Disclaimer: Supernatural/Vampire Diaries are not mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky and you should go give them a listen.
A/N: Stars all around to youllstartariotbarbarella and a pretty little liar for helping me figure this beast out. Y'all are the best.
I'm glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter! Hope you're ready for this one, because off we go!
the birth and death of the day
10.
It's been an hour since Dean disappeared with the Impala when Caroline starts getting restless, muscles tensing and relaxing as her fingers drum on the sofa armrest. "You weren't there," she says to Sam anxiously, her knee jumping up and down. "This Joshua guy—you didn't hear him, Sam, he wasn't joking around! We—we're gonna lose, and we're gonna lose Dean in the process of losing so we gotta go find him now." How is she the only one who gets that there can't be that much time left? She can practically see the cliff's edge looming in front of them.
"Whoa, Care," Sam says in alarm, and her fingers drum faster. "Give him some time to think." He reaches out and grabs her knee to make it stop twitching. "We all kind of just had a giant bomb dropped in our laps. Let him figure out whatever he needs to figure out."
"But I can't just sit here," she protests, standing so she can properly fidget, her hands twisting around each other with nervous energy as she paces. "I mean, Sam—what if he does something really stupid like…" she trails off, not wanting to voice her worries for fear it will make them more real. But Sam nods and she knows he knows what she's talking about.
Castiel clears his throat and she and Sam both jump—and Caroline can't speak for Sam, but Cas had gone so quiet she had honestly forgotten he was there at all.
"I am sorry," he says quietly, not quite meeting their eyes. "This is my fault."
"No it's not," Caroline and Sam say in unison and then Caroline mumbles automatically, "Jinx, you owe me a Coke."
Castiel's brow furrows and Sam rolls his eyes at her before saying to him, "It's not your fault, Cas. Stuff's just getting…" he sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "Real."
The furrow in Castiel's forehead becomes deeper and Caroline clarifies before he can ask, "He means it's getting intense." They need a plan, a way to fix Dean if he decides to be the stupid, tragic boy hero he thinks he is. She takes a deep breath and says, "We'll give him thirty more minutes, Sam. That's it."
As soon as she gives voice to the words, the distinct rumble of the Impala breaks through the tense air of the house and Caroline exhales shakily as Sam shoots her one of his patented Told You So looks.
"Don't wanna talk about it," Dean mumbles as he walks in the door; he takes long strides to the back of the house and Caroline sees his hands shaking slightly.
Sam grabs hold of her arm when she starts to go after him. "Time alone," he reminds her, picking up his laptop from the coffee table and bringing it with him to sit at the kitchen table. Caroline follows him
"Yeah, whatever," Caroline mutters under her breath. "Look—"
"That box over there," Castiel interrupts insistently from the counter, a look of distress on his face. "It won't stop beeping at me."
The bleak mood is—well, not broken, but lightened considerably.
The box over there, Caroline mouths to Sam with an arch of an eyebrow and a giggle tickling at her throat; Sam laughs despite the worried wrinkle in his forehead. "I got it, Cas," he says, setting his laptop on the coffee table and bumping Caroline's shoulder with his as he walks past her.
She's about to follow—for her own distraction really, because she and Dean have both already shown Cas how the microwave works—when a figure standing outside their front door catches her eye.
Caroline gives a loud cough, cocking her head towards the door when Sam glances up curiously. He shrugs and turns back to listen to Castiel say exasperatedly, "But the beeping!" With a small, affectionate smile, Caroline reaches for the doorknob.
It's a total and complete stranger—which, despite everything currently taking place, still isn't exactly the norm in Mystic Falls.
"Um," she says brilliantly, raising her eyebrows at the guy standing on their welcome mat. She comforts herself with the reminder of the Devil's Trap drawn on the underside. "Can I help you?"
He's tall—only a little shorter than Sam, with a wide forehead and a mocking smile. "Oh yeah," he says with a leer; she scowls and moves to shut the door in his face. Apocalypse or no, creeps gonna creep, which is just so gross.
She stops when he adds, "You must be Caroline. Believe me, the pleasure is all mine." She can hear Sam rummaging around in the kitchen; at the sound of the stranger's voice, the sounds of plates and silverware instantly halt.
Her scowl deepens. "Okay, one: no. Two: Who are you?" He's staring at her legs with open appreciation and she shifts uncomfortably, fingers tugging subtly at the hem of her skirt.
"Oh, right, you don't know me," the guy says, an impish grin splitting his face before he sticks his hand out. "I'm Loki."
Caroline ignores the gesture because seriously? How dumb does this guy think she is? "You don't look like Tom Hiddleston," she snots at him, crossing her arms; and his grin widens.
"I like you," he announces brightly, brushing her aside and walking into their living room. So he's not a demon—the Devil's Trap under the mat would have stopped him in his tracks for sure—but a long-dead Viking god? Seriously? "You're cheeky," he says and his smile is approving.
A cabinet slams in the kitchen and Sam's thunderous face appears behind the stranger's shoulder. "Loki," Caroline repeats incredulously, wrinkling her nose. "As in the Norse god."
Loki—the guy who claims he's Loki, because Caroline's more than a little suspicious—shrugs and turns.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demands, and Caroline's eyes fly to his in shock.
"Wait—he's actually Loki? For real?"
"In the flesh," Loki says easily as Castiel walks out of the kitchen, inspecting his reflection in a spoon, a bowl of microwavable soup in his hand. Loki barely spares him a glance as he sits down with a theatrical drop and sets his feet on the coffee table. "You didn't tell me your sister was so cute, Sammy Boy." Sam tenses and opens his mouth to retort but Dean beats him to it.
"The hell is he doing here?" he snaps from the hallway and Loki's arms spread out wide.
"Dean!" he exclaims. "You don't call, you don't write and then I have to hear through the grapevine that Michael wants to posses you? That hurts."
"Oh for fuck's sake," Dean mumbles under his breath, fingers coming up to rub his temples irritably. "What do you want, Loki?"
"Easy," Loki says and the biting cheer vanishes. "For Michael to lose." Next to her, Sam starts and Caroline's eyes widen. "The cavalry's here, boys."
"Wait. How's a Norse god going to help defeat Michael and the Host?" Caroline wants to know, looking from Sam to Dean and back again in confusion. "What am I missing here?"
