Elmas and Cyrielle are not the only ones waiting for them at the docks. Four other potential werewolves stand tentatively behind them.
Caroline greets them all amiably, getting to know all of their names. They're already factoring these new additions into their plans. Albine and Peter Daniels, twin brother and sister. James Tong, outspoken and ready to kill. Gyda Henrikson, quick-thinking and a clever fighter, whose surname makes him flinch.
They will be good generals for his army, he thinks.
He lets his blood drop into a cup and hands it to Elmas, who drinks it with only a slight hesitation. This one is especially desperate for a way to rebel against Marcel's control over the city.
It is methodical, the way they snap the young potentials' necks. He smiles in amusement as James tilts his head back to embrace the death and the change that comes with it.
"So now we wait," he says.
Caroline nods her head. Normally, this would take about three hours, but these are hybrids. Nothing here is known. But he remembers getting up only slightly earlier than his siblings.
He cocks his head to the side, listening for anything out of the ordinary.
"I don't see why we need to be so secretive," Caroline says, shaking her head.
"Because hybrids are rare, and we're trying to create an army of them."
"I wouldn't say army," Caroline says, frowning.
Klaus turns to her curiously. "Why not?"
"In case you haven't noticed, eskelde, werewolves are a dying breed," she points out. "No thanks to our family. And we don't know if they can reproduce." She sends a glare his way. "You're not experimenting for that one."
He raises both hands in mock surrender, but he is laughing and pretending not to be.
"Wouldn't dream of it. But you must admit, having our own personal army would be beneficial."
"You have the Ripper," she says, snorting. "Your own personal berserker."
"Don't tell me you still hold a grudge against him." Today they allow Stefan free rein in the city. On Klaus' part it is defiance against Marcel. On Caroline's it is a way to get rid of him.
"He was your cheap replacement for Marcel," Caroline says resentfully. "Now that we have our son again I don't see why we still need him."
He cannot tell her the envy he feels towards his once-son, the burn of watching Marcel rule over a place where he has settled down. He wants to feel powerful and secure in that power.
The ties that he used to cherish will just have to be collateral damage. Nothing he's never done before.
"Stefan remains predictable and under our control." Klaus tries to assuage his wife's growing ire. "Marcel is a wild card and I still don't have a good read on his feelings about us."
"Marcel trusts us," she argues, giving him a look.
"Which is why he still has his lackeys following us," Klaus points out.
"Following you," Caroline corrects. "He knows you, eskelde."
"Well, you can give him that," Klaus says.
"We spent a century here," she reminds him, "A hundred years with him. We know him just as well as he knows us."
"I doubt it," Klaus says, shaking his head. "We've always been blinded by our attachment to him."
He can see Caroline's jaw clench.
"Love is a vampire's greatest weakness, isn't it?" She says coldly.
She's always had more of a connection to Marcel than he has. And that has remained true even when they thought he was dead.
Chicago, 1922
Caroline breathes heavily, clutching at the blankets of their bed. She moans quietly, and tears are threatening to run down her face.
It's been two years since they left New Orleans as it burned, but at the same time, Caroline knows she will never get over it. She remembers struggling against Niklaus, remembers the shouting, so much shouting, seeing Mikael face-to-face for the first time in nine hundred years-
The pure fear that ran through her.
She hates that she felt so much fear. That she still feels that fear now.
The fear that Mikael will find them again dictates every aspect of their lives, even their names- they have the surname Stenberg here. They keep themselves in the upper middle class so as not to attract too much attention, their meals are sporadic. Hardly the kind of fare they were used to in New Orleans.
Why must he reach them everywhere they go?
But more than the fear is the anger.
He killed Marcel, he killed their son. He treated the both of them terribly while they were human, and chased them to the ends of the earth. Is chasing them still.
Niklaus wakes up at her movements, and wordlessly, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him. She calms at the feeling of his warm chest against her back, the way they used to when Alvis had just died. They remain that way for a while, and the sun rises with its pink and orange glow.
They've spent a month in Chicago after migrating up around, living with their hands to their mouths. But they think they can settle here, at least for a while.
He gets up, barely rustling the sheets, and kisses her on the forehead.
"You should go with us to Gloria's tonight," he suggests quietly. "Rebekah has been begging for some company."
