Disclaimer: Still not mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky.
A/N: In which there is a lot of exposition.
A little while back, I wrote a one shot in this same 'verse from Dean's POV called a one way ride—you should go check it out if you're interested! But come back here once you're done (and have reviewed), okay? Okay.
Sorry for the delay, friends. My job is just starting to calm down, I moved, and I adopted a kitten who is currently sleeping in my lap and requires a lot of attention so she doesn't shred my furniture. So without further ado—
the birth and death of the day
11.
As it turns out, breathing and screaming are hard to do at the same time.
"What the hell is going on?" Caroline shouts, anxiety wrapping itself around her heart and choking her throat. She takes in desperately long breaths of air, unused to the way her lungs ache at the end of her sentences. Her eyes dart from Dean to Matt. "Where is Sam? How are you—" she points at Matt, "How are you not Michael anymore?"
She doesn't miss the way Matt glances at Dean before looking down at the floor.
"Stand up, Caroline," Castiel orders from out of nowhere and she jumps at the sound of his voice.
"Why?" she demands, eyes narrowing at him. "Where's Sam, Cas? What's going on?"
"All in good time," Castiel promises and Caroline sees a painful expression cross Dean's face from over Cas's shoulder. "Now stand."
Hesitating only slightly, Caroline unfolds herself from her sitting position and stands—well, tries to stand. Her knees buckle as soon as she puts her weight on her feet and Castiel seems to expect it, because he reaches forward and steadies her. "What's happening to me, Cas?" she whispers, looking up at him in more than a little fear. "Am I…am I dying?"
Castiel doesn't respond immediately; instead, he puts his fingertips at her temples and stares very deeply into her eyes. Caroline finds herself unable to blink or look away.
After several seconds, he steps away and says gently, "You are a perfectly healthy human, Caroline." He tilts his head at her as though considering his next words very carefully. "You could do with a cheeseburger."
Near-hysterical laughter bubbles up within her and when her legs give out again, Dean catches her and they sink to the floor together. "What happened, Cas?" she asks again, her voice softer than before. Her hands grip one of Dean's tightly and out of the corner of her eye she sees him look down again.
Castiel sighs. "Sam came up with a plan," he says slowly, his tone grim, "that Gabriel helped put into motion." His eyes flicker to Dean then back to Caroline and dread seeps through her body. "Michael does need Dean as his vessel to reach the pinnacle of his potential power, but until that time…" Castiel trails off, looking at Dean again. "Another Winchester vessel would withstand him better than the average vessel." Caroline stares at him, not comprehending through the fog of dread, and Cas explains solemnly, "Sam made a deal with Michael."
Of course he did.
And just like that, it all makes sense.
Dean went to Hell for Sam, Sam traded himself for Dean, round and round and round they go—but she still doesn't understand one thing. Why am I human?
Wait—
"Michael. Michael made me human," she says, her voice barely audible. "Sam traded for both of us, didn't he." It's not a question but her eyes turn to Dean, begging him to tell her that she's wrong.
Dean has to clear his throat several times before he speaks. "Michael's blocking me out," he says flatly. "I've said freaking yes a shitload of times and nothing."
"No," Matt interrupts, and Caroline, Dean and Castiel turn in tandem to look at him where he leans against the wall, his expression haunted. He's so thin and it's another crack in Caroline's heart. "He's pissed at you." Matt's eyes close and his head drops backwards to rest against the wall. "It's his way of punishing you. For taking so long."
Caroline lets go of Dean's hand and tries to stand again; on weak, wobbly legs, she goes over to Matt with all the grace of a newborn gazelle, her arms wrapping around him and gripping him tightly. "You're safe now, Matt," she whispers into his t-shirt, and it's probably—okay definitely—a lie, but he returns her hug with trembling arms.
"Why did I get so sick?" she asks, turning her face so that her cheek rests on Matt's chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat is more comforting than the feel of her own. "What was deal with the whole Exorcist act in the bathroom about?"
Castiel tilts his head thoughtfully at her. "Had you eaten?"
She chews on her bottom lip. "Yeah. I thought I had some kind of vamp food poisoning."
"The human endocrine system is not meant to ingest copious amounts of blood," Cas says sagely. "Your changing body was rejecting the blood." The way he says your changing body makes the same hysterical giggles rise up in her chest again and she tries to contain them so hard her ribs ache—really ache, like one's cracked. She takes a deep breath, the feeling of lingering pain unfamiliar. Matt's arms tighten slightly before he lets go of her.
"So let me see if I have this right," Caroline begins, pulling away from Matt and staring down the three of them. Her voice is shaking, each waver veering dangerously close to an actual breakdown but oh how she's fighting it. "Sam made a deal with Michael to—to buy Dean time?" She shoots a questioning glance towards Dean, who gives a short nod. "And to make me human again."
"Bout sums it up," Dean says gruffly and Caroline swallows hard, unsure of her next words. Because what else is there to say, really? Even in the darkest recesses of her mind, those places where her dread and terror tentatively imagined a world in which they lost, Sam—the brother she's basically hero-worshipped since she was five years old—was always there, tossing leather-bound books that smelled like crypts and mildew at her and demanding she help him research. In even the blackest of nightmares, there is always Sam and her fighting to set the world right again and put the universe back on its path; a small window of hope that everything could be fixed.
… … … …
It's too much to take, too much to hold in her brain because she's already working overtime trying to make sense of this horrible turn of events; and then there's the issue of the way Castiel is looking at her, like he's waiting for something.
"What?" Caroline finally demands, catching his eye right in the middle of him shooting her the Expecting Face and his features immediately pull into a guilty grimace.