"Now, now," Loki scolds roguishly, suddenly in front of her and wagging his finger. "Can't reveal all my secrets, beautiful." One of his eyebrows arches and he smirks down at her. "Just know that your odds just went way, way up."
… … … …
Her reasoning for taking Dean with her to the Salvatore house is twofold—he can't try to kill their best hope in weeks for sassing him and he can't accept Michael on the sly. Both of which, she tells him firmly as he steers the Impala into the boarding house driveway, are very real concerns.
"I wouldn't kill him," Dean mutters resentfully as he pulls the parking brake. "Gag him, absolutely."
"He can help us," she chides him as they walk in step up to the door. "Stop being a pessimist."
"You mean a realist."
She groans as Stefan opens the door. "Hey," he says, and Caroline immediately notices the exhaustion on his face. "How're you two doing?" Concerned eyes meet hers. "How are you holding up, Care?"
Neither she nor Dean really respond—Dean gives a half shrug and Caroline tugs uncomfortably at her hair. "Making it," she offers finally, and understanding crosses Stefan's face as he ushers them inside.
"Alice, Tweedledum. Nice to see you both," Damon snarks when they walk in; Elena rolls her eyes and reaches to give Caroline a hug. From the warm circle of Elena's arms, she hears Damon continue, "Where's Tweedledee?"
Caroline pulls away from Elena to hug Bonnie, giving both of them a half-hearted smile. When both of her friends are safely out of earshot and returning to their seats on the couch, Dean growls next to her ear, "I swear to God—"
Wincing, she whispers back, "Don't kill him until after the Apocalypse, okay?"
"Look," Stefan cuts somberly. "We need the next gameplan. We got everyone out, Klaus's hybrid army is here—"
"Klaus's hybrid army is lurking," Damon interrupts and Caroline doesn't miss his suspicious glance her way when she jerks at Klaus's name.
Stefan shoots his brother a glare before finishing, "We need more help."
"I called some relatives," Bonnie offers, leaning forward in her seat. "Should be here in a few days."
"Look at you, witchy," Damon drawls approvingly. "Being all helpful."
"Shut up, Damon," Bonnie snaps in return, eyes narrowed and Caroline jumps in before one of them tackles the other.
"Sam says he's going to talk to the demons," she offers, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and Damon's eyes suddenly hone in on her. She ignores it. "Lots of Big Bads coming our way so keep an eye out. Don't talk to strangers."
"Other hunters are coming too," Dean says flatly from his spot against the wall. "And a few disgruntled angels, but we can't count on too many of those."
"And this guy Loki," Caroline adds helpfully, shifting awkwardly under the weight of Damon's stare. "Like, as in the Norse god. Showed up at our house today."
There's an expression of slight awe on Elena's face. "The Norse god?" she repeats faintly. "For real?"
"He's a trickster," Dean says shortly. "He likes to mess with people. Plays pranks on them." He pins them with a warning look. "The deadly kind, so watch your back."
Elena flinches away and Damon's still eying her like he's trying to read her mind no matter how hard she glares.
Shoulders tense, Caroline goes to the kitchen and rests her palms on the small island in the middle of the room. She leans against it and inhales, desperate for a single moment of peace.
She doesn't get it.
"You smell," Damon says in her ear and Caroline balks away from him, storming back to the doorway that leads to the living room.
"For your information, I showered an hour ago," she informs him sourly over her shoulder and his nose wrinkles.
"Unfortunately for you," he says pleasantly, reaching for a curl; she smacks his hand away, "it takes more than a few of those to get rid of the smell of dog."
Her heart stutters in her chest but she recovers quickly. "Did you eat someone with a brain tumor? You're losing it, Damon. Becoming delusional," she taunts back. "And I have no idea what you're talking about."
Damon holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, it's not like I give a single solitary shit what you do in your free time, Barbie. And you screwing around with the big bad wolf means he's not trying to drain Elena of all her blood, so as far as I'm concerned…" he leers at her. "Get you some."
"You're disgusting," she informs her coldly, turning away to focus on where the group is still discussing potential allies.
"Don't worry Barbie," Damon says lowly, leaning against the wall next to her and tilting his head towards her so his breath brushes over her ear. It makes her shudder. "I won't tell Elena or Judgy Macbeth over there about your oh so bad nocturnal activities." It doesn't escape her that Stefan's name was not listed as someone Damon wouldn't tell.
"Bite me," she hisses at him and before he can reply, she adds, "And don't you dare say it, Damon. Wouldn't want you to get all predictable on us."
He smirks at her and pushes himself off the wall they are standing against to go sit next to Elena. As she watches the actions with poorly concealed disdain, Caroline meets Stefan's eyes; and when he raises his eyebrows at her, she tilts her head slightly to the door before walking out of the room.
"What was that about?" Stefan wants to know as he sits down next to her on the Salvatore front steps.
Instead of answering, Caroline says carefully, "If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret? Even from Damon? Even from Elena?"
He stares at her curiously. "What's this about, Care?"
"Can you, Stefan?" she presses, not answering. "Can you not tell anyone what I'm about to say?"
Something passes over his face but it disappears before she can analyze it. "Yeah, Care. I can keep your secret."
Caroline nods in acknowledgement but doesn't say anything—she half-wonders if he'll forgive her for this. After all, Klaus tore his relationship apart and forced him into Ripper-induced madness; and not for the first time, Caroline thinks sleeping with Klaus might have been the most selfish thing she's ever done.
When she stays silent for several minutes, Stefan prods gently, "You want to talk about it?"
She shakes her head. "You'll hate me."
"No, I won't."
"Yes you will," she insists, and when Stefan opens his mouth to continue arguing with her, she rips the Band Aid off and blurts out, "I slept with Klaus."
His mouth snaps shut and Caroline's face crumples. "I'm so sorry, Stefan," she whispers, one hand going to cover her mouth. "I'm so, so sorry. I—It's just that my mom—and he was so nice—and I—and we—it just—" She stops and buries her face in her hands. "I'm a horrible, terrible friend and you have every right to hate me."
Stefan doesn't say anything and her heart plummets. "Please say something," she begs, eyes wide and mouth trembling. "Stefan, please."
