FFN did not send out a notification for the last update, so PLEASE make sure you've read Chapter 16 first if you're following this story!
P.S. Josh in canon has on his fake-tinder profile the line about nessie. I had to. P.P.S it's my headcanon that Klaus stole 'acquit' from Elijah
Thank you everyone for reading, it truly means the world to me.
Emotion is impossible to catch within one's mind, at least not the strength of it, not with any lasting memory. You feel, you experience and it aches with the force of immediacy, you are overwhelmed with anger and sadness, with love and hate, with the sheer power of them beyond what the simple words can convey. But outside the moment you forget. You shake your head and laugh at the thought of it. You feel a sense of wonder, an incredulous regard for the feeling from a thousand paces.
And so you separate, and you judge, because that's what people do. You decide that anger is a bygone and deep sadness merely a choice. You can't recall the ache. You look at others and you curl your lip at the folly of extremes. Does it matter whether it's yourself or a thousand-year-old killer? Because Klaus has told himself, his family, that love is a weakness, having been so far removed from it. He's told himself and now in this moment he is thrown back into it, the lurch of feeling and his heart shudders and blood gurgles from Caroline Forbes' mouth and in the wake of this feeling he is just like anyone else - how could I forget?
But he has not reigned and ruled and run for a thousand years without letting instinct overpower the stockstillness of emotion. He is five paces out and Caroline is falling to the ground and then he catches her shoulders again and the wolf who threw the stake? His scream has started and stopped. His head rolls down the slope of the yard, comes to a gentle rest at the foot of a packmate.
"LEAVE US!" The double fangs are bared and the gold in Klaus' gaze gives even Bonnie a start. She darts a quick glance at Marcel, silently wills him to obey, and he tears his own gaze away from the blonde resting in Klaus' arms and mutters an order to the pack just beginning to react to their mate's death.
Those yellow eyes focus on Bonnie and it takes everything in her not to flinch.
"It's white oak," Klaus slurs past his incisors. "I can't pull out the stake without being certain it will come out whole. Any splinters left and she will die."
Bonnie nods and rushes forward, slanting her gaze down to Caroline who lays gasping, skin sheened with sweat. Her eyes are darting about, confused and far-away, as if she's trying to find an answer in the evening sky. Bonnie blocks her view when she kneels down and Caroline's eyes stutter and stop on Bonnie's face, her hand clutches weakly in the air, she tries to lift her head up and speak.
"Lama-"
"Shhh, don't speak, love. Whatever it is can wait. I promise, love." There's such a contrast between his gentle fingers brushing the lank hair off her face and that demon's stare and hybrid teeth.
Bonnie gives her hand a squeeze, begins to murmur in a low, accented voice. It's a simple spell, but it never hurts to speak the language of the land, and Louisiana Creole is the voice of voodoo, after all. She slices a hand down towards Caroline's chest and then twists her wrist, letting her palm bounce up when it's an inch away from the stake. Klaus tightens his grip and glares a frowned warning. Bonnie's hand twists and slaps again in that knife-to-palm gesture and something dances along the edges of the stake, racing up and down and then again, and again.
Marcel's fled his own house, his wolf boys in tow, so the sounds here now have less competition. Caroline's breaths gasp along with Bonnie's spell, the skittering skip of a grasshopper's call, the far-off sound of one of the jazz trios playing on Frenchmen St. A nearby late-model car honks. Josh, still standing, coughs to hide his worry.
The stake now holds a pale halo of light. Bonnie's voice falters, stops, and she nods at Klaus despite the uncertainty of the chant's end. His eyes blare punishment if she fails and she tilts her head at him, brows raised, and nods again.
"It's safe. She's safe."
She is still gasping and her blood coats Klaus' trousers and more bubbles up as Klaus grips the stake and pulls, a gently whispered "shh sweetheart" as she cries out. He bites into his wrist and holds it to her mouth, her hands releasing Bonnie's and reaching up to clutch at his forearm. Five feet away, Josh covers his mouth as his own teeth snik down in answering hunger to the siren's call of Caroline taking deep pulling sucks of Klaus' blood. He pulls Caroline closer and glares at Bonnie's questioning look. "She lost a lot of blood," he says almost defensively, and Bonnie stands and awkwardly turns away, feeling as if she's interrupting something almost intimate.
