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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

The Lockwood mansion’s sprawling lawn glows under the late afternoon sun, its towering white columns and perfectly trimmed hedges practically shouting old money. The kind of wealth that doesn’t just buy nice things--it buys influence, secrets, and a seat at the top of Mystic Falls’ food chain. Tonight, the place is buzzing with anticipation for the Historical Society Tea Party, the kind of event where the town’s elite sip overpriced champagne and pretend they care about dusty artifacts.

Caroline Forbes maneuvers her mom’s ancient sedan into a parking lot crammed with sleek SUVs and polished town cars. The engine sputters to a stop, and she flicks her eyes to the rearview mirror, wrestling a wayward blonde curl back into place and giving her high ponytail a quick tug. Her black dress hugs her curves--simple but sharp, the kind of look that says she’s here to work but could steal the show if she wanted. She’s volunteering to rack up community service hours for graduation, sure, but she’s also here to network with Mystic Falls’ power players. Two birds, one stone.

She grabs her clipboard--stuffed with a guest list longer than her chem homework and a to-do list that could make a grown man cry--and steps out. Her heels click sharply on the cobblestone path, the crisp air carrying the scent of freshly mowed grass and the faint fizz of champagne. Inside the mansion, the grand foyer hums with life: crystal glasses clink, voices weave into a low, sophisticated buzz, and the whole place feels like a well-oiled machine. Caroline’s in her element, ready to make this event run smoother than a Miss Mystic Falls pageant.

Volunteers hustle around her, fussing over enormous floral arrangements bursting with lilies and roses or guarding display cases filled with yellowed maps and relics that scream “small-town pride.” Carol Lockwood, in a tailored navy dress that screams “I run this town,” is the calm center of the chaos, her warm smile barely hiding the steel in her eyes as she directs caterers and adjusts name cards. Caroline spots Jenna Sommers near a table piled with ancient, leather-bound books, laughing with a guy who looks like he stepped out of a Jane Austen novel. Tailored suit, chiseled jaw, and an intensity that makes Caroline pause mid-step. Who is that?

She lingers a moment too long, caught by the way he carries himself--confident, maybe a little dangerous, like he knows something the rest of the room doesn’t. But she shakes it off, flipping open her clipboard with a huff. Focus, Forbes. She’s here to check names, manage caterers, and keep this party flawless. No time for tall, dark, and distractingly hot.

“Caroline!” Carol’s voice cuts through the chatter, warm but laced with that mayor-level authority that demands attention. “You’re an absolute lifesaver for helping tonight. You’ve got the guest list, right? Name tags for everyone, and please keep an eye on those champagne trays. We can’t afford a repeat of last year’s disaster with the shrimp fountain.”

Caroline flashes her signature cheerleader grin, the one that could charm a room full of grumpy council members. “Totally under control, Mrs. Lockwood. No shrimp-level catastrophes on my watch.” Carol gives her a quick, approving pat on the shoulder before diving back into the crowd, already barking orders at a frazzled caterer.

At the entrance, Caroline sets up at a polished mahogany table, a crystal vase of white lilies and a neat stack of name tags at her side. She scans her clipboard: town council heavyweights, a few out-of-town history nerds, and--huh--Elijah Smith, Historical Consultant. Sounds like a tweed-wearing professor with a thing for old maps. Safe. Boring. She shrugs and gets to work.

Guests start pouring in, and Caroline hits her stride, handing out name tags with the kind of charm that makes people feel like they’re the only one in the room.

“Mr. Fell, that bow tie is giving vintage legend vibes!”

“Mrs. Hamilton, that dress is a total showstopper!”

Her clipboard’s her lifeline, her smile her secret weapon, keeping the crowd happy and the event humming. But then she spots a caterer--some kid in a ill-fitting vest--wobbling with a tray of champagne flutes way too close to a display case of fragile artifacts. Not on my watch. She weaves through the crowd, heels clicking like a metronome, and calls out, “Hey, careful!”

She dives for the tray just as it starts to tip, but a steady hand beats her to it, catching the glasses with effortless precision. Caroline looks up--and freezes. It’s him, the guy with Jenna. Up close, he’s even more striking: razor-sharp cheekbones, dark eyes that seem to see right through her, and a suit so perfectly tailored it’s practically a crime. He’s calm, almost too calm, with a faint smirk that says he’s mildly entertained by the near-disaster.

“Yours, I presume?” he says, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, with a faint accent that feels… old-world, like he’s from another time.

“Thanks for the save,” Caroline says, grabbing the tray and setting it on a nearby table. “That could’ve been a total nightmare.”

He tilts his head, that smirk flickering wider. “A catastrophe of historic proportions, no doubt. But I have a feeling you’d have handled it with ease.”

She laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks warming despite herself. “Handling chaos is basically my cardio. I’m Caroline Forbes, by the way.”

“Elijah Smith,” he says, offering his hand. His grip is warm, firm, and lingers just a beat longer than necessary, sending a jolt through her pulse. “Historical consultant. And you, I take it, are the mastermind keeping this evening on track?”

“Pretty much,” she says, playing it cool even though her heart’s doing a weird little flip. “So, you’re here to geek out over the town’s history? Got any juicy stories about Mystic Falls’ glory days?”

His smile turns sly, like he’s holding onto a secret she’s not privy to. “History is full of unexpected twists, Miss Forbes. Though I must say, the present is proving… far more intriguing.” His tone is polite, almost formal, but there’s a warmth in it that sends a spark down her spine.

Before she can toss back a flirty quip, Jenna’s voice cuts through. “Elijah! You have to meet Dr. Richardson--he’s got some wild theories about the founding families’ old journals!”

Elijah gives Jenna a polite nod, then turns back to Caroline. “Until later, Miss Forbes.” He offers a small, old-fashioned bow--seriously, who *does* that?--and glides back into the crowd, commanding the room without even trying.

Caroline’s heart is still doing somersaults. What was that? She dives back into her guest list, trying to refocus, but Elijah Smith keeps creeping into her thoughts. Probably just some fancy academic with a knack for charm. Way out of her league. Still, there’s something about him--something magnetic--that she can’t shake.

The night rolls on, and Caroline’s in her zone, directing volunteers with a smile and a nudge, charming guests like she was born for it. She catches a caterer sneaking a break by the dessert table and sends him back to work with a playful eye-roll. She spots a kid inching too close to a glass case of ancient relics and swoops in, steering them away with a grin and a quick joke. She’s got this.

But then, near the artifact display, she overhears two council members--gray-haired guys in stuffy suits--muttering under their breath. “The founding families… something’s buried in the archives. Those old journals aren’t just stories.” Her ears perk up. Mystic Falls is always humming with weird rumors--tales of strange happenings, whispers of things that go bump in the night--but this feels… heavier. She files it away, telling herself it’s probably just old men spinning ghost stories.

Later, grabbing a quick sip of water by the relics, she feels a prickle on the back of her neck, like someone’s watching. She glances up, and there’s Elijah, across the room, his eyes locked on hers. The party’s noise fades for a split second, and it’s just them, the air between them crackling with something she can’t name. A guest steps into her line of sight, breaking the moment, and she shakes it off, diving back into her clipboard. Just a vibe, Caroline. Chill.

At the refreshment table, Jenna’s deep in conversation with Dr. Richardson, a wiry guy with thick glasses, waving his hands like he’s unraveling the secrets of the universe. He’s going on about some old journal, something about “the founding families’ pact.” Elijah’s there too, listening with that calm, laser-focused intensity that makes him stand out in a room full of chatter. Caroline catches his eye again, and he gives her a subtle nod, like they’re in on some private joke. Her stomach does another annoying little flip.

“Caroline!” Carol calls, waving her over from across the room. “Can you check the dessert table? We’re running low on petit fours, and the caterers are slacking again.”

“Duty calls,” Caroline mutters under her breath, tossing Elijah one last glance before heading off. She’s not sure what’s sparking between them--or why her heart’s racing like she just ran a marathon--but one thing’s clear: Elijah Smith is no ordinary history nerd, and this night’s about to get a whole lot more interesting.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Caroline wakes to a silent house, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like the world’s holding its breath. Her mom’s already at the sheriff’s station, probably handing out speeding tickets or untangling some small-town crisis. Her friends are off in their own little orbits. Elena’s at the lakehouse with Stefan, probably wrapped in a blanket by the water, all heart-eyes and whispers. Bonnie’s with Jeremy, claiming it’s about practicing her witchy mojo to keep Klaus at bay and protect Elena, but Caroline’s not buying it. She’s seen the way they steal glances--soft, secretive, totally falling for each other but keeping it on the down-low. Caroline’s lips are sealed, especially around Elena. No need to stir that pot. And Matt, her sweet, overworked boyfriend, is stuck slinging burgers at the Mystic Grill until 5:00, too wiped to even send a “hey” text afterward.

She’s bored out of her skull, the kind of restless that makes her want to scream into a pillow or reorganize her entire closet just for something to do. She even considers texting Damon, which is a hard no. She despises him--hates him for trying to compel her back in September, thinking he could bend her to his will like some puppet. Her weird immunity to compulsion stopped him cold, but then he’d gone feral, sinking his fangs into her neck. The pain, the terror--it’s still raw, etched in her memory like a bad dream. Her freaky healing powers closed the wounds fast, but the trauma lingers, a bruise on her psyche. Lately, Damon’s been oddly protective, like he’s carrying some guilty conscience, but Caroline’s not here for his redemption arc. Texting him? Yeah, that’s a pass.

With her community service hours nearly done--the Historical Society Tea Party yesterday was a total win, and the ‘60s-themed dance she’s planning will seal the deal--Caroline’s got zero plans. She sprawls on the couch in her comfiest sweats, flipping between The Notebook (she’ll bawl her eyes out, guaranteed) and reruns of the goofy cartoons she loved back in her pigtail days. As the sky outside shifts to a dusky purple, she shuffles to the kitchen and whips up a batch of mac and cheese. It’s overcooked, gooey, and perfect for eating straight from the pot with a wooden spoon, daring the day to get any worse. While scrubbing the pot in the sink, suds up to her elbows, the doorbell chimes, slicing through the quiet like a knife. Curious, she dries her hands on a faded dish towel and heads to the door, her socks sliding on the hardwood.

It’s Elijah, the historian from the tea party, looking like he just stepped off a movie set in a crisp charcoal suit, tie knotted with precision. His dark eyes catch the porch light, and there’s that same quiet intensity that made her pause yesterday. “Mr. Smith!” she says, surprise mingling with a tiny thrill. How does he know where she lives? And why’s her heart doing that annoying fluttery thing?

“Miss Forbes,” he says, his voice smooth as polished marble, polite but with a hint of something deeper, almost secretive. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced, and so late. I need just a moment of your time. Your mother speaks highly of your reliability, and I assure you, this won’t take long.”

Her brain blares warning sirens--a guy she barely knows showing up at her house after dark? Major red flag. But her heart’s racing for a different reason, flattered that her mom’s been singing her praises to this ridiculously handsome stranger. “Come in,” she says, stepping aside with a small, cautious smile, ignoring the alarm bells in her head.

The air shifts as Elijah crosses the threshold, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows something she doesn’t. Before she can process it, he moves--too fast, a blur of motion--and presses a precise spot on her neck. The world tilts, her vision goes dark, and she collapses into his arms. He lifts her effortlessly, like she weighs nothing, and carries her out into the cool night air toward a sleek black car, the darkness swallowing them whole.

Caroline wakes slowly, sunlight filtering through heavy, unfamiliar curtains in soft golden streaks. The bed’s plush, the sheets crisp and smelling faintly of cedarwood and crisp linen. She’s wearing an oversized button-up shirt--definitely not hers, too big and too masculine. Panic slams into her like a freight train. This isn’t her room. This isn’t her house. Her heart jackhammers as she scrambles out of bed, bare feet hitting cold hardwood. The room’s too quiet, the kind of silence that feels like it’s hiding something. Where am I?

Memories crash back: Elijah at her door, that charming smile, then--nothing. He kidnapped her. Fear twists her gut like a knife. Did he do something to her? She shoves the thought down, forcing herself to focus. She needs to get out, now. She creeps down a short hallway, each step deliberate, her ears straining for any sound, every creak of the floorboards making her flinch.

Then she smells it--coffee, rich and dark, mingling with the buttery scent of pancakes, sizzling bacon, and fluffy scrambled eggs. Her stomach growls, traitorously loud, but she’s not here for a breakfast buffet. She’s a prisoner. The hallway opens into a spacious living room, all sleek furniture and warm wood tones, where Elijah sits at a polished dining table. He’s infuriatingly perfect in another tailored suit, reading a newspaper with a steaming coffee mug at his elbow, looking like kidnapping her was just another item on his to-do list.

He looks up, folding the paper with precise, deliberate movements, and stands, his posture careful, like he’s approaching a skittish animal. “Miss Forbes,” he says, his voice warm and steady, like a low hum. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

She stares, dumbfounded. How’s she feeling? Is he for real? Her eyes dart to the front door, a heavy oak thing that screams freedom. She glances at him, then bolts, her bare feet slapping the floor as she yanks the door open--only to slam into an invisible wall, like smacking into a glass pane. Pain jolts through her shoulder, and she stumbles back.

“What the *hell*?” she gasps, whirling to face him, her heart pounding so hard it might crack a rib.

Elijah’s calm, but there’s a flicker of regret in his dark eyes, like he hates that it’s come to this. “My witch cast a barrier spell on the house,” he says evenly. “You can’t leave without my permission.”

Panic surges, hot and sharp. “Why am I here? Why did you kidnap me? What do you want?” Her voice cracks, fear and fury tangling together.

“Caroline,” he says, stepping closer, his hands gently cupping her face. His touch is warm, grounding, and for a split second, it steadies her racing pulse. “Breathe. You’re safe. I give you my word, I won’t harm you. You have no reason to be afraid.”

She’s immune to compulsion, but his voice--smooth, sincere, the way he says her name--cuts through her panic like a warm knife through butter. Her breathing slows, but she’s still on edge, her arms crossing tightly over the oversized shirt. “Okay, fine, I’m breathing. Now tell me why I’m here,” she snaps, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.

