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Chapter Text

Caroline: Year 2764

Mystic falls remained the same as when Caroline was still young and human, the Caroline who didn’t even know what truly went bump in the night. Now Caroline was the thing that went bump in the night, and helped other supernatural beings like herself, well what’s left of them at least. Her friends had done some serious damage while searching for the cure, they had realized Silas which nearly ended the world, killed multiple originals leading to the death of all but 3, broke the prison world, destroyed the other side, and destroyed hell.

Caroline grimaced thinking back, they really had been stupid, and none of them had even lived to see the damage they’d caused the supernatural world except herself of course. Truth be told Caroline did blame her friends after all the bloodshed and death because of their stupidity many supernatural species had nearly died out.

Magic had become unpredictable; witches no longer had the spirits to commune with and became much weaker, werewolves curses could activate even without causing a death, or they’d drop dead themselves. Caroline had even heard of some losing their wolves all together, she remembered the way Klaus had talked about the pain of having his wolf bound away inside him, but losing it all together, she could only imagine. Vampires were now nothing more than a myth, very few survived, hunters didn’t even carry vervain or stakes anymore. But that didn't stop Caroline from drinking vervain everyday. The Salvatore school only had one vampire and she wasn’t even a student, after Lizzie and Josie had died Hope had begged her to let her take over the school, let her help people. Caroline was grateful, she had been wanting to leave for decades at the time, so she had let hope run the school.

Over the years she checks in making sure Hopes alright, she had become a daughter to Caroline, they’d helped each other grieve and grow. Hope and Kol were the only Vampires left from the mystic falls days, as well as the only Mikaelson vampires. Freya had gone on to have children so the Mikaelson line still existed just not any who knew what family they were apart of.

Caroline stopped in front of the school she’d helped create all those years ago, putting on her best mystic falls smile before stepping through the threshold. She began making her way to Hope’s office, watching students go to their classes or dorms. Not much had really changed over the centuries, the preservation spell hop had casted over the town definitely helped, she couldn't help but stress over the message she received. Hope had said she’d spotted a pair of dopplegangers.

“Hope are you sure?” Caroline questioned “If your right that means two pairs of dopplegangers have been produced within 700 years.”

“Yes- I know those faces! I know how serious this is, I called uncle Kol to check it out, he said it was definitely a doppleganger.” Hope responded her voice trembling, the faces of Elena and Stefan flashed through her mind, If theres already a new set of dopplegangers has already been born, then the magic in their world was getting worse.

“-and its not just that! My magic has been acting haywire, we need to figure something out.” Hope continued.

She’d left for Mystic Falls immediately after the phone call, the pit in her stomach hadn't left, god what was going to happen. What did they do? Caroline got to Hope’s office and opened the door, finding Kol and Hope already sitting inside. Hope flashed over to her, engulfing her in a hug, Kol sent her a grin from where he was seated. Hope broke the hug backing up grinning.

At least she's happy.
“Alright what are we doing” Caroline said bluntly, to be fair she’d always been blunt her friends
used to complain about it all the time.

Kols grin fell “ I found a coven who’d be willing to help. They said they could perform a spell that could undo the damages caused. A complete reset.” Kol spoke, for once serious.

Caroline didn't like this, but its not like there were options. “How?” she asked.

Hope looked between the two with concerned glances. Kol continued “ they sent us back. To when it all started. Its our only chance, we don't have any other option besides death.”

Caroline knew he was right, in fact he was right nearly all the time when it came to magic. “Alright. When are we doing this?” Caroline looked determined, if this worked then no one else would suffer, if they failed who knows how many the spell would kill.

Hope spoke up “we could go now, they’re not far from here, and its a full moon. That plus doppleganger blood would definetly help a spell like that be completed.”

“Lets go grab some dopplegangers then.” Kol grinned, standing up grabbing his keys. Caroline stared in horror.

“You are not driving.” Caroline warned, shaking her head remembering the last time she let him drive, she might be immortal but that doesn’t mean she wants to die in a car crash. Again.

Hope broke out laughing, nearly falling over. Kol pouted in response, handing over the keys.

After a tense car ride, they arrived at the witches residence. They walked up in silence, before hope could knock on the door, a witch opened it. “Vampires. I assume you're here about the spell?”

The witch’s voice carried the weight of expectation, as though she had been waiting centuries for this exact moment. Her eyes flicked from Kol, to Hope, to Caroline, lingering on each of them in turn as if she were taking their measure.
Caroline’s instincts screamed at her to leave. Every cell in her body was on edge, the old vampire reflex that had kept her alive for centuries whispering trap, trap, trap. But she didn’t move. If this was their only chance, hesitation could cost them everything.
“Yes,” Kol said smoothly, stepping forward like he owned the place. “We’re here about the spell.”
The witch arched an eyebrow, her lips curling in the faintest suggestion of disdain. “Of course you are. Come in, then. But know this—what you ask will not come without price.”
Caroline exchanged a glance with Hope, who looked uneasy but nodded. They stepped inside.
The coven’s home was nothing like Mystic Falls, nothing like the Salvatore School or the sprawling mansions of their past. The house was old stone, its walls covered in runes that pulsed faintly with power. The air itself felt heavy, charged with the residue of centuries of magic. Caroline inhaled, and the scent was sharp—incense, herbs, blood. She shivered.
They were led into a circular chamber lit by hundreds of candles, their flames dancing in a rhythm that didn’t match the stillness of the air. The witches—seven of them—were already waiting, cloaked in deep crimson. Their faces were shadowed, but their eyes glowed faintly with power.
Hope stood straighter, her magic instinctively rising in response. Caroline could feel it in the air, vibrating off her like static.
One of the witches, older than the rest and clearly their leader, stepped forward. Her hair was silver, braided down her back, and her hands bore the scars of countless rituals. She studied Caroline first. “The last of your kind,” she murmured, her voice both reverent and pitying. “I can see the weight you carry.”
Caroline’s throat tightened. She hated when witches spoke like that, like they could peel back her skin and see all the grief and guilt she kept locked inside. She forced her Miss Mystic Falls smile back onto her lips. “Let’s just get to the point.”
The witch’s gaze shifted to Hope. “The Tribrid. You are the key, more than any doppelgänger’s blood.” She tilted her head. “Your magic is fractured, yes?”
Hope swallowed and nodded. “It’s… getting worse. Spells don’t hold. Charms collapse. I can’t control it anymore.”
The witch’s expression darkened. “The world itself is unraveling. Every action of the past took—every tether they cut—has left magic bleeding. If nothing is done, all of creation will fall.”
Caroline bristled at the words, but she didn’t argue. She already knew the truth.
Finally, the witch turned to Kol. “And you. The survivor who should not have survived. You carry both curse and gift in your blood. You, too, are essential.”
Kol’s grin returned, sharp and wolfish. “Well, isn’t that flattering.”
The witch ignored him. She raised her hands, and the candles in the chamber flared. “Here is the truth. To reset the world, to send you back to when the first stone was overturned, requires sacrifice. You will not return as you are now. You will be rewritten. The world will be rewritten with you.”
Caroline frowned. “Rewritten? Meaning?”
The witch’s eyes pierced through her. “Memories could fade. Some of what you know now may cease to exist altogether. The spell does not promise mercy—it promises only a chance.”
Caroline’s stomach dropped. To lose Hope? Possibly lose the memories of her daughters, of Klaus, of all she had fought to protect—it was unthinkable. But so was letting the world burn.
Kol’s face had gone unusually still, no trace of humor left. Even he seemed shaken.
Hope, however, stepped forward, her chin lifted with stubborn determination. “If that’s the price, then I’ll pay it. I can’t let the supernatural world collapse. My family fought too hard for me to give up now.”
Caroline looked at her—this girl, this woman, who had become her daughter in every way that mattered—and felt her chest ache with pride and fear. Hope was braver than anyone Caroline had ever known.
The witch raised her hands again. “Then we begin tonight. On the full moon. With the blood of the doppelgängers and the power of the Tribrid, the spell will tear time open. Once it begins, there is no turning back.”
Kol exhaled, muttering under his breath, “Well, guess it’s now or never.”
Caroline tightened her jaw, her decision made. “Then let’s finish this. Before it’s too late.”

…
The witches began chanting, their voices weaving together like threads in a tapestry. The air thickened, pressing against Caroline’s chest, pulling at the very core of her being. Somewhere deep in her bones, she felt the shift begin—like the world itself was already tilting, preparing to swallow them whole.
And for the first time in centuries, Caroline let herself wonder if she was ready to start over.
The chanting grew louder, echoing against the stone walls until it felt like the whole chamber vibrated with power. The witches circled Caroline, Hope, and Kol, their movements deliberate, the sound of their voices ancient and terrible. Runes on the walls flared to life, glowing blood-red. The air was thick with magic—raw, untamed, and frightening.
Hope’s eyes glowed faintly gold, her tribrid nature straining against the pull of the spell. Caroline felt it, too—the way the magic tried to tug her apart, shredding her strength and stitching it back together again. She gritted her teeth, refusing to falter.
Then the lead witch raised her voice above the others. “The balance requires anchors! The doppelgängers’ blood, the moon, the vampire, the hybrid bloodline. But the Tribrid—” Her gaze cut to Hope, sharp as a blade. “—the Tribrid cannot pass through. She is the bridge that holds the ritual open. Without her, the spell collapses.”
The words landed like a dagger. Caroline whipped around. “What? No. Absolutely not.”
Hope’s face went pale, but she didn’t look away. “Caroline—”
Caroline shook her head violently, panic clawing up her throat. “No, no, you’re not staying here alone while we go back. You’ve lost too much already. I won’t let you lose this, too.”
The witch ignored Caroline’s protests, her chant unbroken. Power surged, filling the chamber until the candle flames turned white-hot.
Hope stepped closer, her hands trembling as she took Caroline’s. “It has to be this way. If I go through, the magic tears apart. You and Kol—you’re enough. You can fix this.”
Tears pricked at Caroline’s eyes, hot and stinging. “You’re my family, Hope. You’re—” Her voice cracked, words failing under the weight of centuries of love and grief. “You’re my daughter. I can’t leave you.”
Hope’s lips wobbled into the smallest smile. “You’re not leaving me. You’re saving me. Saving all of us.” Her voice broke, but her eyes were steady. “You always said I was stronger than I thought. Prove yourself right. Go. Fix it. Give us back the world we deserve.”
Caroline wanted to argue, wanted to scream, but she saw the truth in Hope’s eyes. Saw the resolve there—the same kind of fire Caroline herself had carried when she was younger, when the world had seemed impossible and she had fought anyway.
Kol’s voice, unusually quiet, cut through the moment. “She’s right. If Hope doesn’t anchor us, this whole thing unravels. It’s now or never, sweetheart.”
The magic surged again, brighter and more violent. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Caroline pulled Hope into a crushing hug, burying her face in her hair. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”
“I love you too,” Hope whispered fiercely, clinging to her. “Now go. Make it count.”
Caroline pulled back, her face streaked with tears, and let Kol grab her arm as the witches’ chanting reached its peak. The runes blazed like fire, and a rift split open in the air before them—a swirling void of light and shadow.
The spell roared, wind tearing through the chamber, pulling Caroline and Kol toward the rift. Hope held her ground, her eyes blazing gold as she anchored the magic with every ounce of strength she had. Her scream of effort echoed through the chamber as the spell consumed itself.
Caroline’s final sight before the world vanished in white light was Hope’s face—tear-streaked but unyielding, a warrior holding the line.
And then everything went black.

Chapter Text

Caroline: Year 2009

Caroline shot up in bed, gasping for air, her chest heaving as though she’d just surfaced from drowning. Her eyes darted wildly around the room, searching for danger—witches, a dark sigil, some trace of the spell still clinging to her—but all she found was her childhood bedroom.

The pale yellow walls. The bulletin board crammed with cheerleading photos. The stuffed animals lined neatly on the shelf. Everything exactly as it had been the night before her junior year of high school.

Her trembling hands clutched the blanket, pulling it away as if she didn’t quite trust what she was seeing. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her knees unsteady beneath her. The air smelled different—like fresh paint, hairspray, and a faint trace of her mother’s favorite candle drifting in from the hallway. She hadn’t smelled that in centuries.

Her heart thundered against her ribs as she turned toward the nightstand. There it was—her old pink flip phone, its surface scratched from years of teenage drama. Next to it, her electric alarm clock blinked in harsh red numbers.

6:00 a.m.
September 10th, 2009.

Caroline’s breath hitched. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It worked. It actually worked.”

But the rush of triumph was gone as quickly as it came. Reality slammed into her chest with brutal clarity.

Hope.

Her knees gave out, and she sank back onto the bed. Tears blurred her vision as her mind replayed the last moment she’d seen her daughter—the fierce determination in Hope’s eyes, the trembling smile as she’d performed the spell.

Caroline buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled against her palms. “Hope, I’m so sorry,” she choked out between ragged breaths. “I’ll make it worth it. I swear.”

Dragging herself upright, she stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles went white. When she finally dared to look up, she nearly recoiled.

The girl in the mirror wasn’t her. Not really. She looked the same—same blonde curls, same baby-blue eyes—but there was something softer, more fragile about her reflection. No red veins. No predator’s stillness.

She was human.

Caroline lifted a shaking hand to her chest. Her heart was beating, fast and wild. She wasn’t strong anymore. Not immortal. Not unstoppable. A snapped neck meant the end this time. And the familiar hunger—the constant pull that had shadowed her for seven hundred years—was gone.

Her breaths came in quick, shallow bursts. “God, why’d I have to come back human?” she muttered, half in panic, half in disbelief. The teenage hormones kicking back in weren’t helping either.

Her gaze drifted to the side of the mirror, landing on the old bulletin board pinned with a collage of memories. Her eyes softened as they found a photo of her and her friends in their favorite booth at the Mystic Grill—Elena, Bonnie, Tyler, Matt. Laughing, carefree, untouched by all the tragedy that was yet to come.

Caroline smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She loved them. She really did. But part of her still felt that sharp bitterness lingering like a scar. Kol always said it made sense, she thought. They were “bloody backstabbing wankers,” after all.

Her eyes widened suddenly. “Kol.”

Panic shot through her like lightning. “Oh my God, Kol!” she gasped. “It’s September. He’s still daggered—in a coffin—in some stupid moving truck!”

She didn’t know where. She didn’t even know how to find him. But she remembered what that entombment had done to him—every year trapped in darkness, aware but paralyzed. Forgotten.

Caroline’s pulse spiked. She bolted back into her room, heart pounding so loud it drowned out thought. She grabbed an old spiral notebook from her desk, yanked a pen from the drawer, and slammed it down.

“Okay, Care,” she muttered, pacing in place. “Don’t freak out. You’ve done this before—crises, death, apocalypses. Just… plan. Plans are good. No mental breakdowns. Just think it through.”

She flipped to a blank page and started scribbling, her handwriting messy and frantic.

SO WORLD DOESN’T END

– Keep Lexi alive (so Stefan doesn’t go full Ripper)
– FIND KOL (like, ASAP!!!)
– Help Klaus break his curse (maybe use Tom?)
– Kill ESTHER!!!
– Kill Alaric (…maybe, he causes way too many problems)
– Don’t free Silas
– DON’T let anyone find out about the Cure

– Kill Shane
– DON’T destroy Hell or the Other Side

She dropped the pen, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t elegant. But it was something. A start. A roadmap through chaos.

Her gaze fell back to Kol’s name, and her stomach twisted. She could picture him vividly—locked in that coffin, helpless and furious, every second a suffocating eternity. He’d suffered enough already.

I won’t let you rot in there again. Not this time.