They return to the mansion, Caroline swiping her teeth with her tongue, the taste of Klaus fresh in her mouth. She's just finished explaining how she got there and she's suffering a bit of emotional whiplash because his words, however much she pegged them as false, still ring in her head but he's been staring at her like there's never been anyone or anything else and oh, his blood. She glares at him from her spot in between Bonnie and Josh on the couch, because she's not going to let him off easily, and his eyes cut away. She smiles a bit in triumph, toeing the Persian rug that she's sure one of his family compelled from some ancient prince. She spitefully digs in her foot to crush the fibers as Josh clears his throat.
"So, the walls between worlds are thin around you because of the spell. Which makes sense, as much as magic can. But what I don't get is how Marcel knew about you?"
"I - I don't think he -"
"My dear sister apparently enjoys telling Marcel stories and secrets as payment for his love," Klaus interrupts, his voice a knife. He hears a noise from upstairs and can't help the quick grin from slipping across his face as he leans forward in his chair, knowing that Rebekah's listening. Fixing Caroline with another confident stare, because this is something he can control, he says, "She'll pay dearly for her loose lips." He waits a moment. There. The back door slams, because Rebekah can't resist a displaying her own displeasure, and Josh jumps, almost falling off the couch.
Caroline laughs brightly and something in Klaus' chest loosens as she snakes an easy arm around Josh's shoulders and gives a squeeze. He's re-settling his laptop, dislodged from the scare, and his fingers fumble on the keys as he awkwardly turns to smile at her. A loud voice issues from the tinny speakers.
"The surgeon's photograph is what most fans point to as proof of the existence of the Loch Ness -"
Josh stabs at the space bar and Caroline laughs, her arm still draped across Josh's shoulders as Bonnie leans over, the leather couch squeaking as she cranes her neck to see the screen. "Josh - are you watching a YouTube documentary on the Loch Ness monster?"
"Look, I have feelings about Nessie, ok?"
Klaus watches their easy camaraderie and something long-lost bubbles up, a feeling of uncertainty. What is it that he should say to her? He knows she's angry, that his words lie underneath her skin as much as his blood does now. He thinks of asking her how he can acquit himself, then curses inwardly. Because really, his best example of an apology is Elijah? Whose mannerisms and code stem from the 18th century? But he can't recall anyone else apologizing, aside from those screaming it as he crushed the breath from their lungs. So what other examples does he have?
He looks up and Caroline is staring at him with her head cocked, and it's too much. He stands quickly. "I need to ensure Marcel's no longer a threat. I'll have a plan for dealing with Lamashtu on my return. Don't leave the mansion until we know it's safe." His meaning is clear, and he levels a searching look at Caroline's face that lasts a little too long as Josh clears his throat again, though Bonnie's the one to speak.
"I'll need to get some supplies from Grams."
He waves a dismissive hand. "Your supplies can wait. Until we can locate Lamashtu, staying in a house ensorcelled by generations of witches minimizes the threat."
He flashes away to cut off further argument and an ancient grandfather clock tolls the hour as Caroline grumbles, "Why does he get to go out."
Rebekah is waiting for Marcel when he arrives, but of course she doesn't make it seem that way. Her Louboutin dangles gracefully from a relaxed foot, her mien cool and composed. She's laughing at something in a thick leather tome which Marcel recognizes as the gag gift Thierry bought him a few months ago - a biography of Napoleon.
"Historical inaccuracy?" Marcel asks as he glides into the room of his home on the edges of Treme. Like all the Mikaelsons, he recognizes both the value of a good entrance and multiple safehouses.
Rebekah sniffs and cocks a brow. "No, history has it right that Fouché was an insufferable opportunist. Much like who compelled him to be that way." She glances at the book, moves to set it down, still reading from the page as if she is being torn from the words by Marcel's rude interruption. It's so carefully crafted Marcel smiles involuntarily. "Kol, of course," she finishes.
He folds his arms across his chest and leans against the kitchen counter, keeping his distance. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Rebekah? I'm sure Klaus has at least a hundred biographies on one of his favorite dictator idols. That," he motions to the book, "can't be the real reason you're here."
She looks down at the book, tapping the cover with her nails, her voice ever-so-casual. "Am I to understand that you revealed a confidence?"
"I may have," he responds slowly, carefully. "Was it a confidence, or a mistake?"
Rebekah glances up, studies him for a moment. "Both. There are certain things I trust you with. Because of our history, because of what we share."
Marcel looks away, walks into the room further, his stride angry. "And what is that? What do we share, Rebekah? You think it's some kind of undying, true love to last the ages?"