He gestures to the table, pulling out a chair for her with that old-school gentleman vibe. He sets a plate in front of her--fluffy pancakes dotted with colorful sprinkles, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a cappuccino with a perfect foam swirl, three sugars, just how she likes it. It’s creepy how he knows that. “Eat,” he says softly, not a command but a gentle nudge, his eyes watching her carefully.

She rolls her eyes but grabs a fork, stabbing a piece of egg. It’s annoyingly perfect, light and buttery. The cappuccino’s even better, sweet and rich. She eats, glaring at him over the rim of the mug. “Okay, I ate your stupid breakfast. Now spill. Why am I here?”

He hesitates, a rare crack in his polished exterior, like he’s choosing his words with care. “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re not Elijah Smith,” she says, narrowing her eyes, her fork pausing mid-air.

“I’m Elijah Mikaelson,” he says, his voice steady. “An Original.”

Her breath catches, the fork clattering to the plate. “The Original vampire? The one protecting Elena from Klaus?”

He nods, his expression unreadable. “Why?” she presses, leaning forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “I’m not caught up in all this supernatural crap. I’m just trying to graduate high school, plan dances, and not fail chem. Why do you care about Elena?”

“Klaus cannot break his curse,” Elijah says, his tone grave, like he’s reciting a prophecy. “If he does, he’ll be unstoppable. My goal is to kill him. Protecting Elena is one of my priorities.” He pauses, his eyes locking onto hers, intense enough to make her shift in her seat. “The other is protecting you.”

“Me?” She laughs, sharp and disbelieving, shoving her plate away. “Why me? I’m nobody in this whole vampire-witch mess.”

“You’re important to me, Caroline,” he says, his voice low and serious, like he’s confessing something sacred. “More than you realize.”

She blinks, thrown. They barely know each other--just a flirty moment at the tea party, a few stolen glances. “What does that mean? You don’t know me.”

“Have you heard of soulmates?” he asks, his tone careful, like he’s stepping around broken glass.

She smirks, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, in cheesy romance novels and rom-coms. Total sap stuff.”

“We’re soulmates,” he says, dead serious, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s rare for humans, but for vampires, it’s real. Tangible. You’re my soulmate.”

Her mind spins, the word crashing around in her head. Soulmates? With him? “So, what, you kidnapped me because of some cosmic dating app match? You could’ve just, I don’t know, asked me out for coffee like a normal person.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, easing the tension in the room. “I’m sorry, Caroline. Truly. But it’s not just that.” His face darkens, his jaw tightening. “Elena broke a promise. I allowed her freedom--school, friends, her family. But Alaric betrayed me, staked me at a dinner. I was furious. My witch tracked Elena to the lakehouse. She tried to negotiate, even threatened to harm herself. I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t take the risk. So we struck a new deal.”

“What deal?” Caroline asks, dread curling in her stomach like a cold fist.

“You,” he says softly, his voice heavy with regret. “In exchange for Elena’s continued freedom, you’re under my protection. Klaus cannot know about you.”

Caroline’s heart stops, her breath catching in her throat. “No way. Elena wouldn’t do that. She’s my best friend.”

“She did,” Elijah says, his tone gentle but firm, like he hates being the one to break the news.

“No!” Caroline yells, shoving her chair back so fast it screeches against the floor. Elijah stands too, but keeps his distance, giving her space to process. “Elena wouldn’t trade me like I’m some pawn. We’ve been friends since we were kids, making friendship bracelets and sneaking cookies at sleepovers. If anyone did this, it’s Damon. He’s obsessed with her, always pulling strings.”

“Damon opposed it,” Elijah says, his voice steady. “Stefan convinced Elena. He assured her you’d be safe, and I swear to you, Caroline, you are.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer. Elena--her best friend, the one she’s cheered for at games, cried with over breakups, laughed with over stupid inside jokes--traded her like a bargaining chip. No call, no heads-up, no “Hey, Care, you cool with being a vampire’s hostage?” Her chest tightens, betrayal burning like acid. They’ve drifted lately, caught up in boys and supernatural drama, but this? It’s a knife in the back. It makes her feel small, disposable, like she’s just collateral damage in Elena’s epic love story. Would Elena have done this if it was Bonnie?

Anger surges, hot and wild, and she storms back down the hallway, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She sinks onto the bed, curling into herself, the oversized shirt bunching around her. Tears sting her eyes, hot and bitter, as the weight of Elena’s choice crashes over her. She’s alone, trapped, and betrayed, and all she can do is hug her knees and try not to break.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Caroline locks herself in the bedroom all morning and well into the afternoon, slamming the door with a force that rattles the frame, a clear message to the world: *stay out*. She’s a storm of emotions--anger burning hot, hurt cutting deep, and betrayal twisting like a knife in her chest. Elijah doesn’t knock, doesn’t demand she come out, and she’s quietly grateful for the space to wrestle with the mess in her head. But by 4:27 PM, Elijah’s concern kicks in. She hasn’t eaten since that breakfast at 9:13 AM--pancakes and cappuccino she grudgingly admitted were amazing--and he’s not about to let her skip another meal. In his mind, once she accepts their soulmate bond, she’ll never go hungry on his watch. Her well-being isn’t just important to him; it’s everything.

Inside the room, Caroline sprawls on the bed, staring at the smooth, cream-colored ceiling, her mind a chaotic loop. Elena’s betrayal plays on repeat--thirteen years of friendship, from kindergarten finger-painting to late-night high school gossip sessions, now shattered because Elena traded her like a bargaining chip in some supernatural deal. Elena always called her a best friend, but now it feels like Bonnie was always the real favorite, the one who mattered more. Caroline thought she had a secure spot in Elena’s life, her inner circle, but now she feels like a spare tire, only useful until something better came along. She knows she can be dramatic, a total control freak who overthinks everything, but with her trust broken, spiraling is the only thing holding her together. She’s mad, heartbroken, and the last thing she wants is to face Elijah and see that quiet understanding in his eyes. She just wants to stay angry, to let it burn until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Then, a mouthwatering smell slips under the door--something savory, rich, and warm, like roasted meat and herbs. Her stomach growls, loud and embarrassing, but her pride is stronger than her hunger. She’s not falling for Elijah’s cooking or his care, no matter how tempting. She just wants to be left alone to stew in her pain.

Caroline sighs, trying to shove away thoughts of Elena, that irresistible kitchen smell, and Elijah himself, with his stupidly perfect suits and intense eyes. Instead, she thinks of her mom, Liz, probably at the sheriff’s station when Caroline was taken, buried in a pile of incident reports or speeding tickets. Does she even know her daughter’s gone? Is she pacing the house, phone glued to her ear, calling Caroline’s friends? Or worse, is she out combing Mystic Falls’ backroads, blaming herself for not being there? Guilt slams into Caroline, heavy and sharp, even though she didn’t ask to be kidnapped.

Then her mind shifts to school. She *has* to be there tomorrow. Perfect attendance is her badge of honor, proof she’s got her life together despite Mystic Falls’ endless chaos. Plus, she’s got a dance committee meeting with Dana to finalize details for the ‘60s-themed dance she’s been obsessing over--go-go boots, retro playlists, the works. She sits up, determination flaring. Elijah’s letting her go, no excuses. She’s not letting some thousand-year-old vampire derail her life.

A firm knock on the door snaps her out of her thoughts. “Caroline,” Elijah says, his voice calm but carrying that unshakable authority. “You’ve been in there long enough. Come out.”

She ignores him, crossing her arms tighter, sinking deeper into the bed.

“You need to eat,” he says, his tone softening but with a steel edge that says he’s not messing around. “Join me for dinner, then you can have your space. Please.”

She stays silent, glaring at the door like it’s personally offended her.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, his voice dropping lower, a hint of a threat laced with that infuriating calm. “I can hear your heartbeat. Don’t make me break this door down. I will if I must.”

“You wouldn’t,” she snaps before she can stop herself, her voice sharp and defiant.

“Test me,” he replies, cool and serious, the kind of tone that says he’s not bluffing.

With a groan, she drags herself off the bed, yanks the door open, and glares at him, hands on her hips. Elijah stands there in his impeccable charcoal suit, tie perfectly knotted, a gentle smile on his face that’s equal parts annoying and disarming. “Thank you,” he says, his voice warm as he gestures toward the dining room. She follows, her bare feet heavy on the polished hardwood, the oversized shirt--his shirt--swishing around her thighs.

He pulls out a chair for her at the dining table, all old-school chivalry, and brings out a tray of food that looks straight out of a gourmet magazine: coq au vin, the chicken glistening in a rich wine sauce, creamy mashed potatoes swirled with butter, crisp green beans with a sprinkle of almonds, and a fresh salad with vibrant tomatoes and cucumbers. The smell is unreal, and Caroline raises an eyebrow, half-skeptical, half-curious. “You made all this?”

Elijah’s smile is small but carries a quiet pride. “I’ve had centuries to perfect my skills in the kitchen. Eat. It’ll help.”

She digs in, and it’s annoyingly incredible--the chicken tender, the sauce savory with a hint of thyme, the potatoes like a warm hug. They eat in silence, and it’s weirdly comfortable, like they’ve done this a hundred times. Halfway through, her curiosity gets the better of her. “So, when did you learn to cook like this?” she asks, her voice muffled by a mouthful of potatoes.

“I’ve traveled the world for a thousand years,” Elijah says, setting his fork down with precision. “Cooking became a way to connect with humanity, to create something meaningful. Even vampires can find joy in crafting a meal.”

She nods, sipping her strawberry lemonade--how does he *know* it’s her favorite?--and catches him watching her. His dark eyes are intense, like she’s the only thing in the universe that matters. It’s overwhelming, knowing she’s his soulmate, whatever that even means. He’s kind, sure, but he’s still a stranger--a dangerous, ancient vampire who kidnapped her. She pushes her plate away, needing to set boundaries. “Look,” she says, her voice cautious but firm. “I *have* to go to school tomorrow. Non-negotiable. I’ve got a life, you know.”

Elijah’s smile fades, his expression tightening. “That’s not possible, Caroline.”

“Why not?” she snaps, leaning forward, frustration bubbling up. “You can’t keep me locked up like some princess in a tower. I’ve got classes, friends, a dance committee meeting!”

“Your safety is my priority,” he says, his voice steady but unyielding, like he’s stating an unbreakable law. “That comes first.”

She scoffs, tossing her napkin on the table. “I thought *Elena* was your priority. You know, the doppelgänger? The key to Klaus’s big bad curse?”

Elijah’s gaze sharpens, but his tone stays gentle, almost tender. “Elena’s role is irrelevant to me now. You are my priority, Caroline. You’re more important than any doppelgänger, any curse.”

Her breath catches, his words hitting her like a curveball. Her heart’s racing, and for a moment, she’s speechless, torn between annoyance and something warmer, deeper, that she doesn’t want to name. “What about my mom?” she asks, shifting gears to keep her footing. “Does she even know I’m gone?”

“Your mother knows you’re safe,” Elijah says, his voice calm and reassuring. “I left her a detailed note at the station. She trusts me to keep you protected.”

Caroline laughs, sharp and bitter, shaking her head. “So, Liz Forbes, Mystic Falls’ toughest sheriff, is totally cool with her teenage daughter being whisked away by a vampire? That’s rich.”

Elijah’s lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his composure. “Your mother understands that your safety is paramount, even if the circumstances are… unconventional.”

Caroline groans, running out of arguments, her hands twisting in her lap. Then she glances down, realizing she’s still wearing his oversized shirt, the sleeves swallowing her hands. “Hold up. Who changed my clothes? Was it you?” Her voice spikes, a mix of panic and accusation.

Elijah’s expression shifts, almost offended, his posture stiffening. “No, Caroline. I placed my shirt over you to preserve your modesty and removed your clothes with care. I’d never disrespect you or violate your trust.”

She exhales, relief washing over her, though his sincerity still unsettles her. “Okay, fine. But I need dessert now. Like, immediately.”

Elijah’s smile returns, warm and a little playful. “Very well.”

“Oh, come on,” she teases, leaning forward with a grin, her sass kicking in. “You kidnapped me, Elijah. The least you can do is keep me happy with some chocolate or something.”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, his voice rich with amusement, like he’s enjoying her spark. “But first, clothes. I’ll have my witch bring something suitable.”

Her eyes widen, her fork pausing mid-air. “Your witch? Who’s that?”

“Jonas Martin,” Elijah says, pulling out his phone and typing a quick text.

“Jonas Martin? Luka’s dad?” Caroline’s jaw drops. “Luka’s in my AP Lit class! He’s got a total crush on Bonnie, by the way.”

Elijah pauses, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he finishes his message. His phone pings with a reply. “Jonas will be here within the hour,” he says, pocketing the phone. “Why don’t you watch some television while I clean up?”

Caroline nods, wandering to the living room and flopping onto a plush leather couch. She grabs the remote and flips on Jersey Shore, the familiar chaos of Snooki and JWoww filling the screen. It brings back a sharp memory--watching the same show in the hospital after her car accident, hooked up to IVs, healing way faster than the doctors could explain. That night, she’d been with Tyler and Matt, carefree until everything went sideways.

Matt.

Her heart stutters, guilt slamming into her like a tidal wave. How could she forget her boyfriend? Matt’s been nothing but good to her since they started dating last November-steady, kind, always showing up when she needs him. But the guilt isn’t as sharp as it should be, and that scares her. She thought of Matt yesterday, sure, but only in passing, when she was bored out of her mind. Now, with Elijah, there’s this pull, this undeniable bond that’s bigger than anything she’s felt before. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and it’s throwing everything she thought she knew into chaos.

She gets up, her bare feet padding back to the kitchen where Elijah’s washing dishes, his suit jacket draped over a chair, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He looks capable, almost human, and it throws her off. Her cheeks heat as her mind wanders--imagining those hands on her instead of the plates--but she shakes it off, Matt’s name pulling her back to reality.

She clears her throat, leaning against the counter. Elijah glances over, his dark eyes locking onto hers, curious and attentive. “Caroline,” he says, drying his hands on a towel. “Is something wrong?”

“I need to talk,” she says, her voice shaky but determined, her fingers twisting nervously. “I have a boyfriend. Matt. He’s amazing, always there for me, no matter what. We’ve been together since November, and I completely forgot about him until now. I feel awful, but… not as awful as I should. Because of you. This soulmate thing--it’s real, I can feel it, but what does that mean for me and Matt? For… us?”