Her eyes drifted to Alaric’s name next, and a chill crept through her chest. He was human now, still innocent—sort of. Not yet twisted by Esther’s magic, not yet consumed by the darkness of the Gilbert ring. But she knew what he would become. The man who would wield the white oak stake—the weapon that had ended Kol’s life once before.

If she killed him, though… her twins would never exist.

Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “No. Focus later. One step at a time.”

She exhaled slowly, trying to steady her breath. Her chest still ached with loss, the hole Hope’s absence left in her heart nearly unbearable. But the plan gave her purpose. It gave Hope’s sacrifice meaning.

I’ll make it count, sweetheart. I promise.

Setting the notebook aside, Caroline wiped her cheeks and crossed the room to her closet. The sight of her old clothes—bright colors, sparkly tops, denim skirts—made her groan softly. Tomorrow was the first day of her senior year. Again.

Cheerleading practice. Pep rallies. Study hall. Mystic Grill hangouts. All of it waited for her, like some cruelly familiar dream.

But Caroline Forbes wasn’t the same girl she’d been in 2009.

The clock had reset. The board was open. And this time?

She wasn’t just a piece in someone else’s game.

She was the one moving them.

And Caroline Forbes always, always, played to win.

…

September 10th, 2009

Caroline smoothed her hair as she stepped through the double doors of Mystic Falls High, the scent of waxed floors and sweat hitting her like a memory she couldn’t escape. The chatter of students, the clang of locker doors, the squeak of sneakers on tile—it was all so normal. So achingly ordinary.

She swallowed hard. Everything looked the same, down to the cracked corner of the trophy case and the faded “Go Timberwolves!” banner drooping above the main hall. But to her, it was like walking through a ghost town where no one knew they were already dead.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, automatically picking out familiar faces. Dana and Tiki whispering by the vending machine. Matt’s unmistakable laugh echoing from down the hall. Tyler shoving one of his football buddies just a little too hard.

And then—Elena and Bonnie, standing by Elena’s locker.

Caroline slowed. The sight hit her harder than she expected.

Elena looked… lighter. Grief still lingered in her eyes—her parents hadn’t even been dead a year—but she wasn’t yet hollowed out by the supernatural chaos that would come. No vampire drama. No endless trauma. Just a girl trying to smile through heartbreak.

And Bonnie—sweet, bright-eyed Bonnie—looked happy. Her Grams was still alive. She didn’t know about vampires. She didn’t even know she was a witch yet. There was still an innocence there, untainted by blood and betrayal.

Caroline’s chest tightened, but she forced a bright smile onto her face and lifted her chin.

“Morning!” she called, her voice carrying that cheerful, practiced lilt she hadn’t used in centuries.

Both girls turned. For a second, it was like the world paused. Elena blinked in surprise before offering a polite smile. “Morning, Caroline.”

Bonnie shut her locker, giving a cautious but kind nod. “Hey.”

Caroline kept smiling, slipping effortlessly into the conversation like she’d done this a thousand times—which, technically, she had. “How are you holding up, ‘Lena?” she asked gently, keeping her tone light. She remembered how this conversation had gone the first time—her blurting something awkward, trying too hard, rushing in for a hug. Maybe this time she could do it right.

Elena’s smile faltered a little. “I’m doing alright,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just taking it one day at a time.”

Caroline nodded slowly, her expression softening. “I’m glad.” She hesitated before adding, “Jeremy good too?”

Elena exhaled, her gaze drifting toward the hall. “He’s… I don’t know. He’s taking it harder than me.”

Caroline’s heart pinched. Of course he was. Jeremy had drowned his pain in drugs and bad decisions before—his own desperate way of not feeling. Caroline understood that better than she ever had back then. When her mom died centuries later, she hadn’t just broken—she’d flipped the switch. Turned off her humanity. Made everyone around her suffer because she couldn’t stand to.

Funny how grief always finds a way to ruin you, she thought bitterly.

Elena kept talking, voice low and uncertain. “I just… I wish I could help him, you know? But he won’t talk to me. He just shuts down.”

Caroline wanted to tell her that she couldn’t fix him. That trying would only break her further. That some wounds didn’t heal, they just changed shape. But that kind of wisdom didn’t belong in a seventeen-year-old’s mouth—not this version of her, anyway.

So instead, she leaned back against the locker beside them, forcing an easy smile. “Well, you’re doing your best. That’s what counts.”

Bonnie looked at her curiously, brow furrowed as if trying to place something different about her. Caroline caught the glance and quickly added, “Anyway! First day back. Junior year! Can you believe it?”

Elena’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah. It feels weird.”

“You’re telling me,” Caroline said under her breath, but she covered it with a laugh

Bonnie’s voice broke through Caroline’s thoughts. “Who’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the front office.

Caroline turned, following her gaze. It didn’t take long to recognize that familiar posture—the quiet confidence, the way he held himself like someone carrying centuries of guilt on his shoulders. She could see his perfectly styled “hero hair” from here. She rolled her eyes fondly at the nickname.

Stefan Salvatore.

Her old best friend.

He looked exactly the same—calm, polite, brooding—but she knew better. She knew what kind of pain hid behind those green eyes, what kind of weight he carried.

Caroline’s gaze flicked toward Elena, standing just a few feet away. The moment Elena’s eyes landed on him, her expression changed—curiosity softening into something brighter. The same look she’d had the first time they met.

Caroline smiled, though bitterness curled at the edge of it. It wasn’t that she still had feelings for Stefan—those were long dead. It just hurt to think how blind she’d been back then.

“Adorable,” she murmured under her breath, voice light but heart heavy. Elena had no idea what she was walking into.

Part of Caroline wanted to step in, to save her friend from the heartbreak that would eventually come. To shield her from the endless cycle of danger, death, and supernatural chaos that had swallowed all of them whole. But she couldn’t—not really. Elena’s fate was already tangled in doppelgänger blood and Petrova curses. Whether Caroline interfered or not, the girl was destined to be pulled into the darkness.

Stefan stepped out of the front office then, his expression guarded as he scanned the hallway. When his eyes briefly swept past them, Caroline’s stomach twisted. He didn’t know her yet—but she knew him.

She forced herself to breathe.

As he walked down the hall, Elena and Bonnie turned to watch him, curiosity written all over their faces. Caroline pretended not to care, but her pulse quickened anyway.

He looked tortured—more than she remembered from this point in time. Maybe because she could finally see it clearer now: the quiet self-loathing, the restraint, the exhaustion of someone who’d been running from himself for over a century.

And then, as if summoned by the thought, another face flickered through her mind.

Damon.

The easy smirk. The cruel eyes. The voice that could charm and cut in the same breath.

Her jaw tightened. Even now, centuries later, the memories made her stomach turn. Damon Salvatore—the man who’d abused her, mocked her pain, and somehow convinced the world he was redeemable. And Stefan—sweet, broken Stefan—had made her apologize to him. Had begged her to “keep the peace,” to “let it go.”

She had. For a while. She’d buried it, forgiven too easily, because that’s what Caroline Forbes did.

But standing here now, back in this hallway, watching both of them from a distance, the old wounds throbbed like they’d never healed.

Call her petty. Call her bitter. Maybe she was both. But she’d earned that bitterness.

Caroline crossed her arms, forcing her face into something pleasant as Stefan disappeared around the corner. She exhaled slowly, steadying her heartbeat.

Being back here—it was supposed to be a second chance. A way to fix things, to save people, to rewrite history. But she hadn’t expected it to feel like this.

Like walking barefoot over old glass.

Her eyes lingered where Stefan had stood just seconds ago, then drifted back to Elena, who was laughing softly at something Bonnie said.

“Right, Care?” Bonnie asked suddenly. Elena was blushing, pretending to be interested in her locker.

Caroline blinked, forcing her mind back to the present. “Sorry, what?”

“I said,” Bonnie grinned, “Elena was totally making heart eyes at mystery boy over there.”

Caroline’s lips curved into a teasing grin. “Oh, I noticed. I’m thinking… June wedding?”

Elena’s cheeks flushed as she lightly shoved Caroline. “Oh my God, you two, stop!”

Caroline folded her arms, feigning innocence. “What? Maybe you should go talk to him.” There was no harm in nudging her—besides, if she could keep Elena away from Damon, that was a bonus.

That made Elena pause.

Bonnie grinned wide. “Yes! Go!”

Elena looked between them, then back toward Stefan, uncertain. After a moment, she sighed. “Okay.”

She started toward him, her nerves visible in every step—then halfway there, she stopped, spun on her heel, and hurried off in the opposite direction toward the bathrooms, her cheeks flaming.

Caroline and Bonnie exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

The bell rang, echoing down the hall, and the two girls grabbed their bags and headed for class—smiling, talking, pretending that life was still simple.

For now, at least.

…

Caroline slid into her desk, setting her history notebook in front of her and lining up her pencil neatly beside it. At first, she hadn’t seen any harm in reliving high school—but three classes in, she was starting to question Stefan’s sanity.

He had chosen this.
An eternity of algebra, crowded hallways, and cafeteria mystery meat.
By choice.

Not even college this time—high school.

Caroline had gone to college a few times over the centuries; it had its perks. But high school? Once had been more than enough. She remembered most of what she’d learned, and if Stefan didn’t by now, he probably needed to get his brain checked.

Still, being here had its advantages. She could keep an eye on her friends, avoid raising suspicion, and maybe, just maybe, stop a few disasters before they happened.

A few rows ahead, Bonnie and Elena sat together, whispering before class began. Caroline tuned in casually, pretending to doodle in the margin of her notes. God, she missed her vampire hearing—it made eavesdropping so much easier. Luckily, they weren’t exactly whispering.

“I don’t get it,” Elena murmured, voice low but not low enough. “Caroline wants me to talk to him? I thought she’d be all over him.”

Bonnie glanced back at Caroline before leaning closer. “I thought it was weird too. I mean, she was obsessed with Matt last year. Now she doesn’t even look at him, and she wants you to talk to the new hot guy?”

Elena chewed her lip. “Do you think she’s up to something?”

Bonnie frowned. “Either that, or she’s just trying to be… nice? It’s odd, for sure, but she seems genuine.”

Elena’s gaze drifted thoughtfully. “She feels… different today. I don’t know how to explain it. Just… different.”

Caroline’s pen froze mid-doodle.

For a heartbeat, guilt pricked at her—because they were right. She was different. And the two people in this room who meant so much to her already sensed it. But she couldn’t afford to slip. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

So she twirled her pen between her fingers and plastered on her trademark sunny smile when Elena looked back at her.

“Everything okay?” Caroline asked sweetly, tilting her head.

Elena blinked, caught off guard. “Y-yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Caroline’s smile widened just enough to make both girls exchange a glance. Let them wonder. Suspicion was better than pity.

The classroom door swung open, and Mr. Tanner stormed in, slamming his briefcase onto the desk.

“Alright, people. Books open. Let’s see how much you didn’t bother to learn over the summer.”

Groans filled the room as pages rustled. Caroline leaned back in her chair, her smile fading into something sharper.

Let them think I’m different.
They’re right.
I am.
And it’s the only reason any of us will survive this time.

Mr. Tanner’s voice sliced through her thoughts. “Alright, let’s talk about the 1800s—the decade of chaos. Civil War, Reconstruction… a time most of you can barely spell, let alone understand.”

He rifled through a book on his desk, then looked up. “The Battle of Willow Creek took place at the end of the war, right here in Mystic Falls. How many casualties resulted from this battle? Ms. Bennett?”

Bonnie glanced helplessly at Elena. “Um… a lot? I’m not sure. Like, a whole lot?”

Tanner smirked. “Cute becomes dumb in an instant, Ms. Bennett. Mr. Donovan? Care to overcome your embedded jock stereotype?”

Matt shrugged. “I’m good, Mr. Tanner.”

“Of course you are.” Tanner turned, scanning the room. “Elena? Surely you can enlighten us about one of the town’s most significant historical events?”

Elena flushed. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t know.”

Tanner sighed dramatically. “I was willing to be lenient last year for obvious reasons, Elena, but the personal excuses ended with summer break.”

Before Caroline could roll her eyes, a familiar voice spoke up from the back of the room.

“There were 346 casualties,” Stefan said evenly. “Unless you’re counting local civilians.”

Tanner’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s correct. Mister…?”

“Salvatore.”

“Salvatore.” Tanner’s expression shifted, curious now. “Any relation to the original settlers here in Mystic Falls?”

“Distant,” Stefan replied, tone polite but detached.

“Well, very good—except, of course, there were no civilian casualties in this battle.”

Stefan’s head tilted slightly, calm as ever. “Actually, there were twenty-seven, sir. Confederate soldiers fired on the church, believing it was housing weapons. They were wrong. It was a night of great loss.” He paused, just long enough for the room to go silent. “The Founders’ Archives are stored in City Hall if you’d like to brush up on your facts, Mr. Tanner.”

Tanner’s mouth tightened. “Hmm.”

A few students snickered under their breath.

Caroline hid her grin behind her hand. Some things never changed—Mr. Tanner’s ego, Stefan’s history buff tendencies, and the way he always managed to make everyone else look bad without even trying.

And just like that, the past started to repeat itself.

…

After what felt like a century, Caroline was finally free from high school.

The moment the final bell rang, she was gone.

She bolted down the hallway, weaving through clusters of gossiping students and the faint smell of cheap perfume and floor wax. Some things truly never changed. Caroline made a beeline for her locker, intent on grabbing her stuff and heading home. She needed to think—really think—about how to find Kol before it was too late.

The metal door creaked open as she shoved a few notebooks inside, her mind already running through half a dozen plans. 

“Hey, Care!”

Caroline froze mid-motion, her heart sinking. No, no, no, not now.

She slowly peeked around her locker door to see Elena standing there, Bonnie beside her, both looking hopeful and way too innocent for what Caroline knew was coming.

“We’re heading to the Grill,” Elena said brightly. “You wanna come with?”

Caroline winced, hiding behind the locker door, silently cursing the universe. Goddammit. The last thing she needed was to play normal over milkshakes while trying not to think about the centuries-old vampire she needed to dig up.

Still, she couldn’t exactly say no without raising suspicion.

So, she plastered on her best smile. “Yeah! Totally. I’ll meet you guys there?”

Elena’s face lit up. “Perfect!”

She and Bonnie turned and disappeared down the hall, still chatting.

As soon as they were out of sight, Caroline’s smile dropped. She exhaled heavily and thunked her forehead gently against the cool metal of her locker.

Well, I guess I’m going to the Grill now.

Her reflection in the locker’s surface stared back at her—same blonde curls, same perfectly applied lip gloss, but the eyes of someone who’d seen far too much.

She sighed, grabbed her bag, and shut the locker with a decisive clang.

If the universe insisted on replaying her teenage years, she might as well fake her way through it—with a smile, a latte, and maybe a side of mild existential crisis.

Besides, it was just a trip to the Grill. It couldn’t go too bad. Right?

…

Of course she’d forgotten what tonight was.

Caroline sat in a booth at the Mystic Grill, laughing with Bonnie and Elena over greasy fries and the kind of shallow gossip that used to feel like the center of the universe. For a moment—just a fleeting, fragile moment—it almost felt normal.

Almost.

They’d been there for two hours now, chatting about everything from cheer practice to how Elena had already talked to Stefan. Caroline smiled and nodded in all the right places as Elena recounted seeing him again at the cemetery—something about a crow and fog and “mystical weirdness.”

But deep down, something itched at the back of Caroline’s mind.
A memory.
A warning.

And then it hit her.

Tonight.

Her smile faltered. Her stomach dropped. The blood drained from her face as realization slammed into her.

This was that night.

The night she met Damon Salvatore.
The night everything changed.
The night the abuse began.