She has the grace to look perplexed, and her mouth frowns in a pout. "What do you expect me to believe when you've promised me a life together a thousand times or more?" She slides her shoe on, rising to approach him, still with a bit of softness. Rebekah will never stop letting her guard down, Klaus was right about that.
"What do you think we can have, Bekah? I grew up idolizing you, looking up into the face of an angel come to earth. Of course I wanted you when I became old enough to consider it. And you took that first-love pining and you drank it up," he spits out, throwing his hands wide.
Rebekah's hand has faltered in its course towards his face. She covers it by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as he continues. "How can we have anything real? I look at you and I'm still that ten-year-old kid looking up at your beautiful face and how sick and twisted do you have to be to take advantage of that?"
Rebekah's eyes narrow. "Very sick and twisted, if you must know. So sorry to debauch you in my boredom. I thought you were made of sterner stuff than blaming your own feelings on me. Pity." She shoves past him, shoulders hard, and he turns with the motion, sighing and scrubbing a hand across the top of his head and following her into the hallway.
Rebekah's armor is in place, although Marcel knows her well enough to spot the chinks.
"Don't you get it Rebekah? Damn it, I want to try with you. But it's all tainted by our start, by our past together. It's not something I can just pretend didn't happen. I'll always see you through that lens, Bekah. Whether it's now or in 200 ye-"
"Well then, there's no need to keep yammering on about it."
"I had no intent on using the white oak stake, you know. I just wanted it as leverage." He says this to her back and she throws a quick glance over her shoulder, her brow twitching in disbelief.
"Tell that to my brother."
"Yes, please do," Klaus says from the doorway, his eyes burning .
"Nik I -"
He breezes past her like she's nothing because there's nothing worse he can do to her. She stares at the back of his head a moment, the curls so artfully tousled despite the humid air, . His back is rigid and she takes comfort in it, that there is some feeling left for her, that anger coiled in his spine isn't all for Marcel. She takes a breath to try again but when she lifts her eyes Marcel is staring back almost sadly - is that pity? - and her stomach twists with such force that she almost breaks the doorknob in her hurry to escape.
Klaus hears her pained gasp before the door slams shut and he smiles, because there, she should feel the truth of it, in betrayal lies pain for the both of them.
"Damn it, she drank blood from someone's head like some sort of jacked-up goblet and I can't have more deaths on my conscience, ok?"
The color is back in Caroline's cheeks now as night falls in force. They're still sitting in the living room of the Mikaelson mansion, Bonnie squeezing her hand in comfort next to her on the fancy lounge that serves as a sofa. Josh has moved to the chair opposite and jiggles his knee as he switches computers, pulling his MacBook out of a worn, canvas backpack, hands skating over the keys as Bonnie responds.
"What do you think, Care? Do you think she's here?"
"Yeah. I mean. I don't know, but I think so. I do know that she was pretty insistent on finding her 'children'," Caroline says, punctuating with her hands. She's more than relieved that Klaus has left, because his blood pulses through her veins and she hears his voice in her head saying such conflicting things and she doesn't have time right now, ok?
Josh looks up from his screen. "I've sent a notification, so Klaus' worldwide version of the Baker Street Irregulars is on the lookout. Except they're compelled. And Klaus doesn't pay them. And they hate him." Bonnie smirks at this. "But they've got Lamashtu's description, so if she's in this world, we'll know."
Caroline sighs and leans over, pulling her hair back from her face as her elbows rest on her knees. "So what's next?" A thought hits her and she bolts upright. "Did someone get my bag from Marcel's? And can I borrow your phone?" She looks at Josh who shakes his head in answer to her first question and thumbs the lock on his cell and tosses it to her. "Wait, I don't have Abhi's number. Ugh, who knows how long it will take for him to check his email," she says, tapping at the phone.
"Well, since Klaus is back there putting the fear of...himself into Marcel. I'll send him a text," Josh mutters distractedly, hands still flying over the keyboard, and Bonnie turns to study Caroline's face.
"You ok? Aside from the whole plunging through universes, freaky demon things and," Bonnie starts laughing in the middle of her question, "being stabbed in the chest? I guess it's telling that all this just feels like another day in Nwalins," she drawls out the city name in an accent caught between Brooklyn and the South.
Caroline laughs, but her heart's not in it. "Well, I'm worried about my mom, and if I'll see her again. And -" she pauses, shakes her head. "Nothing, it's stupid." She looks away, towards the window where the heavy curtains muffle the sound of Mardi Gras revelry.
Bonnie playfully pokes Caroline's knee, forcing her to turn. "Hey, you know...you know Klaus didn't mean anything he said back there," she says in a guess, watching as Caroline's face crumples in reaction.