Elijah steps closer, his presence steady and grounding, but there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes her heart pound. “Caroline, our bond is rare, forged over centuries, stronger than most things in this world. But it doesn’t erase your feelings for Matt. You’re free to choose your own path. If you care for him, talk to him, explore what you want. But what you feel with me--it’s real, and it’s not going away. I’ll be here, waiting, no matter what you decide.”

He steps back, giving her space, his voice softening. “What do you want to do?”

Caroline stares into his eyes, her heart racing like it’s trying to outrun her thoughts. In that moment, everything clicks into place, sharp and undeniable. She knows what she has to do. She’s ending things with Matt. It’s terrifying, like stepping off a cliff, but it’s clear. Matt’s been her safe harbor, her comfort zone, but Elijah is something else--a destiny she can’t ignore, no matter how much it scares her. She takes a deep breath, her decision solidifying, ready to face whatever comes next.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

As soon as Jonas leaves the safehouse, his arms empty after dropping off three glossy shopping bags stuffed with new clothes, Caroline feels a rush of excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning. She snatches the bags and bolts to the bedroom, desperate to ditch Elijah’s oversized button-up shirt, which smells faintly of cedar and something distinctly him. Digging through the bags, she pulls out an emerald-green dress that hugs her curves like it was made for her, its soft fabric catching the light just right. She finds a pair of strappy nude heels that instantly boost her confidence, making her feel like the Caroline Forbes who runs Mystic Falls High’s social scene. Slipping into the outfit, her blonde curls bouncing as she checks herself in the mirror, she feels a spark of her old self, shaking off the heavy sting of Elena’s betrayal. When she steps out, heels clicking on the hardwood, Elijah’s waiting in the living room, car keys dangling from his fingers, his dark eyes flickering with quiet approval. They head out to his sleek black sedan, the engine purring as they drive through the dusky evening toward Scoops Ice Cream Parlor, the town’s neon lights just starting to glow.

In the car, Caroline’s curiosity bubbles up, her need to know more about the man--vampire--who’s turned her life upside down taking over. She shifts in her seat, tucking one leg under her, and fixes him with a determined look. “Okay, Elijah, spill. I want to know you. The real you, not just the suit-wearing, kidnapping vampire who cooks like a chef. Your childhood, your family, all of it. You’ve lived a thousand years--what’s your story?”

Elijah glances at her, one eyebrow lifting slightly at her bluntness, but there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes, like he respects her directness. He keeps his gaze on the road, but his voice is steady, carrying the weight of centuries. “I was born in 973 A.D., in a village that’s now Mystic Falls. My mother, Esther, was a gifted witch, the heart of our family, always weaving spells to keep us safe. My father, Mikael, was… severe, a warrior who demanded discipline. I learned early to stay silent to avoid his wrath. I had six siblings--Finn, Niklaus, Kol, Rebekah, Henrik, and Freya, who died of a fever before I could truly know her. We were close, despite the chaos. I remember racing through the woods with them, Kol always stirring up trouble with his fledgling magic, Henrik trailing behind, wide-eyed and curious, asking endless questions.”

His voice grows heavier, a shadow crossing his face. “Everything changed when Henrik was killed by a werewolf during a full moon. My mother, shattered by his loss, cast a spell using dark magic to turn us into the first vampires. It gave us strength, immortality, but it stripped Kol’s magic and fractured our family. Betrayal and violence tore us apart over the centuries.”

Caroline’s stomach twists, her fingers tightening around the edge of her seat. “Wait, Klaus is your brother?” she asks, her voice sharp with shock. The idea of Klaus--the Klaus, the monster hunting Elena--betraying his own family makes her feel sick. “He’s not just dangerous, he’s… cruel.”

Elijah nods, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the road. “Yes. Niklaus is my half-brother, born of my mother’s affair with a werewolf. His actions have caused immense pain.” He pauses, then adds, his tone softer, “In 1933, he confessed to daggering Finn, Kol, and Rebekah with enchanted blades, hiding their bodies in coffins at the bottom of the ocean. I suffered the same fate in 1242, when he plunged a dagger into my heart, leaving me in a lifeless sleep for a few days.”

Caroline’s mouth drops open, her mind reeling. “That’s… awful. Your own brother?” She tries to imagine her dad doing something that horrific to her mom, the betrayal cutting so deep it would break her. Glancing at Elijah, she wonders if he could ever turn against Klaus, or if family loyalty runs too deep, even after a thousand years.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Elijah offers a rare glimpse of vulnerability. “I find solace in playing the piano,” he says, his voice softening. “It’s where I escape, composing music I’ve never taken credit for. It’s… grounding, after so much loss.”

Caroline’s heart softens, picturing him at a grand piano, pouring centuries of grief into quiet melodies. She tries to imagine losing someone the way he’s lost his siblings, the weight of it carrying across lifetimes.

The car falls quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space. Caroline decides to share her own story, her voice steady but tinged with nostalgia. “I was born October 10, 1992, right here in Mystic Falls. Only child of Bill Harrington and Liz Forbes. Growing up was pretty great--bike rides with my dad around the town square, baking lopsided cupcakes with my mom in our tiny kitchen. We were tight, the three of us. But when I was thirteen, they got divorced. A month later, my dad came out as gay and moved to Arizona with his partner, Robert. Now I only see him one week a year, during summer break. It’s… not the same. Like, we talk, but it’s all surface-level now.”

Elijah listens intently, then asks, his voice gentle but curious, “What do you love, Caroline? What makes you you?”

She smiles, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress as memories flood back. “When I was little, I was obsessed with painting. Started at five, splashing colors on canvas, making something out of nothing. It was my thing, you know? I stopped after the divorce--it didn’t feel right anymore, like I’d lost that spark.” She pauses, then grins, her energy bouncing back. “Now? I’m all about cheerleading. Season’s over, but I’m counting down to September for tryouts. I also devour romance novels--give me a sappy love story and I’m set for hours. Oh, and I’m kind of a control freak. Keeps life interesting, right?”

Elijah chuckles, the sound warm and rare, like a gift he doesn’t give often. “I suspected as much,” he says, his eyes softening as they flick toward her. “Your determination is… remarkable. It suits you.”

“I’m also gunning for valedictorian,” she adds, smirking, her competitive streak flaring. “Bonnie and Elena have been my best friends since kindergarten--pigtails, sleepovers, the whole deal. Or they were. Elena… I don’t know if I can forgive her for this.”

Elijah tilts his head, his gaze searching. “Because of my deal with her?”

Caroline shakes her head, her blonde curls bouncing. “It’s not just you. It’s Elena. She’s always been the star--prettier, more popular, the girl everyone notices. I’ve busted my butt to stand out: straight A’s, cheer captain, Miss Mystic Falls. But I’m always second to her. And she and Bonnie kept secrets from me, like I wasn’t worth trusting. They knew about vampires for weeks and never told me. I only found out because…” She hesitates, the memory sharp and painful. “Because Damon attacked me.”

Elijah’s eyes darken, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “Damon Salvatore did what?”

Caroline shifts in her seat, the leather creaking under her. “Last year. I didn’t know he was a vampire. He was all charming at first, flirty, but then he fed on me, nearly killed me. Stefan swooped in, saved my life. That’s when I learned the truth--about vampires, Mystic Falls, all of it. Elena and Bonnie already knew and didn’t warn me. I felt so betrayed, like I was just… left out.”

Elijah’s jaw clenches, a rare flash of anger in his eyes. “Damon harmed you, and Elena left you vulnerable? That’s unacceptable.”

Caroline reaches out, touching his arm lightly, her voice soft but firm. “Don’t do anything, Elijah. It hurt, yeah, but I don’t want revenge. I’m just… tired of feeling like I’m not enough.”

Elijah’s expression softens, but his voice is resolute. “Caroline, you are more than enough. You’re strong, vibrant, extraordinary. In a thousand years, I’ve never met anyone like you. If Elena caused you pain, I won’t add to it, but I will protect you--from Damon, Niklaus, anyone who dares make you feel less than you are.”

Her chest warms at his words, a genuine smile breaking through. “Thanks, Elijah. That… means a lot.” Wanting to shift the mood, she flashes a playful grin. “Okay, enough heavy stuff. We’re here for ice cream, right? I need mint chocolate chip, stat, or I’m staging a protest.”

Elijah’s lips curve into a smile, amused and indulgent. “As you wish.” He steps out of the car and opens her door with that old-fashioned charm that’s starting to grow on her, his hand steady as he helps her out.

Inside Scoops Ice Cream Parlor, the bright fluorescent lights and sugary smell of fresh waffle cones instantly lift Caroline’s mood. The place is alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of spoons against glass dishes, and the faint jingle of a pop song playing over the speakers. She strides to the counter, eyes locked on the mint chocolate chip, its green swirls studded with dark chocolate chunks. “Waffle cone, mint chocolate chip, two scoops,” she orders, her grin wide and unapologetic. Elijah opts for a single scoop of dark chocolate in a simple cup, understated like everything else about him.

They slide into a corner booth, the red vinyl seats creaking under them. Caroline digs into her cone, the cool, minty sweetness hitting her taste buds like a dream. She shares stories about cheerleading--epic routines, the thrill of nailing a stunt--and school drama, like the time she organized a pep rally in under 48 hours. Elijah listens, his eyes bright with interest, and shares tales of old cities he’s wandered: Florence’s cobblestone streets, Tokyo’s lantern-lit markets. They laugh, the conversation flowing as easily as the ice cream melts, and for the first time, Caroline feels a real connection forming--something solid, powerful, beyond the soulmate talk.

As they finish, Caroline leans back, licking a stray bit of mint chocolate chip from her spoon, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, Elijah, your turn. You’ve got a thousand years of stories--give me something *fun*. Ever do anything totally wild, like, out-of-character crazy?”

Elijah raises an eyebrow, his spoon pausing mid-air, a rare playful glint in his eyes. “Crazy isn’t quite my style, but I’ve had… moments of abandon.” He leans forward, his voice dropping like he’s sharing a secret. “In 1789, during the French Revolution, I was in Paris. I got swept up in a street festival--lanterns swinging, music everywhere. I ended up dancing with a crowd of strangers, no one knowing I was anything more than a man in a coat. For one night, I was free, just… alive.”

Caroline’s eyes widen, a grin spreading across her face. “You? Dancing in the streets of Paris? I need to see this. Were you any good?”

“I held my own,” Elijah says, his smile small but proud, a hint of nostalgia softening his features. “The steps were new, but I’ve always been a quick study. It was… liberating, to be anonymous for a night.”

She laughs, picturing him twirling under lantern light, his usual control loosened. “I’m so jealous. My wildest night was sneaking into a concert with Bonnie last summer--some indie band we loved. We danced until our feet were killing us, but security caught us sneaking backstage. Totally worth it, though.”

Elijah’s gaze softens, like he’s seeing her in a new light. “You have a fire in you, Caroline. It’s no wonder you shine so brightly.”

Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head, suddenly shy under his intensity. “Okay, your turn to ask me something. Hit me with it.”

He pauses, considering, then says, “What’s your dream? Beyond valedictorian, beyond Mystic Falls. What do you want for your future?”

Caroline freezes, the question catching her off guard. No one’s asked her that in forever. “I want… to make a difference,” she says slowly, her voice thoughtful. “Maybe be a journalist, dig into stories that matter, give people a voice. I want to see the world--Paris, Tokyo, anywhere but this tiny town. And I want to be happy, you know? Really, truly happy, not just faking it for the crowd.”

Elijah nods, his eyes warm with something like admiration. “You’ll do it, Caroline. I have no doubt. When you set your mind to something, you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

She smiles, his confidence in her igniting a spark of hope. “Thanks. And you? What’s a thousand-year-old vampire’s big dream?”

He hesitates, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup, then says quietly, “To find peace. To salvage what’s left of my family, if it’s possible. And now… to see you safe and happy, whatever that looks like for you.”

Her heart skips, the weight of their bond settling over her like a warm blanket. She’s still figuring out what it means, but for the first time, it doesn’t scare her. “Okay, deal,” she says, her voice light but sincere, a grin tugging at her lips. “You keep me safe, and I’ll keep you from being Mr. Serious all the time. Sound good?”

Elijah chuckles, the sound rich and genuine, like she’s cracked through his polished exterior. “A fair bargain, Caroline.”

As they leave Scoops, the cool night air brushing against their skin, Caroline feels lighter, like a weight’s been lifted. The pain of Elena’s betrayal, the confusion about Matt, the uncertainty of her future--it’s all still there, lingering like shadows, but it’s quieter now. Walking beside Elijah, her heels clicking on the pavement, she feels a spark of hope, like maybe they can face whatever Mystic Falls throws at them together.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Caroline has been at Elijah’s safehouse for nearly a month--twenty-two days, to be exact, each one ticking by in a strange, suspended rhythm. Her days have fallen into a routine: binge-watching reality shows on the plush leather couch, devouring romance novels from a stack Elijah keeps stocked, cooking side-by-side with him in the sleek kitchen (he’s weirdly good with a whisk), strolling quiet suburban streets under the cover of dusk, and even grocery shopping together, picking out ingredients like some oddly normal couple. But Elijah’s made it crystal clear she can’t leave, not with Klaus out there, a shadowy threat lurking somewhere in the world. Caroline gets why he’s so protective--their soulmate bond makes his concern feel like a living thing, intense and unshakable--but she misses her life. Her friends, her mom, the chaos of Mystic Falls High, the comfort of her own bed. She’s been planning the ‘60s decade dance for weeks, sketching decorations and curating a killer playlist, even preparing a PowerPoint to convince Elijah to let her go.

She doesn’t need it. On April 25, as they sit at the dining table over coffee, Elijah looks at her with a soft, almost apologetic expression, his dark eyes reading the loneliness she’s been trying to hide. “You can go to the dance,” he says calmly, his voice steady but warm.

Caroline’s jaw drops, her coffee mug pausing mid-air. He’s seen through her forced smiles, the way she’s been masking her homesickness, and he doesn’t want her to be miserable. He’s arranged for Luka and an old vampire friend, some guy named Dorian, to keep an eye on her at the dance. Caroline’s not thrilled about bodyguards trailing her like she’s some pop star, but it’s a fair deal. All that matters is she’s going--back to her world, her turf, her chance to shine.

