Hope you guys don't hate this chapter. I kinda love it. PLEASE tell me what you think. -Cheers.

"I'm so happy you're home." Mom crushes me in an uncharacteristically emotional hug.

Returning it the best I can, with one of my arms pinned to my side in this awkward embrace, I pat her back.

"Me too," My voice is muffled against her shoulder.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." She breathes, pushing me back and holding me at arm's length, looking me up and down as if I might look different from the last time I saw her.

"I know," I agree, unexpected tears coming to my eyes. I blink them away and let her pull me into another hug.

Elena comes in the door behind me, holding the small bag of things that I'd left at Matt's.

"Knock knock," she says, poking her head in the door.

"Hey," I say, quick to take my things from her, "Thank you, you didn't have to..." The tears are threatening once again. What is going on with me today?

Flicking her hand in the air, she shrugs, "Oh, don't worry about it."

After a short visit with Elena, and a few more hugs from mom, I flop down on my bed. It's only takes a few moments before I'm dozing off, losing myself in my exhaustion.

A quiet knock at the door wakes me.

"Mmm," I sit up too quickly, my head spinning. Suddenly I'm slipping off the bed, landing hard on my butt on the floor.

The door opens a few inches, and Klaus steps in, half his body behind the door, and half of him inside the room. His expression morphs into one of amusement as he takes in my position on the ground. His mouth twitching into that smiles he gets when he's trying not to laugh at me.

"What're you doing here?" I hastily push myself up, trying to bring some of my dignity with me as I straighten.

Glancing down the hall, he quickly slips the rest of the way into my room. He looks like a teenager when he's sneaking into my room, and I have to smile.

Wait, my room.

It's very surreal; having him here in my bedroom. I remember the last time...

XXX

Klaus's point of view

Walking into the room, it is unbearably quiet. Her breathing is thick, and heavy, as if every drawn in lungful is a great struggle.

I have seen countless beautiful women in my life time. The female figure becoming quite boring, in many ways. Watching how they change themselves, through the centuries, in a blur, one undistinguishable from the other.

But this girl, dying in front of me, I've never seen her before...

"That bitch who was stuck to that sired hybrid dog of yours." Rebekah spits, throwing her jacket at the couch next to me. My pencil pauses on my sketch, frowning, I push the jacket off of the page.

"Who?" I ask distractedly; pulling the shading around the large tree trunk, and pressing the charcoal into the roots. I don't care, and I pray she can feel my disinterest rolling off of me as I continue the task at hand.

"Caroline," She repeats, her voice full of disdain. "You know, the intolerable blonde, with the shrill voice, who never stops talking." I rub my thumb across the harsh line of coal, effectively dulling it against its backdrop. "Nic?"

"I'm sorry I didn't realise there were two of you." I mumble, tucking the pencil behind my ear as I examine my work. It's quickly knocked from its place when a couch pillow is thrown at my head with impressive force.

"Nic?!"

"Rebekah." I warn, feeling my temper flair towards my unremitting sister.

"I hate her."

"Who?"

"Ugh! Caroline!" Rolling her eyes dramatically, "She was in the classroom when you turned her precious boyfriend into your own personal bitch."

"I was a bit preoccupied that night."

"You don't remember her?"

"...No."

Did I really not remember this girl?

Opening her eyes, she blinks at me, she knows me.

"Are you going to kill me?" Her voice is so weak. There's a sheen of sweet across her skin, and her eyes are glassy as she stares up at me. Helpless.

"Oh your birthday?" I ask, watching her take in another labored breath. Her vulnerability is somehow tempting. I could watch her die. I have watched people die worse deaths. Even been able to stop some of them, but chose not to interfere. The rush of power I get when I watch the light fade in a person's eyes, as I take away their hope. Their life.

So many ways to end her.

She doesn't know me—yet she sees what I am.

"You really think that low of me?" I surprise myself as I await her answer anxiously.

"Yes." It's plain. And honest. And hits me in the stomach like a stiff punch.

I take a few steps into the room. Her eyes become guarded, yet not fearful, as I reach towards her. She flinches slightly as I pull back the blanket that is tucked high across her shoulders. The wound underneath is mangled, and gruesome.

"That looks bad. My apologies, you're what's known as collateral damage, it's nothing personal." She doesn't say a thing. "I love birthdays."

The smallest of scoffs passes through her lips. Even this seems like a struggle.