"There is more," he says quietly and good Lord her body really needs to stop physically reacting to this because she's human now and the pain is freaking lasting like it didn't when she was dead. Her muscles, already terribly sore from the tension, coil into readiness and Caroline swallows hard, unconsciously curling her fingers into fists. Of course there's more, why is she even surprised?
"Spit it out, then," she whispers, heart thundering against her ribcage; she can feel the beat echoing in the blood pounding in her ears. "Come on, Cas, how could it possibly get any worse?"
"Don't tempt the Fates," Castiel admonishes sharply and she's so about to strangle him if he doesn't get to the point. "The universe is very precise, like a balancing scale," he says, all harshness gone from his tone as quickly as it had come. "Sam's deal is not natural; events cannot just be undone without consequences." Steel eyes fix on hers. "Terrible consequences."
Caroline hears Dean shift in his spot by the wall; sees Matt grimace out of the corner of her eye but her attention has zeroed in on Castiel, his eyes still locking hers into a penetrating stare.
"When you say a balancing scale," Caroline whispers hoarsely, her throat constricting around the words, "You mean—like in math, like what you do to one side you have to do to the other?"
Castiel's eyes warm briefly in a flash of affection before he sobers. "Yes, exactly," he confirms, eyes sliding to Dean before coming back to rest on her. "You are meant to be a vampire, Caroline. You are supposed to be dead; that is the life you were given by the Lord and now you are alive." The sympathy in his face makes her look away. "You are not what you are meant to be, and that is wrong. The scale must be balanced."
She's wrong.
Her flesh has broken out into goose bumps and her chest feels like there's a freaking circus elephant sitting on it. She focuses on Castiel's words, and takes herself out of the equation. She pushes out of her mind the fact that this is her life she's currently discussing and channels clinical, straight-A student and teacher's pet Caroline. She puts aside all emotion to concentrate on this one problem, reaching for a switch that isn't there anymore. If she can just concentrate and set her mind to this—after all, she's Caroline Forbes, problem solver and perennially fixer of things.
"Okay. Right. Except, you know, I'm not dead. Not anymore. So that means—" she breaks off, forehead wrinkling. "That means that someone had to…take my place?" She looks up at Castiel questioningly and he is an almost comical combination of pleased and dreading. "Someone had to die." Her skin feels ice cold.
"Someone did die," Castiel says somberly, "and that is what Sam did not factor in."
"He still would've done it," Dean says fiercely, and Caroline starts. She had nearly forgotten Dean and Matt were there and without warning, the reality that this is happening, happening to her friends and to her family, hits her right where she freaking lives.
"Oh my God," she moans, her legs turning to jelly and her stomach twisting into knots. "Who was it, Cas? Had to be someone I know, right, because Michael's a sick, twisted bastard and why pass up the opportunity to hurt us even more, right?" She gives a choked laugh that holds negative humor and her fingertips come up to rub her temples in distress. "So who was it?"
It's not Castiel who answers, nor is it Dean.
"Elena," Matt says tonelessly. "It was Elena."
She stares at him, white-faced and not breathing, and the proverbial penny drops. Matt keeps talking but his voice is nearly drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears and the horrified tattoo of her heart trying its damnedest to leap out of her chest.
"Elena dying is perfect for him," she hears Matt say from somewhere very far away; her head feels too light, like she's sucked in laughing gas. "No more doppelganger blood, no more shiny new hybrids for Klaus to fight him with."
She realizes faintly that that had to be why Damon had nearly killed her earlier. "Is—is Elena—" She can't bring herself to finish the question, but Dean, her ever observant older brother knows what she's asking, has always known her questions and their answers before she did, even when she was little.
"She's a vampire."
… … … …
"You need to see her," Matt insists firmly and Dean immediately appears between him and Caroline.
"Try again, QB," he says flatly before turning around to face Caroline in a clear dismissal of Matt, who rolls his eyes at Dean's back. "Care," Dean says, voice infinitely more gentle, "you hungry?"
She blinks up at him just as her stomach lets out a loud, whining grumble, protesting its emptiness. "Could go for a pizza," she offers and Dean cracks a small grin, nudging her shoulder with his.
"Course you could," he agrees and goes to rummage in the freezer for the mountain of frozen pizza she knows is hidden in the back. Castiel watches with avid interest as the light in the freezer door turns on when Dean opens it.
Caroline holds a tentative hand out towards Matt. "You should eat too," she encourages softly. "Everything seems better on a full stomach."
Matt takes her hand and sits next to her but he isn't smiling—which is fine, Caroline figures, because she's not either. Probably won't ever again, actually.
"I'm sorry," he says; she raises an eyebrow at him and he clarifies, "About your mom." Caroline gives an involuntary shudder and looks down to where their knees are nearly touching. Almost of its own volition, her own inches away from Matt's.
"Wasn't your fault," she mumbles, and she means it but the memory is burned into her brain; she can't touch it without wanting to curl in on herself and never come back out. "Can't help what happens to you when you're possessed."
Matt fixes her with a grim look. "Nothing happened to me," he tells her darkly, "I happened to everyone else." He pauses and she takes in a ragged breath. "You can't even look at me for longer than a few seconds, Care."
She doesn't try to argue, nor does she try to prove him wrong. Her eyes stay fixed on the gap between their knees. "Sorry," she whispers and Matt gives a growl of frustration.
"Don't be sorry," he says with a hint of anger, hand curling into a fist. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Caroline, especially when it comes to what I did to you, so don't apologize to me." His hand has wrapped itself around her wrist and there are lingering traces of Michael in his voice. "I killed your mom, Care."
She jerks her wrist away from him and takes his face in both of her hands. "Stop it," she says fiercely, looking him dead in the eyes and not blinking. "You did not k-kill my mom, Matt. Michael did when he was wearing your face, so don't you ever say anything like that to me again, do you hear me?"