The next morning, Elijah drops her off at Mystic Falls High, the familiar red-brick building looming under a gray spring sky. The hallways buzz with chatter and the squeak of sneakers, but after nearly a month away, Caroline feels every pair of eyes on her. Some kids stare, others wave enthusiastically, whispering about her absence. She flashes her signature cheerleader smile, polite but guarded, and heads to Alaric’s history classroom, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She settles at her usual desk near the window, the familiar scratch of the wooden chair grounding her as the bell rings, sharp and shrill.

Bonnie, Elena, and Stefan file in, their footsteps echoing in the nearly empty room. Bonnie’s face lights up, her grin wide--she already knew Caroline was back from their group chat, where Caroline spilled the bare minimum about her time with Elijah. They hug tightly, Bonnie’s familiar lavender-scented shampoo a small comfort. But Caroline catches Elena avoiding her gaze, her brown eyes darting to the floor. It stings, reopening the wound of Elena’s betrayal--trading Caroline to Elijah like she was a bargaining chip. It drags up old insecurities, memories of always feeling second to Elena, who’s always been tighter with Bonnie. Caroline decides she needs space, not hate--just distance to protect her heart. Elena, sensing the wall between them, slides into a desk across the room, her shoulders slumped, disappointment written all over her face.

Stefan watches Caroline with quiet sympathy, his green eyes soft but guarded. He knows why she’s upset--Elena’s choice, Stefan’s role in pushing it--but he doesn’t say a word. Elena’s safety is his only focus, and if Caroline’s mad at him, it’s a price he’s willing to pay.

The classroom door swings open, but it’s not Alaric. Klaus, disguised as Alaric through a witch’s spell, strides in, his posture a little too confident, his eyes a little too sharp. He’s here to keep tabs on Elena, the doppelgänger he needs to break his curse. Clearing his throat, he mimics Alaric’s gruff tone perfectly. “Good morning, class. So, what are we learning today?”

Dana, ever eager, raises her hand, her ponytail bouncing. “We’ve been studying the ‘60s for the decade dance tonight, Mr. Saltzman.”

Klaus’s eyes sweep the room, lingering on Elena, then landing on Caroline. The sight of her hits him like a shockwave--he feels their soulmate bond instantly, a primal pull that nearly knocks the air out of him. For a split second, his composure falters, his hand tightening on the podium, but he turns to the chalkboard to cover it, scribbling in Alaric’s messy handwriting. “The ‘60s, huh?” he says, his voice smooth but with a faint edge. “Not much to love, except maybe the Beatles. What else? Cuban Missile Crisis? Man on the moon? Watergate?”

Elena raises an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Watergate was the ‘70s, Mr. Saltzman.”

Klaus smirks, tapping his temple with a playful wink. “Right you are, Elena. It’s all a blur up here. Thanks for keeping me honest.”

He assigns a worksheet on the Civil Rights Movement, busywork to keep them occupied, and sits at Alaric’s cluttered desk, his eyes flicking to Caroline. She’s whispering with Bonnie, pointedly ignoring Elena, who’s doodling in her notebook, guilt etched into her posture. Klaus feels a surge of awe and possessiveness--Caroline’s his soulmate, radiant and sharp, tied to a powerful Bennett witch and distant from the doppelgänger. It’s perfect for his plan: kill Elena, claim Caroline, and build his hybrid army with her at his side, a queen to his king.

The bell rings at 8:50, a sharp clang that snaps the room to life. Students shuffle up, dropping their papers on Alaric’s desk as they head out. Caroline’s the last to turn hers in, her handwriting neat and precise. Klaus scans it, impressed--it’s nearly flawless, with thoughtful answers. “Caroline, hold on a sec,” he says, his voice smooth, holding up a fake note from the principal about her absence. “Says here you were out for a family emergency?”

She shrugs, flashing a half-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just a cover story.”

His curiosity sharpens, his gaze probing. “So, where were you really?”

“With Elijah, Ric,” she says casually, like it’s obvious, not realizing she’s talking to Klaus.

His eyes narrow, a spark of anger flaring in his chest, his voice dropping low and dangerous. “Elijah?”

Caroline glances at the clock, oblivious to his shift in tone. “Gotta get to class,” she says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and hurrying out, her blonde curls bouncing.

Klaus leans back in Alaric’s chair, his mind racing, fingers drumming on the desk. Why was Caroline with Elijah for three weeks? Does his brother know she’s Klaus’s soulmate? Rage simmers beneath his calm exterior. If Elijah’s using her, manipulating her, Klaus won’t hesitate to rip him apart, family or not.

Caroline heads to the cafeteria, the familiar smell of pizza and fries hitting her as she weaves through the crowded tables. Matt spots her from across the room. “Care!” he calls, his blue eyes lighting up as he pulls her into a tight hug.

“Matt,” she says, hugging back, her cheek pressed against his warm shoulder. When he leans in to kiss her, she freezes, pulling back instinctively. His lips don’t feel right anymore, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.

“You okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Yeah,” she says, but her voice is flat, unconvincing. She knows she needs to break up with him--has known it for days--but she’s too drained, too hungry, to tackle it now. “I heard about your dad,” Matt says as they join the lunch line, his voice gentle. “Glad he’s okay.”

“Thanks,” she says, distracted, her mind replaying how weird “Alaric” acted in class, the way his eyes sharpened when she mentioned Elijah. The cafeteria’s a chaotic hum--trays clattering, kids shouting--but she feels disconnected, like she’s watching it all through glass. She’d planned to eat alone with Matt, catch up, but now she craves Bonnie’s steady presence.

“I’m gonna sit with Bonnie,” she tells Matt, dodging another kiss attempt with a quick step back. “Pick me up tonight for the dance?”

“Sure,” he says, his smile faltering, confusion clouding his eyes as she walks away.

She slides into a seat next to Bonnie and Jeremy at their usual corner table, forcing a smile as she picks at her slice of pepperoni pizza. Jeremy, in a faded band tee, looks at her with worry. “You okay, Care? Elijah didn’t hurt you, right?”

“I’m fine,” she says, poking at her pizza crust, her voice firm but tired.

Jeremy hesitates, his fork hovering over his fries. “About Elena--”

“I don’t want to talk about her,” Caroline cuts in, sharp but not cruel, her eyes flicking to Bonnie for backup. Jeremy nods, dropping it, and the table shifts to lighter topics. Bonnie teases Jeremy about his ‘60s dance outfit--a retro leather jacket he’s clearly proud of--and Caroline manages a real smile, happy for their spark. Jeremy’s like the little brother she never had, and seeing him with Bonnie feels right.

Elena slides into Jeremy’s seat when he heads off to grab a soda, her expression nervous, her hands twisting in her lap. “It’s weird, seeing you two together,” she says, nodding at Bonnie, her voice cautious. “My best friend and my brother? It’s… a lot.”

“You said you were okay with it,” Bonnie replies, her tone calm but pointed, stirring her iced tea.

“I am,” Elena says quickly. “It’s just… new.” She turns to Caroline, her brown eyes pleading. “You going to the dance tonight? What’re you wearing?”

Caroline stares at her tray, her pizza untouched, silence stretching between them.

“Caroline, you can’t ignore me forever,” Elena says, frustration creeping into her voice. “I had no choice with Elijah’s deal. Stefan pushed me to agree--he said it was the only way. I only said yes because he swore you’d be safe. I’m so sorry, Care.”

Caroline doesn’t respond, the cafeteria’s noise--laughter, trays banging, a kid dropping a soda can--drowning out Elena’s words. Dana struts up, her cheerleader ponytail swinging, a smirk on her face. “Caroline, some hot guy was asking if you’re going to the dance tonight.”

“Tell him she has a boyfriend,” Bonnie says sharply, her eyes narrowing. Elena nods, her lips tight.

“He’ll be there,” Dana says, unfazed. “His name’s Klaus.”

Caroline’s stomach drops, her fork freezing mid-air. Elena frowns, her brow creasing. Bonnie scans the crowded cafeteria, her witch instincts on high alert. “Where is he?” Bonnie asks.

“No idea,” Dana shrugs, her eyes oddly vacant.

“She’s been compelled,” Bonnie whispers to Caroline and Elena, her voice low and urgent.

“He wants to know if you’ll save him the last dance,” Dana adds, her tone robotic.

“I’d rather dance with a cactus,” Caroline snaps, her voice dripping with sass, though her heart’s racing.

Lunch ends, and Caroline and Bonnie head to P.E., but Elena trails behind, clearly desperate to talk. Caroline’s frustration boils over. She grabs Elena’s arm, pulls her into an empty supply closet filled with dusty gym mats and dodgeballs, and locks the door with a click. “Talk,” she says, crossing her arms, her voice cold.

Elena’s words spill out fast, her hands gesturing wildly. “At the lakehouse, Elijah showed up, and I was terrified. He offered the deal, and Stefan pushed me to take it--said it was the only way to keep us all safe. I felt trapped, Care. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Caroline’s eyes flash, her voice icy. “I’m not mad about the deal, Elena. Those three weeks with Elijah were… amazing, honestly. I’m mad because you didn’t even hesitate. You chose yourself, like you always do. You and Bonnie are always closer, and I’m just the third wheel. I’m done feeling like I’m not enough.”

“That’s not true!” Elena says, her voice breaking, tears welling up. “You’re my best friend, Care. I love you.”

“It is true,” Caroline shoots back, her voice rising, raw with years of pent-up hurt. “You don’t get how much it hurts to always be second best. I love you, Elena, but I need space. Leave me alone.”

She unlocks the door and storms out, leaving Elena in the closet, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking.

Later that day, Caroline’s in the gym, helping set up for the dance. The space is transforming into a ‘60s wonderland--streamers in bright oranges and yellows, posters of Woodstock and vintage cars, a disco ball catching the light. She’s focused, adjusting a “Peace and Love” banner on the wall, her hands steady despite the chaos in her head. Bonnie joins her, grabbing a roll of tape from a folding table cluttered with decorations. “You okay after that talk with Elena?” she asks, her voice gentle as she tears off a strip of tape.

Caroline sighs, taping up a corner of the banner. “Not really. I meant what I said--I need space. It’s not just the deal. It’s years of feeling like I’m not enough for her, like I’m always chasing her shadow.”

Bonnie nods, her eyes warm with understanding. “I get it. Elena can be… a lot. She loves you, Care, but she’s not great at showing it sometimes. You deserve to put yourself first.”

“Maybe,” Caroline says, shrugging, her fingers smoothing the banner’s edge. “But I can’t keep waiting for her to figure it out. I need to focus on me right now.”

Bonnie smiles, tossing her a roll of streamers. “Good for you. And this dance? It’s gonna be epic. Your playlist is straight fire--those Motown tracks are perfect.”

Caroline grins, her mood lifting as she catches the streamers. “Right? Nothing says ‘60s like some Supremes and Marvin Gaye.” She lowers her voice, glancing around the gym. “What about this Klaus guy? Dana said he was asking about me. You think he’s trouble?”

Bonnie’s face hardens, her fingers pausing on a string of fairy lights. “If he’s compelling people, definitely. We need to be careful. I’ll talk to Luka--maybe his dad knows something about Klaus.”

Caroline nods, unease curling in her chest like a cold knot. “Alaric was acting weird in class, too. Like, not himself. He got all intense when I mentioned Elijah, like he didn’t know I was with him.”

Bonnie frowns, her brow creasing. “That’s not good. We’ll watch him tonight. Elijah’s guys will be there, right?”

“Yeah,” Caroline says, adjusting a poster. “Luka and some vampire named Dorian. But I’m not helpless. If Klaus shows up, I can handle him.”

Bonnie laughs, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, I know you can, Forbes. Just… don’t do anything too crazy, okay?”

“No promises,” Caroline teases, her grin masking the nervous flutter in her stomach. Klaus’s name keeps popping up, and it’s setting her on edge. She thinks of Elijah--his steady presence, the way he makes her feel safe--and wonders if he knows more about his brother than he’s letting on.

As they finish decorating, Matt stops by, carrying a heavy box of string lights, his blonde hair messy from a long shift at the Grill. “Need help?” he asks, flashing his easy, boy-next-door smile.

Caroline hesitates, guilt gnawing at her. She knows she can’t keep dodging the breakup--it’s not fair to him or her heart, which is pulling her toward Elijah. But with Klaus looming and the dance tonight, she decides to wait. “Sure,” she says, keeping her tone light. “Can you hang these lights by the stage? Make it look retro-cool.”

Matt nods, getting to work, his hands quick and capable. Watching him string up the lights, Caroline feels a pang of sadness. He’s been her rock, but she knows it’s over. The gym is coming together, the ‘60s vibe taking shape, and Caroline feels a surge of pride. This is her event, her vision, her moment to shine. Whatever’s going on with Klaus, Elena, or Matt, she’s not letting it steal her night. She’s Caroline Forbes, and she’s got this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Caroline hurries through the quiet streets of Mystic Falls, her heels clicking against the pavement as she mentally rehearses the words she’s been turning over for days. Breaking up with Matt is going to suck--she knows that. Her stomach churns with nerves, but there’s a steely resolve in her chest. She needs to be honest, no matter how much it hurts. As she reaches her front door, a warm, familiar scent stops her cold: lemon sugar cookies, her absolute favorite. Her hand hovers over the doorknob, shock rooting her in place. She steps inside and sees her mom, Liz, in the kitchen, wearing a flour-dusted apron instead of her usual sheriff’s uniform. Liz is humming softly, a tune Caroline recognizes from childhood, and the sight makes her heart ache with a mix of joy and disbelief.

“Mom?” Caroline’s voice trembles with surprise and a sudden rush of happiness. She drops her bag and rushes forward, wrapping Liz in a tight hug, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume mixed with cookie dough.

Liz sets down her spatula, a little startled, then hugs Caroline back just as fiercely, holding her close. For a brief moment, it’s just the two of them--no vampires, no safehouses, no Elijah hovering over her safety like a shadow. Liz knows Elijah only allowed this short visit home, his protectiveness a constant presence, but she’s grateful for every second of it.

Caroline pulls back, her smile fading as a spark of anger flares in her chest. “I can’t believe you’re okay with this!” she says, her voice sharp, almost accusing. “You let a thousand-year-old vampire whisk me away like it’s nothing!”

