her, invading her personal space, his hands tight around her elbows. Her eyes fly to his, and she can't help the flood of relief that comes with the confirmation that there is no gold shading in those dark blue depths. The rain is almost non-existent now, but her clothes hang heavily off of her from being so thoroughly soaked.
"What did Famine say to me?" he echoes her and his voice has dropped from enraged shouting to low and silky; she's pretty sure this is worse. "Nothing I didn't already know, love." She sucks in a shaky breath as his face falls into her neck and he inhales at the spot where her shoulder and her neck meet. "Lust for power," he mimics, and she locks her knees resolutely when his lips find her ear. "A pathological need to be loved," he continues, and he lets go of her arms so that his hands can trail down her sides. "And this one concerns you, sweetheart, so I recommend that you listen—a near uncontrollable want for this one girl."
Her breath catches and when his mouth crashes down on hers, his arms tightening against her, she thinks that this might be a really bad idea. But she doesn't stop him. Far from it.
She kisses him back.
He makes a sound of triumph and she barely even cares when her back presses against the metal of his car because all she can think about is the fact that a thousand years of practice has made him pretty much an expert at the art of kissing—certainly better than anyone she can compare him to. One of his hands buries itself in her wet hair, and her arms lift to twine themselves around his neck. She shifts so that one of her legs moves up to rest slightly on his hip and he settles right in between her legs; she sighs a little into his mouth, barely caring that she's just committed a total slut-move.
The fingers on the hand that isn't currently twined in her hair slide into her empty belt loops, pulling her flush against him and the slight sound she makes has him smirking into her mouth.
Thank God her phone rings as his hand travels down into her back pocket because she really has no idea how far she's about to let him go. She pulls away despite his slight growl of protest and, catching her breath, she turns around to reach for her phone where it's sitting on her seat. His chest presses against her back and his nose touches her hair as his hand runs down her thigh.
"Stop," she whispers as she slides the unlock bar on her phone, swatting at his hand, but it's half-hearted and he knows it.
"Please tell me you're okay," she says in lieu of a greeting and Dean says, "We're fine. Saved Chicago too, so you can hit pause on your mourning for deep dish pizza and the Bears."
"Glad to hear it," she says with false brightness and she turns around to give Klaus a warning look.
"You okay, Care?" Dean asks and she feels a flash of guilt at the concern in his voice. "You sound weird." His tone turns suspicious. "You haven't done anything stupid, have you?"
So many things, she thinks and Klaus smirks at her, but she says, "Give me some credit, Dean. When are you coming home?"
"On the way now. See you soon—and be careful okay? Everything's about to go to shit, so be on the lookout." Dean pauses and when he adds softly, "I love you, Care—you know that, right?" her throat closes up and she thinks guiltily, what the hell am I doing? "Yeah I know. I love you too," she whispers back, her eyes dropping down, and she feels Klaus straighten.
Caroline hangs up and taps her nail against her phone screen before pointing at Klaus. "I—you—no. We have to go home. Right now." She takes a deep breath to find her nerve and holds her hands to her forehead. "Klaus—this—it can't happen again."
His hands pause against her and his face is unreadable as he looks down at her. "It can't," she insists, crossing her arms. "It—this was a—"
"If you say mistake," he warns, eyes darkening, and he doesn't finish his thought, but she gets the picture.
"It can't happen again," she repeats firmly. "We—I'm Caroline, and you're Klaus, and we're on totally different sides!"
Klaus sends her a half sneer that makes her want to give him a good smack. "This is the apocalypse, love," he says coolly, walking to the driver's side of the car. "We're all on the same side now—or did you forget?"
She scowls at him before opening her own door and sliding into the seat. "I didn't forget," she mutters under breath, adding forcefully, "But as soon as this is over, you're going to go right back to siphoning off my best friend's blood against her will and screwing over everyone I care about, so just because we share an acute desire to see the world continue its spin around the sun doesn't mean I've forgotten that either."
… … … …
A few hours after he drops her off—and after she has enough to process what just exactly happened—she calls Elena and begs her to come over.
"Stefan won't look at anyone," Elena says quietly, fingers twisting around the pillow in her lap. "And Damon won't tell me what happened." She fixes Caroline with large, worried brown eyes. "Please, Care. What just happened in Philadelphia?"
Caroline stalls by taking a long sip of her diet iced tea. "Elena," she says slowly, fingers tapping idly against the side of the bottle, "trust me on this one. You're better off not knowing." Her mind flicks back to the horror of the shopping mall. "Just—it's the stuff nightmares are made of."
Elena bites her lip and when she whispers, "I—we had just gotten Stefan back," horrible, acid-tasting guilt floods through Caroline. "When will this be over?"