"Yeah. Aren't you like... A billion, or something?"

Humour? Now?

"Well, you have to adjust your perception of time when you become a vampire, Caroline. Celebrate the fact that you are no longer bound by trivial human conventions." She blinks up at me as I speak, her eyes, seeming unable to properly focus on anything. "You're free."

"No," she breathes, "I'm dying."

Something deep inside me tugs. It's uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Her words seem to slice through me like a hot blade, cutting me at the knees, making me feel small. In this moment, I seem to be the helpless one.

Taking another step forward, I ease down next to her on the bed. She doesn't flinch, or make a move to put space between us. She is weak, and fragile, and dying.

"And I could let you die, if that's what you want." So many ways to rip her life away. She would be defenceless; an easy target. She doesn't seem to be in any state to self preserve. "If you really believe your existence has no meaning." She waits, listening intently. She's fascinating to watch.

"I thought about it myself, once or twice over the centuries, truth be told. But I'll let you in on a little secret." Leaning in a few inches, I can almost feel her breath on my face. It's uneven, and gasping. Her eyebrows twitch into the smallest of frowns. "There's a whole world out there, waiting for you. Great cities, and art, and music." Pausing, I watch as she gently wets her lips with her tongue, her blue eyes fluttering closed, as her blinks become slower. I examine the bracelet she wears on her right arm; brushing the cheap looking chain with my finger tips, "Genuine beauty." Something I haven't seen, in a very, very long time. Until now. "And you can have all of it. You can have a thousand more birthdays. All you have to do is ask."

Who is this woman? This young, seemingly menial vampire in front of me. She's defenceless, and hopeless. Yet I feel an uncontrollable need to help her. Assist her. Heal her. She stares at me, as if she's unsure of me, or herself, I can't tell which. Her eyes become foggy, glazing over with fresh tears. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the water that floods her eyes.

Watching her cry; it's painful. She winces slightly in pain, and I look back to the bite. It's bleeding, and vicious looking.

Let me help you.

"I don't want to die..." Her voice is thick with tears, and her honesty is overwhelming.

An odd kind of relief fills me; as if I had been holding my breath, awaiting her answer.

I wait only a second before pulling up my sleeve, and reaching for her. She allows me to lift her away from the pillow, and doesn't try to resist when I draw her close to me, in fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck. It's a strange sort of feeling, holding someone, who isn't afraid. Her labored breath makes me uneasy as she whimpers quietly; either out of pain or our proximity, I'm not positive.

I offer her my wrist, exposing the thinly veiled blue veins on the inside of my arm; irresistible to most vampires, let alone the ones starving for blood.

"There you go sweetheart," I say quietly, "Have at it."

Glancing up at me, for one more second, she barely hesitates.

Sinking her fangs into my arm, we take in sharp breaths together. She drinks generously. I'd forgotten what it was like, having someone feed on you. I hadn't permitted it to happen in decades. The euphoric feeling of blood sharing... It's almost worth the vulnerability.

I rest my chin on her head, allowing her to lean into me. Her laboured breaths becoming strong and frantic.

"Happy Birthday Caroline."

XXX

"You're in my room." I say stupidly.

He raises his eyebrows at me.

"I am," I answer with an edge of humour.

Glancing around, he takes a few steps, venturing further into the room. Taking care to look at the pictures on the walls, and the ones that litter my desk—me and mom in Disney Land; Elena, Bonnie and I on the first day of high school; Matt and I at the decade dance two years ago...

Coming full circle to my bed, he looks down at my teddy bear propped against my pillows; skimming his index finger along its soft head, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Reaching out, I pick up my bear, hugging him to me for a second before chucking him to the foot of my bed.

We're facing each other. The length of my bed between us.

Kneeling on my bed, I move forward on my knees, reaching out and pulling on his shoulders so he leans it. Pressing my lips against his, I wrap my arms around his neck.

"What're you doing here?" I ask against his lips.

He doesn't answer, only deepens the kiss. Forcing me back, he reaches down, sweeping my feet forward so he can press my back to the mattress. Bracing his hands on either side of me, he lowers himself against me.

My body buzzes with his proximity. I reach for the hem of his shirt— but then he's pulling back, putting inches between us.

"I came here for a reason." He says. I have only a second to be confused before his lips are on my neck. Distracting me easily.