He sighs and shakes his head, not looking at her. "I get it," he says quietly. "With your mom and everything that's been happening—I get it."
Caroline bites her lip and stares straight ahead. "Please don't tell Elena." She pauses. "Or Bonnie. Please don't tell them, Stefan."
For the longest time he doesn't say anything and she presses her hand against his with more than a little urgency. "Stefan?"
He blinks as though lifted from a trance; when his eyes meet hers, he reassures her gently, "I won't say anything, Care. I meant what I said, back in the woods." He takes her hand and thumbs her lapis lazuli ring. "Whatever you decide, I'll be there for you."
She gives a small, guilty laugh and flashes him a watery smile. "Why are you such a good friend, Stefan?"
Stefan shakes his head, deflecting her question with a self-deprecating snort. "Kind of hard to judge after everything I've done," he says wryly, nudging her shoulder with his. "You're a good person, Caroline. I know that." She says nothing and Stefan sighs quietly. "But I don't think you do."
Caroline blows pieces of her hair off of her forehead as she exhales. "I kind of left him in my room," she admits sheepishly, drumming her fingers on her knee. "And when I got back he was gone." She sneaks a glance at him. "Think he's pissed?"
Stefan arches an eyebrow at her. "He's been hounding you for how long? Then he finally gets what he wants and you disappear the next morning?" He shrugs. "On a scale of one to rip out the hearts of everyone you've ever met—"
"Okay, it can't be that bad," she interrupts, poking at him. "It was a disappearing act after sex, not kidnapping his whole family, Stefan."
He looks down briefly but she catches his half-smile. "You should probably avoid any Originals for the time being. Or stay with Elena for a while."
"Can't do that," Caroline says immediately, brushing his suggestion off with a wave of her hand. "Sam and Dean live in my house too, remember?"
Stefan eyes her before sighing. "Look, Care. I can't really tell you how you should deal with Klaus, especially spurned lover Klaus." She makes a face at lover but doesn't refute it (because what's the point, really). "Just try not to piss him off."
"Any more than I already have," she finishes for him in a mumble.
"By the way," Stefan says quietly, his eyes fixed on the tree line, "vampires are coming. Hordes of them." He shoots a look so quick over his shoulder that Caroline blinks and nearly misses it. "I guess Klaus made some phone calls."
She can't help the scoff that rises in her throat. "What, is he like their king or something?"
Stefan doesn't laugh like she was expecting him to. "No," he says thoughtfully, "but they listen to him. The Originals are the oldest and the first vampires, Care. They've got…" he trails off, still staring at the forest in the distance. "Sway."
Caroline wrinkles her nose. "Oh well then. Since they've got sway. Can't argue with that." She pauses before nudging him playfully. "Is that anything like swagger?"
… … … …
Caroline takes a deep breath and knocks on the doors to the sprawling Mikaelson mansion. Waits—one beat, two beats. She knocks again. No answer.
She toys with the idea of leaving, but as her brain is listing out the pros and cons, the door swings open and Rebekah yanks her inside.
"You stupid little harlot," she snarls and Caroline gasps in shock as the other girl's fingers wrap around her throat. "What did I tell you, Caroline? Hurt my brother and I hurt you."
"Rebekah!"
The next thing Caroline knows, Elijah is pulling Rebekah away from her and Caroline can only stare at him, tears of pain starting to well in her eyes as she touches her throat gingerly. "Do not fight Niklaus's battles for him," he scolds and Caroline winces, pressing herself into the wall and wishing she could disappear into it.
Rebekah's face has grown no less hateful as she storms away and Elijah says grimly, "He is not here."
It hadn't even occurred to her that Klaus might not be home. "Do you know when he'll be back?" she asks quietly and Elijah's eyes snap up to meet hers.
"Yes," he says shortly before turning away and the message is definitely received loud and clear.
"I'll just wait then," she whispers to the now empty front hall.
After an hour, she moves from the leather sofa in the living room to the art room, staring up at the Matisse he has hanging on the wall; an hour after that she winds up in his room, sitting on the floor next to his bed with her legs stretched out in her front of her and playing Angry Birds on her phone.
Finally, finally Caroline hears his voice from downstairs and cold nerves start to swirl in her chest. Briefly, she considers standing—maybe making sure her hair isn't sticking up in weird places—but before she can move an inch, Klaus is standing in front of her, looking down with an unreadable expression on his face.
The first thing she notices is that he smells like blood—warm, fresh from the vein blood—and liquor and it makes her stomach roll. Fantastic.
"You're mad at me," she says softly and his face doesn't change in the slightest.
"Hardly, darling," he drawls, walking away from her spot on the floor and tossing his jacket onto his sofa before dropping lazily next to it. He sets his feet up on the small table in front of him. There's a half-finished handle of whiskey sitting at his side and when he takes a drink, she tries to not look at the muscles moving in his throat. "I am utterly indifferent to you."
She looks down at her hands resting in her lap. "I—look, I don't regret it or anything, okay? It wasn't a mistake but it—it was a one-time thing, Klaus."
"If we're being technical, it was a three-time thing," he says, leering at her and she can feel her face turn red, "but semantics." Despite the easy amicability of his tone, warning bells start to sound in the back of her mind. He is taking this way too well—unless she overestimated her every interaction with him. Which could be a very real possibility—she's overestimated her worth to others before. "I've shagged you out of my system, sweetheart. Cheers." He tips the bottle towards her and she flinches slightly before climbing to her feet and making a beeline for his door.
"How did your friends take it, love?" he calls callously from the loveseat and she stops short, turning her head slightly but not looking at him.
"How'd they take what?" she asks cautiously, hand hovering over the doorknob and every muscle primed to run. She can finally pinpoint where she's heard this tone before—this taunting, terrible edge to his voice.
"You fucking the enemy," Klaus answers mockingly, the whiskey making a sloshing noise in the bottle and her back snaps into a straight line.
"Shut up," she says fiercely, wrapping her fingers around the doorknob and gripping it tightly. "Just shut up."
He's suddenly behind her, his chest pressing firmly against her back and her hand shakes as his fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her away from the doorknob. His hand slides over her own and his fingers lace through hers. "Does the truth hurt, then?" he murmurs in her ear, and her heart is beating a nervous tattoo against her chest. His free hand ghosts along her ribs. "Or did you not tell them?"