"Yeah maybe, but why do I care so much?"
"Because the ladies always love a bad boy, amirite?" Bonnie lets out a low groan as Caroline and Josh look up in surprise. From the threshold, Kol stands, one foot crossed casually in front of the other, his head tilted in studied insouciance. "Can't say my brother doesn't have good taste but-" he enters the room, flops down next to Bonnie and loops an arm around her, "my tastes run more towards black excellence. Sorry to disappoint," he looks apologetically at Caroline before giving Josh a wink and directing a loud stage whisper towards him. "I read that line in Essence. Perfect, no?" Bonnie is in full facepalm at this point and Caroline can't help but laugh.
"Are you...Elijah?" Caroline asks.
Bonnie looks up at this, eager to see Kol's reaction. His expression of horror does not disappoint and he sags back into the lounge dramatically. "You wound me, darling." His gaze turns to Bonnie and he mimes stabbing himself in the heart and twisting the blade. "And you as well, for clearly you haven't told Caroline of our undying love or my roguish charm."
He stands and rushes over to the window, drawing the curtains open. "But you have a chance to redeem yourself, darlings. It's Mardi Gras and I have plenty of beads. I am, of course, equal opportunity." Kol turns, offering a wicked grin.
"We're not so sure it's a good idea to go out. Klaus was pretty adamant about staying safe until he can ensure Caroline's - um, our - safety," Bonnie responds, glad for the excuse. Kol is dangerous on many levels, and she's too tired to keep her guard up.
Caroline bristles at this and stands, sending pleading eyes Bonnie's way. "I've never been to New Orleans, Bon! And it's Mardi Gras! If Lamashtu was here we'd know about it, but for now? Klaus can freaking chill with the ordering me around."
Kol mimes tipping an imaginary hat.. "Brava, my bellisima. You're going to be so much fun, aren't you?" He turns towards Bonnie and waggles his brows. "What about my dearest witch? I've got plenty of beads to trade you for showing your luscious ti- oof "
Bonnie doesn't even resort to witchcraft, just a punch in the gut that doubles Kol over in surprise.
She walks back and links arms with Caroline, glancing at Josh with an unspoken "you coming?"
He snaps his laptop shut and stands nervously, clearly the one that's thinking ahead to Klaus' reaction. "Guys don't you think we should-" but they're out the door and vampire hearing or no, he doesn't think they're quite listening.
Marcel's look is caught somewhere between defiance and resignation as Klaus orders a hybrid to pour the concrete. "Look, Klaus, from what I'm hearing about this demon goddess, you're gonna need all hands on deck."
Klaus clasps his hands behind his back and lifts his brows. "And what guarantee do I have that you won't use the chaos to your advantage? After all, it's what I would do, and as you are so fond of pointing out, I was your mentor." He paces around Marcel whose hands and legs are cuffed with ensorcelled chains to the post behind him. A wet drip echoes from the back of the Garden, punctuating a low moan that issues from one of the prisoners not yet dessicated. "You crossed a line, Marcel, as you have many times in the past, yet somehow I've always found it in my heart to forgive you."
Marcel huffs a laugh through his nose. "Your heart? Before yesterday, I didn't think you had one."
"Ah Marcel, you always were so amusing." There's a frustrated yell and a sound of plaster crumbling as some tortured vampire gives a start at Marcel's name. "See, even Thierry thinks so."
"Look, Klaus. If you're just gonna gloat, then lap it up and leave, because I'm done. If you're here to talk, that's a different story. Let's lay it all out on the line. You came here after years in Mystic Falls and took over what I built. Why? Why did you need to run things, to ruin them? People were happy, things were good. People still bowed to you."
"They bowed to you," Klaus snarls before stopping short. "I don't have time for this, Marcel. You're here until I decide otherwise, and now I have the only weapon you can use to dislodge me from my rule. You played your hand too clumsily. Seems as if you still have a bit to learn, my dear protégé."
He spins on his heel, calling back over his shoulder mockingly as he exits the dismal gloom of the Garden, "I do hope you enjoy your stay!" It's a weak exit line, to be sure, but he's got other things on his mind as he pulls out the stake and traces the blood - her blood - that still gleams softly in the streetlights.
"Well, that escalated quickly," Josh says wryly, taking a large gulp of his drink.