There's wetness growing in Matt's eyes and all it takes is one blink of his eyelashes for a great flood of tears to spill down his face. Caroline swallows, sniffles, and pulls him into the tightest hug her human strength can manage.
"Yo," Dean's voice drawls from behind the couch. "Pizza's ready."
… ... … …
"What if she hates me?" Caroline whispers as Dean parks the Impala outside of Elena's house. He cuts the engine and Caroline makes no move to unfasten her seatbelt as she stares at the dimly lit Gilbert house. "Elena never wanted to be a vampire, Dean."
He snorts. It sounds callous, like he doesn't care about how Elena's world was tilted upside down when Caroline's was shifted right side up, and maybe it's partly true. No more eternity, she thinks wearily, then packs the thought away neatly into a corner of her mind labeled Later. She's always been good at it, but now she thinks she could compartmentalize for America in the neurotic Olympics. "You didn't want to be a vampire either, Care," he points out, narrowing his eyes at the walkway up to the house. "Shit happens and so fucking sue me if I'd rather it not happen to you."
"My best friend is dead because of me," Caroline bursts out, twisting in her seat to face him. "She died, Dean!"
Dean's face is unforgiving. "Sucks for Elena," he says, voice hard, "but I'm all out of fucks to give." Stony green eyes meet hers. "Whole world's going to shit, Care, and my job is to keep this family safe. I can't afford to think about anything else." He opens his door and effectively ends the argument as he gets out of the car, leaving Caroline blinking furiously at the dash before she gathers her composure and follows him up the Gilbert front steps.
The door is slightly open and Elena is throwing things into a bag as Jeremy glares at everyone but her. "You have to go," she says and from the waver in her voice, Caroline knows immediately Elena is at a breaking point. "You have to get out of here, Jeremy, it's not safe—"
"The world's ending, Elena!" Jeremy yells and Elena flinches but keeps up her breakneck packing. "You really think anywhere else is gonna be any safer?"
"If you—when you go, you'll be safer from me, Jeremy!" Elena cries back and when she whirls around to grab something else for the duffel bag, she sees Caroline.
"Care," she breathes, throwing her arms around Caroline, "Care, you're okay."
Caroline tries to smile, but it dies before it fully forms. "Relatively."
Elena steps back from her, her eyes scanning Caroline. Her nostrils flare imperceptibly, but Caroline knows Dean sees it from the way he tenses next to her. "Damon said you were human," she says quietly, dropping her arms back to her sides. There's no bitterness in her eyes and Caroline bites her lip, the guilt swarming. "Do you feel okay?"
"Fine," Caroline says automatically, stepping towards Elena. "But you—how do you feel, Elena?"
Elena opens her mouth to respond but before the words come out, there is so much pain. Caroline chokes and looks up with wide eyes to see Damon glowering at her, his hand around her throat and fully vamp-faced. "Thought I told you I'd kill you if I saw you again," he says casually, tilting his head. "Did I forget to mention that part?" He sends her a feral smile. "My bad, Barbie." Spots start to dance in her vision and she tries to knee him, to no avail.
"Get off of her, Damon!" Elena yells and Damon is sufficiently distracted enough for Dean to appear over his shoulder and snap his neck with terrifying intensity. Caroline squeezes her eyes shut and lets Dean lead her to the couch, his arm tight around her shoulders.
"I'm gonna kill him," he promises to the room at large. "I don't give a shit about the Apocalypse. He's dead."
Elena shakes her head but doesn't argue as she sits on the coffee table in front of the couch. She reaches a hand out and carefully moves Caroline's hair off of her neck. "That's going to leave a mark," she says gently, and Dean's grip tightens.
Caroline coughs and asks scratchily, "Where's Stefan?"
"Blood run," Jeremy says from the other side of the room. "Where's Matt?"
"Interrogation," Dean says shortly and Jeremy's eyes go wide. "Don't get your panties in a twist, kid, no waterboarding involved. Cas is just digging in his head a little."
Elena shoots Jeremy a look that Caroline instantly recognizes as her shut up Germ look before turning back to them. Caroline knows what she's about to ask, can feel it in her bones and please Elena don't ask, just leave it—"Where's Sam?"
Except— "How did you know about Matt?"
Elena tilts her head thoughtfully. "I started getting sick," she says slowly, fingers drumming on the coffee table. "Really sick. And I—I died. Transitioned," she corrects herself. "But nothing had happened, you know? Like I hadn't done anything to die, I just...my heart stopped. And then I transitioned, but there was no vampire blood in my system." She shrugs. "Stefan and Damon went to your place because if anyone could figure it out, it'd be the angels, right?" Elena gives a dry, humorless laugh. "And Matt was there. Matt, not Michael." Her eyes fix on Caroline's. "So where's Sam?"
And Caroline has no idea what to say to her.
"He made a deal," Dean says flatly, leaning back against the couch with his best John Winchester don't give a fuck expression. "Him for Matt."
There's a groan from the floor where Damon is laying facedown. "Why don't you tell her the rest of, Dean-o," he suggests acidly and Dean glares at him. "Or you, Care-Bear. Go on, tell Elena how your brother not only traded himself for Matt—" Elena's brown eyes are widening and fixed on Caroline, who can only look down at her hands, "—but also her humanity for yours." He gives a grin that is more of a snarling of his teeth. "Some best friend."
… … … … …
Her legs can barely move and she's leaning so much of her weight on Dean that she seriously wonders if this is something more than simple exhaustion. "You're okay," Dean says softly and Caroline stiffens. Did she say that out loud?