"Klaus, please listen to me—"
He spins her around so that they are facing each other and she forces herself not to swallow nervously. "You are hardly in a position to ask me for anything, sweetheart." His nose is a hair's breadth from hers and his hands are gripping her upper arms just tightly enough to border on painful. "One night stands do not get to barter for favors, Caroline."
One-night stands—the nerve of him makes her choke. Caroline shoves at his chest, though it hardly matters—he doesn't budge, but it helps sate her desire to do him violence. "You're foul," she hisses back at him and a pleased spark appears in his eyes. "You disgust me."
"There's a good girl," he growls, maliciousness tinting his feral grin before his nose goes to her neck, inhaling deeply.
"You're horrible—vile—disgusting—I hate you—" all the worst things she can think of spill from her lips and he absorbs each blow, looking up at her with his eyes glinting and teeth bared. "Murderer, sadist, evil—"
"Oh don't stop now darling," he encourages darkly, fingers hooking in her belt loops and pulling her hips flush against him. Caroline stomps on his foot and he doesn't even flinch.
"The most selfish thing I've ever—after all the shit you've done—" She shuts her eyes briefly. "What do you want, Klaus? The scythe? Will that help with this stupid tantrum you're having?"
He scoffs at her, the sound low and dangerous and she rambles on, "You can have it, you can do whatever you want with it after this is over—"
His fingers tighten and she bites back a wince. "Is that your brilliant plan, sweetheart?" he taunts and she shuts her eyes briefly at the bitter edge to his voice. "I can have the scythe instead of you, is that it?"
"Klaus—"
In the blink of an eye, he's closed the already minuscule distant between them, his nose brushing hers as his hips move slowly against her own; despite herself, she responds. His lips are this close to brushing hers before they graze across her jawline. "And what, darling Caroline," he whispers in her ear, the warmth of his breath nearly making her shiver, "is stopping me from having you both?"
Caroline fights the tremor that's threatening to dance its way down her spine. "Klaus, please—"
"You forget who I am, sweetheart," he scoffs derisively and she can't help the snort that escapes from her throat at that.
"As if that's possible," she retorts, shoving at him again. "You're the asshole who's made all of our lives miserable since you showed up and started slaughtering people we care about."
Caroline feels him smirk against her collarbone. "That didn't seem to stop you last night," he purrs and she pokes his side as hard as she can. He doesn't even have the good grace to pretend it hurt.
"Why is it like this with you?" she demands and he goes very still. "Two steps forward and a hundred giant leaps and freaking bounds back!"
"You left," he growls, all pretense of seduction vanishing as he pulls away to glare down at her.
Her fingers flutter to her forehead and she squeezes her eyes shut. "I—I had to think, Klaus. Everything's different and upside-down and my head's a mess and I had to be alone to think about it, okay? God, not everything is about you, you egotistical dick."
His expression doesn't change—no softening or flicker of understanding in his eyes and she tries once again to struggle free from the iron-like vise of his grip. And in the blink of an eye, the pressure is gone. He's halfway across the room, finishing off the remains of liquor in the bottle.
"It meant nothing," he says carelessly, waving her away. "You mean nothing." He drops down onto his bed and arches an eyebrow at her. "And if you insist on staying, it had better be worth my while."
Caroline's eyes widen and she swallows back a bitter retort; it tears at her throat. "You can go to hell," she throws back at him, pushing the urge to cry so far down inside that it will never see the light of day. She doesn't wait to see his reaction, doesn't want to know if it's hurt or murder that flashes across his face.
She flees from the house as fast as her feet can take her.
… … … …
There's a truck in the driveway that Caroline doesn't recognize and it makes her muscles tense in suspicion as she climbs out of her car. Fingers tight on her house keys, she yanks open the door—and runs right into an invisible barrier. Confusion wrinkles her brow for half a heartbeat before she understands. A thread of grief wraps tightly around her heart before she exhales shakily and gathers her composure.
"Dean?" she calls into the open foyer. "Sam? A little help here?"
It's Sam who comes out of the kitchen and to her rescue. For a moment, he wears the same confused expression she had just discarded but when he glances down at the paper in his hand, his face clears. "Come inside, Care," he says quietly and the barrier blocking her from her home vanishes.
"Why did it take so long?" she asks, swallowing back the hurt—if Liz's death had been a single terrible blow, this was more a thousand tiny cuts. Her childhood home had rejected her—again.
Sam holds out the paper to her. "We got Liz's safety deposit box out of the bank," he explains, voice gentle as though she might bolt at any second. "The deed to the house was in her name. Now it's in Dean's."
"He had to notarize it. Who knew vamp rules were so particular about the letter of the law?" Dean quips from the doorway to the kitchen; Caroline sends him a small, grateful smile.
"Of course you're a notary," she says affectionately to Sam, and he grins back at her unabashedly.
"You must be Caroline," a new voice says from behind Dean and Caroline's smile drops. The strange truck had completely slipped her mind and she leans back on her heels at the sight of a gruff looking older man. He holds his hand out to her. "I'm Bobby."
Before Caroline makes a move to shake his hand, she glances over at Dean and Sam for confirmation. "He's okay, Care," Dean confirms and Sam nods reassuringly. Slowly, as though he might bite her if she moves too quickly, she extends her own hand.
"Nice to meet you," she says politely and he grins warmly at her.
"You're the spit of Liz," he says as he lets her hand go and she shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.
Sam saves her. "Bobby's here to help us figure out a way to win this thing," he tells her and Dean snorts.
"Like we don't already know how to win," he says, shaking his head and Sam rolls his eyes at Caroline.
"That's not even Plan Z," Caroline admonishes Dean firmly. "So stop talking about it."
Dean snorts again and Bobby placates, "We're gonna look at all of our options, kids. Ellen and Jo are on their way—"
"What is with all these allies showing up out of nowhere?" Caroline demands of Sam, cutting Bobby off without even a whisper of apology. She's done thinking of others—has been done since she buried her mother. She shoots an accusatory glare Bobby's way. "Where were you when my mom was trying to fight off the freaking Host of Heaven with nothing more than her cop car and a gun?"