Bonnie nods without turning her head, still focusing on the scene in front of her. It had started out innocently enough, shitty overpriced drinks and blues on Bourbon St., then an escape to the still touristy but infinitely cooler Frenchmen Street where Kol pulled Caroline up on the bar top to dance. Six tequila shots and an unasked-for grope later, the bar lies in chaos. The band stopped about thirty seconds into the fray, shoving instruments in cases and peacing out the back door. And while Caroline's particularly excited to cross off "hit someone with a chair in a bar fight" from her bucket list, she's had to talk Kol down from killing the guy who tried to grab her ass, along with everyone else. He's now stacking unconscious bodies with focused intent.
"Joshua! Come play Jenga with me!" he shouts, and when Josh facepalms in answer, Kol shrugs and grabs a redhead who's just emerged from the bathroom and is stopped in her tracks, surveying the damage with confusion. Kol sighs with exasperation before compelling her, and soon she's tugging at a baseball-capped marine in the middle of one of the piles and Kol is clapping his hands with delight.
"So….how do you, uh, get him to stop, normally?" Caroline slides over to where Bonnie and Josh are standing.
"Oh, I can give him a witchy aneurysm. That will slow him down enough to come up with some other way to entertain him. I just held off because, well," Bonnie lifts a brow, "it seemed like you were having fun."
"It certainly did, Caroline." Klaus' voice is sharp, a knifeblade of irritation. "What part of stay inside and safe was difficult to comprehend, hmm?"
Caroline turns sharply, her hair whipping around her face. "Excuse me? Look, buddy, I've crossed between worlds, fought demons, saved my mom, and followed a weird vampire lady through a hole in the fabric of time. I can take care of myself." She crosses her arms over her chest, notes the sound of sirens in the distance.
"Yes you showed that so masterfully with Marcellus."
"Seriously? Screw you, Klaus."
Josh and Bonnie's eyes ping-pong between the two arguing vampires. Kol tries to sling an arm across Bonnie's shoulders, a still-unconscious body slung over his opposite shoulder casually. She shoves him with a glare and he holds a hand up in mock defense. "What? It's a to-go snack! Seeing my brother fail miserably always makes me a bit peckish."
Bonnie stares at him until his face drops in disappointment and he sets the body down in a chair, where it promptly falls over and slides the rest of the way to the floor. Bonnie's relieved to still hear a grunt. "Come on, let's head out before the police arrive. I promise she'll give us all the details later." She glances at Caroline, who gives a small distracted wave as they pass her. Klaus spares Kol a murderous glance before digging his Caroline-shaped grave further:
"While I appreciate the eloquence of your rejoinder, I do think perhaps you're not the person to make claims of safety."
"Look, old man linguist, you don't get to tell me what to do with my time and my life, ok? I can't even listen to you right now." She's out the door and in the street, suddenly aware that she has no idea how to get back to his house, or if she even wants to go.
"Please." It creaks from his mouth, a word worn from lack of use. Caroline's scowl fades and she turns back to look up at him, surprised.
"Ok."
His brow relaxes, although anger still lies in the set of his jaw. Some impulse has her reaching a hand out, and he glances up, confusion adding to the already conflicting mess of emotions on his face. She smiles and wiggles her fingers, and he grins in return, so tentatively that her heart leaps and aches at the same time, and then he's with her in the street, his long fingers circling hers, and they begin to walk.
"I don't think you truly understand...it is not in me to sacrifice for someone else." He's looking down the street, not meeting her eyes. She hears a chaos of police cars as they pull up to the bar her and Kol singlehandedly trashed. "I want power, and loyalty, I want to possess," his voice deepens at the last word and she feels desire flash, unbidden. "But now..." His glance towards her is somehow full of both shyness and admonishment all at once. "I want you safe. And I can't keep you safe from Marcel, and the countless supernatural creatures in this town if you're out carousing with my brother," his lip curls, and when she opens her mouth to respond he stops her.
"No, let me finish. Please." That word again, still awkward on those devil's lips. They walk underneath a balcony laden with college students, the smell of beer and cheap house alcohol saturating the air. A girl with a loud, awkward laugh brays out drunkenly. "I tried to convince myself, had convinced myself, that I went to India to discover the power that sent you here, to harness it." He ducks an unruly bougainvilla that trails down from the overhang, the easy grace of his movements striking. He's watching her now, eyes only flicking back to the street to mark the location. He swallows and Caroline realizes how unsure of himself he is, and that more than anything convinces her that his next words are the truth.