She’d already changed history without meaning to. Originally, it had been just her and Bonnie here—no Elena, no laughter, just Caroline trying to drown her loneliness in fries and self-pity. She’d vented about never being “the one,” about how she’d always come second. Damon had overheard. And from that moment on, he’d made sure she stayed beneath him—helpless, terrified, broken.

Her chest tightened. How could I forget this?

If she’d missed this, what else could she forget? What if next time it wasn’t her life at risk, but someone else’s? Elena’s? Bonnie’s? Kol’s?

Caroline’s hand trembled around her glass of soda. She forced herself to take a sip, grounding herself in the burn of carbonation on her tongue. Focus, Forbes. No more mistakes. You can’t afford them.

Bonnie and Elena were still talking about something—school, maybe?—their voices soft, their laughter easy. Caroline wasn’t listening anymore. Her attention had shifted to the bar across the room.

There he was.

Damon Salvatore.

Leaning casually against the counter, nursing a drink he probably didn’t even taste, his smirk as sharp and familiar as a blade pressed against her throat.

Caroline’s body went rigid. Every muscle screamed at her to move, to run, to do something. But she couldn’t. It was like being trapped inside her own skin—frozen in the face of a ghost who wasn’t supposed to exist again.

Her stomach churned violently. She wasn’t scared of him anymore—at least, that’s what she’d always told herself. When she’d been a vampire, it had been easy not to be afraid. She’d had strength, speed, and vervain in her veins. If he tried anything, she could fight back.

But now?

Now she was human. Weak. Vervain-free.

And he could compel her, touch her, break her—and she wouldn’t even be able to stop him.

She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away from him before he could notice her. Her fingers clenched around the edge of the table.

I should’ve gone for vervain first thing. Why didn’t I?

She knew the answer, of course—she’d been too busy scrambling to rewrite the future, to save everyone else. But the realization burned like acid. The only person in town who had vervain right now was Zach Salvatore, Stefan’s uncle. The original town supplier.

He’d still be alive for a few more weeks—until Damon killed him and took over the supply himself.

Caroline’s pulse thundered in her ears as she forced herself to breathe.

She couldn’t let Damon see her. Not tonight. Not like this.

She needed to get vervain. Fast.

She glanced back at Elena, laughing softly with Bonnie, blissfully unaware of the danger sitting just a few feet away. Caroline’s heart ached for her—because she knew what was coming. The manipulation. The deaths. The heartbreak.

Chapter Text

Caroline: September 10, 2009

Caroline’s fingers tightened around her glass as Damon turned at the bar, his dark eyes scanning lazily over the crowd—until they landed on her. Her stomach twisted. The smirk that curved his lips was the same one she remembered all too well—sharp, knowing, dangerous. He tilted his glass slightly in her direction, and she felt the familiar pull of unease settle over her chest.

Her pulse quickened. Panic rose, and she felt the heat in her cheeks. Stay calm, stay calm, she muttered under her breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. But it was useless—the memories, the fear, the adrenaline—it all rushed back.

“Elena… Bonnie…” her voice cracked slightly, and she felt two pairs of eyes on her.

Elena’s brows drew together, concern etched across her features. “Care, are you okay?” she asked, leaning closer. Bonnie’s arms were crossed, her expression similarly worried. “You’re… you’re acting different. What’s going on?”

Caroline forced a small smile, but it felt hollow. “I—I’m fine. Just… just a little tired, that’s all.”

Bonnie tilted her head, unconvinced. “You’re not fine. Your hands are shaking. You look… off. What is it?”

Caroline swallowed, trying to ground herself. She could feel Damon’s gaze still on her from across the room. The thought of him reminded her of everything she’d survived, everything she still had to navigate carefully tonight. She couldn’t show weakness, not here, not now.

“I just… I need a second,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on her glass. Her mind raced. Vervain, I need vervain…

Elena reached out and lightly touched her arm. “Care, seriously. You can tell us. Something’s up.”

Caroline looked up, meeting their concerned eyes. For a brief second, she almost wanted to tell them, to confide in them like she used to. But the risk was too high. Not just for her—tonight was delicate. “I… I’m fine,” she repeated more firmly, forcing her voice steady, “I just need to… focus for a minute.”

Bonnie narrowed her eyes, clearly skeptical, but she didn’t press further. Elena gave her a sympathetic glance before letting it drop. Caroline exhaled quietly, her gaze darting back to Damon, who had resumed his drink but still glanced her way occasionally.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes, clearly skeptical, but she didn’t press further. Elena gave her a sympathetic glance and let it drop. Caroline exhaled slowly, her gaze flicking back to Damon, who had resumed his drink but still stole the occasional glance her way.

Stay calm. Play it cool. She repeated the mantra in her head like a lifeline, willing herself not to crumble under the pressure.

The conversation between Elena and Bonnie droned around her, their voices faint against the hum of the bar, but Caroline barely registered a word. Her focus was entirely on Damon—the way he moved, the subtle curve of that dangerous smirk, the way the dim lights caught his eyes, giving him an almost predatory glow. Every instinct in her screamed to flee, to vanish, to be anywhere else.

Minutes stretched like hours. She sat frozen, forcing herself to look casual while mentally preparing for anything—anything at all. The chatter, the music, the clatter of glasses—all of it blurred around her. 

Finally, Bonnie snapped. She slammed her hand lightly on the table, cutting off both her own and Elena’s conversation. “Alright, that’s it! What is wrong with you? You’re freaking out—and not in a normal control-freak way!” Her whisper was sharp, the anger underlining the concern.

Caroline’s stomach lurched. She felt more exposed, more vulnerable than she had in centuries. She was 700 years old, and yet here she was, human and helpless in the same room as him. The thought made her feel absurdly pathetic. She felt dizzy, nauseous, barely able to comprehend what was happening.

Elena’s eyes softened, searching Caroline’s, and she turned to Bonnie, speaking quickly. Bonnie’s expression shifted from frustration to understanding as Elena’s words sank in. Elena reached across the table, her hand covering Caroline’s with quiet reassurance, grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

…

The next thing Caroline knew, she was in Bonnie’s car. The cool night air hit her face through the slightly cracked windows, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. Elena sat beside her, eyes full of concern, soft and attentive. “Care? Hey.” Her voice was gentle, grounding. Caroline blinked, surprised at how comforting it felt.

“Ye-yeah,” she whispered, her own voice breaking. She sounded small, fractured. “When did—”

“We left about five minutes ago,” Elena said softly, turning slightly toward her. “You weren’t even coherent at the Grill. Matt tried to help you to the car, but you freaked out… shoved him away.”

Bonnie’s face appeared in the rearview mirror, her brows furrowed with worry. “Care… did something happen to you?” she asked cautiously. “If you want to talk, we’re here for you.”

Caroline’s chest tightened. Her eyes stung, tears threatening to spill. No one had ever looked at her like this—not really. Not with such patience, such empathy. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly seen by them. 

She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling shakily. 

She gave a small nod, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I don’t know.”

Elena squeezed her hand, gentle and unwavering, while Bonnie’s gaze in the mirror was full of quiet support. In that moment, despite the fear and the memories, she felt so safe with them.

…

Stefan: September 10, 2009

Stefan’s chest tightened as he stepped through the front door. The night air clung to him like a damp cloak, his mind still running through the chaos of the evening. Damon had killed a whole group of people in the woods, and left a girl alive. She’d seen Damon, he felt horrible going back and compelling her. But it was better than remembering what she saw. He hadn’t expected to be met with a question when he reached the living room, but Zach’s sharp voice cut through the silence.

“What's going on?”

Stefan froze, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t bother explaining the full truth.

“Someone else was attacked tonight, Zach,” he said evenly, forcing calm into his tone. “And it wasn’t me.”

He brushed past the stunned look on Zach’s face, heading up the stairs. Every step was measured, silent—vigilant. He needed to get to his room, to think, to sort through the mess of thoughts swirling in his mind.

Then he saw it.

A crow perched on the edge of his open bedroom window. Its black eyes seemed to pierce through the dim light, and instinctively, his pulse quickened.

“Damon,” he muttered under his breath.

On the balcony, framed against the shadowy glow of the moon, Damon Salvatore stood with his signature smirk, arms crossed, eyes glinting with mischief and danger. Stefan’s stomach tightened.

“Hello, brother,” Damon called, his voice smooth, deliberately casual.

Stefan exhaled slowly, tension coiling in his shoulders. “Crow’s a bit much, don’t you think?” His tone was dry, but his eyes didn’t leave Damon.

Damon chuckled, low and mocking. “Wait till you see what I can do with the fog.”

Stefan’s mind raced. When had Damon even arrived? He hadn’t sensed him enter the town—or his home. “When’d you get here?”

“Well,” Damon said, tilting his head as if inspecting him, “I couldn’t miss your first day at school. Your hair is… different. I like it.”

Stefan let out a slow, controlled breath, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “It’s been fifteen years, Damon.”

“Thank God,” Damon said, mock relief coloring his tone. “I couldn’t take another day of the nineties. That horrible grunge look? Did not suit you. Remember, Stefan, it’s important to stay away from fads.”

Stefan clenched his jaw, stepping closer to the balcony. “Why are you here?”

Damon’s smirk deepened. “I miss my little brother.”

“Little brother?” Stefan’s voice was flat, his eyes scanning the darkness, noting the familiar curve of Damon’s grin and the menace behind it. “You hate small towns. It’s boring. There’s nothing for you to do here.”

“I’ve managed to keep myself busy,” Damon replied, voice smooth but dangerous. Stefan’s chest tightened further; he didn’t need the reminder that Damon thrived on chaos.

“And you know,” Stefan said, his tone sharp now, controlled but icy, “you left that girl alive tonight. Very clumsy of you.”

Damon’s laugh was soft, almost musical, but with an edge that made Stefan’s stomach twist. “Ah. That can be a problem…for you.”

Stefan took a step closer to the door, trying to gauge just how long Damon had been watching him. “Why are you here now?”

Damon tilted his head, the smirk never leaving his face. “I could ask you the same question. But somehow, I think your answer can be summed up in one little word…”

Stefan tensed, already anticipating the name, the weight, the pull of everything that had always haunted him.

“Elena.”

Stefan felt the room tilt the moment Damon said her name. Elena. The single word folded around him like smoke, curling into the raw places he kept under lock and key. For a second he was back in 1864—back where the memories lived in scars.

“She took my breath away,” Damon said, voice honeyed and cruel. “Elena. She’s a dead ringer for Katherine. Is it working, Stefan? Being around her, being in her world? Does it make you feel alive?”

The mention of Katherine made Stefan’s stomach twist violently. He felt bile rise at the back of his throat, a surge of nausea that made him want to step back, to disappear. The memories weren’t just memories—they were scars, raw and festering, reminders of manipulation, betrayal, and endless nights of obsession and pain. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He could almost taste her—her, not Elena—and it made him shiver with disgust and anger.

“She’s not Katherine,” he said, voice tight, trying to keep his control. But even saying it made his stomach churn further, his pulse hammering in his temples. The word Katherine should have been harmless here, in the safety of his home—but it wasn’t.

“Let’s hope not,” Damon replied. “We both know how that ended. Tell me something—when’s the last time you had something stronger than a squirrel?”

The bait was obvious. The memory of blood—real blood—flashed behind Stefan’s eyes. He pictured the taste he’d denied himself, the way it had simplified everything hateful and messy and painful into terrible satisfaction.

“I know what you’re doing, Damon. It’s not going to work.” His voice came out steadier than he felt. He tried to retreat into reasoning, into that place of rules and guilt he’d been clinging to for years.

“Yeah? Come on. Don’t you crave a little?” Damon leaned forward as if his entire life were an experiment and Stefan was the specimen. The smirk carved at his face was patient and predatory.

Damon’s hand came up then, fast and hard—an empty slap that burned more for what it represented than for the sting on Stefan’s cheek. It was a provocation, a test: break, or don’t.

“Stop it,” Stefan said, but the word trembled.

“Let’s do it. Together,” Damon purred. “I saw a couple girls out there. Or—let’s cut to the chase—let’s go straight for Elena.”

Every muscle in Stefan coiled. His breath hitched. The world simplified into two choices: let the floodgate open, or slam the door shut and risk everything that lay on the other side—Damon’s escalating cruelty, the damage he could cause if allowed to keep pulling. The old, shameful hunger had been a refuge and a prison both; he’d given it up to save himself. To lose that bargain here, now, would be to erase everything he’d fought for.

“Stop it!” he snapped.

“Imagine what her blood tastes like!” Damon hissed, relish dripping from the sentence like poison.

Something inside Stefan snapped—not the moral, restrained Stefan that drank from animals, but the thing that he had once been a predator without apology. His face went wrong first: pupils pinched, then flared; his irises darkened until they were nearly black, the whites of his eyes rimmed by veins the color of old bruises—reddish-black veins crawling under skin. His fangs dropping, as he bared them.

Damon’s grin sharpened as Stefan’s mask failed. “I can,” he said softly, approving the change like a connoisseur at a gallery opening.

“Stop!” Stefan barked, helpless fury and pleading braided together. He surged forward before he’d fully considered it, closing the distance between them with an animal speed that left no room for thought. He grabbed Damon and shoved, a desperate burst of strength, and Damon skidded backward—over the balcony rail.

For a heartbeat Stefan watched the body arc, saw the flash of jacket, heard an involuntary sound in his own throat. Then—landing—nothing. The pavement below was empty. No impact, no broken glass, no limp heap of Damon’s dark coat. The air where Damon had been was still. Stefan was trembling, his chest heaving, still tasting the acid of the old memories on his tongue.

Stefan could feel it—the visceral reaction to Katherine’s name—bile and rage and memory mingling in a tight, painful knot in his stomach. He had fought against it for decades, but every mention, every reminder, made his body recoil. He had survived her once, but the sickness, the memory, and the anger remained, and it would take everything he had to make sure it didn’t swallow him whole now.

A dry, amused voice came from behind him like a ripple. “I was impressed. I give it a six. Missing style, but I was pleasantly surprised. Very good with the whole face…thing. It was good.”

Stefan whirled. Damon stood where he always did—smirking, immaculate, as though he’d been watching a particularly diverting puppet show. The rational part of him should have been relieved to see Damon intact, but the relief tasted of ash.

“You know,” Stefan said heavily, forcing the words out, “it’s all fun and games for you, isn’t it? Wherever you go, people die.”

Damon’s eyes glittered like a knife. “That’s a given,” he replied, perfectly casual.

“Not here,” Stefan spat. “I won’t allow it.”

Damon’s smile curved into something like invitation and threat. “I take that as an invitation.”

Stefan’s hands opened, wanting peace the way a drowning man wants air. “Damon, please. After all these years—can’t we just give it a rest?”

Damon’s answer was a soft chuckle that made Stefan’s skin crawl. “I promised you an eternity of misery,” he said, the amusement gone thin, “so I’m just keeping my word.”

“Just stay away from Elena,” Stefan said, the pleading plain in his voice.

Damon’s gaze flicked to Stefan’s chest, to where the wedding ring had been in another life. “Where’s your ring?” he asked with a mock-innocent tilt. “Oh, yeah—sun’s coming up in a couple of hours, and …poof, ashes to ashes. Relax. It’s right here.” His fingers closed reflexively around some empty air, the threat tucked into a joke.

Before Stefan could react, Damon’s hand was on his throat—sudden, heavy, an iron clamp that yanked breath into a choke. He slammed Stefan back with brutal force; Stefan hit the garage wall hard enough to see stars. The world narrowed to pain and the metallic tang of his own blood at the corner of his lip.

“You should know better than to think you’re stronger than me,” Damon said, voice low enough to scrape. “You lost that fight when you stopped feeding on people. I wouldn’t try it again.”