"We're gonna be okay, Care," Dean continues and she relaxes. "You, me, Sammy. Whatever I have to do, okay? You're gonna be fine." Eyelids heavy, she nods into his shoulder and promptly trips over the front step. Dean catches her before she can tumble headfirst onto the brick.
"This is touching," Gabriel says quietly from the porch. "And I mean that. No joking." Caroline forces her eyes open; he looks incredibly downtrodden with not the tiniest spark of humor left in him. "It was Sam's idea, you know."
"You helped," Dean accuses tonelessly and Gabriel shrugs, not denying it.
"I want my brother stopped," he says without a modicum of regret, "and yours was willing to help."
Dean makes a motion as though he's going to tackle Gabriel—Dean tackling an archangel, that's just so typical and maybe she would have laughed once—but instead Caroline reaches for the door and says, "Come inside and have something to eat."
Gabriel and Dean both turn to stare at her and she doesn't care. Caring is exhausting and she left exhaustion about ten miles and several heartbreaks back. "If we're going to figure out how to stop Michael and save Sam—without sacrificing you, Dean, so don't even think about it—we need all the help we can get." She jerks the door open. "Even the super shady kind."
A ghost of that familiar smirk flashes across Gabriel's face.
… … … … …
As it turns out, Michael is a sneaky motherfucker (Dean's words, not hers, though Caroline is inclined to agree) and left very little information in Matt's head for them to pilfer through.
"How'd you and Elena do?" Matt wants to know, snagging a piece of the grilled cheese Dean made for her. Caroline shrugs.
"She threw me out, kind of."
"Elena would never throw you out," Matt protests, mouth full of sandwich. She almost laughs, which is closer than she had been before.
"She told me she thought I should leave. She said she didn't blame me but she needed time to 'process the information'." Caroline makes finger quotes over the final words and grimaces. "She hates me and you know Damon will totally encourage it."
"Damon doesn't hate you," Matt says firmly and she gives up fighting him off of her sandwich, pushing the plate at him. He needs the calories anyway, she decides, her eyes tracing over the sharp outlines of his cheekbones and the hollows underneath his eyes. "You remind Damon of what he used to be and he hates that. But not you yourself. Well," at her snort he corrects himself, "Now that he holds you personally responsible for what's happening to Elena, he might hate you but he didn't before."
Caroline shakes her head, the memory of sharp bites to her neck and waking up to blood on her sheets bright and vivid in her brain. "You don't know him," she says flatly, turning away from Matt and letting her hair create a curtain between them. "Not the way I knew him—know him."
Matt opens his mouth to argue with her, but then apparently thinks the better of it, saying instead, "How do you think Klaus will take—" he motions towards her aimlessly and she stiffens, "—all of this? You know." He pauses, hedging over the words and Caroline takes pity on him.
"Me being human again?" she supplies and at Matt's nod, Caroline scowls. "On my list of things to worry about, that barely cracks the top ten. No," she corrects herself, "the top hundred. You know what numbers one through ninety-nine are?" Before Matt can answer she rushes out, "Sam and Dean. Protecting them, making sure keep the stupid decisions to the absolute barest minimum possible, and getting through this with their lives and souls intact." She fixes him with her I'm-head-cheerleader-and-will-not-take-your-shit face. "Klaus's feelings aren't even on my radar, Matt."
Matt's fighting a smile, she can tell. "Yeah," he says with a nod. "Yeah, okay."
Caroline bites her lip, her curiosity and desperation to be distracted winning out over tact as she asks hesitantly, "What was it like? With Michael?"
If she hadn't known Matt for as long as she has, Caroline would have missed the nearly imperceptible darkening of his face. "It was awful," he says, so quietly she has to lean in to hear him. "I could see everything he was doing, hear everything he was saying and—it was like I was paralyzed. I kept screaming inside my head and all he ever did was laugh." He runs a shaky hand over his hair and when it comes back to rest on the counter, Caroline takes it between both of her own.
"Possession isn't fun," Dean says grimly from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed. "Don't matter if it's demonic or otherwise." He tosses an accusatory look over one shoulder to where Caroline assumes Castiel and Gabriel are sitting. "Speaking of possession," he goes on, nodding in her direction, "you're not protected against the demonic kind anymore." He grins at her, and it doesn't reach his eyes but it's something, a sign of life, and Caroline will take anything she can get at this point. "I know you always wanted a tattoo, Care."
She wants him to smile, really smile—wants herself to really smile too, but she's not a miracle worker and she knows how to make Dean laugh better than she knows how to make herself. Edging away from Matt, she pulls the hem of the back of her shirt up and points to her exposed lower back, one eyebrow arching at him. "Can I get it here?"
Dean scowls but not before she sees her prize, that familiar glint of humor and tug of his mouth upwards. "Fucking no."
… … … … …
They go to the next town over, where all of the residents of Mystic Falls have fled, just the two of them. Caroline holds Dean's hand between both of hers, the familiar feeling of his warm rings a reminder that even though the world's gone to shit, she still has him.
The tattoo place is well lit and the fluorescent lighting makes the dark circles under Dean's eyes look heartbreakingly deep. She tightens her hold on his hand and he doesn't pull away.
"So, what d' ya want?" the tattoo artist asks when he notices them. He eyes Caroline with a hint of derision. "Nice heart, maybe? Pretty flower? Fairy?"
Caroline scowls at him and gives Dean's shirt collar an unceremonious yank, revealing the anti-possession tattoo over his heart. "This one," she snaps and the tattoo artist's eyes widen a little at the harsh tone of her voice.
"Matching tattoos, huh?" he says with a leer; the muscles in Caroline's jaw jump irritably and Dean's stare becomes menacing. "That's adorable." Before Caroline can retort that she'll show him adorable, he waves her over to a plastic chair that has seen way better days. Possibly in the 70s.