"Yeah?" I gasp, grabbing a handful of his hair, trying to pull him against me, but he's still resisting ever so slightly.

"Mmhm." He murmurs against the base of my throat.

"And why is that?"

"To ask you something." He says matter-a-factly, pushing himself up so he's looking down at me, his eyes burning into mine. They dance with a kind of excitement, and skepticism that both confuses and intrigues me.

I raise my eye brows at him, but he doesn't answer me—just lowers his mouth to mine once again. His kiss is less fervent, slower, more intimate kiss than usual. It sends a shudder through me, and I can't bring myself to break away for air. It's unbearably sweet, and uneasily rattling.

His tongue grazes against my bottom lip, easing my lips open effortlessly. A sigh of pleasure escapes my lips as his hands slide down my ribs, across my side and griping behind my knee, pressing my hips into the mattress, and following with his own as he leans into me.

"Wha..." I gasp as his mouth moves from mine to my ear, "What did you want to ask me?" I pant, holding a handful of his shirt in my fist.

"Mmm..." His teeth graze my earlobe, biting it hard with his human teeth, making me help with pleasure. I feel his smile against my neck.

"If you would marry me."

Wham.

"What?" I gasp.

His mouth was muffled against my neck, but when I push against his chest, and look up into his eyes; it's obvious he said what I think he said. "What?!" ask again, louder this time.

He's staring down at me, my breath was still frantic from the kiss—but I am now officially hyperventilating.

"Will. You. Marry me?" He says it slowly, his voice like honey.

"Are you kidding?!" I push him off of me, propping myself in a seated position on the bed. He stands up, looking down at me in my place on the quilt. Completely disheveled, my eyes wide with shock. "Are you serious right now?" I'm trying hard to absorb what has just happened. And failing.

He raises an eyebrow at me, "Yes."

"Holy shit." I whisper, standing up. He takes a step back, giving me room to walk around him, putting space between us. I press my palms to my forehead, feeling the panic rise in my throat.

"Is that a yes?" He asks, how can he sound so calm?

"No." I say, turning to face him with frantic eyes.

He blinks, "Is that a no?"

"I—" I come up short. Is it? "No." I say again.

A twinkle edges his eyes, his shoulders relax slightly. He takes a step towards me, putting his hands behind his back all business like.

"So, a maybe then?" He looks at me with those puppy-dog eyes that turn me into a melting puddle of goo.

His tone taking me back to that moment in his living room those months ago.

"So, friends then?"

I draw into him, meeting his hand between us, letting him pull me towards him for a split second, before the reality of the situation hits me hard, right in the chest.

"Wait, what?! We can't get married!" I throw my hands in the air, and shake my head.

"Why not?" He asks, "What are you afraid of?"

Whoa. Deja vu.

When Silas cornered me in the woods. Playing Klaus so perfectly, tricking me into admitting that I was scared. Scared of Klaus, and the feelings I have for him. When he asked me what I was afraid of, he sounded just like Klaus does in this moment...

Klaus still doesn't know about my dangerous encounter... I wonder fleetingly what his reaction would be if he knew.

Focus Caroline!

"Wha—" I blink, turning around and running my hands through my hair. "We'd kill each other!" I exclaim through a hysterical laugh.

He shrugs mildly, "Yes— " he agrees easily, and I roll my eyes, "but we would be happy up until then." He's smiling now, he's enjoying my panic.

"I'm seventeen!" I say, my voice rising in a high pitched terror.

He pauses, "Well if that's the problem Love, I think you will be battling that for a while." Sarcasm. Really? Now?

"You're crazy," I hiss.

"Yes." He agrees again.

"Caroline?"

"Mom!" I whirl around in time to see her open the door, and poke her head in.

"What're you doing in here?" She frowns at me.

I hesitate. From her lack of reaction, I'm guessing Klaus is not standing behind me anymore. "T-talking to myself." I say quickly.

Her frown deepens.

"You know, thinking out loud and... stuff." You suck at lying.

"Okay," she glances around the room, as if she can sense I wasn't alone. "Go to sleep okay."

"Okay," I nod and smile until she closes the door.

I listen to her footsteps as she gets further away, and then turn around, looking in every direction. "Klaus?" I hiss, but there is no answer. "Kla—" I catch sight of a small piece of paper laying across my pillow.

Typical.

Walking over, I snatch it up and turn it over. Two words are scrolled in perfect cursive.

Consider it.

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