Liz’s expression stays calm but firm, her hands steady as she wipes them on her apron. “Who I know won’t hurt you,” she says, cutting Caroline off gently. “You and Elijah are soulmates, Caroline.”

Caroline’s eyes widen, her breath catching. “Soulmates? You know about that?”

Liz nods slowly, her face softening but carrying a weight of seriousness. “Yes, honey. It’s a long story, one I’m not ready to dive into right now. But I trust Elijah to keep you safe. I know you’re okay with him, even if it’s complicated.”

Caroline stares, her mind racing to process this. “How do you even know him? And why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Her voice rises, frustration bubbling over as she paces a small circle in the kitchen, her hands gesturing wildly.

Liz sighs, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face and leaving a faint streak of flour on her cheek. “I’ve known about the supernatural world for longer than you think. Elijah and I… we’ve crossed paths before. He’s honorable, Caroline, in his own way. He’d move mountains to protect you. That’s enough for me right now.”

Caroline shakes her head, her blonde curls bouncing with the motion. “That’s *not* enough, Mom! My entire life’s been flipped upside down--vampires, soulmates, safehouses--and you’re acting like it’s just another Tuesday!”

Liz steps closer, her voice steady but warm. “It is a big deal, Caroline. I know that. But you’re tougher than anyone I know. You’ll figure this out, and I’m here, even if I can’t lay out every detail yet.”

Caroline crosses her arms, her anger simmering down but not gone. The cookies’ sweet aroma is too tempting, and she grabs one from the cooling rack, biting into it with a satisfying crunch. “Fine,” she says, her mouth full, her tone grudging but softer. “But we’re talking about this later. No more secrets, Mom.”

Liz gives a faint smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Deal. Now, tell me about this dance tonight. You excited?”

Caroline’s face lights up, her mood shifting like a switch. “Oh my God, yes. It’s the ‘60s dance I’ve been planning for weeks. The gym’s gonna look amazing--think retro vibes, twirly skirts, and the best playlist. I’ve got this dress, total Jackie Kennedy energy, with a cute A-line skirt and everything. It’s gonna be perfect.” She pauses, then adds with a slight eye-roll, “Well, except Elijah’s letting me go, but he’s sending Luka and some ancient vampire buddy of his to babysit me.”

Liz chuckles, stirring a bowl of batter. “Sounds like Elijah. He’s cautious, but he wants you to have your moment.”

Caroline nods, her thoughts drifting to Matt. Her stomach twists—she knows she has to end things, but the thought of hurting him makes her chest tight. “Mom, I need to talk to you about something else,” she says, her voice quieter, hesitant. “It’s about Matt.”

Liz raises an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with a mixing spoon in hand. “Your boyfriend? What’s going on, honey?”

Caroline takes a deep breath, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “I don’t think I can stay with him. Not after… everything. Elijah’s my soulmate, Mom, and it’s real. I feel it, like this pull I can’t explain. But Matt’s been so good to me, always there, and I hate the idea of breaking his heart.”

Liz listens, her expression kind but focused, like she’s weighing every word. “Breaking up is never easy, Caroline. But if your heart’s pulling you somewhere else, you owe it to Matt--and yourself--to be honest. Staying with him out of guilt isn’t fair to either of you.”

Caroline nods, her throat tight as she blinks back the sting of tears. “I know. I just… I don’t know how to say it without completely crushing him.”

“You’ll find the words,” Liz says, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently. “You’re brave, Caroline. You’ve always been. You’ll do what’s right, even if it’s hard.”

Caroline sits at the kitchen table, grabbing another cookie and nibbling on it as Liz pours her a glass of cold milk. The normalcy of it--cookies, milk, her mom’s kitchen--feels almost surreal after weeks cooped up in Elijah’s safehouse, surrounded by vampires and secrets. “So, what’s it been like here?” she asks, trying to shift gears. “Any big sheriff stuff going on?”

Liz sits across from her, cradling a mug of coffee, the steam curling in the air. “Same old Mystic Falls chaos. Missing person reports piling up, so-called ‘animal attacks’ that we both know aren’t animals. I’ve been keeping a close eye on things, especially with Klaus in the picture.”

Caroline freezes, the cookie halfway to her mouth, crumbs falling onto the table. “Klaus? You know about him?”

Liz’s face turns grim, her fingers tightening around her mug. “Elijah filled me in. Said he’s dangerous, more than most. I don’t know all the details, but I trust Elijah’s judgment. That’s part of why I’m okay with you staying with him--it’s safer than being here with Klaus skulking around.”

Caroline’s stomach twists, a knot of unease forming. “Alaric was acting so weird at school today. Like, he didn’t even remember stuff we talked about last week, almost like he’s got amnesia or something. And, Mom--Klaus was there. He compelled Dana to tell me he’s hoping I’ll save him the last dance at the dance tonight.”

Liz’s eyes narrow, her sheriff instincts kicking in alongside her mom protectiveness. “Stay close to Elijah’s people tonight, okay? Luka and that other vampire--stick with them. If Klaus is circling, you need to be on guard.”

“I will,” Caroline says, but her voice wavers, the unease growing. Klaus’s name keeps popping up, and it’s making her skin crawl. She thinks about Elijah, how his presence always steadies her, but also how tangled her life has become. “Mom, do you think… this soulmate thing with Elijah, is it real? Like, forever real?”

Liz softens, reaching across the table to take Caroline’s hand, her touch warm and grounding. “I think it’s as real as you feel it is. I’ve seen how Elijah looks at you--like you’re the only thing in his world. That kind of devotion? You can’t fake it. But you’re young, Caroline. You don’t have to map out your whole life right now. Follow your heart, take it one step at a time.”

Caroline nods, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She loves how Elijah makes her feel—seen, valued, safe in a way she’s never known. But Matt’s been her anchor for so long, and letting him go feels like cutting away a piece of herself. “Thanks, Mom,” she says quietly, squeezing Liz’s hand back. “I really needed that.”

Liz smiles, her eyes warm. “Anytime, honey. Now, go get ready for that dance. You’re gonna steal the show in that dress.”

Caroline grins, the weight in her chest easing just a bit. “Oh, I plan to.” She heads upstairs to change, her mind still wrestling with Matt and Elijah. She knows she has to talk to Matt tonight, before the dance gets too hectic. It’s time to be honest, even if it feels like ripping her heart out.

As she slips into her ‘60s dress, the smooth fabric hugging her perfectly, she feels a spark of confidence. The dress is all vintage glamour--sleeveless, A-line, with a soft cream color that screams Jackie Kennedy chic. Klaus might be lurking, her friendships might be a mess, but she’s Caroline Forbes. She’s got a plan, a killer outfit, and a night to make her own. Whatever comes next, she’s ready.

Caroline’s practically glowing as she steps into the Mystic Falls High gym, transformed into a ‘60s dream thanks to her meticulous planning. The twinkle lights cast a warm glow over the dance floor, vinyl records spin on a vintage player, and the playlist she curated—full of Motown hits and Beatles classics—has everyone moving. Dana handled snacks and drinks, but Caroline’s the genius behind the retro vibe, from the checkered tablecloths to the peace-sign balloons. She walks in with Matt, her arm looped through his, smiling and nodding as people compliment her work. But as they start dancing to “Twist and Shout,” her smile falters. She wants to lose herself in the moment, in Matt’s familiar warmth, but she can’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Luka and Dorian Petrescu, Elijah’s ancient vampire friend with his sharp jawline and old-world intensity, are stationed at opposite ends of the gym, watching her every move. Worse, Damon’s leaning against the snack table, arms crossed, staring at her with that blank, unsettling look that makes her skin crawl.

“I’ll be back,” she mutters to Matt, slipping away before he can respond, her heels clicking on the polished floor as she marches toward Damon, her frustration boiling over.

She stops in front of him, hands planted on her hips, her dress swishing slightly. “What’s your deal, Damon? Too much bourbon, or are you mistaking me for Elena again? She’s not even here yet. Why are you staring at me like I’m your next meal?”

Damon leans back against the table, his leather jacket creaking, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You good, blondie?”

She scoffs, thrown off by his casual tone. “Since when do you care about my feelings?”

“Just answer the question,” he says, his voice sharper now, blue eyes narrowing as he studies her.

She rolls her eyes, tossing her hair back. “I’m *fine*. What’s with the sudden concern? You’re not exactly Mr. Empathy.”

“Elijah didn’t mess with you, did he?” Damon asks, his tone shifting to something oddly serious, almost protective.

“No, he didn’t,” she snaps, her voice dripping with irritation. “Why do you care? Seven months ago, you were perfectly happy to treat me like your personal blood bag.”

Damon’s smirk fades, a flicker of guilt crossing his face as he looks away, jaw tight. “I apologized for that, Caroline.”

“And I told you I don’t forgive you,” she says, her voice low and fierce, stepping closer so he can’t miss the fire in her eyes. “I never will. So stop staring at me like I’m your problem and let me have one night with my boyfriend.” She turns on her heel, storming back to Matt, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and old wounds that still sting.

On her way, she bumps into someone, her shoulder brushing against a familiar jacket. “Sorry, Ric,” she says, assuming it’s Alaric.

“No problem, Caroline,” a smooth, accented voice replies, dangerous in its calm. Klaus, in Alaric’s body, sees the frustration etched on her face and frowns slightly. “You alright, love?”

She laughs bitterly, too wound up to notice the oddness in his tone. “Alright? My life’s a total disaster. In three weeks, I was kidnapped by a vampire, my best friend ditched me like I’m nobody, I found out I have a soulmate, I’m stuck in a safehouse with bodyguards who report my every move, Damon’s being his usual jerk self, and now I have to break up with Matt, who I care about so much, but I can’t stop thinking about Elijah.” She stops, catching her breath, her hands clenched at her sides.

Klaus’s eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. “Elijah’s your soulmate?” His voice is low, laced with something dark.

She nods, exasperated, still not clocking that he’s not Alaric. “What’s wrong with you, Ric? Did you forget how to listen? Fall and hit your head or something?”

He ignores her jab, his mind clearly spinning. “Elijah’s your soulmate?” he repeats, the edge in his voice sharper now, a mix of disbelief and something possessive. His brother, who wants him dead, sharing his soulmate? It’s a twisted kind of nightmare.

Caroline frowns, a flicker of suspicion creeping in. “Wait, I only told Bonnie about Elijah. I thought she’d blab to everyone by now, but I guess she’s actually keeping it quiet. Unlike Elena, who can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Speaking of Elena, she walks in with Stefan, her arm tucked into his, both of them laughing like they don’t have a care in the world. Caroline’s stomach twists, but she shoves the feeling down. “See ya, Ric,” she says, brushing past Klaus to rejoin Matt, her mind a mess.

Matt smiles when he sees her, his blue eyes warm and trusting, and the guilt hits her like a punch. “Where’d you go?” he asks, his hands settling on her hips as she loops her arms around his neck, swaying to the music.

“Needed a snack,” she says vaguely, forcing a smile even as her chest tightens. He nods, accepting her excuse without question, which only makes her feel worse.

As they dance, Caroline’s mind wanders. Matt’s touch doesn’t spark the way it used to, not like Elijah’s steady presence or the way his voice seems to anchor her. The song shifts to “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” one she picked for the playlist, but her eyes scan the gym restlessly. Bonnie and Jeremy are gone--probably off making out in some corner, like she saw them doing earlier when she arrived with Matt.

The gym pulses with music and laughter, the twinkle lights glinting off sequined dresses and greased-back hair, but Caroline’s heart feels heavy. She’s dancing with Matt, his hands warm and familiar, but her thoughts keep drifting to Elijah--his calm, intense gaze, the way he listens like every word she says matters. She knows she has to end things with Matt tonight. It’s not fair to string him along when her heart’s pulling her somewhere else.

“Hey,” Matt says, pulling her focus back, his brow furrowed. “You’re zoning out. Everything cool?”

She fakes a smile, hating how he always notices when she’s off. “Yeah, just making sure the dance is running smoothly. Gotta check the vibe, you know?”

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering. “It’s awesome, Care. You killed it. Everyone’s having a blast.”

“Thanks,” she says, her chest tightening further. Matt’s so good, so kind, and she’s about to shatter his heart. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he says, his smile soft and genuine, and her guilt deepens, a heavy weight in her gut.

She glances away, catching Dorian by the wall, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, probably texting Elijah updates like a vampire Secret Service agent. It’s annoying but weirdly comforting. Then she spots Damon, still by the snacks, his gaze flicking between her and Elena, who’s now laughing with Stefan by the punch bowl. Always scheming, that guy, she thinks, her jaw tightening.

“Matt, can we talk outside?” she says, her voice soft but firm, her heart starting to race. “Just for a minute.”

He looks confused, his brows knitting together, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

She leads him to the hallway, the music fading to a muffled thump behind them. Her heart’s pounding so hard she’s sure he can hear it, but she takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Matt, you’re amazing. You’ve always been there for me, through all my craziness, and I care about you so much. But… I don’t think we can be together anymore.”

His face crumples, hurt and confusion flashing in his eyes. “What? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you,” she says quickly, her voice breaking as she reaches for his arm, then stops herself. “It’s me. Things have changed, and… there’s someone else. It’s not what you think,” she adds as his expression darkens, his jaw tightening. “It’s complicated, but I’m not being fair to you. You deserve someone who’s all in, and I can’t be that right now.”

Matt runs a hand through his hair, looking away, his sneakers scuffing the floor. “Is this about Elijah? I heard you talking to Alaric about him.”

She nods, wincing, her stomach twisting. “Yeah. It’s a lot to explain, and I don’t even fully get it myself. I just need to figure out who I am, and I can’t do that while we’re together. I’m so sorry, Matt.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t understand, Care, but I can’t make you stay. I thought we were good, you know?”

“We were,” she says, tears stinging her eyes as she blinks them back. “You’re one of the best people I know. I just have to be honest with you.”

He nods, his jaw tight, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Okay. Guess I’ll see you around.” He turns and heads back into the gym, his steps heavy, leaving her alone in the dim hallway.

