A.N: The new character included in this chapter isn't exactly an OC, he's an adaption of a character from a film (I like crossovers too much). Cookie to the person who guesses who the character is!

Chapter Thirteen

Klaus couldn't be happier that he had managed to whisk Caroline out of New York already, just a few days after she had returned from the Hamptons. Although they didn't talk much on the way to the airport, he didn't mind. He was just glad to be getting another opportunity of a holiday with her.

She hadn't been very engaging in conversation, but he was content just watching her. As they drove to the JFK airport, she curled up on the passenger seat with her head against the window, and fell asleep. Klaus couldn't resist in shooting her the occasional glance, feeling his heart warming at the sight of her pale face reflecting against the window, a small smile on her features. When they pulled up in the airport, Klaus didn't wake her straight away – he waited until he'd sent his driver and email from his BlackBerry, with instructions to pick up his car in the morning. As the sun was starting to rise, Klaus gently shook Caroline awake, ushering her into the airport.

He watched her as she sleepily handed her passport, ticket and luggage to the staff, and then groggily trudged around Duty Free with her eyes half closed. Klaus had the sense to lead her to a small coffee shop, where he made the mistake of choosing a table with a sofa seat. Caroline collapsed onto the sofa instantly, her head drooping into the pancakes that Klaus had taken the liberty of buying her.

In fact, Caroline didn't finally become alert until about seven a.m., when they were finally boarding the plane. She perked up considerably when the stewardess led her and Klaus down to the front of the plane, into First Class, and seemed much brighter by the time they were buckled in and waiting for the plane to take off. Klaus found himself smirking at the seat in front of him when Caroline exclaimed that she had been expecting to sit in coach.

"Caroline, do you really think that I would want to sit amongst that rabble?"

"Careful, you're starting to sound like Rebekah," Caroline replied promptly. Klaus raised his eyebrows at her feisty comeback.

"I see you're starting to wake up," he responded. "You know, love, the aeroplane is generally where you'd get your rest."

Caroline opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by the captain announcing over the intercom that they would be taking off. As the plane commenced lift off, Caroline tipped her seat right back, and plugged in her earphones – determined to remain that way for the entire journey.

When they finally arrived in Amsterdam, Klaus felt nowhere near as much affection for Caroline as he had that same morning.

She had managed to sleep through the entire flight. Even after all the sleep she had before they climbed aboard the plane; she still managed to sleep for another seven hours. Klaus, who was a much more of a light sleeper, had managed to have no sleep, in the luxurious seats in First Class. So he was left to sit alone, with no one to talk to and nothing to do but watch the boring, low budget movies that were on the television on the back of the seat in front of him.

So it was perfectly reasonable to Klaus to be in a truly terrible mood.

Caroline on the other hand, woke up remarkably well rested. She was overly talkative as they hurried through security, and then climbed in a taxi waiting outside with their luggage. It was late evening by this point, but Caroline was ecstatic to be in another country, as much as she had previously been dreading the holiday. She wound the window open and stuck her head out as the taxi sailed along the riverside, in awe of the neon lights in windows, and the glowing bulbs on the undersides of the bridges.

"Can you shut the window, it's freezing," Klaus muttered. "We are in Europe now, Caroline."

"You're from Europe, you should be immune to bad weather," Caroline replied, ignoring his request. Instead, she reached in her bag for her digital camera, holding it up to the window. Klaus didn't answer, but Caroline didn't really notice.

It wasn't long before they pulled up outside a small hotel, and were given their room keys by the Dutch receptionist. She was surprised to hear Klaus speak fluently in her language, but although she couldn't understand what he was saying, Caroline still picked up the flirt in his voice. The way he was leaning over the desk; the way a lazy smirk was creeping onto his face; the way he leered down at her with his bright blue eyes. Caroline rolled hers at flirting efforts even in another country, and dragged him up to their room.

"You booked a room with a double bed?" Caroline exclaimed when she entered the hotel room. It was laid out like a honeymoon suite, with dim lights and rose petals scattered across the bedspread. She groaned inwardly, dumping her suitcase on the duvet. Klaus stepped in after her, and didn't even look around the room, instead choosing to wheel his suitcase into the corner of the room, and step into the en suite without shutting the door.

"My mother arranged this, remember," he snapped. "I didn't book it at all. As it was a Date Auction, do you really think that twin beds would be part of the deal?" There was the sound of water splashing, and Caroline assumed that Klaus was washing his face. She rolled her eyes, and unzipped her suitcase, beginning to pull out various items of clothing.

"Where's that guy gone?" she called into the bathroom. "The guy from downstairs who was talking to the receptionist."

"Oh, don't be pathetic."

"No, really," Caroline removed a particularly colourful dress, and turned to the dressing table mirror, holding it up to her body. "The receptionist got the German flirt, and I have to come upstairs with Mr. Snappy," she nodded at her reflection, and then proceeded to pull off her own clothes. Klaus stepped out of the bathroom shirtless. Caroline hurriedly pulled the dress over her body, and looked at Klaus in the reflection of the mirror. He was glaring at her, with his arms folded across his chest.