She cries when the needle starts its biting work on the tender skin over her heart, the same place where Dean and Sam have theirs (in the back of her mind, in the place she never goes but stores things she can't think about, she tucks away that whatever happens, the three of them have this connecting tem). It hurts. Her skin feels like it's in flames, and Dean's hand grips her knuckles with bruising force, eyes never leaving her face.
The bandage is thick and white gauze and her skin underneath is horribly sore. Caroline doesn't button the top of her shirt to keep any incidental rubbing to a minimum. "That couldn't've waited like a week or something?" she asks, kind of grumbling but also kind of serious. She's been human for a scant twenty four hours, in which she learned her brother traded his life for their other brother's and her best friend's life for her own, been rejected by said best friend, and she has no freaking clue on how to even begin to categorize her encounters with Matt because how is she supposed to look at him and not see everything Michael did when hiding behind his face?
"No," Dean answers shortly, taking a sharp turn a little too fast; Caroline jerks out of her reverie and grips the door handle. "We lose tomorrow, you think Hell's gonna wait for you to protect yourself? After everything we've done to them? Shit no," he repeats, "had to be today." She hears the unspoken reason lingering
The drive back to Mystic Falls seems longer than the drive out, but finally, finally the warm glow of their porch lights make their presence known. Caroline heaves a tired sigh and makes her way gingerly to the front door, moving carefully so that the motions of her arms don't pull at the bandages. Every breath sends a twinge of sharp tingles across the still tender skin of her chest.
Matt's still there, his upper body sprawled over the kitchen table, a molding book and several notebook paper pages full of his scratchy handwriting strewn next to his open laptop. He gives a small snore when Caroline steals one from the pile.
"QB find anything good?" Dean asks as he digs through the fridge. Caroline flips the page over; words like Babylon and the whore are scribbled across the back with several heavy underlines marking their importance.
"Here," she says, holding the paper out to Dean and wrinkling her nose at the sight of him drinking straight from the milk carton. "Do you have to do that?" she complains and he shrugs, trading her the carton for Matt's notes. "Gross, now it's got Dean germs—"
"Care," Dean interrupts, eyes fixed on Matt's computer screen, "I think he found something." She looks up as Dean rotates the screen of Matt's laptop to face them, her eyes scanning the bright images. Dozens of news articles are pulled up on the screen, with headlines that proclaim a litany of violent murders across the entire southeast.
Caroline reads across titles across the bright screen and grits her teeth. "Your point?"
Dean runs a frustrated hand over his hair. "I gotta talk to Cas," he mumbles, more to himself than to her, and pockets Matt's notes. Caroline stares after him, mouth slightly agape before shaking her head and retrieving the blanket folded over the back of the living room couch. She carefully places it over Matt's shoulders, taking a moment to wince at how his shoulder blades protrude sharply out of his cotton t-shirt before slipping quietly into her room.
… … … … …
It's morning—it has to morning because there's the beginnings of pale light seeping in through her curtains—and someone—a soon to be dead someone, Caroline thinks with fuzzy viciousness, rubbing her forehead blearily—is knocking on the door. Wait no—that tap tap tap is too light to be a knock on the door and she groans as her eyes slowly peel open.
She's tugging her sleep shirt down when she yanks open the curtains, her best morning glare pinned to her face and aimed right at—
Stefan.
"Hey," he says through the glass, shoulders already moving in a half-shrug. "Can I talk to you?"
She waves a hand at him and starts to walk back towards her bed when she realizes Stefan's not following. She shoots an arched eyebrow his way and says pointedly, "Seriously? Dean gave Damon an invite and not you?"
The corners of Stefan's mouth quirk upwards. "He invited me in."
Caroline spreads her arms out. "Then what's the problem?"
"Caroline," Stefan says somberly, "You're human now and that changes things."
Her heart stutter-steps. "What, like…like we're not friends anymore?"
Stefan hesitates and Caroline has to force her jaw still as her lower lip threatens to start trembling. "If you still want to be friends, then we're still friends," he says finally and air rushes out of her lungs. Her eyes not leaving his face, she opens the window and says firmly, "Come inside, Stefan."
He gives her that look, the one she's seen directed so many times at Elena—like she's something he's never seen before and isn't quite sure he'll ever see again so he'd better look his fill before she vanishes.
Then again, she is human now, she muses thoughtfully, tugging at her sleep-mussed ponytail. For Stefan, she will vanish one day.
That's not something she has the energy to think about right now, less than two days removed from her former immortality. "What's up, Stefan?" she asks softly, turning and not at all surprised to find him standing right behind her.
"Just wanted to see how you were holding up," Stefan says casually, and it's too casual for Caroline to be convinced.
"Yeah, okay," she says, nodding. "Why are you really here?" His face, which had relaxed for the slightest of seconds, falls.
"Group of vamps," he says without further preamble. "Talking about the Winchesters."
"Yeah I heard about that," Caroline says without thinking and Stefan's eyebrows slash together.
"From who?"
For a wary moment, she considers lying to him, but what's the point? Stefan knows things about her now that not even Dean knows. "Klaus came by the other night," she mumbles, determinedly not meeting Stefan's eyes. "After we had…words."
Stephan laughs and it's so unexpected that her spine straightens into a rigid line. "Is that we're calling it now? Words?"
And there it is—the slight tug of her facial muscles, the beginnings of a small smile fighting at the edges of her mouth. Stefan catches it and responds with a grin of his own. "Shut up," she says lamely and he shakes his head at her.
"Look," he says, growing serious, "There's a group of vampires after you and your family, Care. So keep an eye out."