Caroline leans against the wall, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, her mascara smudging slightly. It was the right thing to do, but it feels like she’s been gutted. She takes a shaky breath and heads back inside, determined to enjoy the night she poured her heart into planning. But as she steps into the gym, a chill runs down her spine, like someone’s watching her. Her eyes find “Alaric” by the punch bowl, his gaze intense and off in a way that makes her stomach lurch. Something’s wrong with him, and it’s not just a bad day.

She spots Bonnie across the room, back with Jeremy, both of them laughing near the dance floor, oblivious to the tension. Caroline weaves through the crowd, her heart still raw from Matt, her dress swishing against her legs. “Bonnie, we need to talk,” she says, pulling her aside, her voice low and urgent.

Bonnie’s smile fades, her green eyes sharpening as she senses Caroline’s panic. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Alaric,” Caroline says, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one’s listening. “He’s acting *weird*. Asked me about Elijah like he had no clue I was with him. And that Klaus guy Dana mentioned? I think he’s bad news. You said she was compelled, right?”

Bonnie nods, her expression turning serious, her braid swinging as she leans closer. “Yeah, I’m positive it was compulsion. If Klaus is here, we need to be on high alert. I’ll text Luka, see if he knows anything from his dad about Klaus’s moves.”

Caroline glances at “Alaric” again, who’s still watching her, his posture too relaxed, too predatory. “I don’t like this, Bon. Something’s seriously off. Elijah’s got Dorian tailing me like a hawk, but I’m not sure that’s enough if Klaus is as dangerous as everyone’s saying.”

Bonnie squeezes her arm, her touch firm and reassuring. “We’ve got this, Care. You’re not alone. I’ll keep an eye out, and we’ll figure out what’s up with Alaric. Just stick close tonight, okay?”

Caroline nods, grateful for Bonnie’s calm strength. “Thanks. I just… I broke up with Matt, and now this? It’s a lot.”

Bonnie’s eyes soften, concern etching her face. “You broke up with him? Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Caroline admits, her voice small as she tucks a curl behind her ear. “But it was the right call. I just need to get through tonight without falling apart.”

“You will,” Bonnie says, her tone fierce and supportive. “You’re Caroline Forbes. You make things happen. Now go enjoy your dance. I’ll handle the witchy stuff.”

Caroline manages a small smile, her confidence flickering back. “Deal. But if Klaus tries anything, I’m not playing nice.”

Bonnie laughs, her eyes sparkling. “That’s my girl.”

Caroline heads back to the dance floor, determined to reclaim the night. Klaus, Damon, Elena—none of them are stealing this from her. She’s got her friends, her perfect playlist, and a spark of hope that maybe, with Elijah, she’s found something real.

“Hey, Caroline.”

Caroline rolls her eyes as Stefan steps up, his brooding energy cutting through the dance floor’s upbeat vibe like a storm cloud. She’s been dancing alone for the last ten minutes, trying to shake off the ache of breaking up with Matt. He left the gym a while ago, probably nursing his hurt at home, and her heart’s still tender from it.

“Wanna dance?” Stefan asks, his voice soft but insistent, his green eyes searching her face.

She smirks, tilting her head as if she’s actually considering it. “Pass, thanks.” She keeps swaying to the beat of “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” but Stefan grabs her hand and pulls her closer, ignoring her resistance. His vampire strength makes it impossible to pull away, and she glares at him, her annoyance flaring.

“What do you want, Stefan?” she snaps, her voice sharp as she tries to tug her hand free.

“I owe you an apology,” he says, his eyes serious, holding her gaze like he’s trying to convey something deeper.

She scoffs, her gaze flicking around the gym. Luka’s off to the side, glaring at Bonnie and Jeremy, who are back to giggling in a corner, clearly wrapped up in each other. Dorian’s nearby, his phone out again, probably texting someone—maybe not Elijah this time, she thinks bitterly. Some bodyguards. “Where’s Elena?” she asks, turning back to Stefan, who’s still watching her like she’s a mystery he needs to crack.

“With Damon,” he says, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, his jaw tightening slightly.

She fakes a pout, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Aww, poor Stefan. Gonna take it out on some innocent bunny on your way home?”

He ignores her jab, his expression softening, which only irritates her more. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I mean it.”

“No, you’re not,” she fires back, her voice cold, her blue eyes blazing.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face. “Okay, fine. I’m not sorry for pushing Elena to take Elijah’s deal. I love her, Caroline. If he’d taken her instead, I wouldn’t have seen her for weeks. She’s been through enough--losing her parents, finding out she’s adopted, dealing with Katherine. But I am sorry you got hurt. You can hate me forever if you want, but don’t shut Elena out.”

Caroline’s eyes flash with anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “You keep saying Elena’s been through so much, but what about me? My parents split when I was seven, Stefan. My dad barely bothers to call. My mom’s always buried in work. I’ve spent my whole life playing second fiddle to Elena, and your brother nearly turned me into his personal juice box last year. Elena’s had it rough—losing her parents, finding out she’s a doppelgänger, now Klaus wants her dead. I get it. But don’t act like she’s the only one with scars. I’m done with that excuse.”

She yanks her hand free, taking advantage of his stunned silence, and storms out of the gym, tears burning her eyes. She fights to keep them from falling, her chest tight with a mix of anger, hurt, and years of feeling overlooked. Her heels echo in the empty hallway as she pulls out her phone, her hands shaking as she dials Elijah.

“Caroline?” he answers on the first ring, his voice warm but instantly laced with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I broke up with Matt,” she says, her voice cracking as she leans against the cool hallway wall. “But that’s not why I’m a mess. I’m so tired of feeling like I don’t matter, like my pain’s invisible next to Elena’s. I can’t take it anymore, Elijah.”

Elijah’s tone softens, steady and grounding, like an anchor in her storm. “You are not invisible, Caroline. Your heart, your strength--they’re extraordinary. I’ve seen nothing like you in a thousand years. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“Outside the gym,” she says, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, smudging her makeup further. “The dance is awesome, but Stefan just made everything worse, acting like Elena’s the only one who’s ever suffered. I’m so done with it.”

“I hear you,” Elijah says, his voice firm but kind, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “Your feelings are real, and no one gets to dismiss them--not Stefan, not Elena. You’ve carried more than anyone should have to. If you need me, I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

She laughs shakily, the sound bittersweet as she pictures him in his pristine suit at a high school dance. “You? At a ‘60s dance? That’d be something else.”

“For you, I’d do far worse,” he says, and she can hear the faint smile in his voice, warm and reassuring. “But seriously, if you want out, I’ll send Dorian to get you. Or I’ll come myself.”

“No, I’m okay,” she says, straightening up, brushing her dress smooth. “I worked too hard on this dance to bail now. I just… needed to hear your voice, I guess.”

“I’m here, always,” he says, his words wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “When you’re ready, tell me everything. I want to understand what’s hurting you.”

“Thanks, Elijah,” she says softly, feeling a bit steadier, like she can breathe again. “I’ll call you later.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he replies, his voice full of quiet strength that makes her heart ache in a good way.

She hangs up, taking a deep breath as the gym’s music spills into the hallway, the bass thumping faintly. She needs Bonnie. Spotting her and Elena heading outside through a side door, Caroline follows, catching the tail end of their conversation.

“What?” she says, her voice sharp as she steps closer, her heels clicking on the pavement. Bonnie and Elena turn, startled, their faces lit by the dim glow of the parking lot lights. “You’re gonna die?”

“No, she’s not,” Elena says firmly, her brown eyes fierce, her arms crossed tightly.

Bonnie sighs, her shoulders slumping with frustration. “I don’t know, Care. I’m planning to confront Klaus tonight. There’s a chance--a big one--I might not make it.”

“Then you’re not doing it,” Caroline says, stepping closer, her voice urgent, almost pleading. Elena nods in agreement, her jaw set.

“I have to,” Bonnie says, her tone heavy, her eyes dark with determination. “If I don’t stop Klaus, he’ll kill Elena. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try.”

Caroline’s jaw tightens, her hands clenching. “So what, you’ve got some hero complex now? Bonnie, please. You don’t have to do this. I can’t lose you. You’re my only best friend right now.”

Elena flinches, hurt flashing in her eyes, but Caroline’s too raw to care about sparing her feelings.

Before Bonnie can respond, “Alaric” approaches, his steps too smooth, too deliberate. “Ladies, we’ve got a problem,” Klaus says, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous undercurrent. “Klaus has Jeremy.”

The girls exchange wary glances but follow him back into the school, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. Suspicion creeps into Caroline’s gut as they walk, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows.

“Where are you taking us?” Elena asks, her voice tense, her sneakers squeaking as she stops abruptly.

“Just a bit farther,” Klaus says, his tone too casual, his hands tucked into Alaric’s jacket pockets.

“Something’s off,” Elena says, her eyes narrowing as she plants her feet.

“Where’s Jeremy?” Bonnie demands, her voice sharp, her hands twitching like she’s ready to use her magic.

Caroline stays quiet, her gut screaming danger, her heart pounding in her chest. Klaus chuckles, turning to face them, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Had to get away from that dance. The ‘60s? Really? Not my decade. I mean, whose call was that anyway? I’m more of a ‘20s guy--jazz, speakeasies, much more my speed.”

“I planned the dance,” Caroline says, crossing her arms, glaring at him, her heart racing faster. “You’d know that if you were really Alaric.”

Klaus’s gaze softens, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. She’s sharp, his soulmate, catching on quicker than he expected. “Clever girl,” he says, his smirk widening, a hint of pride in his voice.

Elena gasps, stepping back. “No way. You’re Klaus?”

Caroline’s heart pounds, fear masked by a scowl as she pieces it together. “You’re him.”

“Surprise,” Klaus says, his smirk growing, his posture relaxed but predatory. “Relax, Elena, you’re not my target tonight. Nor you, love,” he adds, his eyes locking onto Caroline’s, a strange intensity in them. “Never you.” His gaze shifts to Bonnie, dark and threatening. “But you, witch…”

Bonnie reacts instantly, flinging him into a row of lockers with a burst of her magic, the metal crunching under the force. Caroline and Elena gasp, stepping back. Klaus groans but smirks, struggling to his feet, brushing off Alaric’s jacket. “I know a witch too,” he taunts, his voice mocking. “You’ll need more than that to stop me.”

Bonnie hits him again, sending him crashing into a trophy case, glass shattering around him. “Keep going,” he mocks, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “Kill this body, I’ll just take another. Maybe Jeremy’s.”

“Run!” Bonnie shouts, grabbing Caroline and Elena’s hands, her voice urgent. They sprint down the hallway, Bonnie slamming a door shut with a flick of her wrist, the wood rattling in its frame.

Luka, Dorian, and Damon appear at the end of the hall, their faces tense. “What’s going on?” Damon demands, his eyes flicking between the girls.

“Klaus is in Alaric’s body,” Elena says, breathless, her hair falling into her face.

“Like he’s possessing him,” Bonnie adds, panting, her hands still trembling from the magic she used.

Dorian steps forward, his dark coat swishing, his expression all business. “Miss Forbes, we need to get you out of here. Now.”

“No way,” Caroline says, shaking her head, her curls bouncing. “I’m not leaving my friends to deal with him alone.”

“He’s right, Care,” Elena starts, her voice pleading, but Caroline cuts her off.

“Shut it, Elena,” she snaps, her voice sharp, and Elena looks like she’s been slapped.

“We’ll handle Klaus,” Luka says, glancing at Bonnie with a fierce determination in his eyes.

“You could die, Luka,” Bonnie says, her voice cracking with worry, her hands twisting together.

“Then I’ll die for something worth it,” he replies, his tone steady. His dad raised him to hunt vampires, and Klaus is the worst of the worst. If it means protecting Bonnie, he’s all in.

Damon tells Elena to find Stefan, and she bolts off down the hall. Dorian grabs Caroline’s wrist--firm but not painful--and pulls her down another hallway, his pace quick and urgent. Her heart races as they move, her dress catching the air, but Klaus finds them, stepping out from a shadowed corner like a predator.

Dorian steps in front of Caroline, his stance protective, his eyes hard as steel. “Stay back, Miss Forbes.”

Klaus laughs, low and chilling, his hands casually in his pockets. “Still playing the loyal soldier, Dorian? Seven hundred years, and you’re still following Elijah’s orders like a good little vampire.”

“I protect her,” Dorian says, his voice steady, his fangs glinting faintly in the dim light.

Klaus tilts his head, amused, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Did Elijah tell you to stop taking vervain?”

Caroline’s breath catches, her heart skipping a beat. Dorian’s face tightens, a flicker of fear crossing his usually stoic features.

Klaus’s smile is cold, predatory. “Thought so.”

His gaze locks onto Dorian’s, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Put your hand on your chest.”

Dorian’s hand moves, trembling as he fights the compulsion, but he can’t resist. He presses it to his chest, his face twisting in horror, his breathing ragged.

“Stop it!” Caroline yells, lunging forward, her voice cracking with panic, but she freezes, helpless, her hands shaking at her sides.

Klaus steps closer, his eyes never leaving Dorian’s. “Feel your heartbeat,” he says softly, almost soothing. “So tired after all these years. You’ve earned a rest, haven’t you?”

Dorian shakes, his eyes pleading with Caroline, sweat beading on his forehead. “Miss Forbes… I’m sorry.”

Klaus’s smirk grows, cruel and triumphant. “Rip it out.”

Dorian’s scream echoes through the hallway as his hand tears into his chest, the sickening sound of ripping flesh making Caroline’s stomach lurch. His heart hits the floor with a wet thud, and he collapses, lifeless, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

Caroline chokes on a sob, her hands flying to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Klaus glances at Dorian’s body, completely unbothered, then turns to Caroline, his expression softening slightly. “I told Elijah not to underestimate me, love.”

He steps over Dorian’s body, approaching her with a predator’s grace. She backs up until she hits the cold metal of the lockers, glaring through her tears, her heart pounding so hard it hurts. Klaus sighs, almost annoyed, but there’s a strange tenderness in his eyes. “Elijah’s a fool for letting you come here tonight. Lucky for him, you’re my soulmate too, or this would’ve ended very differently.”

Her body shakes as he brushes a hand across her cheek, his touch--through Alaric’s body--feeling wrong, cold, invasive. Klaus, though, seems to savor it, his eyes lingering on her face. “I’ll be back in my own body soon, love,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “Then we’ll have a proper talk. For now, I’ve got a witch to deal with. Tell Elijah we need a little brotherly chat.” He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, the gesture jarring and unwanted, then walks away, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall.

