Rebekah and Elijah stand at a distance, watching their brother howl at the star-filled sky in his wolf form. "I heard her scream; she was in pain. I remember that scream—it was the same one I heard when she saved our brother from our fa…" Her voice trails off. "She was standing there and then suddenly, she was crying out in agony. I was going to go to her, but Stefan came to her side." she explains to Elijah.
"At the same time, Klaus was transforming into his wolf," Elijah adds. As soon as Klaus revealed his intentions, Rebekah took it upon herself to clear the woods, ensuring no one would stumble upon the wolf. They didn't need to bring more attention to themselves at the moment, needing to stay on the land that once was their home to be close to Caroline.
"Do you think that means what you heard is true? That she's connected to us?" she asks softly, uncertain of how far Klaus can hear in his wolf form.
Elijah nods, troubled by the thought of the pain the Mikaelsons may have inflicted on her. "Until we can confirm my suspicions," he replies, "we need to keep this to ourselves." Rebekah nods, promising silently to keep this secret. "I think we need to move up the timeline and it is time to bring our witches to town." Both of the siblings knew that Klaus would tear the world apart if he knew that Caroline was in pain.
Seventeen hours after Caroline collapsed in the woods, Stefan's worry deepened as she remained unconscious. "Is Barbie still out cold?" Damon asked his brother, a look of concern on his face. Caroline was upstairs in her old bedroom at the Salvatore Boarding House while the brothers waited in the living room for Elena to come over for the dinner Stefan had planned with her. Just as Damon finished his question, a loud crash echoed from upstairs. "I think she's awake now," he remarked.
Stefan quickly flashed down to the freezer to grab a blood bag they kept in the house before returning to the living room. To his shock, he found Caroline gripping Damon's throat, the whiskey glass that had been in his hand now scattered on the floor. Stefan was taken aback by the expression on Caroline's face, a blend of rage and hunger evident in her eyes. "I've told you before not to call me Blondie," she growled, releasing her grip and allowing Damon to crumple to the ground.
"Caroline," Stefan said gently, taken aback by the intensity of her anger. It was a side of her he had witnessed only a few times before, a stark reminder to both Salvatore brothers of how much older she was compared to them. "O negative." He tossed her the blood bag.
The house fell into a tense silence for a few moments, with Damon still sprawled on the floor where Caroline had left him, while she drained the bag in quick, determined gulps. She takes a shaky breath, closing her eyes as she tries to calm down. "I've had it with you," she shot at Damon, her finger jabbing in his direction. "No more awful comments about me." Caroline couldn't quite grasp why she was so consumed by anger. Just then, she heard the front door creak open, revealing a bewildered Elena standing in the doorway. Instead of speaking, Caroline simply shot her a fleeting glance before disappearing out the front door in a blur. Caroline needed to escape; she had to find a way to compose herself.
A young Caroline knelt by the grave of her son, who had been laid to rest just days earlier. Overwhelmed by the weight of her grief, she found it impossible to rise from this spot, unsure of how to navigate the deep pain of losing a child who had barely seen a year of life. She didn't want her child to be alone. She sensed the presence of two people approaching from behind, their footsteps drawing nearer. "I want to be alone," she cried out, her voice trembling with sorrow.
"Caroline," a gentle voice murmured, as someone moved closer and knelt beside her. A hand rested gently at the back of her neck, offering a small measure of comfort.
"Our son," she whispered, her fingers gently tracing the contours of the grave. "I don't understand why they didn't take me instead." Turning to look at her husband, tears welled in her eyes as a shiver ran through her. The wind began to pick up, a storm brewing on the horizon, and she sensed that the impending storm was the reason they had come to find her.
"NiKlaus," Elijah said softly, his voice barely breaking the tension between the husband and wife, his brother and sister-in-law. "The wind is picking up, and the darkness is closing in. We need to go home."
"I don't want to leave him alone." There was a tremor of anger and hurt in her voice as she pleaded with the two men. "I don't want him alone." Her gaze shifted from the grave to her husband, desperation etched on her face. "He can't be alone."
NiKlaus felt frozen, unsure of how to comfort her; he was grappling with the same overwhelming grief. The shock of losing their son hung heavily in the air, suffocating and surreal.
Elijah stepped forward, his heart aching for both of them, before sinking down beside Caroline. He took a moment, gathering his thoughts before he spoke. "May I say something?" He looked at both NiKlaus and Caroline, seeking their consent before continuing.
When they nodded, he continued softly, "He is not alone, Caroline. He is with your mother, your father, and our ancestors. He is with them, Caroline—protected, loved, and not alone." Elijah's voice held a calm conviction, meant to lift some of the weight from her heart.
NiKlaus wrapped his arms around Caroline, pulling her close and releasing a shaky breath as he spoke softly, "What Elijah says is the truth, Caroline. Our son is not alone; he is watching over us with our ancestors. Just as he was in this life, he is loved and not alone."
Her tears flowed freely as NiKlaus spoke, and she turned her body to lean into him, drawing strength from his presence. The warmth of his embrace provided a flicker of comfort amidst the cold reality of their loss. "We will meet him again one day," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, "but until then, I need you to stay alive." The word 'alive' broke his voice, and he hesitated before adding, "Come home with us, and we will return tomorrow. I promise."
As he held her close, the trees began to sway ominously around them, their branches creaking and whispering as if echoing the sorrow in the air. The temperature dropped further, and the wind howled, almost as if the spirits themselves were mourning alongside them.
"Caroline," Elijah urged gently, his eyes scanning the darkening sky. "We must go. The storm is coming in quickly. He wouldn't want you to suffer out here."
NiKlaus tightened his grip on Caroline, his heart racing as the tension in the atmosphere heightened. He knew it would be rough to get Caroline to leave the grave of their son, which is why he thinks Elijah offered to come with. "Let's go," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, filled with urgency. "We'll come back tomorrow, I promise." He kissed her forehead, willing her to feel the depth of his love as he helped her up from the ground and back onto her feet then slowly away from the grave, determined to keep her safe from the encroaching darkness.
As Caroline felt the warm tears trail down her cheek, the flood of memories surged through her like a wild current. Confusion twisted in her stomach as she tried to reconcile the image of Elijah Mikaelson, intertwined with fleeting snapshots of a man she'd met only days earlier at the bar.
She was now staring at the Mikaelson Mansion, the same spot she was in where she introduced herself to Elijah before she left town to go to Salem. She wasn't sure if anyone was home, including Elijah.
What was happening? Why were these memories surfacing now, causing her unbearable grief? Alongside the vivid recollections came a wash of emotion—pain, grief, and a simmering anger bubbled to the surface, demanding her attention. Did I have a son when I was human?
The question loomed in her mind like an echo: What was she supposed to do next?
Caroline wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She needed clarity. The memories, though overwhelming, were a part of her. She felt an intrinsic connection to both her past human life and her present as a vampire; it was like pieces of a puzzle that needed to fit together.
"Maybe it's a sign," she whispered to herself, trying to make sense of the chaos inside her mind. Was the resurfacing of her memories a way for her to confront her grief? To explore her identity beyond the loss she had just experienced? "I need to talk to Elijah." Her voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. If these memories had surfaced today for a reason, she was determined to reveal their truth, her truth, her past — starting now.