The brief guilt that flashes across Bobby's face almost makes her apologize, but the graphic memory of Liz crumpling lifelessly to the ground stops her. "It's great that the cavalry's here," Caroline allows flatly. "Really. But you're late."
"I know," Bobby says gravely, eyes downcast. "And I'll never stop bein' sorry for it."
At the anguish in his voice, Caroline forces herself to swallow down her guilt. Seriously though, where was all of this help—this guy and Klaus's vampire army and who the fuck ever Ellen and Jo are—when her mother—or even when Dean came back with haunted eyes and a terrible premonition?
She tries to smile at Bobby because she's really not this much of a bitch, not usually. But it falls off her face after a few seconds and he wasn't even looking anyway.
… … … …
As Bobby follows them in his truck over to the boarding house, Caroline wonders briefly if she should tell them about the scythe—that the solution to all of their problems is sitting hidden under Bonnie's mattress. She wages an internal war with herself—to tell and possibly quicken Dean's suicidal hell-path or to keep quiet and usher Matt on to a slow and painful death?
Caroline pulls Sam away from the group when they arrive and he follows easily, his forehead wrinkling in concern. "What's up?" he asks, and she does not fail to notice how weary he sounds.
"I wanted to tell you something," she says quietly, dragging him behind her into Stefan's room and shutting the door. She stands there with her forehead pressed against the wood for a brief second, listening for the sound of anyone coming after them. When there is only silence Caroline sighs and turns, resting her back against the door. "I have this thing, and it might be useful but I'm not sure and if it is useful, I don't even know if I want Dean to get his hands on it because that would make me an accomplice to his like kamikaze mission and—"
Sam holds his hands up, halting the torrent of words and prodding her to the point. "What do you have, Care?"
She takes a deep breath. "A weapon. The weapon. Sam, I have Death's scythe." Her wide eyes sink into his and something she can't decipher flickers there. "And I can't tell him because—"
"One step closer to accepting Michael," Sam finishes for her, a faraway expression on his face.
Caroline's eyebrows burrow together and she says slowly, "He can't know, Sam."
"No," Sam agrees, one hand rubbing his forehead. "No, definitely not."
She stares at him, the beginnings of a frown straining at her face before she shakes her head and sticks her hand out. "Not telling Dean?"
Sam blinks as though she pulled him out of a trance and looks down at her hand before smiling slightly. "Not telling Dean," he agrees, shaking it. "I'll figure it out, Care," he says, more to himself than to her. "I'll fix it."
His voice is low and something in his tone makes her stomach turn uncomfortably but before she can dwell on it—
"Care! Sammy!" Dean hollers from the living room. Sam arches an eyebrow at her in mock irritation before leaving; she stares after him blankly for a brief second before heading after him.
Bobby is standing in front of the fireplace, hands folded grimly behind his back and his eyes downcast. "Tell them what you just told us," Dean orders, pointing at Sam and Caroline. "Tell them, Bobby."
Bobby heaves a sigh and doesn't look up. "Past few days, there have been thirty deaths up the Eastern seaboard."
"People die," Damon says coolly from his spot on the leather sofa. "Shit happens. So what?"
Dean glares at him and Bobby looks at him as though he is not worth the time of day—which Caroline happens to agree with, so you know, Team Bobby. Which, Caroline supposes, to everyone but Stefan and Elena—he's not. "People don't usually die in perfect health." His eyes narrow at Damon, who, to Caroline's surprise, shifts uncomfortably. "Perfect health, 'cept the dead part."
"Angels," Sam says grimly and it's not a question but Bobby answers anyway.
"Gotta be," he confirms with a grim nod of his head. "Everything else wants the world to continue existing. Everything that goes bump in the night's fightin' on our side, not theirs."
Caroline and Sam simultaneously look over at Dean, their heads swiveling in tandem and he grimaces. "Time's running out," he warns grimly, jaw clenching. "You gotta come up with a plan, Sammy or I'm taking matters into my own hands."
Bobby flinches. "You stop talking like that, boy," he orders brusquely. "I know John Winchester didn't raise a quitter."
"He didn't raise a coward either," Dean fires back and Caroline grits her teeth.
"Shut up, Dean," Sam snaps. "We all know how desperate you are to be a martyr; you don't have to put a countdown clock on it."
"Eat me," Dean retorts and Sam glares at him. "And don't give me the bitchface either, Sammy. I've seen it too many times for it to have power over me."
"Jerk," Sam mutters under his breath, folding his long limbs into a seated position on the couch. Dean frowns at him for several seconds before sitting on the opposite side.
"They always like this?" Bobby wants to know, raising an eyebrow at Caroline. She shrugs.
"Lately, yeah," she confirms tiredly, tugging absently at a strand of hair. "Battle of the Bulge, ya know?" Caroline tries for a saucy wink but falls so totally short; Bobby humors her with a strained smile.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "Inappropriate jokes when the chips are down. Kind of my thing."
Bobby shakes his head, smiling a bit easier. "Don't worry about it, kid." He motions to where Sam and Dean are sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, casting annoyed glances at each other. "I've dealt with Winchesters before."
The corners of her mouth tug upwards.
The tension in the room dissipates after a while—Stefan and Damon are speaking in low tones as Elena paces while Bonnie pours over the grimoire on her lap. Sam and Dean don't say anything and Caroline sits lifelessly between them on the leather sofa, bones cracking loudly as her body sinks down. Sam blinks worriedly at her.
"Get some rest, Care," he suggests quietly as she pulls her legs up underneath her. "It's been a long day." She blearily thinks he has no idea and stares unblinking at the fire flickering the fireplace.
Sam's ringing phone forces Caroline from her mesmerized staring at the Salvatore fireplace; her head feels heavy and warmth radiates around her from her spot in the middle of Sam and Dean. Sam shifts and Caroline stops fighting the sleep pulling at her muscles, resting her head against Dean's arm and letting her eyes flutter shut. From very far away, she hears Sam say suspiciously, "Who is this?" She burrows her nose into Dean's sleeve, falling further under the heady spell of near-sleep.
But then Sam jumps up as though he's been shot and Dean jerks in response. "S'going on?" Caroline mumbles irritably, rubbing sleep away from her eyes. "What's wrong, Sam?"
