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"Are you okay?"

"No."

"Do you want me to call your mom?"

"No."

"Shower?"

"..."

XXX

I strip away my torn jacket, removing my shoes and leggings, letting them fall to the floor of the Salvatore's bathroom. I turn in the mirror, appraising the damage the steak did to my shirt. A small tear near the middle of my back, exposing the skin there. Reaching back, I touch the few droplets of Marcel's blood that stains the pale fabric with the gore of tonight.

Taking a long shaky breath and watch as the hot water from the shower fogs up the mirror. The steam crawling across the glass, obstructing my view until I can no longer see myself.

Good. I can't stand to look at my bloodshot eyes anymore.

There's a muted knock at the door.

"Yeah?" I croak.

"Caroline?"

It's not the voice I expected.

I turn the key in the old-fashioned lock and crack the door, keeping my half naked body hidden behind it.

"I thought you left," I say, wishing I could inject some life into my voice, but it falls flat.

"I did, but..." Oh god. He sounds just like I do, only worse.

My eyes trail down his chest, the top button of this white dress shirt is opened, spatters of deep maroon speckle the perfect colour, tainting it with evidence of tonight's violence.

As much as I hurt right now, I can't imagine it even touches the emotions he must be going through... I suddenly hate myself for my selfishness.

With a second's hesitation, I open the door wider, wide enough for him to enter. Only he doesn't.

His eyes trail down my body, my bare legs, all the way down to my bare feet. There's nothing of the lust or even the magnetism that I find in his eyes so often when I catch him looking at me like this. This is different. He's not looking at me like he wants to devour me. He's looking at me the way a drowning man might look at a life preserver. Desperate, defeated, needing.

After a moment of his stillness, I reach for him, for his bloodied collar. Tugging on the shirt, coaxing him forward, into the small bathroom.

Locking the door behind us, I turn to him. He's looking my way, but not at me. As if I was a ghost, someone he wanted to see, but couldn't find my eyes.

I reach out tentatively, pressing my hands flat on his stomach, persuading him to lean against the sink. Taking two unsteady steps back he bumps into the counter, leaning there gratefully.

I've never been in such control. I've never in my life seen him so submissive.

It reminds me that the truth is, he's just as fragile as the rest of us. Just as human as we'd all like to pretend we are. The only difference between him and us is that he's had a much longer time to pretend than the rest of us. He's a master in the art deflection.

Sliding my hands across his stomach, around his waist, I pull myself to him, feeling the muscles in his back constrict to my light touch. I burry my nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling. Surviving off of his presence. His being.

"Take off your shoes." I whisper, sliding my hands down to his belt, untucking his shirt from his pants before sliding my hands to the belt buckle. Carefully removing the expensive looking leather from around his hips, pulling it from the belt loops, dropping it on the floor with the rest of my clothing.

Without a question, or even that quirk of an eyebrow he gives me when I try to flirt with him, even seduce him; he steps out of his shoes easily, never once taking his eyes off of a fixed just behind my left ear.

I run my thumb across the red stains on the shirt, wishing desperately that I could make them disappear, make them fade into the past like so many other things. But this time, this kill, will stay with him forever. No matter how old he lives to be.

Hooking my thumbs through his belt loops, I tug him towards the steam, gently pushing the glass door to the shower open, I step inside. The hot water is soothing, unbelievably so. The shower door is left ajar as Klaus stands outside, frozen in place.

After a moment of no movement, I push the glass door open further, peering out at the nearly unrecognizable man, standing in the steam of the shower.

With shaking hands I reach for his face, my wet hands against his smooth face, tracing patterns of moisture across his jaw, I watch as his eyes drift closed, his lips part a little, relaxing into my touch.

I slip my damp fingers into his hand; taking hold I gently guide him into the shower.

The hot water quickly drenches our clothing, making this white shirt see through, and cling to him. The spots of barely dried blood run the water pink as it makes a trail down the white fabric, gathering at the bottom of the shower.

I watch him, his face contorting into a painful grimace, watching our clothes bleed what remains of his past. Rinsed down the drain with the tears that fall silently down my face.

Watching my beloved fall apart is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

"It's okay," I'm not sure what else to say. He bows his head in the flow of water, his hair drenching, and dripping down on me, he finally moves.

His motions are almost aggressive; his hands pull at my waist, crushing me against him, our wet clothes slippery between us as he clutches at me.