Stefan coughed, each breath a knife, and the room swayed. The memory of the promise he’d made to himself—no killing, no reverting—hung in his head like a commandment. He had to hold to it. For Elena. For everyone.

From the kitchen downstairs came the sharp, annoyed voice of Zach, awakened by the commotion. “Everything okay up there?”

Damon’s lips twitched. “Sorry, Zach.” He released Stefan as if letting go of a toy. Stefan slid down the garage door, hands pressed to his throat, lungs heaving. Damon didn’t move to follow—didn’t need to. He watched Stefan with the amusement of someone who’s just lit a match near a powder keg.

Stefan pushed himself upright, anger and humiliation flaring in equal measure. He could feel the animal still simmering beneath his skin, tasting the aftermath—danger, blood, the scent of Elena like a bell. He forced his breathing slow, one steadying count after another, trying to drag himself back from the edge Damon had shoved him toward.

“You want a war of attrition?” Stefan said at last, voice ragged but controlled. “Fine. But pick another town.” He backed toward the house, using the motion to keep himself moving away from the smell of the street and the possibility of crossing that line.

Damon’s laugh followed him down the steps, light and chiding. “We’ll see, brother. We’ll see.”

Stefan stood on the porch, throat raw, the night pressing cold against his face. Somewhere beyond the immediate fear and the fury, a quieter terror sat like an egg—what he’d seen in his own reflection, the ease with which hunger could find him again. He had fought, and he had won before. He could fight again.

But for the first time in a long time, Stefan felt acutely the brittle, fragile thing he’d chosen to be: not a predator, not a monster—just a man clinging to rules, to love, and to the hope that rules could hold. He had to keep them. For Elena. For the town. For whatever he had left of himself.

…

Caroline Forbes: September 10, 2009

Elena and Bonnie hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but Caroline insisted. She’d promised them that if she needed anything, she’d call—either them or her mother. After an hour of gentle nagging and worried glances, they finally relented, leaving her in the quiet of her room. The relief was immediate, a small but tangible weight lifting off her shoulders.

Now she was sprawled out on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The memory of Damon’s smirk at the grill clawed at her mind, refusing to fade. Every inch of his presence had pressed against old wounds she thought she’d buried. Even with Bonnie and Elena there, she hadn’t been able to keep herself composed.

He doesn’t know me. He hasn’t done anything to me.

And yet… the anger, the hurt, the ache—it was all still there, coiled in her chest like a living thing. Her stomach churned, a mixture of dread and disgust at the thought of him.

Kol’s going to want to skin him alive. She allowed herself the briefest, guilty smirk at the thought. Maybe she’d let him—just this once.

Caroline sat up slowly, letting out a long, shuddering breath. She couldn’t afford to dwell on Damon. Not tonight. There was too much to do, too many plans to execute, and too many lives—hers and others’—on the line. Trauma could wait; action could not.

Her fingers ran through her hair, brushing aside the lingering unease and the ghost of fear Damon left in his wake. She forced herself to focus on the checklist running through her mind: Kol, Lexi, Esther, the Cure, the White Oak, the locks on Silas… every move had to be precise, calculated.

No distractions. No mistakes. 

With that, Caroline swung her legs off the bed and planted her feet on the floor. The weight of centuries, the memories of loss, betrayal, and survival—they all tightened around her chest, but she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. There was work to be done, and she would face it head-on. Damon, the memories, the fear—they could wait.

…

September 11, 2009

The hallways buzzed with the usual chaos, lockers slamming, laughter bouncing off the walls. Caroline walked alongside Bonnie and Elena, her backpack slung casually over one shoulder, but her mind wasn’t on school. Every glance from her friends, every whispered “are you okay?” chipped at her composure.

By the time she reached her locker, the tension had built past the breaking point. She snapped, voice louder than she intended. “Guys! I’m fine, okay? I know I freaked out yesterday, but I’m okay now. I appreciate the concern—I really do—but I’m fine!”

Elena blinked at her, unconvinced, lips pressed into a thin line. “If you’re sure…”

Bonnie opened her mouth to speak, but the moment was interrupted by Matt’s approach. His usual boyish charm was in full force, the grin that had once made her heart skip a beat faltering when he saw her. Caroline’s stomach lurched—he had a bruise on the side of his face. Oh god… had I punched him?

“Hey, guys,” he said, trying to keep it casual. When his gaze met hers, worry flickered across his features. “Hey, Care… you feeling better?”

Her heart clenched. She had socked him in the face, and he wasn’t even angry. She forced a smile, trying to hide the guilt twisting in her stomach. “Yeah… I’m fine now. Did I… did I punch you last night?”

Matt’s eyes darted away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, guilt written across every line of his face. “Uh… yeah. But it’s okay. It’s no big deal. Really.”

Caroline frowned, a mix of frustration and disbelief tightening her jaw. “No, it’s not okay, Matt. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

He shook his head quickly, waving a hand like he was brushing off the thought, but Caroline wasn’t buying it. Why does he feel guilty? He wasn’t the one who assaulted me. He didn’t deserve the punch. None of this is his fault.

Her chest tightened as she forced herself to take a deep breath. Focus, Care. Focus. She turned to her friends, letting a small, controlled smile settle on her lips. “Really, I’m okay. Let’s just… forget about last night.”

Elena gave her a hesitant nod, Bonnie’s brow furrowed in lingering concern, and Matt just smiled, still wincing slightly. Caroline’s stomach twisted, part anger, part regret. She’d spent centuries mastering control, and yet—here she was—messing up in the one place that should have felt easiest: high school.

Get a hold of yourself, Caroline.

Speaking of anger, she noticed Tyler approaching the group, completely calm and unaware of the tension hanging between them.

“Good morning, ladies,” Tyler said, mock bowing with a playful grin. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Matt’s semi-swollen face. “Holy shit, man, what happened to you?”

Matt glanced between Tyler and Caroline, sputtering, fumbling for a lie. Caroline didn’t hesitate. She turned to fully face Tyler. “I did.”

The group froze, eyes wide, and Tyler’s jaw tightened, his temper flaring instantly. “Why the fuck would you do that? What is wrong with—”

Elena cut him off sharply, her glare icy. “She was out of it, Ty. She didn’t even realize we’d left the Grill until we were in the car for, like, five minutes.”

Tyler’s anger simmered slightly, his gaze shifting between Matt and Caroline, searching for something, anything, to make sense of the chaos. Finally, Matt spoke, his voice calm but firm. “Ty, let it go. It’s no big deal.”

Tyler threw his hands up in mock surrender, scoffing as the tension eased. The conversation shifted naturally, the group moving on to random chatter. Caroline forced herself to listen, nodding along, though her mind was elsewhere, spinning.

Eventually, Matt brought up Vicki, mentioning how she’d been attacked by an animal the previous night. Everyone’s reactions were casual, joking even, but Caroline’s stomach dropped. Her mind flashed—she remembered only fragments: Damon, a struggle, overwhelming fear. She’d been human, defenseless, trying to survive. The memory was hazy, distorted by time and trauma, but the panic and helplessness still echoed sharply in her chest.

Her fingers tightened around her backpack strap as she tried to steady herself, forcing a small, practiced smile. The others continued their banter, oblivious to the storm raging just beneath the surface of Caroline’s carefully composed exterior.

…

“So,” she said, forcing a casual tone, hoping someone else would break the silence before her friends started sending her those worried ooks. “Anyone got anything interesting to talk about?”

Tyler leaned back in his chair, deadpan as always. “Depends. Are you talking about yourself, or someone else?”

Caroline shot him a sharp look. He was trying to be clever, and failing miserably. “Careful,” she said smoothly, letting her voice hold a subtle edge. “You might learn the hard way that sarcasm doesn’t protect you.”

The group went silent. Tyler’s jaw tightened; she could see the muscle working in his cheek as he silently seethed. Caroline scanned the cafeteria, feeling the heat of their stares, growing increasingly anxious under the collective gaze of everyone else’s chaos. Then she saw it—the perfect opening. Stefan was leaving the lunch line, tray in hand, navigating toward an empty table on the far side of the room. Bingo.

Her pulse quickened, but she forced her voice to stay light, casual, confident. “Hey, Stefan! Come sit over here!” she called, earning multiple startled looks—Elena and Bonnie’s wide eyes, Tyler’s brow furrowed, Matt’s quiet curiosity—and, of course, Stefan himself, whose expression registered confusion beneath the faintest hint of amusement.

He hesitated for a moment, scanning the table, before walking over. Each step was measured, precise, calm—but Caroline could tell he was cautious, trying to read the situation. For someone who had lived over a century, he could be frustratingly unaware of the simplest human social cues.

Caroline patted the empty seat beside her, gesturing for him to sit. It was more than just an invitation. It was strategy. Not only did having Stefan here draw attention away from herself, but it also gave her control over the conversation. She could steer the discussion, keep her friends distracted, and—most importantly—keep her composure while keeping an eye on him.

As Stefan slid into the seat next to her, Caroline allowed herself the tiniest, satisfied smirk. She turned to face him fully, letting her expression soften into a practiced, sunny smile.

“I’m Caroline,” she said, her tone casual but deliberate. “We have history together.” It felt strange, introducing herself to someone she already knew, someone who had been a part of her life for far longer than the high school timeline allowed.

Stefan gave a polite, slightly awkward smile, that faint tilt of his head betraying his confusion. “Yeah… Mr. Tanner’s class,” he said, his gaze drifting toward Elena. A genuine smile touched his features as he connected with her, but Caroline noticed it—the flicker of unease in his eyes. Something about the way he held himself seemed… off, cautious, almost fearful. Had he always looked like that?

Caroline leaned back slightly, letting her grin widen just enough to draw attention. “So, Stefan,” she said, tilting her head, “tell us about yourself!”

Her enthusiasm was probably a little too bright, a little too over-the-top, but she didn’t care. Any moment she could take the spotlight—even briefly—was an opportunity. She needed it: a chance to think, plan, control the conversation, and keep the questions about her at bay.

Stefan relaxed fractionally, giving a small shrug. “Just moved here from Chicago. Nothing too exciting… I like reading, history, writing, being a loner.” His tone lightened at the end, and his gaze flicked toward Elena, who giggled softly.

Chicago? Really, Stef? Caroline’s mind flicked briefly to Klaus before she shook it off. She didn’t have time to dwell on feelings of the past right now. Instead, she let her grin widen. “Writing, huh? Elena loves writing. Guess that gives you two something in common.”

What was wrong with a little matchmaking? She watched as Elena’s cheeks flush. Bonnie grinned beside her, clearly enjoying the flow of the conversation. Caroline tilted her head toward Stefan, keeping her bright, friendly smile plastered across her face while her mind quietly cataloged the room.

Matt looked like a wounded puppy, staring at Elena with that desperate, still-hopeful expression. Must not be over her yet. Watching your ex fall for some new guy wasn’t exactly easy, Caroline thought. And then there was Tyler—still seething, jaw tight, hands fidgeting on the table. He was trying hard to act casual, but Caroline could read him like an open book.

The rest of lunch moved along with the usual rhythm, but Caroline stayed in observation mode. Elena spoke softly about Jeremy, worry clear in her voice, while Bonnie mentioned her grandmother acting strangely, sparking Stefan’s faintly cautious curiosity. Matt and Tyler debated football tryouts, unintentionally drawing Stefan into the conversation. Caroline noticed the slight ease in his posture as he discussed strategy and teamwork—a glimpse of the boy who’d once been normal, before the centuries of chaos reshaped him.

Caroline contributed sparingly, just enough to keep the conversation flowing and maintain her cover, while her mind was elsewhere. Every smile, every laugh, every distracted glance was another piece of the puzzle she was building. Kol. She had to figure out a plan to get him back. Every movement, every conversation here was a calculated step toward that goal.

She leaned back slightly, keeping her smile effortless, letting Stefan talk while her mind plotted. High school might be chaotic, the cafeteria loud, and her friends oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around them—but Caroline Forbes had lived through centuries of manipulation, of strategy, of survival. She could handle this. She had to.

Because for all the distractions, all the high school games, all the old wounds resurfacing—nothing, and no one, could stop her from getting Kol back..

…

Caroline waited by Stefan’s car, tapping her foot lightly against the pavement. She’d rushed straight from her last class, desperate to catch him before he left. The thought of going back to the boarding house, so soon, and being anywhere near Damon again made her stomach twist. Better to deal with Stefan first, get him on her side—if her plan was going to work.

Finally, Stefan emerged from the school doors, keys in hand, lost in thought. He didn’t notice her at first, shoulders slightly hunched, brows furrowed as if the weight of something older than high school hung over him. Caroline’s chest lifted with relief—perfect timing.

“Oh! Caroline, hi,” he said, looking up, surprised. His calm, measured green eyes widened just slightly. He hadn’t expected her to be here.

“Hey,” she replied, voice light, though her mind raced. “Sorry to… stalk your car. I just wanted to let you know there’s a back-to-school campfire tonight. It’s a tradition—everyone will be there. I just thought you should know.”

She stepped away from the car door, no longer leaning on it but still deliberately positioned so he couldn’t just brush her off. Stefan’s lips curved in a small, polite smile.

“Oh yeah, Elena mentioned that earlier. I was planning on going.” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity? Unease? Caroline caught it and let herself smile.

“Great! See you there!” she said cheerfully, the words light but with a subtle weight. She gave him a small wave before turning toward her own car.

As she walked away, she glanced back briefly. Stefan was watching her go, keys still in hand, shoulders slightly less tense. Mission accomplished.

…

Caroline stood in front of her mirror, fingers threading through her hair, coaxing it into loose waves. Her mind raced faster than her hands. Tonight wasn’t a night for bright colors or cheerful smiles—it was about control, about reading the room before anyone noticed her.

She had chosen a darker outfit: a fitted black top with subtle leather accents, dark jeans, and boots. Even her makeup was deliberate—smoky eyes that contrasted sharply with her pale skin, a far cry from the pastel pinks and sunny tones she’d once favored. A small hesitation flickered—was she overdoing it? But she pushed it aside. It’s not about standing out. It’s about control. 

She leaned closer, studying her reflection. The darker tones accentuated the sharpness of her features, the edges of her face seeming more defined, more focused. After everything… she doesn’t wear much color anymore. Makes hiding mistakes easier. Makes hiding bloodstains easier. The thought was fleeting, dismissed before it could linger. Tonight wasn’t about old regrets or fear. Tonight was about watching, planning, and making sure she stayed three steps ahead.

Satisfied with her reflection, Caroline grabbed her bag. The night air awaited, cool and crisp, brushing against her skin as she slipped quietly into the darkness. Each step carried a careful confidence—tonight, she was invisible yet present, a shadow moving with purpose, ready to observe, protect, and set her plans in motion.

…

The bonfire blazed at the edge of the Mystic Falls clearing, flames licking the night sky and casting long shadows across the laughing students gathered around it. The smell of smoke and autumn leaves mixed in the crisp air, the sound of crackling fire mingling with chatter and laughter. Caroline moved through the crowd with purpose, keeping her gaze steady, scanning for familiar faces while keeping her thoughts in check.

When she reached her friend group, she paused for just a moment, surprised to see Stefan there, leaning slightly toward Elena, laughing at something she had said. History had shifted again—but this time, intentionally. A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips as she approached, keeping her movements casual, effortless.

Bonnie’s eyes lit up as she spotted her. “I love the makeup, Care,” she said as Caroline joined the group, her tone genuinely admiring. “It really makes your eyes pop.”

Caroline offered a small, confident smile, letting the praise land without giving anything away. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“Yeah! It’s kind of weird seeing you in dark colors, but you totally rock them!” Elena added, her cheerful grin warm and encouraging.

Caroline nodded, tilting her head slightly as she took a mental note of the dynamics around her. Stefan’s laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners—it was all so familiar, yet different. 