Sam's face is whiter than paper; whit his hand shaking, he presses the button for speakerphone.
"Sam? Sam, where are you?" a tinny female voice cries desperately through heavy static. "Sam? I—I think I'm lost, it's so dark—"
Forehead wrinkling in confusion, Caroline looks from Sam to Dean in frustrated exclusion. She tugs on Dean's sleeve and opens her mouth to ask just what exactly is going on when Dean reaches out for Sam's phone and hits the red End Call button. Sam doesn't move to stop him, only watches as though in shock.
"Who was that?" she asks in a whisper, eyes darting from Sam's ghostly pale face to Dean's tightly drawn one. When neither of them answer she repeats, voice cracking, "Who was that?"
Sam finally looks over at her, his eyes haunted. "It was her," he says hoarsely. "It was Jess."
All of the air leaves her lungs—leaves the entire room, it feels like.
"That's not possible," she says flatly, staring at the phone in Dean's hand.
"Au contraire," Loki says brightly, swaggering in with an almost insultingly cheery spring to his step. "It is possible—but it's a trick."
Sam looks up, face pale and beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. "What do you mean?"
Loki shrugs and looks bored at the question. "It's a trick," he repeats, as though educating a group of kindergarteners. "Your girlfriend—that's who it was, wasn't it? She's fine. I mean," he shrugs, "she's still dead, but other than that she's doing okay up in capital H Heaven."
Sam's glassy eyes flicker at the mention of Heaven. "Jess is okay?" he repeats hoarsely and Caroline's heart tears a little at the hitch in his voice.
Loki's face does not soften but his eyes stay on Sam a little longer than necessary. "She's good, bro," he says assuredly, waving his hand in dismissal. "It's Michael." He spits the name out of his mouth. "He's messing with your brain, trying to drive you crazy. It's a tactic." He grins at them. "Not a good one, but he doesn't know I'm steering this ship now."
Castiel had been staring at Loki as though he represented a very complicated math problem that needs solving—and with Loki's explanation of the creepy phone call, Castiel's face changes.
"He's not Loki," Castiel announces gravely, eyes never leaving Loki's smirking face. "He has you all fooled."
The reaction of the room is instantaneous. Stefan's hands ball into fists and he moves slightly to stand in front of Elena. Bonnie's eyes narrow, the flames in the fireplace jumping; Damon shoots an unreadable glance over at Stefan. Dean doesn't move and Bobby's hand jerks towards the sawed off shotgun resting on the table.
Sam's eyes meet Caroline's and she blinks in surprise back at him.
"If he's not Loki then who the hell is he?" Dean demands, and all eyes turn to where Loki is standing, a biting grin splitting his face. He doesn't seem to care that he's been outed as an imposter.
"You know, I like you," not-Loki says to Damon, whose mouth twitches as though he doesn't know whether or not it's acceptable to laugh. "Too bad sass and spark don't always get the girl, hmm?" Damon's face turns stony and Elena turns a deep red.
"Quit stalling," Bobby growls irritably. "Who the hell are you?"
Loki grins at him. "I'm Gabriel," he says, perfectly pleasant as his eyes slide to Caroline. "You're way too pretty to be related to these lugs. What're you doing after the Apocalypse?"
Dean makes a strangled noise, but she ignores the petty flirtation. "Gabriel as in—"
"Yes, yes," he cuts her off impatiently. "The archangel. Oh don't be like that—" Caroline stiffens, stepping away from him and closer to a tense Sam. "I'm on your side, babe!"
She and Dean both bristle at 'babe' and Loki-Gabriel laughs delightedly. "See, this is why my idiot brother can't win," he declares brightly. "People are way too much fun." He winks at Caroline before turning back to the group. "You've done an okay job," he allows, pouring himself a glass of bourbon, "getting all the various nasties to help out. But you're gonna need way more firepower than a couple of jinni and some half-breed sired mutts if you want to beat Michael." He spreads his arms out. "That's what I'm here for."
"Why?" Sam demands, voice still gruff and hands still shaking. "What's it to you?" Before Gabriel can answer, Sam bites off, "If you're Gabriel, then Michael's your brother and why wouldn't you be on his side?"
Caroline's eyes widen. "Michael's your brother?" she breathes, stomach dropping and heart sputtering. "Are you—are you spying on us?"
Gabriel snorts. "Trust me, kid, you haven't made a good enough impression on my big brother to warrant spying." And somehow being called kid makes her feel worse than babe. Ignoring her, Gabriel gestures to where Bobby is standing, bearded jaw locked in dislike. "I like people—they're fun! Why would I want my big bro to destroy my favorite playmates?" He grins at Dean. "And Michael knows all it will take to get Dean-o here to agree to vesselhood is some death and destruction."
"And how the hell are you going to help us?" Stefan snaps and Caroline's head whips over to the other side of the room. In the span of three minutes, she had forgotten her friends were even present.
"I've got a plan," Loki—Gabriel says easily, picking up the decanter on the table and sniffing the brandy inside. He half-toasts Damon with it. "Nice choice."
Dean's hands are fisting and Caroline takes a loose hold of his arm; the muscles are jumping and twisting under fingers. "Get on with it, Loco," he growls, voice gruff.
"Oh I can't tell you what it is yet," Gabriel says, waving a hand as though Dean is a pesky fly. His eyes fall on Sam and Caroline worries her bottom lip anxiously. "You'll just have to trust me."
… … … …
The vampires come in droves.
Seriously, they're like a twisted version of the Biblical locust plague, and the weird analogy is not lost on Caroline as she wrinkles her nose from the living room window.
"I don't like it," she whines, her foot tapping restlessly against the floor. "You really think Klaus can control them?" She gestures irritably at the flock that is currently traipsing down their street; there is another several yards back and behind them there is another—as far as she can see.
She didn't even know that there were this many vampires in the world, much less America. Jeez.
"I don't like it either," Dean mumbles from behind her shoulder; he's staring at the window as well, his face openly pained. "But the enemy of my enemy—"
"Uh, is totally still my enemy," Caroline cuts him off, arching an eyebrow at him. "Duh." She pulls herself away from the window and sits on the couch next to Sam, who immediately hands her a molding book that makes her sneeze. She rolls her eyes but flips it open and starts to skim.