Caroline runs a frustrated hand through her hair. "How am I supposed to do that, Stefan?" she demands. "Between trying to figure out how to save both of my brothers from eternal damnation at the worst and plain ole death at the best, how am I supposed to fight off a pack of blood-lusty vamps?"
Stefan gives an idle shrug. "I've got your back," he says casually, and maybe it's the all the new (old?) human emotions and chemicals running through her—okay, it definitely is—but Caroline has to swallow back tears.
"Thanks," she mumbles instead, scratching at her ear and staring at the floor, desperately casting about in her mind for a subject change. "How's Elena doing?"
It's the wrong thing to ask; Stefan's face darkens and his eyes become hooded. "Fine," he says shortly. "Damon's helping her."
Caroline's eyes narrow. "Damon," she repeats and Stefan nods imperceptibly.
"Great," she mutters, chewing on her bottom lip as Stefan wanders her room, pretending to be unaffected by this piece of information. "Just what we need."
She's hardly surprised when Stefan swiftly changes the subject. "What's—what's it feel like, Care?"
"What?" she asks, even though she's pretty sure she knows what he means.
"You know," he shrugs and gestures vaguely towards her. "Being human again."
It's on the tip of her tongue to tell him exactly how it is—weird, she wants to say, like trying to ride a bike after being out of practice for years. Her limbs don't feel like her own, her lungs feel too small and something always aches or hurts or twinges, but she's so alive and every beat of her very living heart reminds her of how very human she is.
Caroline almost tells him the truth—but she doesn't.
"Not that different," she says with studied casualness, examining her unpainted nails with more interest than she feels. "A little, I dunno, fuzzier maybe? And I've tripped on my carpet like twenty times, it's super annoying."
Stefan stares at her for a second like he's trying to see into her brain. "Ah," he says finally and despite his efforts, she can hear the disappointment in his voice.
"Yep," she says with faux cheerfulness. "Being human's not so different from not being human. You're not missing much, pinky promise." He smirks a little when she stretches her little finger out towards him.
"I believe you," he says, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. "No need to go all eight-year-old girl on me, Care." His phone buzzes and as he goes to answer it, Caroline gives a tiny exhalation of relief.
She figures Stefan hates himself enough already; there's no reason to add what he'll never be to the fire.
… … … …
Once Stefan has gone, Caroline ventures silently into Sam's room in search of research—the mustier the book, the better. She hits paydirt almost immediately, which is so predictable she nearly laughs. Balancing the pile precariously on one arm and Sam's computer in the other, she settles herself in Matt's spot at the kitchen table from the night before.
With a brief text to Dean—where are you?—she opens Sam's laptop and hits shuffle on his iTunes, cracking open the first ancient text and fighting a sneeze as it flings dust into the air.
The minutes turn into hours—two hours later, Dean responds angel torture don't ask, be home late; Caroline doesn't even want to think about what that means—and the stack of molding books dwindles slightly.
She's not dumb enough to think it's actually quieter; she knows the crickets deep in the forest are still chirping away, knows the squirrels are still scratching up trees—but no longer does her stomach rumble at the thought of furry woodland creatures and it's something that she notes with a small zip of happiness.
That happiness is followed on swift wings by guilt.
"Can't do anything about it right now, Forbes," Caroline whispers to herself, tiredly rubbing her face with the heel of her palm. "Woman up."
No sooner have the words left her mouth than there's a small bump from the side door of the house. She barely jumps—the things that go bump in the night, and it is night now, the light from the streetlamp glowing on the few books she hasn't dug through in the past eight hours. Her back aches and she cracks it easily, the pop of the bones releasing the knots of tension.
"Cas?" she calls from her seat, raising her arms above her head and leaning to one side. She'd forgotten just how amazing stretching felt, the way her muscles tightened and the blood rushed through them; she leans to the other side and fights a yawn. When there's no answer to her call, she stands (too fast, because she has to wait a beat for the lightheadedness to subside; she'd forgotten how careful humans had to be).
There's no one at the side door and Caroline feels a brief bout of hesitation—she's very, very human, she reminds herself. Her eyes slide down to rest on the bundle of fire pokers nightly sitting in their holders. Worked well enough on Klaus, she thinks, even if she hadn't gotten the chance to use it on him. But whatever—it's all semantics. Her fist clutches one of the iron pokers and she instantly feels that much braver.
As soon as she steps outside, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up—get inside, get inside, get inside, a voice in the back of her mind screeches frantically at her. She ignores it easily.
She knows better than to yell who's there, has seen to many horror movies to boast about how armed she is, and has her finger poised over Dean's speed dial number, ready to pull the trigger in an instant—
"Hey there," a girl's smooth voice says, a slight Midwestern twang to it. Caroline's hand tightens around her weapon as her eyes adjust to the fading light. The girl—woman, really, maybe twenty-five?—grins at her with even teeth. "You Caroline?"
She hits Dean's speed dial button behind her back. "Who's asking?" she challenges and the woman's smile widens as her nostrils flare.
"Oh and human," she breathes, her face lighting up like a little kid on Christmas morning. "What a pleasant surprise."
Caroline swallows and watches as the woman's dark eyes follow the movement of her throat. "Stay away from me," she warns, backing away and brandishing the poker in front of her. Her back hits something solid, and before her brain can process that she isn't pressed against her door, strong hands wrap around her arms. She jerks hard once in a feeble attempt to escape, but the hands don't budge and she's pretty sure she'll have five finger shaped bruises on each arm for days.
The woman stalks around her, circling and examining her. "Do you know who I am?"
"Nope," Caroline snaps, popping her 'p' and feigning boredom. "So you're obviously not important."