As always, the idea of a goat to accomplish spurs her forward, which is most likely what her husband was aiming for.
"Well, I suppose someone has to keep her from nagging you, eskelde," she says, managing to be slightly amused.
New Orleans, 2010
When the six wake up, they set the newly-turned hybrids free in the city. They may do whatever they wish to turn. If they kill in the process, wonderful, two birds killed with one stone.
Elmas and Cyrielle lead the twins quietly to the city prison and they all quietly drain four of the prisoners on death row. Their eyes gleam and their bones break, and they go running onto the outskirts of the city, howling to the sky.
On the other hand, Gyda and James go directly to two of Marcel's top human allies and murder them, making it very obvious that a vampire has done it. They too, join the pack running around the city.
Klaus is satisfied, happy, even, that this works. He can create hybrids. However, there is one problem.
He can feel the pack bonds forming.
This is something he can't explain to Caroline, and he doesn't try to, but he knows what it is. He felt it when he first turned, that first tenuous connection of a pack animal. He is the Alpha, of course- he won't allow anything different. But all he really cares about is potential- the potential that he will lose this pack. That they will die, that he will feel their pain as he has before.
After all, his normal solution of killing anyone with potential of getting close to him is not going to work. This action is irreversible.
There is only one way to prevent that pain from happening, only one solution he can think of.
That is how he ends up standing across from the six of them, hands behind his back.
"I'm surprised that you're doing this yourself," Stefan says.
"I think you'll find that I have no qualms about getting my hands dirty," Klaus replies, smiling smugly.
"He's well aware of that," Caroline says, crossing her arms. "Aren't you, Ripper?"
Stefan barely flinches at the reminder of the doppelganger's death. He takes that as a good sign- the Ripper is cutting the ties to his old life, his old love. Perhaps Rebekah will thank him for this, whenever he decides to wake her. Something to pacify her predictable rage.
"What are we here for?" Elmas asks.
"You're supposed to be generals in my army," Klaus says, pacing in front of them. "You can't do that if you don't know how to fight."
"We can fight," Albine protests.
"Not like we want you to," Caroline says, eyes narrowed. "Now, as a hybrid, we can estimate you have the strength of a thirty-year-old vampire. So you have a head start. But, you won't always be going against thirty year old vampires."
"I.E., Marcel?" James says eagerly.
"Not yet," Klaus reassures him.
"No." Caroline says at the same time.
"You said we could go against Marcel," Elmas says, eyes narrowed.
"I said you would never be victims again," Caroline says coolly.
"Caroline," Klaus says warningly.
"Marcel is off limits," his wife says warningly.
Elmas looks to him, challengingly, for answers.
"We will take Marcel down," Klaus assures them, taking a dangerous tone, daring anyone else to protest. He is assured of the fact that he can sway Caroline to his side, but that needs time.
He looks closely for dissent among his new generals, but other than palpable disappointment from James, he can't see any. They want the same thing he does- Marcel out of power.
"Now, Ripper," Klaus says. "Watch me teach these young ones how to fight."
He drags three nightwalkers by the ear to the center of the room, embracing the scent of blood about fill the room.
Chicago, 1922
Music and laughter fills the room, and already, Caroline begins to relax. She knows how to handle a party.
She walks in with her head held high, as if everyone is beneath her. She must believe that she can do this.
She is an Original. Strong. Ageless. Fearless.
She cannot allow Mikael with his poisonous vendetta to tear her down, and she must avenge her son. It's been two years of doing everything behind the scenes, she can stand to be in public.
"Caroline," Niklaus says, gesturing for her to join him at a booth.
"You told me Bekah wanted me here," Caroline says, looking around at the dance floor, aiming to catch a glimpse of the other blonde. After all, where else would the vivacious Original be except for the thick of the action?
"That I did," Niklaus replies, handing her a glass of beer while he sips delicately at a red wine.
"Then where is she?" she asks.
He catches sight of her and his jaw tightens, a look she can recognize easily. He stands abruptly, smashing the glass down without really noticing it.
Sighing, she gets up with him, ready to settle any possible- inevitable- bloodshed.