I wind my arms around his back, sliding my hands across his shoulder blades, scraping dully at his wet shirt, I feel as if I'm the only thing keeping him upright. Taking a deep stride forward, he presses my back into the slick tiles of the shower, letting him weigh on me, feeling him against me, sending a shudder through me.

What happens next, I'm not expecting...

XXX

"God how delusional are you? You killed his mother. And let's not forget that we're standing in a house where Elena's aunt Jenna used to live. Or did you think that your charm would make us forget that you killed her too?" My frustration is building, "No, you know what, no. I am not going to engage in this." I laugh a little, completely baffled at this man before me. So brazen, and calm. "You are not even worth the calories I burn talking to you."

That does it. He looks thoroughly pissed.

Before I have a moment to react, he's grabbed a lamp from nearby, and stabbing me, hard in the stomach. A good safe distance from my heart.

I gasp, the pain piercing me deep.

"No!" I hear Tyler bellow from the kitchen.

Using his weapon as a lead, he tugs me towards him, into his arms. A hand clasping in my hair while the other holds me close to his body, his fangs sink into my neck, carelessly, greedily, he draws only one mouthful of blood before letting me fall to the ground...

XXX

His wet lips graze the base of my neck; and then... that feeling again. His impossibly sharp fangs sinking into my flesh like butter. I gasp quietly at the sensation. My head becoming fuzzy as he draws from me easily.

"Klaus," I breathe, grabbing a handful of his wet shirt at his shoulder, unable to comprehend if it's a plea to stop, or keep going.

He moans quietly into me, interlacing our hands and pinning them up near my ears.

"Nik," I sigh into his ear.

When he breaks away, it's urgent and staggering.

"I'm sorry," He gasps, leaning his forehead against the wall behind me, keeping me captive there, the water running over both of us. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."He murmurs against my shoulder.

"Shhh..." I'm not sure he's speaking to me anymore, or if this is a blanket apology for tonight, for the week, his lifetime. The bite burns, the wolf venom trickles through the wound, down into my arm, numbing me slightly.

"I'm so sorry..." He slams his fist into the wall above me, making me flinch as a few tiles break loudly.

I'm unsure of how long we stay this way, holding each other, the water gradually cooling as we stand under it, and I eventually have goose bumps all over my body.

Quietly, he falls out of his trance, reaching back and turning the now ice-cold water off.

I reach past him, snagging a towel from the hook. Pressing the soft fabric to my face, I sigh into it as I exit the shower. I feel Klaus's hands at the hem of my soaking blouse, and I move my hands, allowing him to pull it over my head, dropping it in the pile of clothes. Leaving my standing here in my underwear.

Tucking the towel between us, I start on the top buttons of his shirt, only to be interrupted as he reaches for the middle one, pulling hard, the buttons pop off, falling to the ground as he sheds the blood stained shirt carelessly.

I turn away from him now, towards the mirror, I subtly examine the wound.

It doesn't look good.

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up," I say, turning to him and his surprised gaze. "If you apologize again I'm going to smack you."

He watches me for another minute; the humour from my joke doesn't break through his ice cold demeanour. Moving my hair away from the bite on my neck, he traces the outline of his fang marks with a light touch, blinking at it as if he's not sure how it got there...

I reach up, halting his fingers on the wound, taking a quick look at him in the mirror, before bringing his wrist to my mouth, allowing my fangs to drop, and bite into the thin flesh. Taking only what I need, I pull away, running the tip of my tongue along the quickly healing bite until it's completely closed, then place a quick kiss in his palm.

His arms snake around me, pressing his chest to my back, he tucks his chin against my shoulder, both of us watch as my flesh knits itself back together. The sweet feeling of Klaus's blood flowing through me mixed with feeling the length of his body match the length of mine; is intoxicating.

"I'm sorry." He says again, looking less than okay.

I frown a little, making good on my promise from earlier, I bring my hand back to give him a half-hearted smack on the arm, but his hand captures mine in mid air, freezing it there.

"Tell me you forgive me." He says into the soft skin on my shoulder, his hot breath warming my cool skin.

I bite my lip, watching Klaus, looking so completely lost. I pull away from his embrace, and turn towards him, raising myself on my tiptoes, placing a kiss on his cheek. Then another on this jaw, his whiskers already beginning to grow back as I brush my lips along his chin, before finally placing a solid, passionate kiss on his lips, running my tongue along the bottom lip until he grants me access.

I slide my hands in his hair, clutching him to me, as if he's a flight risk.

"There's nothing to forgive."