…

Eventually, the group fell into a comfortable rhythm. Laughter and teasing flowed easily, the warmth of the fire casting a golden glow over their faces. After a while, Caroline and Bonnie exchanged a subtle glance, silently agreeing it was time to nudge Elena and Stefan toward a little privacy.

“Why don’t you two go take a walk in the woods?” Bonnie suggested casually, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “The air’s nice, and, well… the other students put a lot of work into decorating.”

Elena’s cheeks flushed crimson, and she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “Uh, yeah… okay,” she stammered, glancing at Stefan, who looked a little unsure but curious.

Caroline gave an encouraging nod, smiling warmly. “Go on. You’ll thank us later.”

With some embarrassment and awkward shuffling, Elena and Stefan rose from their seats and disappeared toward the treeline. Caroline let herself relax back into the group, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. It was refreshing, watching her old friends be so carefree, so unaware of the dangers that would one day consume their lives. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to simply enjoy the moment.

Bonnie leaned back against the table, her expression relaxed, and Caroline joined her, keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding crowd. The flickering firelight made everything feel intimate and alive, a rare pause in the chaos that was her life.

After a stretch of quiet conversation, filled with easy teasing and stories from earlier in the year, Elena and Stefan returned, their cheeks flushed from the walk. Stefan’s smile was softer now, the tension from earlier slightly eased, and Elena looked embarrassed but happy. Caroline caught their eyes as they rejoined the group, noting every subtle glance, every unspoken word.

Chapter Text

Caroline: September 11, 2009

Stefan was fitting in surprisingly well. He laughed easily with Matt and Tyler, chatted comfortably with Elena and Bonnie—definitely making friends faster than last time. Caroline felt a pang of guilt twist in her chest. She was planning to use him, to manipulate him, to distract Klaus while she undaggered Kol. Stefan had once been a brother to Klaus, had cared for him, and now she could lean on that… but at what cost? Elijah might have been an option, too, but unpredictable, dangerous, and far less known. If she messed up and died, Kol would never forgive her.

God, what do I do? Kol would have a perfect plan—but he can’t tell me. GOD DAMMIT, KLAUS! Why do you have to dagger your siblings? So inconvenient!

“Care?” Elena’s soft, concerned voice cut through her thoughts. “Are you alright? You look stressed.”

Caroline’s eyes widened, scrambling for an excuse—but Bonnie spoke first.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on, Care? You’ve been acting super weird the past couple days. Zoning out, acting… different. Hell, you even feel different!” Bonnie leaned forward, eyes sharp. “And don’t even get me started on last night at the grill!”

Matt and Tyler exchanged uneasy looks, and Stefan shifted uncomfortably, like he wanted to leave but didn’t know how. Caroline had been slipping up—but not that badly. She had every right to act differently. She was seven hundred years old, had lost her daughters, her best friend, had to face Damon again, and somehow had to keep the world from ending.

“I’m fine, really,” Caroline forced a small smile. “Just… a little on edge. A lot going on.” Not a lie, but far from the full truth.

Matt leaned forward, concern etched across his face. “Care, if something’s going on, you can tell us. We’re your friends—we don’t want you to be upset.”

Caroline blinked, swallowing a lump in her throat. Matt… you deserved better.

Elena nodded, eyes wide and unwavering. “You were there for me after… my parents. I’ll be there for you, no matter what.”

Caroline’s chest tightened. She remembered all the times Elena hadn’t been there for her—when she’d been abandoned, left to face horrors alone. Was that why she’d been hurt? She shook her head, pushing the thought down. Then a cruel but necessary idea sparked: It’ll protect Kol. That’s what matters.

Her voice trembled as she lied, a few tears slipping free. “My friend… he… he… recently died. Killed by his brother. It’s… really hard.” She sniffled. “I didn’t want to say anything… because I didn’t want it to be real.”

The words cut deeper than she expected. She hadn’t meant to think of Josie and Lizzie, her twins, bloodied and lifeless in her arms. Or Hope. The grief was raw, unending. Letting it out now felt like a release she hadn’t allowed herself in centuries. She hadn’t meant to break down—this was supposed to be an act, a small excuse, a way to give herself more room to maneuver.

Elena and Bonnie rushed forward, wrapping her in a tight hug. Caroline didn’t pull away. For the first time in centuries, it felt like coming home—finally releasing the weight she’d carried alone. Elena whispered gentle reassurances, while Bonnie simply held her steady. Matt joined them, rubbing her back, murmuring that it would be okay.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook her. Her body shook with the force of her sobs, and she slipped into darkness, Elena and Bonnie supporting her as they took her home.

…
She awoke in her room, groggy, wondering how she’d gotten there. Voices downstairs carried up, low but distinct. Heart racing, she grabbed a pair of scissors, knuckles white, and crept toward the stairs.

“-A friend, she said… she had a full breakdown,” whispered one voice.

“We tried to help her, but she didn’t stop until she passed out. She mentioned three names though… Lizzie, Josie, and Hope. Do you know anyone?” another voice asked.

Then a voice Caroline hadn’t heard in years—one she’d nearly forgotten—spoke softly. “No, I’ve never heard of anyone with those names. Maybe her father knows; I’ll ask.”

Her mother. Liz. Alive. Caroline’s heart leapt.

She hurried the rest of the way down the stairs, dropping the scissors, rushing into her mother’s arms. Liz stiffened briefly, then melted into the hug, wrapping her arms around Caroline.

“Mom,” Caroline choked, tears streaming. She felt her grief wash away for a moment, because able to hug her, to hear her voice again, to be home, even if only for a moment.
…
Caroline sat on the edge of her bed, still wrapped in the quiet warmth of her mother’s presence. Liz had insisted on staying until she was sure Caroline had settled, leaving the door cracked so she could step out if needed.

Yet even in this calm, her mind refused to still. Kol… I have to get him back. I can’t leave him trapped forever. And Klaus… I’ll need Stefan. But how do I make that work without everything collapsing?

Her fingers absently traced the edge of her notebook, its pages filled with contingency plans and grim reminders of the stakes. She thought of the tomb, the desiccated vampires, and the ticking clock of impending chaos. Using Stefan would be risky—he barely trusted her, unaware she knew of the supernatural world, unaware that she was planning to manipulate him to get Kol back. But he was the one who could distract Klaus, hold him occupied while Caroline executed the delicate task of undaggering her brother.

Her thoughts drifted to Elijah. She wished she knew more about the noble Original. He could hold off Klaus if needed—but he would want to free all his siblings, and there was the small issue of him believing they were lost at the bottom of the ocean. God damn it, Klaus. Your temper is really screwing up my plans.

Caroline’s gaze slid to the window, the night sky glittering above Mystic Falls. Memories of her daughters—Josie, Lizzie, and Hope—flashed through her mind. The grief was raw, aching beneath the surface, but she pushed it down. She couldn’t afford to let it consume her tonight.

Liz’s gentle voice broke through her thoughts. “Caroline… do you want to talk? It’s not good to keep these things to yourself.”

Caroline sniffed, forcing a small smile, fighting back tears at finally having her mother back. Sobbed more would help nobody. “I’ll be alright, Mom. If I need to talk, I’ll let you know.”

Her mother frowned, starting to speak, but was interrupted by the buzz of her radio. Another body. Duty called, and Liz had to leave. She looked at Caroline with guilt and worry. “I’m sorry, honey. I have to—”

“It’s okay, Mom. If I need anything, I’ll call.” Caroline’s voice was soft but steady, finishing the thought for her mother.

Liz gave one last worried glance, clipped her radio back onto her belt, and stepped out into the night. Caroline watched the door click softly behind her, then allowed herself to finally exhale—if only for a moment.

Chapter Text

Caroline Forbes: September 20, 2009

For once in her life, everything was going to plan. With Mrs. Lockwood’s party coming up, Caroline had actually started to relax a little after surviving the chaos of her first week back. It felt amazing to be with her old friends again, even if she was still adapting to—well, everything. Stefan and Elena had already gone on their first date three days ago, which had naturally led to a girls’ sleepover full of giggles, gossip, and the kind of nostalgia that Caroline hadn’t realized she’d missed so much.

And after the bonfire, her mother had been more present. More there. Liz had started dropping by the Grill, to have lunch with her daughter between shifts at the station. Most of their conversations circled back to the recent spike in “animal attacks,” but even that was comforting in a strange way. Caroline got to share meals with her mom again—something she hadn’t been able to do for years.

Of course, Damon had to ruin that, too.

Thanks, Damon. I don’t even get to spend time with my mom in peace without your name coming up. Just another reason to hate you.

Which was why Caroline now stood at the doors of the Salvatore Boarding House. She’d timed it perfectly. Stefan was at school, Damon was day-drinking at the Grill, and Zach Salvatore—the human nephew—was most likely at home. Exactly who she needed.

At 11:42 AM, she knocked.

The street was silent, almost unnervingly so. Caroline shifted on her heels, glancing around. Of course. Quiet when I actually want someone around. Come on, Zach.

The door creaked open, and a familiar face appeared. Zach. His expression flickered with surprise when he saw her.

“Caroline,” he said cautiously, but he stepped aside. “What brings you here?”

Caroline entered, her heels clicking against the floorboards. She leaned against the counter, casual but deliberate, as if she had all the time in the world. “um,” she began, her tone carefully balanced between playful and serious, “I was wondering… do you happen to have any vervain? I, uh, might need some for… research purposes.”

Zach’s face immediately tightened. “Vervain?” he repeated, wary. 

Caroline tilted her head, smiling sweetly. “I know, I know. But I heard it can be useful for keeping things… under control. Thought it would be smart to have some on hand.”

Zach’s suspicion deepened. “We have to be careful with that stuff, Caroline. It’s not a toy.”

Caroline laughed lightly, brushing off the edge in his voice. “Careful? Me? Please, Zach. I’m just being responsible. I’d never do anything reckless.” She softened her voice, coaxing now. “You can trust me.”

Zach studied her for a long moment, weighing his options. “I don’t know. If it’s really for research…”

She smiled wider, eyes shining with practiced innocence. “Exactly. Nothing more. Harmless.”

Finally, he exhaled and jerked his head. “Follow me.”

Caroline grinned. Victory. She followed him through the winding halls until they stopped at a locked door. Zach pulled a small key from his chain and opened it, revealing a stash of vervain. The sight alone tugged at something in Caroline’s chest. Zach had spent his whole life living cautiously, hiding his existence from his own family, shouldering responsibilities that weren’t even his. All because of Stefan and Damon.

Maybe I should tell him to leave town while he still can. Before everything burns down again.

Her thoughts broke when Zach dug into one of the pots and handed her a small brown planter, a healthy vervain plant growing inside.

“It’s better to have a plant,” Zach said with a faint smile. “Green thumb never hurt anyone.”

Caroline stared at the offering, overwhelmed despite herself. This wasn’t just a plant. It was freedom. Protection. Security. A weapon. A way to keep Damon’s hands—and his compulsion—off her. A way to make sure no one ever had that kind of power over her again.

Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard and smiled. “Thank you. Seriously, Zach. This… means a lot.”

He gave a small nod, but his eyes stayed sharp, as though he wasn’t entirely convinced of her intentions.

Caroline hugged the pot to her chest as she left the Boarding House, her heart racing. Relief washed through her, but it was sharp-edged. Damon was less of a concern now. He couldn’t compel her, couldn’t feed on her. Not unless he figured out what she was doing—and he wouldn’t. He didn’t know yet about building tolerances.

She smirked faintly, though her chest still felt heavy. One problem down. A thousand more to go. Kol would know how to spin this. He’d probably have a dozen clever plans already lined up. God, I miss him.

Caroline tightened her grip on the plant. For now, this was enough. One step forward.

…

Caroline set the potted vervain down on her desk like it was treasure. Which, honestly, it was. She trimmed a small sprig, ground it into her water bottle, and forced herself to take a sip. The bitterness burned on her tongue, her throat tightening at the taste, but a wave of relief followed. Safe. Finally safe. Damon couldn’t touch her now—not her mind, not her will, not her. For the first time in a week, the knot in her stomach loosened.

She sat back on her bed, breathing easier. This… this I can control. My own armor.

The thought of Damon compelled flashes of rage. His smug smirk, his careless cruelty, the way he treated lives like toys. Caroline clenched the bottle tighter.

Never again. I’ll never let him own a piece of me again.

By the time she finished stashing the plant safely in her closet and cleaning up, the final bell at Mystic Falls High had already rung. She hadn’t been there all day, but at least she’d gotten what she needed. She was tugging on her jacket when her phone buzzed—three missed calls from Elena, one from Bonnie.

Great.

…

A half hour later, Caroline finally made it to the Grill. She spotted Elena and Bonnie tucked away in a booth near the back, their school bags piled haphazardly on the seat beside them. They already had drinks in front of them, and both looked up the second she slid into the seat across from them.

“There she is,” Bonnie said, giving Caroline a look that was equal parts relief and suspicion. “Where were you all day? We didn’t see you at school.”

Caroline forced a casual smile, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I… wasn’t feeling great this morning. Just needed some time, you know? Self-care day. Don’t worry, I’m fine now.”

Bonnie’s brow arched, her expression skeptical. But before she could press, Elena reached across the table, gently squeezing Caroline’s hand.

Caroline smiled at her, trying to steer the conversation away. “Sooo, what do you guys wanna talk about?”

Bonnie leaned in, lowering her voice. “Okay… so, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I need to tell you guys something. You can’t laugh, alright?”

Caroline stilled. No. no. no.

Bonnie glanced between them, her voice barely above a whisper. “My grams told me… I’m from a long line of witches. Apparently, like, super powerful witches. And she said… I’m one of them.”

Caroline nearly choked on her drink. Seriously?

Elena tilted her head, half joking. “You think that’s true?”

Bonnie huffed, clearly torn. “I don’t know. Maybe? She was dead serious about it. Said she’s gonna start training me because there’s a lot of danger around. She said she could… sense it.”

Caroline watched her, a strange mix of pride and dread swirling in her chest. She’d forgotten how by the book Bonnie used to be before the magic really took hold. The girl in front of her was still rational, still skeptical. But underneath, Caroline could already feel the power simmering.

…

September 21, 2009

Caroline had practically dragged Stefan across the crowded school hallway, ignoring the curious stares of passing students. Stefan, bewildered but compliant, muttered the occasional, “Caroline?” and “Where are we going?” but didn’t resist.

She shoved him into an empty classroom, slammed the door behind them, and locked it with a sharp click.

Stefan blinked, startled. “Caroline, what—”

Was this her best plan? No. Not even close. But she was tired. So here she was—confronting a Ripper, as a human, with zero vampire blood in her system. Brilliant.

At least she’d brought a water gun filled with vervain-infused water, hidden in her bag. Not because she thought she’d have to use it—but because Caroline Forbes had learned the hard way that “just in case” saved lives.

“Listen, Stefan. I know.” Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, tone clipped and steady—at least on the surface.

Stefan froze, confusion flickering across his face. “Know what?”

Caroline bit her lip. Okay, maybe that was a little too vague. Subtlety had never been her strong suit. Kol would’ve been laughing himself sick if he could see her now.

…

“How are you so bad at something so critical to being a vampire?” Kol’s laugh still echoed in her memory, doubled over as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

Caroline had glared, her arms crossed. “Why am I friends with you again?”

Kol ignored her completely, grinning wickedly. “Because I’m amazing. Obviously.” He struck a dramatic pose, like he belonged on a stage.

She’d rolled her eyes, walking ahead. But she couldn’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Kol jogged to catch up, voice pitching high and ridiculous. “We’re totally not gonna hurt you, little human.”