Rebekah is dancing with a classically handsome man with dark blonde hair slicked back. He's a vampire, which is made quite obvious, if not by the absence of heartbeat she knows to listen for, then by the faint perfume of blood surrounding him. At least that is a point in his favor.
Niklaus places a warning hand on Rebekah's shoulder, saying smoothly, "May I cut in?"
"If you want a dance, then you're going to have to wait your turn," the other vampire replies somewhat snidely. Caroline can tell instantly by the tone- he's turned his emotions off.
"I hardly think so," her husband replies, his voice lowering.
The other vampire steps forward defiantly, but Rebekah pulls him back.
"Stefan, don't," she says, sending her brother a wary look that makes him smirk just the tiniest bit. "He'll kill you."
"I think I can take him," Stefan says, looking down at him.
"He can," Rebekah insists.
"I can," Niklaus confirms.
"So, your taste in men has changed somewhat since New Orleans, Bekah," Caroline says, appraising the emotionless vampire.
Rebekah glares at the reminder about Marcel.
"Stefan," Niklaus says, coldly, menacingly. "Why don't we have a drink, mate?"
Caroline sighs in relief. At least the bloodshed won't be entirely visible.
New Orleans, 2010
A week after training their new generals, they return to Marcel's compound, and are greeted with a less than warm welcome.
"I was half-expecting a parade," Klaus says, giving a cordial smile to Marcel while his eyes are warning against any movements.
"Niklaus," Caroline says, sending him a look out of the corner of her eye.
Marcel, resignedly, raises a hand and makes a gesture. Klaus gets ready to fend off attackers, but instead, someone is led in.
Stefan, covered in blood, is led in by a crowd of nightwalkers, his eyes already filled with the regret that always marks him after a Ripper rampage.
"What did you do?" Caroline demands, scowling.
"We told you the rules, and you broke them," Marcel says, addressing the audience of his subjects more than Stefan. "We have a system. We heal after we feed, and the food just keeps coming."
"We are above that, Marcel," Klaus urges his former son. "This is why you wanted to turn."
"Humans are an essential part of our system," Marcel replies, and all the vampires can watch them argue. "Two of my closest allies in the human faction, which, may I remind you, you created in the first place, are dead, don't think I don't know."
So he knows about the hybrids, just not their exact nature. Klaus shrugs. It is inconsequential. But the other vampires titter at this new information.
"Stefan Salvatore," Marcel says, raising his voice so that everyone can hear. "I sentence you to death."
"Marcel," Klaus says, threats to tear out your stomach and make your life miserable on his lips, but another voice speaks up.
"What about them?" One of the daywalkers standing next to Marcel, most likely recently promoted. "Since they've arrived there's been more bloodshed than in the last five years."
"The girl, she killed two daywalkers." Someone says in the crowd of nightwalkers.
Klaus stalks towards the offender, arms swinging, ready for blood. "Was that an accusation? Against an Original? Against my wife?" He approaches the speaker, relishing the terror permeating the terror. So they have heard of him.
"Klaus," Marcel tries to find the words to appease him, but with a swift movement, the nightwalker's head goes flying, in direct disobedience of their most important law- not to kill any other vampires.
The nightwalkers gasp, Marcel's jaw clenches, and Caroline lets an enraged shriek escape through her teeth.
"I just broke one of your rules," he says, smiling wickedly. "You say that means that I must die." He opens his arms invitingly. "Yet I cannot be killed. Try solving that dilemma, I'm sure that will take awhile."
He turns in a full circle, waiting for any fool to attack. No one does, which is really a pity.
"You can let him go," Klaus says, pointing a dripping finger at the nightwalkers holding Stefan. "Or you can end up like that."
The nightwalkers look to Marcel, who nods tersely. They scatter from Stefan.
"Stefan Salvatore is under my protection," He proclaims to the entire audience. "That is to say, he is untouchable. If anyone is willing to test that, I will be more than happy to end your less than worthless lives."
He can feel Caroline glaring daggers at him, but he ignores it. Marcel ruled with charm and charisma, but he intends to keep power the way he always has- with power.
Klaus strides out of the compound, unconcerned, Stefan trailing behind him.
He can hear Caroline trying to plead with Marcel, saying that she can reason with him, telling him she'll work it out. He scowls. Doesn't she know that he's doing this for them?