Caroline slides down the lockers, her legs giving out as she stares at Dorian’s lifeless body, her mind reeling. Her breath hitches as Klaus’s words sink in. “Soulmate?” she whispers, horror flooding her, her hands trembling against the cold floor. The music from the gym pulses faintly in the distance, but all she can hear is the echo of Klaus’s voice and the weight of a truth she’s not ready to face.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Caroline’s slumped on the chilly hallway floor, her back against the cold metal lockers, staring at Dorian’s lifeless body sprawled a few feet away. Her mind’s a fog of shock, her thoughts sluggish, like she’s wading through quicksand. Time’s a blur--maybe thirty minutes have passed, maybe an hour. Her legs tingle, pins and needles creeping up from sitting too long on the hard linoleum, so she drags herself to her feet, wincing as blood rushes back to her limbs. Her eyes stay locked on Dorian, his face frozen in a grimace, blood pooling beneath him. What now? She barely knew him--just a stern vampire who followed Elijah’s orders--but his brutal death rattles her to her core. She’s never seen someone die so savagely right in front of her, his heart ripped out by his own hand under Klaus’s compulsion. Nightmares are a guarantee, but right now, she’s got to deal with his body. He died shielding her from Klaus—she owes him a proper goodbye, not just leaving him like discarded trash. She tries to lift him, gripping his arms, but he’s too heavy, his dead weight slipping from her grasp. With a frustrated huff, she lets him drop, the thud echoing in the empty hall, drowned out by the thumping Motown beat from the gym’s dance. No one’s likely to hear, but she can’t do this alone. She needs backup, so she wipes her hands on her dress and heads out to find it.

Wandering the school’s shadowy corridors, lit only by flickering fluorescent lights, Caroline searches for her friends or the Salvatores, her heels clicking softly. The halls are eerily quiet, the dance’s noise a distant hum. But Bonnie, Elena, Stefan—hell, even Damon--have all bailed, leaving her to deal with this mess. Typical. It stings, always being the afterthought, the one left to pick up the pieces. With a heavy sigh, she pulls out her phone and dials Elijah, her fingers trembling slightly. He answers instantly, and before she can finish explaining, he’s there, faster than humanly possible, his polished shoes silent as he appears in the hallway. He finds her standing over Dorian’s body, her arms wrapped around herself, her face pale and blank, still reeling. Without a word, Elijah pulls her into a warm, careful hug, his arms steady, his cedar-and-leather scent grounding her. Caroline clings to him, her hands fisting in his suit jacket, her mind too numb to process anything but his warmth.

He steps back, his dark eyes scanning her from head to toe, checking for injuries, his brow furrowed with concern. “I’m okay,” she says, meeting his gaze, her voice quiet but steady. “But Dorian…” Her voice trails off as she glances at the body, her stomach twisting.

Elijah’s expression hardens when he sees his old friend, his jaw tightening, grief flickering briefly before resolve takes over. “I’ll handle it,” he says, his voice steady but resolute, carrying centuries of experience cleaning up tragedies.

“He deserves a proper burial,” Caroline insists, her tone firm, her hands clenching at her sides. “I feel like this is on me, Elijah.”

“This is Niklaus’s doing, Caroline, not yours,” Elijah replies, his voice sharp yet kind, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering certainty.

She knows he’s right, but guilt gnaws at her anyway, a heavy weight in her chest.

Elijah slings Dorian’s body over his shoulder with effortless strength, his movements precise, and heads out of the school, Caroline trailing behind, her arms crossed tightly, her mind still spinning. Outside, the night air is crisp, the stars hidden by clouds. He loads Dorian into the trunk of his sleek black sedan, the lid closing with a soft thud, and opens the passenger door for her, his manners as old-fashioned as ever. They drive to a quiet clearing just outside Mystic Falls, the gravel crunching under the tires. Elijah steps out, rolling up his sleeves, and starts digging, no shovel, just his hands tearing through the dirt with practiced ease, centuries of burying his family’s messes making it second nature. The moonlight catches the strain in his shoulders, a rare glimpse of the toll his long life takes.

When the grave’s deep enough, he lowers Dorian in with care, his movements reverent, and begins covering him with earth. The sound of dirt hitting the body is dull, fading to silence as the grave fills. Elijah brushes off his hands, straightens his jacket, and walks back to Caroline, who’s leaning against the car, her cream-colored dress smudged with dirt at the hem.

She looks torn--guilt etching her features, sadness in her eyes, but a flicker of relief that it’s over. Elijah hesitates, not wanting to smudge her with the dirt still clinging to his hands. She gives a small nod, her lips trembling, and he brushes her cheek gently, his touch soft and grounding. She closes her eyes for a moment, leaning into it, her breathing steadying.

“Ready to go back?” Elijah asks, his voice gentle, leaving it open--her place or the safehouse, her choice.

Caroline smirks faintly, a spark of her usual fire returning. “What, you’re actually letting me pick for once? Mr. Overprotective’s loosening the reins?”

He arches a brow, a small smile playing on his lips, rare and warm. “You’ve had a rough night. It’s the least I can do.”

Her heart twinges, warmth spreading despite the chaos. “Home’s wherever you are,” she says, then cringes, cheeks flushing at how cheesy it sounds, but it’s true—Elijah’s become her anchor.

His smile widens, his eyes softening, and he leans in. Her heart skips, expecting a kiss, but he just pecks her nose, quick and teasing. “Really?” she huffs, half-annoyed, half-amused, swatting his arm. “You’re the worst.”

He chuckles, low and warm, the sound easing the tension in her chest. “So I’ve been told.”

At the safehouse, Elijah runs a bath for Caroline, the bathroom filling with steam and the scent of lavender bubbles. While he’s upstairs, she curls up on the living room couch, the TV flickering with a late-night talk show she’s not really watching. She calls her mom from her phone, the screen cracked from the night’s chaos. She and Liz don’t keep secrets--not anymore--so she spills every detail: Dorian’s death, Klaus in Alaric’s body, the soulmate bombshell. Her voice shakes but stays steady, her need to be strong overriding her fear.

Liz’s voice spikes with panic when she hears Klaus was at the dance, possessing Alaric. “Caroline, you need to stay with Elijah. Klaus is dangerous--more than you know.”

Caroline soothes her, “I’m safe, Mom. Elijah’s got my back. He won’t let anything happen.” It calms Liz, though her worry lingers, her sheriff instincts on high alert.

Before hanging up, Caroline says softly, “Love you, Mom,” her voice raw with emotion.

“Love you too, honey,” Liz replies, her tone thick with relief.

Elijah calls her name from upstairs, and she heads to the bathroom, the warm glow of candlelight flickering against the tiles. The bath’s ready, bubbles piled high, and he gives her a small, reassuring smile before leaving her to it. Caroline strips, her dress pooling on the floor, and sinks into the warm water, the heat melting the tension in her muscles. She soaks for an hour, letting the night’s horrors fade, then drains the tub, dries off, and slips into cozy flannel pajamas, the soft fabric a comfort against her skin.

Downstairs, Elijah’s on the couch, the TV now playing an old black-and-white movie, his suit swapped for a fitted white tee and dark pajama pants--a rare, casual look that makes him seem almost human. A dark green ceramic mug steams on the coffee table, filled with lavender chamomile tea, her favorite, the scent calming her frayed nerves.

“Thanks,” she says, grabbing the mug and sipping, the warmth spreading through her as she plops next to him, tucking her legs under her.

Elijah’s eyes lock onto hers, intense but warm, his posture shifting to face her. “Did Niklaus touch you after what happened with Dorian?” His voice is calm, but there’s a protective edge, like he’s ready to tear the world apart if Klaus laid a hand on her.

Caroline shakes her head, her blonde curls catching the lamplight. “No, he didn’t. He just… said something insane. That I’m his soulmate too. But that’s impossible, right? You only get one.” Her voice wavers, like she’s trying to convince herself, her fingers tightening around the mug.

Elijah’s jaw tightens, his posture going rigid, his hands clenching briefly. “Niklaus claims you’re his soulmate?” His tone is low, almost disbelieving, like the idea is a bitter pill.

She nods, setting her mug down with a soft clink on the coffee table. “Yeah. Can that even happen? Two soulmates?” Her voice is small, but there’s a stubborn spark beneath it, her usual defiance flickering through her fear.

“It’s rare,” Elijah says, choosing his words carefully, unease creeping into his expression. “Not impossible, but… deeply concerning, given who Niklaus is.”

“Concerning? That’s an understatement,” Caroline groans, burying her face in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. “Elijah, what do I do? I don’t want Klaus as my soulmate. He’s… Klaus.” Her voice drips with exasperation, like he’s a walking disaster she wants no part of.

Elijah stays quiet, his mind racing. If he and Klaus were on better terms, he might’ve found grim amusement in his brother finally finding a soulmate after a thousand years of chaos. He’d be irritated at sharing Caroline--his Caroline--with anyone, especially Klaus. But in another life, Klaus finding a soulmate could’ve been a step toward the redemption Elijah’s chased forever. Now? With Klaus’s betrayal, his body count, his relentless pursuit of power, Elijah wants him nowhere near her. What’s to stop Klaus from hurting Caroline in a fit of rage, as he’s done to so many others?

“Elijah?” Caroline’s voice pulls him back, her blue eyes wide with worry, searching his face.

He pulls her close, letting her rest against his shoulder, her warmth grounding him as he runs his fingers through her curls, calming them both. His voice hardens, a steel edge beneath the calm. “It seems I need to have a word with my brother.”

Caroline pulls back slightly, her eyes narrowing. “He said the same thing. Told me to tell you he wants a ‘brotherly chat.’” Her voice shrinks, fear flickering, and Elijah’s arm tightens around her, his touch steady and protective.

She searches his face, catching that mix of fury and tenderness that makes her heart skip. “Elijah, how is this happening?” Her voice breaks, raw with confusion. “I thought you were my soulmate. It felt so real, like nothing I’ve ever known. Now Klaus is saying the same, and I’m freaking out. How do I deal with this?”

Elijah exhales, brushing a curl from her face, his fingers lingering gently. “Caroline, what we have is undeniable. I felt it the moment I saw you--every part of me knew you were mine. But Niklaus’s claim… it complicates things. If it’s true, it’s a rare twist of fate, something I’ve only read about in ancient texts, a bond split across souls. But I promise you, I won’t let him hurt you. Not now, not ever.”

She nods, clinging to his words, her fingers twisting in the sleeve of his shirt. She’d rather face a thousand vampires than be tied to Klaus, with his smirks and his bloodshed. A small smile tugs at her lips, her humor breaking through. “Thanks. Tonight was… a lot. Oh, and I broke up with Matt.” She pauses, guilt flashing across her face. “He was crushed, Elijah. I feel awful, but I couldn’t stay with him. Not after… us.”

Elijah’s lips quirk into a knowing smile, his eyes warm. “Matt will heal, Caroline. Don’t carry that weight. You did what was right for you.”

She sighs, nodding, her shoulders relaxing slightly. He’s right--she’s got bigger problems. Like Klaus-sized problems.

Her phone buzzes on the coffee table--Bonnie. Caroline’s ready to tease her for ditching, but Bonnie’s voice is tense, hushed, like she’s hiding somewhere. She spills that she’s lying low after a showdown with Klaus in the cafeteria, where she faked her death with a spell to throw him off, buying time to plan a sneak attack for his sacrifice ritual. Her voice cracks mentioning Luka’s death--killed by Klaus in the chaos--and Caroline feels a pang for him, and for Jonas, who lost his son and was rejected by his daughter.

Caroline grips the phone, her heart racing. “Bonnie, stay safe. We’ll figure this out, I swear.” She hangs up, meeting Elijah’s steady gaze, his hand still resting on hers. “What now?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

He takes her hand, his grip firm and grounding. “We face it together,” he says, his voice resolute, and for the first time that night, she believes they might.

The next day, Elijah’s at the Lockwood mansion, briefing Elena on Klaus’s twisted history—his hybrid nature, his obsession with breaking the curse, his trail of bodies. Caroline’s back at the safehouse, sprawled on the plush leather couch, a rom-com flickering on the TV, a bowl of buttery popcorn in her lap, the bright blue ceramic bowl a pop of color against her gray sweats. A sharp knock at the door makes her freeze, kernels spilling onto the cushion. That’s not Elijah--he’s got a key, and his memory’s sharper than a blade. She mutes the TV, the laugh track cutting off abruptly, and sets the bowl on the coffee table, her stomach knotting as she creeps to the door, her bare feet silent on the hardwood.

Through the peephole, she sees a dark-skinned woman her age, maybe twenty, with tight curls and a no-nonsense expression, flanked by a guy with a lean build and a tense jaw. Her pulse spikes as she cracks the door open, forcing a polite smile, her cheerleader charm on autopilot. “Can I help you?”

“Caroline Forbes?” the woman asks, her tone sharp, eyes assessing.

Caroline arches a brow, her hand tightening on the doorframe. “Yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”

“You need to come with us,” the woman says, grabbing Caroline’s wrist with a grip like iron. “He’s waiting.”

Caroline’s eyes flick to the grip, then the woman’s face, then the guy’s, her instincts screaming. “You’ve got ten seconds to let go, or you’ll regret it,” she snaps, her voice like a whip, her heart pounding but her glare fierce. The woman doesn’t budge, her lips curling like she’s amused by the challenge.

“Who’s ‘he’?” Caroline demands, her patience thinning, her free hand balling into a fist.

“Klaus,” the woman says, and Caroline’s blood runs cold, her breath catching.

She slams the door, bolting for her phone on the couch, but it bursts open behind her, wood splintering. The woman and guy--witches, she realizes, sensing the crackle of magic--storm in. The guy raises his hand, muttering a low incantation, and Caroline’s vision blurs, her legs buckling as she collapses by the couch, the popcorn bowl tipping over, kernels scattering across the floor.

“Damn it,” the man--Maddox--mutters, scooping her up, his hands careful as he checks for bruises, knowing Klaus would lose it if she’s marked.

Greta glares at Caroline’s limp form, her arms crossed. “What’s so special about her?” she snaps, her voice dripping with disdain.