“KOL!” she’d shouted, lunging at him. But he darted away, laughing, and of course she’d chased him.

…

Shaking the memory, Caroline refocused on Stefan. She straightened her shoulders. “I know you’ve lived in Mystic Falls since it was founded. I know you’re 163 years old. I know you’re a vampire—and that you’re a ‘ripper’. Oh, and your older brother? Damon. Yeah, vampire too. Along with that vow Damon made when you first turned.You know an ‘eternity of misery’.”

Her tone was steady, calm. For once, she actually felt somewhat calm. 

Stefan’s face drained of color. He stared at her like she’d just ripped open his diary and read it aloud, which to be fair she kinda did. His lips parted as if to explain, but no words came.

Caroline lifted her hand, stopping his sputtering. “I don’t care that you’re a vampire. I haven’t told anyone. And before you ask—no, I didn’t tell Elena.” She gave him a pointed look, and some of the panic in his eyes softened.

“I’ve known for a long time. You’re still my friend.” She smiled a little, reassuring. 

Stefan exhaled slowly, sinking onto one of the desks. He didn’t look relieved exactly, but the terror in his expression dimmed into cautious weariness. “So why the empty classroom?”

Caroline shrugged. “Figured you’d rather have this conversation in private.”

Stefan nodded faintly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… I guess that makes sense. You’re the daughter of a Founding Family, your mom’s on the Council… she obviously told you. I’m guessing she knows then?” His voice dropped at the end, quieter, almost sad.

Caroline winced. Her heart pinched at the broken tone in his voice.

“Well…” She looked away, fiddling with her bracelet. “My mom… totally doesn’t know I know about vampires.”

Stefan’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.

Caroline’s hands flew up defensively. “But she doesn’t know about you or Damon either, don’t worry! I swear!”

Stefan stared at her, still reeling, and for the first time Caroline realized—this was actually terrifying for him. 

“I also know about Katherine,” Caroline cautiously continued, the words tasting dangerous as they left her lips.

Stefan’s head snapped up. His eyes widened—shock flashing into something darker. Anger. His jaw tightened, his whole body going rigid as though she’d just slapped him.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice low, sharp. “Don’t say her name.”

Caroline swallowed hard but forced herself not to flinch. “I’m just saying I know. I’m not… bringing her into this.” She tried to keep her tone level, but Stefan’s sudden change of expression rattled her.

His eyes locked on hers, the green burning a little too intense. “How much do you know?” His voice was careful, edged with suspicion, like each word had been weighed before release.

Caroline shifted, hugging her arms across her chest. Crap. Too far. Shouldn’t have said her name. Shouldn’t have said anything.

“Enough,” she admitted softly. “Enough to know she looks exactly like Elena. Enough to know she… messed you up. And Damon too.”

Stefan’s anger flickered into hurt, his shoulders dropping just slightly. He broke eye contact, looking at the dusty floor instead. “You don’t know half of it.”

Caroline hesitated. She could’ve backed down—let it drop and saved herself the trouble. But she didn’t. Not when she could see the storm brewing behind his carefully guarded face.

“I don’t have to,” she said more gently. “I don’t need the details, Stefan. I’m not here to judge you for your past. You… It wasn't your fault.”

Stefan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence heavy.

Caroline took a slow step closer, testing the air between them. “Look, I get why you keep secrets. I really do. But if you want what you and Elena have to last … then you have to stop letting Katherine haunt you. Otherwise she wins. Again.”

Stefan looked up at her then, truly looked, like he was trying to decide if Caroline Forbes had just figured out the puzzle he’d been breaking himself against for decades.

“Caroline…” His voice cracked a little. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “How do you know all this?”

Caroline forced out a laugh, too quick, too bright. “What can I say? I’m observant.”

The silence stretched between them. Stefan didn’t look angry anymore—just wary. And maybe, just maybe, a little impressed.

Stefan’s eyes narrowed, like he was trying to peel her apart layer by layer. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Caroline tried not to squirm under the weight of his stare.

Bringing up Katherine was a bad move, shit and I have no vampire blood if he snaps. He won’t but he doesn't know me. He might. 

Finally, Stefan leaned back in the desk chair, exhaling slowly. “You.. surprise me, Caroline.” His tone wasn’t angry anymore—more like cautious curiosity. “You’re… different.” he shook his head, lips twitching in something close to a wry smile, “it’s.. nice.”

Caroline let out a laugh that felt way too forced. “What can I say? I’ve been doing some… growing up. Don’t overthink it.”

For a long beat, Stefan just watched her. He clearly didn’t believe her—not fully—but he wasn’t pushing either. Maybe he didn’t want to risk driving her away. Maybe part of him was just relieved she hadn’t run screaming from him.

“Alright,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “We’ll… leave it there.”

Caroline nodded, relief washing through her like cool water. “Good. Because I really don’t want to keep repeating ‘I don’t care that you’re a vampire’ for the rest of the semester. It’ll get boring.”

That earned her the tiniest smirk from him, a fleeting moment of levity before the weight of everything settled back onto his shoulders.

“See you around, Caroline,” Stefan murmured as he rose from the desk. His footsteps echoed against the old classroom floor as he left, leaving Caroline standing there, lips tugged into a small smile.

…

By the time Caroline caught up with Bonnie and Elena later, she’d shoved the whole encounter into the back of her mind. No one else could know—this had to stay between her and Stefan.

At the lockers, Bonnie was already venting about the “mystery math test” Mr. Smith had decided to spring on them. “I swear, he wakes up in the morning thinking of ways to ruin teenagers’ lives.”

“Honestly,” Caroline chimed in, forcing herself to slip back into her old rhythm with them, “he’s like a sadistic wizard. Except instead of a wand, he just uses pop quizzes.”

That got a laugh out of Elena. Bonnie nudged Caroline with her shoulder. “See? That’s the Care I know. Sass first, suffering later.”

Caroline grinned, looping her arm through Bonnie’s. “What can I say? I’ve got priorities.”

They started toward the parking lot together, their laughter mixing with the buzz of students escaping school for the day. Caroline made sure her energy was bright, effortless—the perfect mask.

But when she glanced back, she froze.

Across the courtyard, Stefan stood under the shadow of a tree, his gaze fixed firmly on her. Not Elena. Not Bonnie. Her. His expression unreadable, sharp with thought.

Caroline’s stomach tightened. He wasn’t letting this go. Not really.

She tore her eyes away quickly and forced herself to chatter about the Lockwood party with her friends. Still, she could feel his gaze lingering on her like a secret only the two of them shared.

…

September 23, 2009 (5:30 PM)

Luckily Caroline already had a dress for the Founders’ Party, so nobody had to drag her shopping. But Elena had insisted they all get ready together, so now she was driving to the Gilbert house with her outfit and makeup bag in tow.

She shifted the items in her arms to knock on the door, waiting a moment before it swung open.

“Oh, hey Caroline,” Jeremy said.

Poor Jere. He’d gone through so much with the hunter’s mark. Honestly, maybe she should just… cut the arm off and be done with it. Then no one would ever find the cure. Plan B, maybe.

“Jeremy! How’ve you been?” Caroline asked brightly, giving him a smile. She’d always had a soft spot for him. To be fair, she hadn’t really cared when he’d started smoking after their parents died—Elena overreacted to that. It was the crowd he’d started hanging out with that she’d judged.

Jeremy gave her a flat look. “Terrible. My parents are dead, and my sister thinks I’m a drug addict.”

Caroline nodded, not missing a beat. “Yeah, she’s overreacting a bit. Though you hanging out with Vicki and the actual drug addicts is a little concerning. Just… don’t go smoking in the woods or cemeteries, okay?”

That earned her a shocked look, quickly replaced by an impressed one. “Yeah, okay. ‘Lena’s upstairs in her room.” He stepped aside, holding the door open for her.

Caroline paused just a moment at the threshold, staring at it. Then she stepped over without needing an invitation. The house still looked the same as it always had, even after Elena had burned it down once. Mystic Falls was good at putting itself back together.

She carried her things upstairs and into Elena’s room, laying her dress carefully on the bed and placing her shoes beside it. “ ‘Lena? Bon?” she called out.

“In here!” Bonnie’s voice floated from the bathroom.

Caroline grabbed her makeup bag and followed it, smiling as she stepped into the bathroom to find her two best friends mid-prep.

“There you are!” Elena exclaimed, eyes bright. “I have news!”

Caroline arched a brow at Bonnie, who just shrugged, clearly not in on it.

Elena’s smile grew. “So, I asked Stefan to go to the Founders’ Party with me… and he said yes!”

Bonnie squealed, practically bouncing. “That’s amazing, Elena!”

Caroline forced her lips into a smile as she unzipped her makeup bag. Okay. Just breathe. You already had the talk with him. He knows you won’t spill. Now he’s with Elena, exactly like it’s supposed to be.

“That’s great, ‘Lena,” Caroline said, keeping her tone light. “I mean, Stefan’s a little… intense. But hey, that’s your type, right?”

Elena gave her a mock-scandalized look. “He’s not intense. He’s just… different.”

“Different, broody, mysterious…” Caroline teased, reaching for her powder. “Come on, admit it, he totally has a journal full of dramatic quotes.”

Bonnie laughed, nudging Elena’s shoulder. “She’s not wrong.”

Elena shook her head, smiling. “You two are impossible.”

Caroline smirked at her reflection but didn’t push it further. Instead, she picked up a lipstick and waved it at Elena like a magic wand. “If Stefan’s your date, then we have to level you up. No more girl-next-door. Tonight, you’re Founders’ Ball glam.”

Bonnie leaned closer to the mirror. “She’s right. Go big or go home.”

Elena rolled her eyes but laughed. “Fine. Just don’t make me look like a pageant queen.”

Caroline grinned. “Relax. I’ll make you look so good, Stefan won’t even remember how to brood properly.”

Her friends laughed, and Caroline joined in, slipping easily into the rhythm of their chatter. But in the back of her mind, she still felt Stefan’s eyes on her, like they had been since yesterday.

No one else knew about the conversation between them. Not Elena. Not Bonnie. Not Jeremy.

Just her and Stefan.

And she planned to keep it that way.

…

The Lockwood mansion buzzed with warm light and polished chatter, every Founders’ Party guest dressed to impress. Caroline had dragged Elena and Bonnie there early, partly for the fun of it and partly because she liked knowing she had a head start on everyone else.

The three of them lingered near the drinks table, sipping from delicate glasses.

“I still can’t believe this is your first Founders’ Party with a date,” Bonnie teased Elena, her eyes gleaming.

Elena flushed, looking down at her lemonade. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s huge,” Caroline cut in, fussing with Elena’s hair until the brunette swatted her away with a laugh. “Stefan Salvatore escorting Elena Gilbert? People will talk about this for weeks.”

Elena groaned, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Before Caroline could pile on more, a ripple went through the crowd. The doors opened, and there they were—Stefan, sharp and composed in a tailored suit, and Damon, wearing that practiced smirk that set Caroline’s stomach on edge.

“Here we go,” Bonnie murmured.

Caroline didn’t hesitate. She excused herself and swept toward the door, her heels clicking against the floor. If she intercepted them first, maybe she could soften Stefan’s arrival—and keep Damon in check.

“Stefan,” she greeted with bright warmth, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in.”

He gave her that quiet, amused smile, and for a moment her tension eased.

Then Damon’s gaze landed on her, sharp blue eyes sparkling with mischief. She forced herself not to stiffen but kept her chin high. “And you…” Caroline’s voice was all sugar, though her arms crossed unconsciously. “Were you invited? Because I don’t remember seeing your name on the list.”

Stefan coughed into his fist, failing to hide his laughter, and Caroline felt a flicker of satisfaction.

But Damon only smirked wider. He leaned down slightly, voice low enough for only her to hear. “You wound me, Blondie.”

Her skin prickled, and not in a way she liked. Too many memories—flashed in her head. Damon compelling her, Damon feeding on her, Damon making her his toy before she became stronger. She forced the unease into a glare, not daring to let it slip through.

“Peaceful,” she shot back, just as Mrs. Lockwood’s heels clicked up behind her.

“Damon! So glad you could come,” Mrs. Lockwood exclaimed warmly, stepping past Caroline. “Of course you’re welcome—come in, come in!”

Caroline stepped aside reluctantly as Damon crossed the threshold with a triumphant smirk. He leaned closer as he passed, knocking her shoulder.

Caroline swallowed, fighting the instinct to recoil, and forced herself to roll her eyes like his presence made her sick. But at least now she was on vervain, he couldn’t compel her at least. 

Stefan gave her a questioning glance—he’d caught the tension, even if no one else had. Caroline quickly smoothed her expression, tugging Stefan forward. “Come on,” she said a little too briskly. “Elena’s waiting.”

Stefan let her lead, his eyes still lingering on her with quiet concern, while Damon trailed behind them like a shadow Caroline couldn’t quite shake.

…

Caroline guided Stefan through the crowd, her heels clicking against the polished floors. Her heart rate was steadying, though the tight grip on her clutch betrayed the unease still simmering beneath the surface. Damon lingered behind, blending into the crowd, and she couldn’t help the small shiver that ran down her spine.

Then Elena’s laughter rang out, and Caroline spotted her near the center of the room, talking with a few other classmates. The moment Elena turned toward them, her face lit up, and she seemed to recognize Stefan instantly.

“Stefan!” Elena exclaimed, moving toward him.

Stefan’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders melting. “Elena,” he replied, his voice low and warm, just loud enough for Caroline to hear.

Caroline lingered a few steps back, letting them have their moment. She watched Elena’s face flush as Stefan gently took her hand. It was subtle, but Caroline caught the flicker of warmth in his gaze—quiet admiration and relief, the way he looked at someone he cared for deeply.

“Nice job, by the way,” Stefan whispered, nodding toward Caroline. “That was a good burn on Damon. Classic.”

Caroline smirked, glancing over her shoulder to see Damon pretending not to notice but clearly smirking under the surface. “Thanks,” she murmured, keeping her tone casual. “Some lessons take centuries to master.”

Elena looked between the two, curiosity knitting her brows. “What are you two whispering about?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“Nothing,” Caroline replied quickly, stepping forward with a bright smile, masking her watchfulness. “Just talking.”

Stefan chuckled softly, letting her lead the way back toward Elena. Caroline’s eyes flicked to Damon briefly—he was watching, and that made her uneasy—but she shoved the thought down. Right now, the priority was keeping Stefan focused and keeping Elena in the loop as little as possible.

Once they reached Elena, Stefan gently pulled her hand into his own, leaning in slightly as if to shield her from the chaos of the crowd. Caroline watched carefully, noting every small gesture, every quiet exchange. It was clear they were both easing into a rhythm, rediscovering comfort in one another’s presence.

Caroline let herself relax a fraction. Her plan was moving forward—Stefan engaged, Elena unaware of the secrets swirling beneath the surface. Damon was a concern, yes, but for the moment, she could ignore him.

And if Stefan complimented her on that quick jab at Damon, well… that was just a bonus. Caroline allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk, hiding it behind her glass and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Everything might actually go according to plan tonight. At least, for now.

…

The grand hall of Mrs. Lockwood’s mansion glittered under the warm glow of chandeliers. Music floated through the air, a mix of soft jazz and modern pop, blending with laughter and chatter. Caroline entered with Elena close behind, her eyes immediately scanning the room. Damon lingered near the punch bowl, a glass in hand, his gaze flicking in her direction. Caroline’s stomach tightened. She couldn’t help the unease that always came with  being around him—but she forced a smile and kept moving.

Caroline’s strategic side thrived in moments like this—keeping her friends safe while subtly influencing the evening.

Across the room, Stefan stood near the edge of the dance floor, awkwardly observing. Caroline caught his hesitation and nudged Elena softly. “Go. Invite him. Don’t overthink it.”