The Ripper barely looks shaken as he walks along the streets, drenched in blood.
He hears Caroline's distinctive footsteps, and opens his mouth to defend himself.
"Not now, I'll speak to you later," she tells him tersely.
"What's the fuss?" Stefan asks. "It's all over with, come with us and celebrate!"
"I'd rather not," Caroline says coldly. "We told you to remain inconspicuous."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"By all means take your blood, but we are here for a reason, and that is the wolves. We are not here to feed like animals, we are not here to play games for power, and if you compromise those reasons then we will have problems between us."
"I think that I'll handle problems with you," Stefan replies, blasé.
"If you had your memories right now, you would be a bit more cautious with me," Caroline snarls into Stefan's ear as she passes.
Chicago, 1922
The jazz plays gently in the club, washing over all of the dancers. Stefan runs his hands down Rebekah's body as they move in sync, and they are smiling, happy.
Niklaus watches them over a drink, actually happy for them. They can rebuild after New Orleans. He has spoken about how Stefan has been a good friend- a brother, even. A welcome replacement for Kol, daggered in his box.
Caroline is not so satisfied with Chicago.
Oh, she tolerates the hedonism of it all, the allure of enjoying the forbidden fruit that is alcohol in these times. Their family has never bowed down to human authority. This case is no different.
She wants to forget. New Orleans is behind them, but that doesn't mean she doesn't remember everything. Truly, she has been aching for the simpler times, when Marcel had been a child and they could hold together a semblance of a family. When they ruled and did it together.
That is not to say that Chicago doesn't have its own charms.
But Stefan- the way he has elbowed his way into their lives, charming both Rebekah and Niklaus- that sets her teeth on edge.
His emotions are off, but if anything, that encourages the way Niklaus acts around him, drinking blood and alcohol indiscriminately, brooding when he is not reveling. The way he calls Stefan brother. That bothers her.
Rebekah is entranced with him, and anyone can see it by the way she looks at him, the way she moves around him. It is a pattern that they have long since gotten used to.
"Another bloodbath?" Rebekah scolds, sending a cursory glance at the headline of the newspaper.
"Another?" Caroline asks, staring Stefan down.
"It's nothing, Caroline," Niklaus says, "Just a bit of fun."
"You attract too much attention," Rebekah says, but flirtation is obvious in her voice. She must be blinded by her infatuation, to not see the danger this poses. Mikael will be on the lookout for any massacres, and Stefan has caused four in the past month.
"You worry too much, Bex," Stefan tells her, rubbing his nose against her cheek, eliciting a giggle from Rebekah and a scowl from Caroline.
"Experience says otherwise," Caroline says snidely.
"You're the strongest vampires in the world," Stefan says, grinning. "What do you have to be afraid of?"
Caroline sighs. "You're right."
Stefan blinks in surprise.
"You know what? Let me treat you to a dance with me," she continues, holding out a hand. "That is, if Rebekah doesn't object?" Her look books no arguments from either of them.
Rebekah only raises an eyebrow, but gestures at them to go. Stefan sends an interested look at Klaus, who gestures at them to go.
Stefan takes her hand, and she leads him to the dance floor, plastering on a coy grin for any onlookers.
They dance for all of thirty seconds before she speeds them outside, pressing him against the wall of the alley.
"I don't think Klaus would approve of us in this position," Stefan says, before she dislocates both his shoulders.
"Don't think of running," she says, sneering, as he howls in pain. "I'm nine times your age, boy, and the only reason I'm letting you live is because Niklaus and Rebekah will both nag me about you for the next twenty years."
"So, why am I here?" Stefan asks, grimacing as his right shoulder pops back into place.
"I'm going to warn you," Caroline says. "While my sister-in-law may favor you, love you even, if you put us in danger with your carelessness again, I will not hesitate to kill you." She grips his chin with her right hand, lifting him in the air. His jaw cracks slightly under the pressure.
"Do you understand me?"
New Orleans, 2010
The moment they reach their new temporary residence, Caroline grips Stefan by the shoulders and forcibly turns him around, looking him in the eye, her pupils dilating with compulsion.
"You're going to leave for about an hour. Take the hybrids with you, I don't care what you do. Don't feed on anyone in New Orleans."