"I meant none of what I said to Marcel." She glances up, hopeful, lip between her teeth where she's been worrying it anxiously. His eyes focus on her mouth. "When I thought you'd betrayed -"
He pauses, and when he continues it's a different thought that emerges. "Why did you do it? Jump in front of the stake?" he adds when she darts a confused glance at him.
Caroline glances down and Klaus memorizes the curl of her lashes against her skin. "I, I don't know." She huffs out a laugh, shakes her head. "I mean, it was instinct, for sure, because I know logically you wouldn't need help. But I wasn't sure if the stake was like super hybrid kryptonite or whatever and I just -"
"- let yourself lead with your heart, not your head," he finishes, his voice soft.
She's uncomfortable with that, too close to feelings she swears she'll have time to examine someday, but she can't really deny it either, so she just tries to deflect with a shrug. "Yeah, I mean I guess so? Who knows." But he's staring at her in this knowing way and he seems to weigh something in his mind before his eyes darken and he stops and spins and she's up against the wall with his arms bracketing. "Tell me, Caroline. Do you really not know? Can you truly deny what lies between us?" His eyes flicker back towards her lips as he licks his own. "There's no question that I want you, Caroline."
She nervously ducks under his arm and he lets her with a grin, his wolf up for the chase, following in her wake as she passes another group of drunken tourists laden with beads and bad judgment. "And is it just that?" she asks, the last word holding a hint of a catch. She breezes on to cover her reveal, "You know, there are a ton of hot people in your own world," she teases and his face falls. She feels a pang of confused regret.
"Ah yes, I guess you'll be heading home after we kill your vampire goddess for you ," he spits out, and Caroline thinks she understands.
"Well, I'm not sure I can get back now that i've pulled myself through yet again, to be honest." She grabs at a shoulder, turns him to face her. Someone bumps into her from behind with a muttered "damn tourists stopping in the middle of the sidewalk". Klaus growls and the stranger responds with a disbelieving "what the fuck?" before darting into a nearby bar.
Klaus focuses back on her, hybrid light dying in his eyes, and there's something beautifully wicked about the fading glow that crackles a thrill down her spine. But he's still sullen, moody, and she hasn't really gotten to her point.
"When Lamashtu jumped through the portal" she says, squeezing the shoulder she still has a grip on before dropping her hand. "I barely thought about staying behind, and to be honest I feel super guilty about that. Because it was more than just finding and stopping Lamashtu. I wanted to come back. For Bonnie, for Josh. And against every ounce of my better judgment," she looks almost irritated, "for you. So coming back here and then being vampirenapped and having to deal with Marcel trying to charm me - which, by the way, you can totally tell he's stolen your moves," she rants and Klaus glowers. "And then on top of that to know that he read my letter and I didn't even know the stake was there and I'm still confused and then you said those things, Klaus. It just-"she sighs, worn out from her rant, "it just sucked, ok?"
Klaus considers her for a moment, a streetlight designed to mimic gaslights of yesteryear flickering behind so her hair appears forged in light. "Marcel is paying dearly for using you as leverage."
"That's not what I mean, Klaus. I don't want anyone else to be hurt. Look -" But he's shaking his head, a fierce expression on his face, his mouth turned down in the way that can only mean he's digging his heels in, so she lifts her chin, pokes a finger at his chest. "Look, you can totally kill him for other reasons, if that's what you're on about." He smiles at this clarification, and she continues with another finger jab to his chest. "But not on my account, Klaus. That's for me to be angry about, not you."
She spins on her heel and once again, all he can do is follow, hands in pockets, brows high and a grin plastered across that he'd label as foolish on any other face.
Whoever thought that vampires were tireless clearly hadn't crossed between universes multiple times, changed time zones, and had their emotions run to hell and back. Caroline is dragging by the time her and Klaus reach his door. He's been quiet since she stalked away, seeming to notice that she needed some time to gather her thoughts, and she's grateful for this shocking turn of patience; she imagines it's rare. She turns towards him as they approach the door, but it opens from within and Bonnie and Josh both stand in the doorway, talking over each other.
"There's been a positive ID on Lama-.
"- Didn't you see your phone?"
Klaus glances at Caroline and her heart flips as she realizes he must have ignored his phone while they were talking. He pulls his cell out of his pocket and scrolls through the texts, barely glancing up as he responds and pushes through the doorway.
"So the demon is at the step-well. Good. We'll just have to prepare a welcoming committee and find a way to bring her here, where we're strongest."
Josh spins around, fiddling with the doorknob as he closes it. "Uh yeah, about that. Rebekah left on the private jet twenty minutes ago. Take one guess where the flight plan has her heading?"