Elena’s cheeks flushed, but she smiled and stepped toward Stefan. Caroline hung back, watching every detail—the way Stefan’s shoulders relaxed slightly when Elena approached, the small smile that tugged at her lips.

“Would you like to dance?” Elena asked softly.

Stefan blinked, then chuckled, his usual calm returning. “I’d love to.”

Caroline melted into the background, letting them meet in the center of the dance floor. Their hands linked naturally, their movements cautious at first but quickly finding rhythm. Caroline’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. Every laugh they shared, every shy glance, was exactly the kind of bonding moment she wanted for them.

Meanwhile, Damon’s dark presence lingered nearby. Caroline’s instincts went on high alert, but she stayed composed, subtly positioning herself between him and the pair. She made sure her expressions were casual, her body language light, but her eyes never left him.

Elena and Stefan continued their slow, easy dance, laughing softly as the music swirled around them. Caroline lingered near the edge of the room, keeping a casual watch over Damon, who lingered near the punch table, sipping his drink with that infuriatingly calm grin. Bonnie flitted nearby, catching Caroline’s subtle glances, sensing her tension but not quite understanding it.

After a few dances, Caroline spotted the display room off to the side. “Hey… there’s a room over there with some history stuff,” she suggested lightly, nudging Elena. “Maybe we should take a peek.”

Elena tilted her head, curious, and Stefan followed, brushing hands with Elena as they left the dance floor. Bonnie trailed close behind, excited to see what Caroline had found.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, lined with glass cases and neatly arranged historical artifacts. A single display in the center immediately caught Caroline’s eye: a yellowed parchment, a guest list from 1864, names carefully inked in elegant script. Her heart skipped. She knew too much—but that couldn’t show.

“Uh… maybe we shouldn’t touch that one,” Caroline said casually, attempting to guide the group toward a different case. “Some of this stuff is really old and fragile.” She offered a small, nervous smile, hoping they’d follow her lead.

But Elena and Bonnie stepped closer, intrigued. “No, let’s see!” Elena said softly, craning to read the names. Stefan followed, curiosity evident in his gaze.

Caroline sighed inwardly, frustration flashing for a brief moment, then masked with a polite smile. “Okay… just don’t linger too long. I don’t want anything to get damaged.”

Stefan leaned in, noticing several familiar names on the list. “Wait… these names… Stefan Salvatore… and Damon Salvatore… these are—”

Before Caroline could redirect the conversation, a smooth, familiar voice cut through the room.

“The original Salvatore brothers.”

Damon leaned casually in the doorway, arms crossed and smirk firmly in place.

Caroline’s stomach twisted. Of course. She forced a polite smile and subtly stepped between the group and the display, shielding them instinctively. “Right… history buffs, huh?” she said lightly, trying to diffuse the sudden tension between the brothers.

Stefan’s eyes flicked to Damon, then back to the parchment, his jaw tightening just enough for Caroline to notice.

“So this is really your family?” Elena asked, curiosity softening her tone.

Damon’s grin widened, sharp and amused. “Of course. Just two guys with their names inked on a fancy piece of paper.” He nudged Stefan with mock playfulness—though the challenge behind it was unmistakable. “Right, Stef?”

Stefan’s voice was careful, even. “Yeah.” But the subtle irritation in his expression spoke louder than his words. The air thickened with their unspoken rivalry.

Caroline’s pulse quickened. Damon’s charm radiated like a knife—smooth, deliberate, dangerous—while Stefan’s calm composure was beginning to fracture under the weight of it.

I need to handle this. Keep Damon from snapping, Stefan from doing something stupid, and Elena and Bonnie from noticing anything. Easy peasy…

“Fascinating,” Bonnie murmured, leaning closer to study the parchment. Elena mirrored her, craning to read the names.

Caroline seized her opening. “There’s a lot of other cool stuff in here too,” she said brightly, guiding Elena toward a nearby display of old Mystic Falls maps. “You guys should check this out—it shows how the town looked in the 1800s. Really detailed.”

Damon tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief as he watched her. “Ah, Miss Forbes, the tour guide,” he teased, his tone light but probing.

Caroline’s stomach dropped. How does he know my name? She forced her smile to stay bright. “Someone’s got to show off the exhibit in all its glory,” she replied smoothly, masking her unease. Then, turning toward Stefan, she added warmly, “And this one is perfect if you want to impress someone with your local history knowledge.”

Stefan’s gaze softened as he leaned toward the map, engaging Elena in small talk about old town landmarks. Damon chuckled under his breath, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

“Careful, brother,” he drawled. “Don’t let her influence you too much.”

Caroline shot Damon a polite, pointed look. “Just helping him see the details,” she said lightly, voice even but firm. Inside, her mind raced—calculating, predicting, reading every flicker in Damon’s expression.

Stefan’s jaw flexed, his eyes flicking toward Damon with a quiet warning. Damon’s smirk never faltered, but there was an unmistakable sharpness behind it—acknowledgment of the challenge in play.

Caroline subtly shifted closer to Stefan, her presence protective yet casual, maintaining the illusion of calm while the tension between the brothers buzzed like static.

The group lingered over the map, Elena and Bonnie absorbed in the historical details, Stefan steadying himself through conversation. Caroline, however, stayed alert, tracking Damon with every fiber of her being—his posture, his tone, his smirk.

This was so much easier when I didn’t have to worry about Damon.

And then, mid-thought, the realization hit her—sharp and sudden.

Stefan isn’t my key to Kol. Damon is.

Sure the thought of spending anytime with Damon made Caroline sick to her stomach, but if it meant she got Kol back. She’d just have to make that sacrifice, but how would she get him to help? I’ll have to talk to him one on one, the thought alone made her sick.

Think about Kol, caroline. Focus on the Goal. 

maybe mention a coffin with a ‘K’ on it. That could easily be a coffin that held Katherine, couldn’t it? Perfect cover. But the Tomb.. how would it have been opened? She wondered as she followed the group around the room. 

Caroline’s eyes flicked to Damon, casually leaning in the doorway, like he had no cares in the world.The thought of asking him outright for help made her stomach twist, but she had to.

Okay, Care. Calm. Friendly. Innocent. You’ve got this.

…

After a while, Stefan and Elena drifted back onto the dance floor—well, “drifted” might be generous. Elena was eager to dance, and Stefan, despite his natural disdain for dancing, couldn’t find it in himself to say no. He followed her with that quiet, steady presence that made everyone else in the room fade into background noise.

Bonnie had wandered off to chat with Matt, leaving Caroline with the perfect opportunity to put her plan into motion. She lingered near the edge of the dance floor, observing Stefan and Elena as they moved together, their hands brushing, smiles shared, and laughter that made Caroline’s chest tighten in a complicated mixture of satisfaction and urgency.

She caught Damon leaning against the doorway, his casual smirk hiding the sharpness in his eyes. Perfect. Here’s your moment.

Caroline made her approach deliberate—light steps, relaxed expression, heartbeat hammering beneath the surface. When she neared him, Damon’s gaze flicked up, curiosity sharpening the air between them. She tilted her head subtly toward the hallway. A silent invitation.

He arched a brow, amused, but pushed off the wall and followed without a word.

Caroline led him toward a secluded alcove near the back of the hall, where the low hum of chatter from the main room softened into muffled echoes. She turned to face him, forcing herself to meet his eyes. Her stomach coiled, but her expression was steady, carefully neutral.

“Alright, Blondie,” Damon drawled, crossing his arms. “What’s so urgent you had to drag me away from the party?” His tone was teasing, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable—a blade wrapped in silk.

Caroline waited for the right beat, then spoke softly but firmly. “It’s… important.” The pause gave the word weight. “I need your help with something. And I’m going to be honest with you.”

That caught him. Damon’s smirk faltered just enough to reveal a flicker of intrigue. “Honest?” he repeated, one brow raised.

She inhaled slowly. “I know what you are.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Damon’s expression didn’t break immediately, but the silence that followed was electric. His gaze darkened—calculating, assessing. A slow smile crept across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh?” he said, voice smooth as glass but twice as sharp.

Caroline didn’t flinch. “I know about vampires. About what you and Stefan are.” She hesitated just long enough to make it believable. “I haven’t told anyone.”

That earned a flicker of something—surprise, maybe even a sliver of respect. Damon tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he wasn’t sure whether to solve or destroy. “And yet, here you are. Talking to one in private.”

“I’m not here to threaten you,” Caroline said quickly, steadying her tone. “I’m here because I saw something.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Go on.”

She swallowed, lowering her voice. “A man dragged a woman out of a tomb in the woods. She looked exactly like Elena—but desiccated, starved. She said your name before he stuffed her into a coffin. It was marked with a ‘K.’” Caroline took a small step closer, keeping her voice even, calm. “I want to help her.”

The lie rolled off her tongue smoother than she’d dared to hope.

For a long moment, Damon said nothing. His gaze bored into hers, unblinking, like he could peel her thoughts apart layer by layer. Then—he chuckled softly. Not friendly. Testing.

“Why should I trust you?” he asked. Skepticism edged every word.

Caroline tilted her head, “Because i could’ve told Stefan instead, or my mother, the sheriff and let Katherine suffer or die. I know where they took her, i overheard one of the guys talking. If you want her back, you need to trust me.” She hoped Damon believed her lie, if he didn’t she was dead. 

His expression changed in increments—anger, curiosity, then a colder, sharper amusement. “You think you can help me?” he asked, half-challenging, half-probing.

“I know I can,” she said. “We plan it right. We go in together. We get the coffin out. We bring her back.” Her voice was steady, the promise practical. She let him imagine the payoff without giving him everything.

Damon’s smirk returned, harder this time. “Bold, Caroline. I’ll give you that. But don’t mistake my interest for partnership—yet.” He pushed off the wall slowly, still testing her. 

Caroline felt the weight of that line: a rule, a warning, a dare. It tightened the plan’s edges, but it didn’t break her resolve. She let a small, controlled smile spread across her face and nodded. “I understand what’s at stake,” she said. “That’s why we plan carefully. That’s why we do it together.”

He watched her for a long beat, then shrugged, as if deciding she was either entertaining or useful. “Alright. Temporary teamwork,” he conceded. “But you’re playing with fire, blondie.”

She let him take the satisfaction of the upper hand for now. Inside, she was already reconfiguring the route: who would go where, how to distract Klaus if he reacted, how to get a coffin—marked with a K—back to Mystic Falls without anyone asking too many questions.

Kol’s coming back. Katherine’s not coming back—not unless she could make the pieces move the way she needed them to. And Damon—dangerous, volatile, useful—was the key, if she played this right.

Chapter Text

Caroline Forbes: September 27, 2009

Caroline pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the rapid beat of her heart. Panic clawed at her ribs, her lungs feeling tight, but she forced herself to breathe slowly. This is just nerves. This is just nerves. She repeated it like a mantra, even as the truth whispered darker: this was a sacrifice. Every step she took toward Damon, toward that car, toward this mission, was a step into a storm she didn’t know she could survive.

The bag of supplies at her side felt impossibly heavy—not because of its weight, but because of what it represented. Stakes were high, higher than she’d allowed herself to think. Every first-aid kit, every bottle of vervain, every careful note in her journal was a piece of armor for the battle ahead. Kol’s coming back. He has to. And I’m the only one who can make it happen.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, streaked with the soft pink and gold of dawn. The street was empty, quiet in a way that made every distant sound—chirping birds, the rustle of leaves—feel amplified. Caroline’s stomach churned as she spotted him leaning casually against the driver’s side of his car, arms crossed, that same infuriating smirk plastered across his face. Damon. Her abuser, her mortal enemy, and now, inexplicably, the key to bringing her best friend back.

“Morning, Blondie,” Damon said, voice casual but sharp enough to make her pulse stutter. He tilted his head, eyes assessing, as if he could see every calculation spinning through her mind. Caroline gritted her teeth and forced a smile.

“Morning,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “Ready to go?”

“Always,” he said smoothly, opening the passenger door for her. His gaze lingered just a second too long, that knowing look that made every instinct in her body flare up. She climbed in carefully, feeling the weight of the bag slide onto the floorboard.

As the engine started, Caroline stared out the windshield, taking in the quiet streets she knew so well. She felt a pang of loss for the comfort of normalcy, for the life she’d lost the moment supernatural chaos had seeped into it. And yet… Kol. He’s coming back. This is the only way.

She turned slightly to glance at Damon, who seemed perfectly at ease, like this was all routine. How can he be so calm?She reminded herself to stay focused. Conversation was optional, control was necessary. Every word she chose had to keep him invested, keep him from suspecting that she already knew more than he could ever imagine.

Her hand rested briefly on the bag, fingers brushing the contents inside. Vervain, research notes, a few carefully hidden tools—her armor against the unknown. Caroline swallowed, forcing herself to draw in a deep breath. This roadtrip wasn’t just about saving Kol; it was about surviving Damon, surviving herself, and surviving the consequences of every move she made.

One thing was certain: there was no turning back now.

…

The low hum of the engine filled the car, a steady, almost oppressive soundtrack to the growing tension inside the vehicle. Caroline’s fingers dug into the edge of the passenger seat, her knuckles pale against the leather. Every mile out of Mystic Falls felt heavier, like they were driving into a tightening noose. Damon sat behind the wheel with a casual ease that made her chest tighten. One hand draped lazily across the wheel, the other tapping a slow rhythm against the dashboard. That smirk—the one that never fully disappeared—was infuriatingly infuriating. Keep it together, Care. Don’t let him see an ounce of fear. Not now. Not ever. He’s dangerous enough as it is.

“So,” Damon began, his tone deceptively casual, almost conversational, but the way his eyes flicked to her made her stomach clench, “you really saw her, huh?” He didn’t offer any clarification, let the question hang in the air, sharp and teasing. Caroline’s pulse skipped. Her? Katherine. Of course it had to be her.

“Yes,” Caroline said lightly, forcing her voice steady, casual, almost bored, as if she were describing a grocery run instead of tracking a centuries-old vampire. “I… I saw the men taking her. And then… he started talking about where they were going.” Her gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, careful not to meet his eyes. A flicker of irritation—or maybe amusement—passed over Damon’s face when she avoided him.

Damon leaned slightly toward her, the movement subtle but deliberate. His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating, a gleam of impatience creeping in that made her stomach coil tighter. “Where exactly?” His tone, while calm, carried a dangerous edge, like a blade pressing against her chest.

Caroline felt the heat rise to her cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from the pressure of the moment. One wrong word, one accidental glance, and he could unravel everything she had carefully orchestrated. She forced herself to exhale slowly, trying to appear casual, unaffected. 

Keep calm, Caroline. Just… keep him guessing. Don’t give anything away.

“It’s… not precise,” she said carefully, tilting her head slightly, letting her words fall lightly, almost teasingly. “I just know the general area. The kind of place someone would hide. Someplace… secure.” She forced a faint, easy smile, masking the tight coil of anxiety twisting in her chest. 

Secure enough that he thinks it’s Katherine… and not what I actually know.

Damon’s smirk deepened, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “General area, huh? Blondie, you’ve got guts. I like that. But you’ve got to give me more than that. Where exactly? Don’t make me chase ghosts.” He leaned a fraction closer, just enough that Caroline nearly flinched.

Caroline shifted slightly in her seat, forcing her hands into her lap and letting her expression remain calm, light, almost disinterested. “I’m still… compiling information,” she said, keeping her tone easy, nonchalant. “Tracing patterns, figuring out routes. You know, the usual detective work.” Inside, her mind raced a hundred steps ahead. He can’t know I have the exact locations. He can’t know about Kol or Klaus. Not yet. Keep it believable, keep him intrigued.

