Stefan ended the call. His thoughts ran swiftly. He had been compelled. By Caroline. Which was clearly impossible – she was barely born in vampire terms. She had no strength physically – although she had Klaus' blood on occasion. Even the power of that had been fluid, and not great. So...when she meant problem did she mean Klaus?

He hesitated only momentarily before booking a flight to New Orleans. He left the briefest of voice-mails on Damons' cell. With some trepidation born of the control Klaus had, he dialed in the number for the Master Vampire.

Klaus was less than pleased. He had been less than pleased for a while. He laid in bed, covers half drawn back, his legs entwined in the sheets, watching through the shutters the light of day ebb away. He had awoken to the sound of his name in the night. That had slightly displeased him. That it had been her voice who had called him had displeased him more.

Dammit, would her hold never cease? He had traveled to her, bowed to her, granted her her wish of peace and still he tormented himself with these thoughts, these remembrances. He was weak and he could not afford to be so. Not with Marcel and the threat of the coven still large in his psyche.

He could not be broken by a girl who would barely register on anyone's radar. He should know that she was nothing to him. Isn't that what you like, though? He remonstrated himself, that although she was hardly there, she had these insights. That she held the promise of seeing something in you, only you held inside? Isn't that what you liked? Isn't it?

His breathing was angry. Raw. The interruption of his mobile phone buzzing against the wooden bedside cabinet top only made his fury at himself, at his own impotence to control his inner romantic – scoff scoff – worse. There would be blood. And it would not be his.

The caller ID was withheld. Mystic Falls. His heart leapt. He squashed it inside. Deeper. Let the pain in.

"Hi, it better be important." He kicked himself inside – what if it was Caleb? His tone. His manner. Yeah, you're a bad boy. He rolled out of bed as he spoke. His quickness of movement, his body honed to danger, to experience, for good or ill.

"Klaus."

He didn't mean to burst. But it was too much. He almost threw the blasted machine at the wall. Such a short werewolf fuse. No one would want you. Shut up. Shut up, "For God's sake, you'd better bloody be the Ripper or I swear I'm gonna..." His ammunition faltered. He sighed, "What do you want Stefan?" He hands deftly moved toward clothing, shrugging on a shirt – white against tan – legs into jeans. Denim felt like the hessian material of old.

"I know you asked me not to call unless it was an emergency. So – it's an emergency." On the other end of the line, Stefan tensed. He hated admitting failure in finding solutions. Hated that he was more like this creature than he had reason to wish he was. He heard Klaus' exasperation. Yeah, me too, kid, me too.

"Look just because I come round there. Sort all your tiny petty country issues doesn't give you carte blanche to interrupt me. And my life. Make it quick. Make it interesting. Or I'll make you pay." Klaus warmed to his threat.

"She's in New Orleans. I thought she'd be with Tyler..."

The curt insertion by Klaus of "- He's dead." Made Stefan frown. So, that was why Caroline had run to New Orleans. Grief. Good God, he was not a good friend if he had missed that glaringly obvious note in her voice.

"I...didn't know. I'm sorry."

Klaus hissed. He sat heavily back onto the bed, the thick mattress giving under his weight, he put the phone to his other ear as he put on his watch, "I thought you knew. I thought you and your humanity kept tabs on things like that."

"Low blow, Klaus, we both know we're closer than we admit. I embrace my humanity because I'm not afraid of it. Why don't you?"

He was goading him. He didn't have time to think of things like that, "What do you want Stefan?" He growled more. Allowed the wolf up briefly.

"I'm coming to New Orleans. To follow her. She asked me to come. I need to know you have her back, Klaus."

The stillness of shock caused Stefan to repeat himself, "Klaus? Did you hear me – Caroline's in New Orleans. I need to know she's safe."

He lowered the phone from his ear, breathed slowly inwardly. There. That was it. That was the concern, the problem – the restlessness, "I'll see to it. When does your flight get in?"

Stefan, relieved, told him he was boarding. He flipped the phone off. Looked at it and raising his hand, threw it at the wall, all the angst inside him rising up and projected at the mobile, "Where are you love? Where are you?"

Wallace was nervous. This was new. Although he was dangerous, predatory, novel – being outside his comfort-zone made him pent up. He looked at Caroline as they silently packed together the camp.

She had accepted his gift willingly. Graciously, not without a certain amount of curiosity but it was enough to cause Wallace to speculate her own motivations.

Caroline looked up, caught his frowning familiar eyes and briefly smiled, blue eyes lit up immediately. Wallace frowned further. There were complications ahead he couldn't foresee. One was glaringly obvious though.

"Can I - - stop time often? How...demon...am I?" She collected her jacket from the floor and brushed it off before facing him. Hands at her side, "What exactly can I do? And were you true when you said I didn't have to feed anymore?"

Wallace sighed, "I can do many things. For instance -" He took a grass sheaf from the floor, held it in his hands and focussed his gaze on Caroline. She watched him carefully, from between his fingers the grass grew fatter. The sheaf becoming darker, stronger, mutating into a metal blade as she stared. The root of the grass a handle of wood from which he held the knife.

She gulped in spite of herself, "Is that meant to intimidate me?"

He gave a half smile and blew the knife away, as if it was the blade of grass it had always been, it landed in the ground at her feet, "No. Just an illustration." he turned back to his pack, "You are something else now. Not fully demon but more than vampire. It will – help you channel. Help you survive." His eyes met hers they burnt red.

"Do mine burn red too?" She questioned him. Sitting flatly back onto the forest floor.

He was caught off guard, "I - - didn't know. They can't then. That must be...just me. Do you eyes stay the same blue?" He asked back of her, ruefully. Teasingly. Too familiarly.

She shook her head, "I'm not sure about this. You were going to torture me. I have no doubt you were going to kill me. And now...are we sire bonded?" Speculating as she went about releasing the pen doors. He didn't stop her.

His stillness made her turn and repeat her question, "I don't know what that means. I have never sired anyone. I have a curse, why would I want to give that to another? I may be the most evil creature on the planet, but that doesn't necessarily mean I want to be." He was wondering things; debating the cost of collateral damage over the idea of companionship. Sire bonded? Archaic puppetry Silas had held over him. He would not wish that for her.

Carolines eyes narrowed, "Can I...do what you can do?" She lifted up a blade of grass in her hands. It felt warm to her touch. The sun was not yet at it's highest, and the residual heat of the ground unnerved her. She looked at the blade of grass. Looked to the knife, jutting from the earth. She closed her eyes – then opened them. If she was indeed a channeller, did that mean she could channel him? She thought about his breathing. About his blood in her veins. About how close and distant at the same time they were. She breathed in his air, staring across the glade at him. His gaze never wavered from hers. It was...reaffirming. The grass twitched beneath her skin. She felt it move. Transmute. Figuring itself into a new shape.

Wallace smiled inside at her. She was...new. He could feel her channel through him. Felt the blood thrum through his body. Every nerve ending on fire. He briefly looked down at the grass blade in her hands - - it was...different. Where he had thought dark, she had felt light and life. He motioned with his features to her to look into her palm.

Caroline squealed involuntarily. The blade was no longer in her hand. Gossamer wings fluttered against her fingers. The butterfly shied against her touch, "Is it real?"

Wallace tilted his head on one side, "Does it feel real?"

She nodded dumbly. There was much she had no idea about. Transforming grass into butterflies was a small miracle. So, Care, you ready to face your destiny? She damped down the excitement inside.

"How do we...get to the airport?" Part of her hoped the answer would be fly. Wallace shook his head.

We're already here. Look around.