Maddox glances up, his tone low, almost reverent. “She’s his soulmate.”

Greta’s jaw drops, disbelief flashing in her eyes, her hands dropping to her sides.

At Alaric’s apartment, Klaus lounges on a worn leather couch, a smug grin plastered on his face, a glass of bourbon dangling from his hand. He’s back in his own body, his dirty-blond curls perfect, his blue-green eyes sharp with anticipation. His witches tracked Caroline to Elijah’s safehouse after Klaus took out Jonas in Georgia, the grieving father no match for him after Luka’s death and his daughter’s rejection. Jonas’s death broke the cloaking spell hiding Caroline, and now, just twelve hours back in his own skin, Klaus is itching to see his soulmate. It burns him that Elijah got to her first, probably filling her head with tales of his villainy, but Klaus is determined to win her over, to show her the world he can offer.

“What’s with the creepy grin?” Katherine snaps from across the room, her voice sharp, her arms crossed over her leather jacket. Klaus almost forgot she was there, compelled to stay put after he nabbed her a week ago to pay for dodging him for five centuries.

Klaus leans back, fingers laced behind his head, his grin sharpening. “Oh, Katerina,” he drawls, his voice dripping with menace, “I’m smiling because fate finally dealt me a good hand. Caroline Forbes--my soulmate--is on her way to me.” His tone is smug, possessive, like he’s already claimed her.

Katherine’s eyes narrow, her sneer barely hiding her unease, her heels clicking as she shifts her weight. “Soulmate? You? That’s rich.” She tosses her dark hair, her voice biting. “You think she’ll fall for you after you killed her friend? Or are you counting on that charming personality of yours?”

Klaus’s grin holds, but his eyes flash a warning, his fingers tightening on the glass. “Watch your tongue, love. You’re on thin ice.” He paces, his movements deliberate, his voice low and calculated. “Caroline’s different. She’s mine, whether she knows it yet or not. Unlike Elijah, I won’t bore her with promises of safety. I’ll show her a world where power rules--where she can rule beside me.”

He stops, glancing at the door, his body tense with anticipation, his senses sharp. “As for her… doubts, I’ll have time to fix them. Starting tonight.” His grin turns colder, a predator’s edge. “And if she fights me? I do love a chase.”

The door opens, and Greta and Maddox walk in, Caroline limp in Maddox’s arms, her blonde curls spilling over his shoulder. Klaus’s eyes snap to her, his breath catching for a moment. “There’s my girl,” he says, his voice almost reverent, a stark contrast to his usual menace. He glares at his witches, his eyes narrowing. “Did you hurt her?”

They shake their heads fast, fear flickering in their eyes. “She wouldn’t come willingly, so I used a spell,” Maddox says quickly, his voice tight, careful not to provoke Klaus.

Klaus nods, unsurprised, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “She’s got spirit,” he says, taking Caroline from Maddox, her vanilla-and-lavender scent hitting him as he cradles her carefully, his arms strong but gentle. “Stubborn little thing.”

Katherine scoffs, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, she’s gonna *love* this.”

Klaus chuckles, unfazed, his eyes still on Caroline. “I’m back in my body now, Katerina. She can’t resist me.”

He carries her to Alaric’s bedroom, the space cluttered with books and history notes, and lays her gently on the bed, smoothing a strand of blonde hair from her face, his gaze softening. She’s stunning, even unconscious, her features relaxed but strong, like she’s fighting even in her sleep.

“You’ll see it soon, love,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, a rare vulnerability slipping through. “Everything I’ve done… it’s for you.”

Caroline shifts, a faint frown creasing her brow, but she doesn’t wake. Klaus’s lips twitch with amusement before he straightens, casting one last look at her before striding back to the living room, his steps calm but purposeful.

Katherine glances up, wary, her fingers tapping the counter. “What now?” she asks, her tone cautious, sensing the storm brewing in him.

“Make a call for me, Katerina,” Klaus says, settling into a chair with chilling ease, his bourbon glass clinking on the table.

She raises a brow, her voice dry. “To who?”

Klaus just grins, slow and dangerous, saying nothing, his eyes glinting with a plan she doesn’t want to know.

Outside, thunder rolls, the sky darkening, heavy with the promise of rain.

Caroline jolts awake, her heart pounding, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar bedroom—bookshelves stuffed with history texts, a cluttered desk, a faint musty smell. Panic surges, and she scrambles out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood as she stumbles into the living room of Alaric’s apartment. The smell of greasy fast food hits her, and there’s Katherine, of all people, messing around in a cramped kitchen, flipping a burger on a sizzling pan with zero enthusiasm, her leather jacket slung over a chair.

“You’re up,” Katherine says, tossing the burger and a pile of fries onto a plate with a careless flick, shoving it across the counter.

“Katherine?” Caroline groans, her head throbbing like she’s been hit with a sledgehammer. “What the hell happened?”

“You’re in Alaric’s place, blondie,” Katherine says, rolling her eyes, her voice dripping with her usual sarcasm. “Welcome to Klaus’s latest obsession.”

Caroline’s mind races—Greta, Maddox, the spell, Klaus’s name dropping like a bomb. “Oh my God.” She fumbles for her phone, patting her sweatpants pockets, but they’re empty. “Where’s my phone?” she snaps, glaring at Katherine, her hands balling into fists.

Katherine smirks, leaning against the counter, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder. “Klaus took it. What, you thought he’d let you call Elijah for a rescue?”

“Why am I here?” Caroline demands, her voice sharp, her heart racing as she steps closer, her eyes blazing.

Katherine’s smirk widens, clearly enjoying the drama. “You know why.”

Caroline slumps onto a stool, shaking her head, her curls bouncing. “So this is his plan? Kidnap me, hold me hostage in my history teacher’s apartment? He’s out of his mind if he thinks this’ll make me like him.”

Katherine shrugs, her tone bored but her eyes sharp. “He told me to feed you,” she says, nodding at the plate of food. “So eat.”

Caroline eyes the burger like it’s laced with vervain, her stomach turning. “I’d rather starve.”

Katherine’s jaw tightens, her patience fraying. “Eat, Caroline, or he’ll have my head. And trust me, I’m not in the mood to die for you.”

A sly grin spreads across Caroline’s face, her defiance flaring. “Oh, really? In that case…” She shoves the plate farther away, the fries sliding across the counter.

Katherine glares, looking ready to force-feed her, her hands twitching, but the door swings open, cutting through the tension.

“Finally awake, love,” comes a smooth, accented voice, rich with confidence.

Caroline spins, her breath catching. There’s Klaus, tall and lean, radiating raw power in a fitted black Henley and jeans. His dirty-blond curls are tousled just right, his blue-green eyes sharp and piercing, his jaw a dangerous mix of charm and menace. This is him--Klaus Mikaelson. Elijah’s brother. The monster plotting to sacrifice Elena. Her soulmate. And damn it, the bond is already tugging at her, a warm pull in her chest she hates with every fiber of her being.

“Did she eat?” Klaus asks, glancing at Katherine, his tone casual but expectant.

Katherine shakes her head, her voice flat. “She’s being a pain. I tried.”

Klaus’s gaze shifts to Caroline, heavy with intent, his eyes locking onto hers like he’s seeing straight through her. She meets his stare, her heart racing, hating how the bond makes her feel anything at all.

Caroline rolls her eyes, sarcasm dripping as she leans back on the stool. “Great. Snatched up by another Mikaelson.” She gives Klaus a pointed once-over, her lips curling into a smirk. “Gotta say, Elijah’s got you beat in the looks department. That suit game is strong.”

Klaus’s face darkens, a scowl flickering as her words sting, his ego clearly bruised. “That’s uncalled for,” he mutters, his voice low, nettled.

She shrugs, arms crossed, her pulse racing despite her bravado. “Truth hurts.” Klaus catches the slight tremor in her voice, his lips twitching into a knowing grin--they both know she’s bluffing to keep him at bay.

“Enough about him,” he says, his voice sharp, a warning woven into his tone as he steps closer, his presence commanding.

She leans forward, undaunted, her chin lifting. “Or what?” Her voice is pure defiance, her fear buried under layers of stubbornness. She hates how safe she feels around him, that stupid bond weaving its magic, but she’ll use it to push his buttons, to keep him off balance.

Klaus’s smirk deepens, his eyes glinting with amusement and a dangerous edge as he closes the distance, his boots soft on the hardwood. “Or I might just show you why I’m the better Mikaelson.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a promise beneath it, a reminder he’s not harmless.

Caroline holds her ground, her chin up, though her chest flutters, the bond humming traitorously. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she fires back, her voice steady despite her racing pulse. “Kidnapping me and whining about your brother isn’t exactly soulmate material.”

Klaus chuckles, a dark, rich sound that sends a shiver down her spine, his eyes never leaving hers. “Oh, love, you have no idea what I’m capable of.” He leans in, his voice dropping to a near whisper, intimate and dangerous. “But you’ll learn. I’m patient when it comes to what’s mine.”

Caroline’s eyes narrow, her defiance flaring even as the bond tugs, pulling at her in ways she despises. “I’m not yours,” she snaps, stepping back, her back brushing the counter. “And I’m not some trophy you get to claim because the universe decided to screw with me.”

Katherine snorts from the kitchen, clearly entertained, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s got a point, Klaus. This ‘lock her up’ vibe isn’t exactly winning hearts and minds.”

Klaus shoots Katherine a withering look, his voice icy. “Katerina, unless you want another century running, keep your commentary to yourself.”

Katherine raises her hands, her smirk unfazed, clearly enjoying Caroline’s fire.

Klaus turns back to Caroline, his expression softening slightly, but his eyes stay intense, searching hers. “You’re angry. I understand. But you’re here because you’re meant to be. Elijah may have found you first, but he’s not your true match.” He pauses, his gaze piercing. “You feel it, don’t you? That pull. It’s not a mistake.”

Caroline clenches her jaw, hating how his words hit home, the bond thrumming in her veins like a heartbeat. But she won’t give him the satisfaction. “What I feel,” she says, her voice sharp, “is pissed off. You think you can waltz in, plot to kill my friend, kidnap me, and I’ll just fall for you? Newsflash, Klaus: you’re a monster.”

The word cuts, and something flickers in Klaus’s eyes--hurt, maybe, or anger--but it’s gone fast, replaced by a cold smirk. He steps closer, his voice a dangerous murmur. “A monster, am I? Funny, love, because your racing heart says otherwise.” He tilts his head, his lips curling. “You can fight it, but you’re not immune to me.”

Caroline’s breath hitches, and she curses herself for it, her hands clenching at her sides. She wants to smack that smug look off his face, but she knows better than to test him physically—not yet. Instead, she leans into her sarcasm, her voice biting. “Wow, so charming. No wonder Elijah’s the one I actually like. At least he doesn’t need to kidnap me to get my attention.”

Klaus’s jaw tightens, his patience fraying, his eyes flashing with irritation. But before he can respond, the door swings open, and Elijah stands there, his suit pristine despite the storm brewing outside, his face a mask of calm fury. The room crackles with tension, the air heavy with the weight of their history.

“Brother,” Klaus says, his tone deceptively light, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Right on time for our little reunion.”

Caroline’s heart leaps, relief flooding her. “Elijah!” she says, stepping toward him, her voice urgent, but Klaus moves faster, blocking her path with predatory grace, his body a barrier between her and Elijah.

“Not so fast, love,” Klaus says, his voice smooth but firm, his eyes flicking to her with a possessive glint. “My brother and I need a little chat.”

Caroline glares at him, her hands balling into fists, then looks to Elijah, her eyes pleading. “Get me out of here,” she says, her voice low but fierce, her heart pounding.

Elijah’s gaze softens briefly, a flicker of warmth for her, then shifts to Klaus, his expression rigid, his voice calm but steely. “Niklaus,” he says, stepping forward, his posture unyielding, “release her. Now.”

Klaus laughs, cold and mirthless, his hands slipping into his pockets, casual but dangerous. “Always so noble, Elijah. But let’s not pretend this is just about Caroline.” He steps closer, his voice dropping, laced with venom. “You’re upset I lied about our siblings, aren’t you? Or is it because you think you have a claim to my soulmate?”

Caroline’s eyes widen, her breath catching as she steps back, her mind reeling. “Wait, what? You lied about your siblings?” She glances between them, anger flaring, her voice sharp. “So you didn’t toss them into the ocean?”

Klaus turns to her, his smirk amused, almost indulgent. “A bit of family drama, love. I told Elijah that to rattle him. Our family’s safe—tucked away in coffins, far from here.” He shoots Elijah a pointed look, his tone mocking. “Though I’m sure he’s still sore about 1933.”

Elijah’s eyes narrow, his voice low and controlled, but anger simmers beneath. “You speak of grudges, Niklaus, yet your temper drove our actions. Those witches in 1933 threatened more than werewolves--they endangered everything we’d built. Your recklessness nearly cost us our family.”

Klaus’s grin fades, his tone sharp, his body tensing. “And your inaction let those witches slaughter my kind. Don’t lecture me when you stood by, brother, while my hybrids were hunted.”

Caroline steps back, her mind spinning, the weight of their history crashing over her. The soulmate bond, the lies, their centuries-old feud—it’s too much. She’s caught in the middle, a pawn in their game, and neither brother seems ready to back down.

“Enough!” she snaps, her voice slicing through their argument like a blade, her hands on her hips. Both turn, startled by her force, their eyes locking onto her. “I don’t care about your family drama or your stupid soulmate claims. I’m not a pawn, and I’m not staying here.” She glares at Klaus, her defiance burning, then softens toward Elijah, her voice pleading. “Get me out of here, Elijah. Please.”

Elijah nods, his expression resolute, his eyes never leaving Klaus. “You have my word, Caroline.”

Klaus’s eyes darken, his voice a low growl, his body coiled like a predator. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

The room hums with tension, the storm outside echoing the one between the brothers, thunder rumbling in the distance. Katherine watches from the corner, her smirk faint but amused, her eyes darting between them like she’s watching a particularly juicy soap opera. Caroline’s heart pounds, the bond tugging at her even as she clings to her resolve. She’s not sure who to trust--or if Elijah knew about his siblings all along--but she’s not going down without a fight. She’s Caroline Forbes, and she’s done being anyone’s prize.