Sam nudges her about ten minutes into her researching, his eyes locked on Dean over her shoulder. "The scythe," he says lowly, staring at her intensely. "You're sure it can kill Michael?"
Caroline bites her lip. "It's Death's Scythe," she replies levelly. "It's supposed to be able to kill anything."
Sam's eyes are fixed on her and Caroline's eyebrows knit together briefly. "What are you planning, Sam?" she whispers to him. "I want in."
A shadow passes over his face. "I'm not planning anything, Caroline," he says and she so, so doesn't believe him.
… … … …
She's rummaging around the fridge for food—real food, not blood because sometimes all a girl needs is a slice of pizza to feel like everything's going to be okay, right?—when a shadow catches her eye outside.
Seriously? Why can't people just freaking text her instead of creeping around outside of her house?
Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of Klaus standing on her front porch, hands folded behind his back and an unreadable expression on his face. Pushing away all of her trepidation, Caroline glares haughtily at him and crosses her arms. "What do you want?" She keeps her voice low and quiet—the last thing she needs is for either of her brothers to overhear their conversation and find out exactly what she's done with Klaus.
"I take it you saw the grand entrance last night?" he asks casually and the space between her eyebrows scrunches. "The vampires."
She crosses her arms and glares at him. "Kind of hard to miss."
He makes as though to enter and she hides a smirk when the invisible barrier forces him to stop. His eyes narrow at her. "I think you had better let me in, Caroline."
"Or what?" she challenges, not moving from her spot just inches away from him. "You'll huff and you'll puff and you'll blow the house down?"
He kinks an eyebrow at her and sizes her up before he says lightly, "Would you like to hear about the vampire clan that has sworn to kill your family?"
Her heart stutters. "You're lying."
"Perhaps. Is it a risk you're willing to take?"
Caroline snorts derisively. "I'm not letting you in, Klaus, so just say whatever it is you came here to say and then go away."
He sends her that charming-ass grin that she really, really hates right now and stays silent; gritting her teeth, Caroline shoots a nervous glance over her shoulder before stepping outside onto the porch. "This had better be good," she mutters threateningly; he leans in way too close and she glares at him again.
"You should ask your brothers about Luther," Klaus suggests, his hand pressed against the wall of the house over her shoulder. "And about Kate."
She narrows her eyes at him. "So that was your plan? Come over here, name drop and…what? Watch the fireworks?"
His face changes—softens, but she steels herself against it—fool me once and all that. "Caroline," he says, eyes imploring and she rolls her own because how stupid does he think she is to try and pull this on her? "We had a spat, love. I'm over it already."
"Congratulations," she snaps back at him. "I'm not. You can leave now."
"Care?" Sam says, the burr of sleep still clinging to his voice. "What's up?" The question may have her name on it but it's fully directed at Klaus. "Everything okay?"
Caroline looks down at her feet, her toes with their pretty pink polish curling under her arch like she did when she was a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She sees Sam standing at the doorway, his eyes suspicious and she tenses.
"Fine," she says quietly, tucking her hair behind one ear and not looking up at him. "Klaus was just leaving."
Klaus scoffs at her cowardice, low in his throat and the vibrations of it make her blush. She hopes Sam doesn't notice, but he went to freaking law school and Caroline doesn't have too much confidence in her poker face.
Sam waits until Klaus has completely disappeared from view—though Caroline wouldn't put it past him to hang around and eavesdrop like the stalker he is—before he says slowly, "You want to explain what's going on?"
"Not really," she offers with too-bright cheer and Sam looks like he's trying to fight off a smile. But still he sighs and waits and she is as equally powerless as Dean against that look.
"I did something," she skirts, shrugging and moving to the kitchen to pull a blood bag out of the fridge. Sam follows.
"Like…" he prods, leaning against the door way as she rips the top of the bag off and pours the contents into a mug for the microwave.
"Something stupid," Caroline says, setting the time and avoiding his eyes completely by watching the mug spin around as it warms. "That I don't want to talk about."
Sam's still looking at her like if he tries hard enough, he can see into her brain—and knowing Sam, he's probably memorized all the different meanings of body language. God, she hopes she doesn't give herself away—what if her fingers jittering across the countertop surface means I totally had sex with Klaus? She snatches her hand away and holds it still by her side.
"Like…" Sam repeats, raising an eyebrow at her and Caroline shrugs awkwardly.
"We had a thing," she says vaguely, reaching for the microwave door with .1 seconds left. She raises the mug to her lips and Sam echoes her slowly, "A thing."
Caroline shifts her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Um. Yeah. You know. Like…a thing."
Understanding sparks in Sam's eyes and he rubs his forehead in what looks to Caroline to be exasperation. "You picked now to decide to take a walk on the wild side, Care?" he asks and she chews on her bottom lip.
"I just—"
Sam shakes his head, cutting her off and putting his hands on her shoulders. "You don't have to explain to me, Care." His face briefly takes on a far away look and Caroline's fingers tighten around her mug. "I get it," he says quietly, "but your timing sucks." He cracks a smile. "No pun intended."
She doesn't return the smile. "I wish Mom were here," she whispers, turning her face from Sam and letting him pull her into a near bone-crushing hug. "I miss her so much, Sam."
Her ear is pressed against Sam's chest and she feels him sigh before she hears it; feels his chest vibrate as he says, "I know." The beating of his heart is comforting in steadfastness—a reminder that she still has Sam. Just like she still has Dean.
Which reminds her.
"Who's Kate?"
Sam's arms tense around her, and that is so not a good sign. "What?"
"Kate. He—" no need to elaborate on who he is, "said that a vampire named Kate was planning to get revenge on you and Dean. And something about some dude named Luther." She pauses before tilting her face up at Sam. "So who are they?"
Sam's arms drop from her and he scratches uncomfortably at his ear. "Uh. Yeah. Kate. And uh…Luther. You know, you should ask Dean about that one."
"Dean's freaking out about Michael," Caroline reminds him. "Just tell me, Sam. I'm a big girl."
He studies the ground as he says, "Okay, look. Luther and Kate were—are vampires. Well, Kate is. Luther's dead."
"Be more vague, Sam," Carline says sarcastically.