Stefan dully repeats the orders, before swiftly leaving.
Niklaus takes off his coat, spattered with blood, placing it on the sofa. "I imagine you're going to lecture me now?" He asks. The nonchalance with which he says it infuriates Caroline.
"Why the Hel, Niklaus," She yells, "Did you feel the need to do that?"
Niklaus shrugs his shoulders.
"You undermined Marcel in front of his entire court, which, by the way, is not what we were here for!"
"You find nothing wrong with this?" He asks her instead of responding.
"With what?" She spits at him.
"With the fact that he's alive-"
"Don't you dare, Niklaus-"
"With the fact that he's had everything we've ever wanted," he continues over her, "Stability, power, a kingdom, permanence."
"What are you going to tell me, Niklaus, that you did this for us?" Caroline asks with contempt.
"I did do this for us!" he says, throwing his arms in the air.
"You did this for you." Caroline accuses. "For your desires, for your pride."
"And you side with Marcel over me, betraying me," he shoots back at her, and her anger flares up.
"I'm betraying you? I've done everything for you! I've stood by your side longer than anyone on this Earth, and you accuse me of being a traitor?"
"And that so-called devotion from you?" Niklaus tries to defend, "You say that it was not returned?"
"Don't you dare try to turn this conversation around on me," she says, pointing at him.
He turns to leave, and she speeds in front of him. "Don't turn your back to me!"
"Why not? You seem to be doing the same to me."
"You continually choose Stefan, your drinking buddy, over Marcel, the son we raised for over a century, and you thought I wasn't going to take issue with that?"
"I hardly see the issue, seeing as we haven't seen either in ninety years. Stefan is reliable."
"You killed the love of his life, and you think he's forgiven you? Open your eyes, Niklaus!"
"Then open your eyes to Marcel," Niklaus says tersely, "And see that he has stolen our entire lives from beneath us."
"Why can't you be a father to our son?" Caroline asks, giving him one last chance to acquit himself.
"Because he's not our son," Niklaus replies in annoyance.
"We raised him, we turned him, we protected him- how is he not our son?" she demands.
"WE HAD A SON!" Niklaus bellows in her face. "You talk about me replacing our son but you forget that you did it first."
Caroline sputters in anger. "What are you trying to accuse me of?"
"You say that I replaced Marcel with Stefan, but you replaced Alvis with Marcel first," he spits at her.
She screams in rage and hurt, and in a flash, the leg of a chair is stuck in her husband's stomach.
"Don't you ever say that again," she says as he groans in pain.
"Caroline-" he growls, struggling to stand in order to chase after her, and she looks at him in contempt.
"I'll come back when you've realized exactly what the Ripper is- nothing." She says, and she leaves.
She wanders the city, her senses overloaded by everything, anger and sadness building up in her chest, and decides that there is a solution for her that she can turn to.
Caroline walks to the docks, to the warehouse that she had ordered her delivery placed, and breaks in without much problems. She lifts the door and stares at the six coffins, eyes softening as she brushes the smallest with her fingertips.
"I could never replace you," she says quietly in her native tongue, before opening the one furthest to the right, blowing off the dust.
With only a moment's hesitation, she pulls the dagger out of Kol's chest.
Kol comes out to play! A bunch of you guys definitely saw that Marcel and Stefan were going to be a problem for them. I definitely think one of the interesting things about my version of these characters is that they were turned while they had a lot of parental instincts, so that's part of their characterization.
Not a lot of you guys have complained, but I just want to point out, if a chapter refers to Klaus as "Niklaus" then that's probably Caroline or Elijah, if it's Klaus it's probably Klaus and everyone else. I'll try to make it clear who.
Hello, guys! This chapter was very difficult for me to write, so sorry for my absence, but it is longer than normal.
However, you guys still reviewed, and that's awesome. As my reviews and favorites approach 100, I would like to celebrate by writing a flashback drabble for the 100th reviewer and the 100th favoriter. It will be less than 500 words, and in the time period and with the prompt of their choice. If it happens to be the same person, I will only write one. Have fun! And keep reviewing, I beg of you.
Also, listening to Give Me Love while posting. Whoop whoop!
-PhoenixCycle