"Arabella is an old family friend. Her parents are good friends of my mother, and own this hotel – hence why she booked this particular lodge," he headed over to the bed, and yanked Caroline's suitcase onto the floor, not paying attention to the clothes that spilled onto the carpet. "Also, if you must know – the residents speak Dutch here, not German."

"Whatever," dismissed Caroline, reaching for her hand luggage. She pulled out her make up bag while Klaus climbed into the bed, and watched her through the mirror.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked.

Caroline had applied a little mascara, and was carefully pressing a tissue to the lipstick she had put on. She dug a small clutch bag out of the untidy suitcase, and tossed in a few bits of make-up, as well as her purse and camera. "Out," she replied. "We are on holiday. And we only have four days here. I didn't really want to come in the first place, but it's my job, remember. So I'm going to make the most of it," she fluffed up the back of her hair, and then took one last look at her reflection.

The dress she was wearing was a figure fitting dress that had elbow length sleeves and came down to her knees. It dipped quite low in the cleavage, and was a very bright, vivid purple colour, with golden thread lining the sleeves and neckline. She smoothed down her stomach, feeling quite self-conscious in such a tight garment, but shook off the thought. She looked great, and she was going out to have fun.

"Aren't you jet lagged?" Klaus muttered from the bed. "Of course not – you've had about twelve hours sleep."

"I take it you aren't coming?"

"No, and you aren't going. You can't walk around a foreign city during the night on your own, Caroline. Don't be ridiculous. Get into bed; we'll go out tomorrow."

"I don't want to go out with you anyway. You're sulking," Caroline replied breezily. She smiled at her reflection again, feeling quite impressed that she wasn't reacting so neurotically to Klaus. She had managed to brush off all of his snarky comments and sarcastic remarks. Maybe this was a new Caroline; Amsterdam Caroline. She tucked her clutch under her arm, and stalked out of the door. "I'll be back in a few hours. Promise," she waggled her fingers at Klaus, and sailed away.

Caroline wanted to find a bar. She wanted to walk into an exciting club, drink something that looked like Tinkerbell had exploded inside it, and just have a good time. The last few days had been an awkward, confusing mess, and she just wanted to have some fun. The only problem was that Caroline didn't speak Dutch, and didn't really know what kind of bars she was heading into.

She assumed that the silhouettes of women dancing behind red glass windows were just for decoration, and she headed straight into a busy looking club with these kinds of attractions. She soon learned, judging from the podiums and poles with near-naked women grinding around them, that she had wandered right into a strip club. And probably a sex club too, judging from the nightlife reviews she'd read on the internet. Her initial thought was to back out of the place and run back to the hotel, but she shrugged it off. She was a strong independent woman, and she was going to have a drink at a bar if it killed her.

So Caroline walked confidently straight the bar, and ordered the most expensive cocktail on the menu. She was happy to discover that the barmaid spoke English, which made her experience a lot easier. The cocktail was so sparkly and so pretty, that she almost didn't notice the face grinning at her along the bar.

She offered the man a polite smile, hoping that she didn't send off any unnecessary signals. As much as she wanted to have fun, she wanted to have fun by herself tonight. It was her first night in Amsterdam, and she wasn't in the mood to make friends. Her own friends were proving to be useless enough – Klaus was sat sulking at the hotel; Elena had ditched her for a new boyfriend several times, and Kol…Kol was just Kol. It seemed her efforts did go unnoticed however, as the man sidled across the bar, sitting down on the barstool right next to her. Caroline took in his features – he was on the skinnier side, but he had strong looking arms under the pale shirt and waistcoat combination he was wearing. His hair was a little too long; hanging over his narrow, crinkled eyes and around his ears, and was covered by a leather fedora hat, and there was a gold earring glinting in one ear. He didn't look anything like the men Caroline was used to seeing, so she automatically assumed he was from around here.

He opened his mouth and spoke, but Caroline didn't understand a word he said. She didn't know if it was because of the loud music, or if he was speaking a different language. He laughed when she crinkled her forehead, and leaned forward to hear him better.

"Name's Mickey," he called over the music. "Who might you be?"

Caroline raised her eyebrows as soon as he finished talking. Mickey was speaking in an accent she had never even heard of, and it took a lot of straining to actually understand what he was saying. "Caroline," she replied slowly, holding out her hand. He shook it jovially, almost pulling her arm from the socket, but she nervously laughed it off. "If you don't mind me asking – where are you from?"

"The accent, isn't it?" Micky grinned. "I'm a Traveller; I'm from everywhere. England, that is. Just on holiday at the minute."

The only words Caroline picked up initially were 'Traveller', 'England' and 'holiday', but she managed to piece together the rest. She had heard of Gypsy Travellers during her History lessons, but she had never met one, or even wondered about the prospect. She suddenly found herself very interested in Mickey and his life, and it wasn't long before her promised 'one drink' was multiplying.