There's a flash of anger in the woman's eyes and she says lowly, "Your family killed my family, little girl." Kate—gotta be Kate, and Caroline wishes she had listened more carefully to Klaus and Sam—tilts her head thoughtfully at Caroline. "You were a vampire before. Why didn't they kill you?" Caroline's face stays carefully blank, though she does stomp on her captor's foot; his only reaction is a low chuckle.
Kate continues with a wave of her hand, "Never mind. I'm supposed to leave you alone until after the big war." Her eyes glitter. "But I'm not risking you dying some hero's death."
Cas, Caroline thinks desperately, Cas, Cas where are you, help me—
Without warning, Kate has flashed in front of her, one hand gripping Caroline's face with a firm grip, forcing her to look upwards. Blood red nails scratch into one cheek, leaving it stinging.
Think, Caroline, think, she orders herself, eyes darting around. She's outnumbered and even if she weren't, it wouldn't matter—one human can't hope to take on a single vampire. Can't outman them—gotta outsmart them.
Kate is still talking and Caroline can't help herself. "Do you ever shut up?" she demands. "My God."
For a half-second, Kate's only reaction is a thinning of her lips and a narrowing of her eyes. When she grabs me, I'm gonna go backward, Caroline thinks, forcing herself not to tighten her grip on her pitiful weapon. Gonna go backward and stick him with the blunt end and her with the pointy one.
As predicted, Kate lunges for her and Caroline pushes backwards into her guard, the poker perfectly horizontal; there's a grunt of pain from someone and then her arm stops meeting resistance as the poker slides through skin and muscle and tissue—
"That's enough," a familiar voice snaps and immediately the hands holding her prisoner drop away and Kate freezes, her fangs mere centimeters from Caroline's neck.
With barely a glance towards her, Klaus disposes of her captor easily, twisting his neck and dropping him to the ground with barely a second glance. "Kate," he says with a hard brightness; Kate looks briefly terrified before her face relaxes.
"Going to kill me?" she taunts him and Caroline jerks her fire poker out of her vampire guard, wincing as it makes a squishing noise. Her aim must have been better than she thought—his skin is already greying and vainy. The coppery scent of blood activates her gag reflex and she turns away with a hand pressed to her mouth; I will not hurl, she repeats to herself. I will not hurl.
"Why wouldn't I kill you?" Klaus asks Kate casually, his hand wrapping around her throat and lifting her slightly off the ground. Caroline turns back around as she stumbles away from the scene, triggering the motion-activating lights on the side of the house. Neither Kate nor Klaus spare her a glance.
"Because," Kate chokes out, "The Apocalypse—"
"Vampires are laughably simple to make," he says with a shrug. "Do not overestimate your worth." The final words are hissed out through a clenched jaw and before Caroline can fully process it, Klaus's clenched fist is gripping Kate's dripping red heart.
The stench becomes too much and Caroline promptly turns and throws up in her mother's hydrangeas.
When she's finished emptying the contents of her stomach, she leans back against the sides of the house and touches the back of her hand to forehead. Klaus is staring at her with an unreadable expression and she takes a shaky breath that makes his eyebrows knit together.
She opens her mouth to speak, and winces when her cheek stings, her fingers reaching up to prod gingerly where Kate's nails had grazed her. "Ow," she mumbles, pulling her hand away to find bright red drops of blood staining her fingertips. "Perfect. Just awesome."
"Human, then," Klaus says steadily, his voice betraying not a single flicker of emotion.
Wiping her hand on her jeans, Caroline looks over at him. He's standing with his hands folded behind his back, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere over her shoulder. "Guess so," she replies emotionlessly, shifting so that she's slightly turned away from him. "What have you heard?"
He paces a little, his hands still clasped behind him. "The sound of your heartbeat," he answers coolly and there's something unsettling about how calm and even he sounds.
Her skin tingles and she's not sure if it's a good feeling or a bad one. "Uh," she starts hesitantly, picking at her thumbnail and wondering for a brief second if she should even broach this with him. Fuck it. She throws caution to the wind. "Have—have you heard from Elena?"
Klaus's eyes narrow. "Not Elena," he says, his jaw tightening. "But Stefan, yes."
"Oh," she says, nodding and not having a clue why. "Right. Um. Sorry about that."
He doesn't answer, his hand coming out from behind his back and reaching out to touch where Kate had clawed her. Caroline knows they're just scratches—the stings have already receded and Klaus's hand comes back clean.
"I should change you back," he says, and his voice is so casual, so Goddamn cavalier that it sparks the tension into a near-blinding rage inside of her. Caroline whirls on him, her fire poker brandished tightly in one fist and knocking him away from her with the other. He looks down at it and laughs and she is suddenly absolutely and completely infuriated.
"Stay the hell away from me," she hisses at him, knuckles white around the ridiculous excuse of a weapon she's brandishing. "You have no right—"
He's flashed in front of her and she hasn't even blinked; she's been looking right at him and then all of a sudden, he's not standing over Kate—ugh, she can't look at that too long or her stomach will start to churn again. He's right in front of her, her blunt and useless defense taken from her and tossed uncaringly to the side, landing on the ground with a thud. "You were strong, fearless, immortal." The words are growled at her, his hands resting on either side of her, pinning her in. "And now you're nothing but another weak human. It's a bloody waste."
"Newsflash, Sherlock," she snaps, waving her hand in front of his face. "I was only one of those things, and here's a hint just in case you can't figure it out. I wasn't strong and I sure as hell wasn't freaking fearless." She gives a bitter laugh. "God, I was terrified of living forever without my family, of losing myself without them and you—you'd take this away from me just because you don't want to be alone!" She shoves at his shoulders for good measure; Klaus's face has gone slack and he allows himself to be pushed away. She suspects he's had a lot of practice at it, but she refuses to feel bad for him. Half his problems are his own fault anyway.