Caroline grinds her back molars together to keep from telling her the truth—never. Because at this point, it's always something—a vampire, a werewolf, a hybrid, a witch, an apocalypse, a dead loved one—they're never getting out of this whole and intact. But she doesn't tell Elena that.
Instead, she distracts. "Please don't hate me," she begins and Elena looks up at her, curiosity beating out tears for the moment. "But I kissed Klaus."
Elena blinks at her slowly before any sort of reaction sets in.
But the reaction that she does have is so not what Caroline was expecting.
"Oh," she says. Then she looks down at the wrinkled pillowcase that she's been wrapping around her finger.
"Oh?" Caroline repeats bemusedly. "Oh? That's it?"
Elena continues her staring contest with the sheets. "I kissed Damon."
Caroline's mouth drops slightly before she catches herself. "Oh."
Elena nods, pushing her hair back. "Yeah." She sighs. "I'm playing two brothers against each other—just like my great-great-great, forty time great grandmother did. And Damon was a huge, abusive dickwad to you."
Caroline offers her a tiny smile. "I made out with the guy who tried to kill the entire town. And who succeeded in killing you."
Elena considers her, her curtain of dark hair falling over one shoulder. "Even?"
She nods in return. "We're equally terrible people," she quips brightly and Elena gives her a smile that chases away the memory of Philadelphia—for at least a moment.
… … … …
Sam comes inside first, dropping their luggage on the floor and he whispers to her warningly, "Dean is about three seconds away from flipping out on you for your Philly excursion."
"How did he find out?" she hisses back and Sam jerks a pointed nod in Castiel's direction.
"Angel Psychic Friends," he says, flashing her a sympathetic look. "He's been raging all the way since West Virginia."
"Great," she mumbled, sending a glare Castiel's way. He doesn't look even the slightest bit bothered.
"So how was Famine? Doing well, I hope? Did you ask him about his work in Ethiopia?" Dean asks casually, kicking the door shut easily behind him. She flinches a little.
"He was kind of a d-bag. How was Death?"
He scowls at her. "This isn't a joke, Caroline. You can't just try to take on a Horseman on your own like that!"
"I wasn't alone," she retorts, and she nearly bites off her own tongue a second later. Dumbass move, Caroline. Dean's eyes narrow and he says slowly, "So who enabled you this time?"
She shrugs, attempting to be nonchalant. "Damon and Stefan. The usual suspects."
"And the Original, Niklaus," Castiel adds from his spot leaning against the back of the couch; she shoots him a betrayed look that seems to roll right off of him.
Dean's eyes are pure emerald flame. "Are you f—Caroline! Why—why would you do that? Why would you put yourself in that position?" His face is pale and she is so sick of feeling guilty, regardless of whether or not it's deserved.
"I was trying to help," she says meekly, looking down at the ground; and the stress of the past few days threatens to break her Buffy resolve. "I'm sorry." She takes a shaky breath and adds, "We can scratch Famine off of the potential allies list, though."
"Not necessarily," Sam says comfortingly and Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. He points at her and says, "I'm not done yelling at you, but I'm way too tired to finish right now." He looks pained and continues, "And since Liz has been way too busy to deal with everything lately—you're grounded."
Her mouth isn't the only one that drops open—Sam gapes at Dean and Castiel is staring at them all with blatant fascination. "You've got to be joking," she protests weakly and Dean scowls at her.
"Do I look like I'm laughing?" he demands, crossing his arms and giving her his best you will do as John Winchester says, young lady look. "You go to and from school—and yes, you can still go to cheerleading, so don't give me that look—but that's it. Got it?"
"But—but you're my brother," she sputters uselessly. "You can't do that!"
He shrugs. "Just did. Sorry, Care." He pats her shoulder awkwardly. "I'm doing it because I love you."
It flies completely over her head that this is the second time in as many conversations that he's said that. There's a biting retort on the tip of her tongue as their doorbell rings and Dean holds a hand up.
"You can scream at me in a second," he promises as he swings the door open.
A guy that looks only a little older than Caroline is standing there, a sheet of paper in his hand. Dean raises an eyebrow at him. "Can I help you?"
"Uh," the guy says slowly, looking down at the piece of wrinkled notebook paper he's holding. "Is this the Winchester residence?"
"Yeah," Dean says, giving the guy a long once-over. "Who're you?"
The guy folds his paper back up and sticks his hand out. "I'm Adam," he says, voice friendly. "I'm looking for John Winchester."
... ... ... ...
tbc.
A/N: Reviews are wonderful and lovely. I have to work on my dissertation for a bit after this, but I might be tempted to update sooner if there is sufficient love. ;) xo