"Look, Luther and Kate were a couple," Sam says, "and Dad killed Luther. So I guess…Kate's pissed." He shrugs. "Nothing's going to come of it though. She can't kill Dean because Michael would just bring him back and Cas has our backs, so don't worry about it, Care."
She's so not convinced; especially because Sam's not looking at her and that's totally his tell. "Sam—"
"This is touching," Gabriel says amusedly, "but we have bigger things to talk about, Sam." He jerks his head towards the living room and presumably to the door.
Sam doesn't move for a second and Caroline says with more than a little dread, "What's going on, Sam? What's this plan he's hatched up and why do you trust him?" Her voice pitches upward towards the end. "Michael's his brother, why would he betray him? We would never do that to Dean, so why—"
"I just do," Sam says sharply and Caroline flinches away from him slightly. Gabriel flashes her a pitying look in a rare moment of seriousness before he says lightly, "Time to go, Sammy Boy."
And Sam walks out the door with him.
Caroline doesn't miss a beat. "Dean!" she screeches, racing for his bedroom door and pounding desperately. "Dean, wake up!"
The door slams open and his hair is sticking up in every direction. "Yeah?" he grumbles, blinking sleep away.
"Sam left with Gabriel," she rushes out, her hands shaking as she tries to clench them by her sides. "Dean, Sam left with Gabriel!"
Dean groans. "Seriously, Care? They're doing some weird nerd research thing. Sam already told me about it, quit freaking out."
"Why do you believe that?" she snaps at him.
Dean stares at her in such disbelief it would be funny if she didn't have this horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. "Because Sam's a nerd."
She grips the collar of Dean's shirt. "Dean. Gabriel is Michael's brother. Why are you assuming he wouldn't do whatever he could to save his brother?" She takes a step closer, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. "Why are you assuming he and Michael aren't like you and Sam?"
Dean stares at her and she can see the thought turning over and over in his mind. She presses on, "Hasn't Gabriel tried to kill you tons of times or something? Pulled really dangerous tricks on you?"
"That makes no sense," Dean argues. "If Gabriel is on Michael's side, then why would he keep trying to kill us?" Before she can answer, Dean hollers, "Cas! Get your winged ass down here!"
There's a flutter and Castiel says irritably, "I'm doing important things, Dean. What is it?"
"Gabriel," Dean says shortly. "Can we trust him?"
Castiel tilts his head, an enigmatic expression on his face. "No," he says bluntly. "You cannot. But he does want Michael defeated."
"How can you know that?" Caroline demands but Castiel just looks at her.
"Anna," he says simply and Caroline sucks in a breath—so that's why she's been MIA for so long. "Michael trusts her—as much as he can trust anyone." He takes a step forward. "He is not happy about his brother's allegiance to humanity. Gabriel will not betray you."
Dean's face relaxes. "See, Care? Nothing's wrong. You're freaking out for nothing." He bumps her shoulder with his own, already glancing longingly back at his bed. "Go to sleep. It's fine."
Castiel disappears in the blink of an eye, Dean shoos her out of his room and still Caroline is not comforted.
Something is still wrong and she can feel it in her bones.
… … … …
Something is wrong with her.
It eats at her, gnawing at her heart and itching at her brain, and whatever it is, she knows it's big—something has knocked the universe off balance.
But she can't figure out what it is.
She stares at herself in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles ever-growing under her eyes, and reaches forward to turn the faucet. Maybe if she scrubs very hard, like her mother taught her when she was nine and Sam had the flu, she can clear her head.
The water is warm and the soap smells like vanilla—her mom's attempt at making the house normal: scented soaps and fruity shampoo. Caroline inhales the scent deeply as she dries her hands, ignoring the growing feeling inside of her that's got the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.
Taking another deep, steadying breath as her stomach rolls and tosses like she's on a fucking boat or something, Caroline squares her shoulders and reaches for the door handle—
—and promptly collapses on the floor.
Her insides are churning, acid rising in her throat and the contents of the blood bag she had practically inhaled force their way up her esophagus. She moans a little as she pushes herself up on her elbows—maybe this is some weird vampire food poisoning? Yeah, that's gotta be it—and nearly collapses on the toilet as she forces the seat up. She'll be grossed out later, she decides, once she vomits up this O neg—she knew it tasted rank going down.
There's a knock at the door. "Care?" Dean calls through the door, "You okay?"
She wipes at her mouth with her sleeve, wincing as it comes back bloody, and starts to respond before another wave of intense pain grips her. The doorknob rattles and her heart is going way, way too fast. Black dots her vision and she coughs, curling into herself on the bathroom floor.
Dean's voice sounds as though he's underwater—or maybe she is, but her head is too heavy and her limbs are too numb to reach out for him. But familiar arms lift her and she can smell the Impala, so she stops fighting the darkness encroaching on her peripheral vision.
She has no idea how much time passes but the last time her eyes were open, there was nothing but black outside the living room window and now there is sunlight. Caroline coughs and almost instantly Dean is standing over her, hands wrapping around her elbows to help her sit up.
"What happened?" she mumbles, reaching up to push her hair out of her face before meeting Dean's eyes. He doesn't say anything and her heart—
Something is wrong, but—
"Did Sleeping Beauty finally wake up?" Damon snarls right before he lunges at her. But before he can get anywhere near her (she's already throwing herself backwards but what the fuck, why can't she speed away), Dean is muscling him out of her room and shouting furiously down the hall, "Control your shit of a brother, Stefan!"
"What the hell?" she cries, still scrambling backwards. "Dean, what is going on? Why are the Salvatores here? Did you invite Damon inside?" Her voice is reaching a squeaky high decibel. "Dean, what happened?"
Dean sighs, the anger leaving him all at once. "Care," he says quietly, "You—"
"Caroline?"
Her entire body stiffens and her terrified eyes fly up to meet Dean's. Matt—Michael, Michael, not Matt—is peering inside, except Michael doesn't peer, that's one hundred percent Matt Donovan and she would know because how many times did those eyes peer into hers—
She cannot breathe.
And she realizes with a desperate lurch of her stomach that she needs to.
… … … …
tbc.
A/N: Feel free to follow me on tumblr at little-miss-sunny-daisy. I would love a review if you have the time.