They stand several feet apart, both breathing hard despite only Caroline really needing to. The anger drains out of her; her muscles still ache in that unfamiliar human way. "Sam might die because of this," she says softly, arms curling around her stomach. "Because of the deal he made. I won't let it be in vain."
"You will die because of the deal your brother made," Klaus responds flatly, leaning back against the side of the island.
She shakes her head. "I would have died anyway. Eventually." Even if Klaus doesn't know this, she does. Caroline knows that she would never have made it to her one-thousandth birthday.
Klaus moves towards her at that, eyes blazing, though not at their former ferocity. "I would not have allowed it."
Caroline cracks a tiny half-smile that is not returned. "Hate to break it to you, but you're not God, Klaus." She pauses and bites her lip. "This—" she motions vaguely towards herself and his eyes don't slide from hers, "this is better, better for me."
"I didn't take you for a coward," he snaps, and she flinches.
"Right," she retorts, feeling a headache coming on, "This is the cowardly way. Sure. If it makes you feel better, fine, believe that."
"Humans—" he spits the word, "You are afraid immortality and that, that is cowardly, Caroline."
"And you're afraid of death!" she retorts. "You've lived ten lifetimes and you still can't let go!" Something in his face breaks, just for a second before vanishing, but she softens all the same. "This is better," she repeats softly and with a disgusted noise, he makes to leave; she stops him with a hand on his forearm. "It is. How was I supposed to keep living like that, huh? Terrified of living without my family but just as terrified of dying and winding up in Hell and either way losing the people I love; that's not even an undead life, Klaus." Caroline blinks up at him, unwelcome tears starting to swim in her eyes. "Why would you want that for me?" Her voice drops to a barely-there whisper. "Do you hate me that much?"
When he looks back at her, his face is totally blank, devoid of any emotion; and for reasons she can't explain—or, if she's being honest with herself, reasons she doesn't want to explain, but that is something she doesn't have time for in the middle of the Apocalypse, so away to the small place in the back of her mind it goes—her heart sinks a little.
He closes the remaining distance between them so suddenly that she jerks backwards, but his hands are gentle on her arms. "The idea of you dying," he says hoarsely, eyes boring in to hers, "The thought that you won't exist someday, Caroline—" His forehead drops to rest against hers.
The touch of his lips to hers is barely shocking, but she still tenses briefly before relaxing slightly. He tastes differently than before, but it's not unpleasant and she lets her mouth open slightly. Her brain feels tired, blurry; and she can't remember why she had thought it was a bad idea to not do this with him.
But then his mouth breaks from hers and slides down to her neck and she remembers with sudden, striking clarity.
"You should go," she mumbles, and even to her own ears it sounds half-hearted. "Seriously, if Dean finds you here—"
He snorts. "I am not afraid of your brother, renowned hunter may he be." His lips meet hers again and she leans into it for a half second before pushing away again.
"I'm still mad at you," she tells him as he brushes her hair off of her forehead and he nods solemnly despite the lightening of his expression.
"Of course you are," he agrees, trailing a finger along her collarbone and she finds herself fiddling absently with his stupid hipster cords. She twirls one around her pointer finger as they stand in silence.
It's not until the rumbling of the Impala that Caroline sidesteps out of the circle of Klaus's arms and hovers at her side door.
"Don't suppose I'll ever get invited back in?" Klaus calls softly after her with a raise of an eyebrow. Caroline glances quickly inside the house where she can now hear Dean's irritated voice and turns back to Klaus.
"Gotta earn it," she says seriously, but half of her mouth ticks upwards before she lets herself back into her house.
Dean is griping to Castiel about something, tossing weapons onto the couch before collapsing next to them himself when Caroline walks into the living room. "What's the story?" she asks, and Dean groans.
"Well," he starts before noticing her face. "What happened to you?"
Her hand flies to her face. "Ah," she stumbles lamely, "Yeah. About that. You make a vampire enemy by name of Kate?"
Dean's face is blank for a few seconds before he scowls. "Killed her boyfriend." His eyes narrow at the scratches. "She do that?"
Caroline nods and Dean's on his feet before she can continue, "Calm down, Rambo. I can take care of myself."
"Did you behead her?" Castiel asks gravely from just in front of the side door. Caroline jumps and Dean scowls at her.
"Come on, Care, we can't keep secrets right now," he says and she sighs.
"Klaus came by. She—she was about to kill me and he…" Caroline trails off and shrugs. "Took care of it." She pauses. "Well, I took out the big guy."
Dean looks out the window and lets out a low whistle of approval. "Nice," he says, flashing her a thumbs up before adding, "Thought we agreed you'd stay away from Klaus?"
She shrugs again. "Can't complain when he saved my life," she points out sensibly and before Dean can scowl his way into permanent wrinkles she changes the subject. "Angel torture, Dean?"
He shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah, about that," he says slowly. "Look, Care, I've gotta do this thing, and you—you can't come."
Caroline can't help it when her hackles rise. "What? Why not?"
"Because—"
"We are meeting with a very high-ranking demon," Castiel interrupts, staring at her with focused eyes. "And you are human."
"So's he!" she protests, jabbing her finger in Dean's direction. Castiel looks at her with fond exasperation.
"You are vulnerable in ways Dean is not," he says and Dean shoots her a cocky, told-ya-so grin. "The less he sees of you, the better."
Caroline rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Who's the big scary demon?"
"Name's Crowley," Dean says. "King of the Crossroads."
… … … …
tbc.
A/N: still on tumblr at little-miss-sunny-daisy. Read, review, you know the drill! If any questions, please feel free to PM here or on tumblr. Sorry if any mistakes, I wanted to get this uploaded!
xo