Damon’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, sharp and calculating, and she could feel the weight of his attention like a physical presence pressing against her. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible smirk, he leaned back, his voice smooth but laced with barely-contained amusement. “You’ve been busy, Blondie. I like that. So… this girl, she’s alive, right? Katherine?”

“Yes, alive,” Caroline confirmed, voice even, steady, masking the thrum of adrenaline in her chest. “Clever as always. Hard to catch if you don’t know where to look.”

Damon’s dark eyes gleamed with renewed interest, sharp, curious, and just slightly threatening. Caroline forced herself to smile, the mask of calm perfect, hiding the storm of strategy and fear swirling in her chest. Okay, Care. Keep him invested. Keep him guessing. Just don’t slip. Not here. Not now.

The road stretched ahead, endless and winding, but Caroline’s focus narrowed entirely on the man beside her. Every glance, every word, every tiny shift in posture was a move in a delicate, dangerous dance—one she had to win if she wanted to see the plan through, if she wanted to get Kol—and Klaus—back.

…

The road stretched endlessly ahead, the sun climbing higher in the sky. The hum of the engine was steady, almost hypnotic, but the tension between Caroline and Damon filled every inch of space in the car.

“So,” Damon drawled after a long stretch of silence, “why don’t you tell me where she was, exactly. Katherine.” His voice dipped, dangerous but casual, like a predator circling prey. “Was she conscious? Did she say anything? Or was she just… lying there, waiting for me like a good little damsel?”

Caroline kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, fingers tightening around the seatbelt. Don’t panic. Don’t slip. “She wasn’t conscious,” Caroline said smoothly, layering in just enough hesitation to make it sound like memory rather than rehearsed. “She looked… drained. Weak. Whoever took her, they weren’t being gentle. I think she was moved fast, like they were trying to keep her hidden.”

Damon’s jaw flexed, his grip on the wheel tightening. His smirk had faded into something sharper, darker. “Hidden. Of course.” He glanced at her briefly, his gaze like a blade. “And you just happened to stumble across this little horror show in the woods?”

Caroline’s pulse jumped, but she tilted her head, forcing a smile. “I keep my eyes open. You’d be surprised what you see when you know what you’re looking for. I’d found some documents about a church fire, and knowing about vampires, i looked into it, then i saw the encounter.”

Caroline’s pulse jumped, but she tilted her head, forcing a smile. “I keep my eyes open. You’d be surprised what you see when you know what you’re looking for. I’d found some documents about a church fire, and knowing about vampires, I looked into it. Then I saw the encounter.”

Damon’s head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing in a way that made Caroline’s stomach twist. He didn’t even try to hide his shift in mood—his smirk was gone, his jaw tight.

“The church fire,” he repeated slowly, his voice low, sharp, almost dangerous. “Now, that’s interesting.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, each tap deliberate, thoughtful. “That little piece of Mystic Falls history has been in the books forever. A big, tragic mystery. Convenient story, too.” His eyes flicked to her, pinning her like a blade to the wall. “Where exactly did you get those documents?”

Caroline forced herself not to flinch, gripping her seatbelt tighter to ground herself. “Town records,” she said smoothly, layering her voice with confidence she didn’t feel. “It wasn’t hard to connect the dots once I knew what I was looking for. You can’t live in Mystic Falls and not get curious when things don’t add up.”

Damon studied her for a long, tense beat, the weight of his gaze making her throat tighten. Then, a slow grin tugged at his mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Curious,” he echoed. “That’s one word for it.”

He leaned back, chuckling under his breath, but the sound was brittle, edged. “You know, most people who go digging into old fires and vampire fairy tales don’t live long enough to brag about their research.”

Caroline forced herself to laugh, though her heart was pounding so hard she knew he could hear it, given his supernatural hearing

Damon’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer, sharp and testing, before he turned back to the road. “Guess not.”

The car fell into silence again, but the air was thicker now, heavier. Caroline sat stiffly in the passenger seat, forcing herself to breathe evenly. One wrong word, one slip, and he’d know she was hiding more than she was telling.

…

September 28, 2009

Finally, after what felt like the longest day of her life, they pulled off the interstate and into a quieter stretch of industrial lots. The skyline of Chicago had been a distant blur an hour ago, but Caroline had barely registered it—too focused on keeping herself composed, keeping her story straight, and keeping Damon’s probing questions at bay.

When Damon finally killed the engine in front of a row of nondescript storage units, Caroline exhaled in relief she didn’t dare show. Her hand went for the door handle before the car had even fully settled, and the second she could, she bolted out. The cool night air hit her face, sharp and freeing.

She stretched her arms slightly, more to steady herself than anything else. No more cramped car. No more Damon breathing down my neck. Thank God.

Behind her, Damon got out at his own leisurely pace, shutting the door with a solid thunk. He rounded the car, eyes flicking to her with that infuriating mix of amusement and suspicion. “What’s the rush, Blondie? You miss me already?”

I miss you being dead.

Caroline forced a tight smile, clutching her bag closer. “I just don’t do well with long car rides,” she said quickly, before he could needle further.

Damon arched a brow. “Funny. I thought you handled it well. All those little history lessons and evasive answers—could’ve sworn you were enjoying yourself.”

God damn it. I should’ve thought about that, I'm so used to him only caring about Elena and never looking deeper. 

Her stomach knotted, only becoming more nauseous. He was testing her again, pushing for cracks. Caroline straightened her shoulders, refusing to give him one. “Let’s just… get this over with. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we both get what we want.”

Damon gave a low chuckle, but his eyes were sharp as glass. “You make it sound like I’m the one dragging my feet. Lead the way.”

The gravel crunched under their shoes as they drew closer to the row of units, each one identical, steel doors lined up like secrets waiting to be pried open. Caroline’s palms were slick despite the cool air, but she forced her grip tighter around her bag, channeling the nervous energy into determination.

Her words spilled out carefully rehearsed, steady despite the storm inside her. “We’ll take the coffin and get it in the car. Katherine will be extremely weak—she hasn’t fed in a hundred years. She’ll be safest in the coffin. Once we get back to Mystic Falls, we’ll keep her at my house. While she gets her strength back.”

She could practically feel Damon’s mood shift before she looked at him. His steps slowed, his smirk evaporating. By the time she risked a glance, his eyes were darker, sharper—rage flickering like fire under the surface. Black veins spiderwebbed under his eyes, his features twisting with the predator beneath the mask.

Caroline’s stomach lurched, instinct screaming at her to back away, but she held her ground.

Damon’s voice came out low, dangerous, almost a growl. “You think I’m going to leave her—Katherine—alone in your house? With you playing warden? What kind of sick joke is this?”

His anger hit her like a physical force, but she cut in fast before he could spiral further. Her words came quick, sharp, her tone firm though her pulse hammered in her throat. “Stefan hates her! He’ll try to kill her, or Elena—or even Zach—could stumble across her. We can’t take that chance. My mom will be busy at work. She’ll be safe.”

For a moment, Damon just stared at her, the fury etched into every line of his face. Caroline forced herself not to flinch, not to step back, not to crack.

He could tear her apart right here if he wanted. But instead, after a tense beat, Damon’s expression shifted. The veins receded. His jaw worked once, then he gave the smallest nod, though the suspicion in his gaze lingered like a blade at her throat.

Caroline exhaled carefully, silently, steadying herself.

He’s dumb, but he’s not stupid. And right now, with how much he despises Stefan, he’ll buy this—at least long enough for me to get what I need. One more step, Caroline. Don’t break now.

Damon smirked again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Fine, Blondie. But if you’re playing me…” He leaned in close enough that she caught the faintest whiff of bourbon and leather, his voice a whisper laced with venom. “You won’t live to regret it.”

Caroline forced a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Good thing I’m not.”

And with that, she pulled the key from her bag, sliding it into the lock of the storage unit. The metal clinked, the sound loud in the tense silence. The door creaked as she began to roll it upward, the weight of everything pressing down on her.

The door rattled upward, groaning on its hinges until it clicked into place. The stale air of the storage unit hit Caroline like a wave—dust, old wood, and something heavier beneath it all.

Four coffins sat in neat alignment, ominous in their silence, their carved lids catching the dim light. Caroline’s breath caught in her throat. Relief warred with the urge to smile. She was here. One step away. Kol was within reach.

She forced herself not to falter, not to let the triumph leak into her expression. Steady, steady. Play it cool.

Caroline stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the concrete floor. Her hand trembled as she reached out, tracing her fingers across the smooth, engraved lid of the coffin marked with a bold, curling “K.” The sight made her chest tighten. So close.

“Okay, Damon,” she whispered, her voice calm but urgent, turning just enough to look at him. “Let’s get this out of here quickly. Before those people come back for Katherine.”

Damon was already moving, impatience in every line of his body. His eyes lit with sharp determination as he strode into the unit, boots echoing. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t question—it was Katherine, after all. He bent down at one end of the coffin, hands gripping the wood firmly.

“Finally,” he muttered, a mixture of relief and bitter longing threading through his tone. “After a hundred years of chasing her ghost…” His jaw clenched, eyes dark as they flicked toward Caroline. “If you’re screwing with me, Blondie, this is where your story ends.”

Caroline’s heart lurched, but she plastered on a tight smile, crouching at the opposite side of the coffin. “Relax, Damon. I told you—I’m on your side.”

Her fingers curled under the heavy edge of the lid, the cold bite of wood grounding her as she prepared to lift. Inside, her thoughts were a storm—Kol, just hold on. I’m getting you back. I won’t let Damon ruin this.

“On three?” she asked lightly, as though they were carrying furniture, not a century-old secret.

Damon smirked, though the shadow in his eyes didn’t fade. “One, two—”

They lifted, the coffin groaning under its own weight as they maneuvered it toward the door. Dust spiraled into the air, the sound of wood dragging against concrete reverberating in the enclosed space.

Every step brought them closer to the car, closer to Kol’s return… and closer to the moment when Damon might finally realize he wasn’t bringing Katherine home at all.

The coffin scraped against the threshold as they maneuvered it out of the storage unit, Caroline’s shoulders burning under the weight. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she gritted her teeth and kept her expression neutral. Almost there. Just a little further, and Kol would be safe.

But Damon slowed. His grip on the coffin eased, his gaze drifting back into the unit.

Caroline froze. No, no, no. Don’t look. Don’t—

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as they fixed on the three other coffins lined neatly inside.

Caroline’s heart skipped a beat, panic rising in her throat. “Damon! We need to get her out!” she whisper-yelled, snapping him out of his train of thought. Her voice was sharp, urgent, her fingers digging into the coffin’s edge as if sheer willpower could drag it out on her own.

Damon’s eyes flicked to her, then back to the other coffins, suspicion darkening his face. “Funny,” he said slowly, his tone deceptively smooth, “how you didn’t mention Katherine brought company.”

Caroline forced a breath through her nose, shaking her head. “Because it doesn’t matter! Those coffins aren’t the one we need. She’s the one that matters—you said it yourself. Katherine. Now help me before we waste more time.”

Damon’s jaw clenched, the black veins threatening to surface under his eyes. He lingered a moment too long, gaze sliding back to the unmarked coffins as if he could peel away their secrets just by staring.

Caroline’s pulse thundered, but she met his look head-on, her voice dropping lower, steadier, trying to ground him. “If she’s in danger, every second counts. Are you really going to risk losing her just because you’re curious?”

That hit. His expression flickered, a storm of conflict flashing in his eyes, and then—reluctantly—he turned back. “Fine,” he muttered, gripping the coffin again. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

Caroline swallowed hard, masking her relief with a tight smile. One fire put out. A thousand more to go.

…

They got Kol’s coffin into the car safely, the heavy weight settling in the back seat with an ominous finality. Caroline slammed the trunk shut with trembling hands, forcing her face neutral before Damon could read her nerves.

The two of them slid back into the car. Damon started the engine, his expression sharp, unreadable, his gaze flicking once toward the storage unit before he pulled away from the curb. Caroline exhaled slowly, knuckles white as she clutched her bag in her lap.

We did it. He’s here. Kol’s really here.

But when Caroline’s eyes flicked back to the warehouse one last time, her breath caught in her throat.

A man stood in the entrance. Still, statuesque, his silhouette framed by the dull light spilling out from the unit. His head tilted in that unsettling, almost curious way predators have when they’re deciding how to play with their prey.

Caroline’s stomach plummeted. Her heart skipped and then pounded wildly. Even from the distance, she knew. The sharp cut of his jaw, the calculated stillness, the weight of his presence—it was Klaus.

Her throat went dry, hands tightening around her bag until her nails bit into the fabric. No. No, no, no. He can’t be here. He can’t know.

Caroline forced herself to turn back to the road before Damon noticed her reaction. But the image of Klaus lingered, burned into her mind. He hadn’t moved. He didn’t need to. He’d seen them. He’d seen her.

And worst of all… he was smiling.

Klaus Mikealson: September 28, 2009

Klaus had arrived at his warehouse on his way to ‘visit’ his daggered family. The night air was still, the streets deserted, every shadow stretched long and menacing under the dim streetlights. He was about to step inside when a sharp, urgent voice cut through the silence.

“Damon! We need to get her out!”

The words snapped Klaus out of his thoughts. Sharp, urgent, irritated—even daring. Someone was taking Rebekah. How bold. How… foolish, he thought, lips curling into a faint, amused smirk.

He melted into the shadows, moving with the silence of a predator, eyes scanning the scene. Two people. No more. That name… Damon. He sounded vaguely familiar, a name that tugged at distant memories.

“Funny,” the man’s voice—deep, smooth, teasing—carried through the cool night air, “how you didn’t mention Katherine brought company.”

Klaus froze. Katherine? A grin spread across his face, teeth flashing in the dim light. So, they thought Kol was Katherine. Deliciously wrong. He could practically hear Kol’s outrage at being mistaken for the backstabbing doppelgänger.

The girl, blonde, stubborn, sharp-eyed, drew a slow, measured breath, shaking her head.

“Because it doesn’t matter! Those coffins aren’t the ones we need. She’s the one that matters—you said it yourself. Katherine. Now help me before we waste more time.”

Klaus’s eyes narrowed, taking her in carefully. Pretty? Certainly. Clever? Undoubtedly. Brave—or utterly reckless? Absolutely. And yet… how does she know Kol? A ripple of intrigue ran through him. A human girl, and she knows Kol. She must have known exactly what she was doing. That audacity, that subtle confidence—it was intoxicating.

He melted further into the shadows, letting them continue for now. Very interesting, he mused, lips twitching into a faint smile. Perhaps she’ll be… useful.

His gaze drifted to the man handling the coffin, and his grin widened as recognition hit. Damon Salvatore. My old friend… and his estranged brother. The sight made the tension in his chest thrum with anticipation.

What is he doing here? Klaus wondered. Perhaps it was time to pay an old acquaintance a visit.

Damon’s expression flickered, a storm of conflict flashing in his eyes, before he reluctantly turned back to the task. “Fine,” he muttered, gripping the coffin once more. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

The girl swallowed hard, masking her relief with a tight, composed smile. Klaus’s eyes lingered on her. This woman intrigues me… what game is she playing?

He watched as they loaded Kol’s coffin into the car, noting every careful motion, every glance between them. His younger brother, for now, was safe. And if he woke soon… well, that would be interesting.

As the car started to pull away, Klaus stepped out of the shadows, hidden in plain sight. Caroline turned, her eyes widening as she caught his presence. He could faintly hear her heartbeat quicken, the warmth on her face betraying more than fear—something else, something curious.

Warmth… directed at me? Klaus’s grin widened, sharp and predatory. How deliciously intriguing.

He allowed himself a slow, deliberate step forward, just enough to be seen, savoring the tension crackling between them, the promise of games yet to come.

Caroline Forbes: September 29, 2009 

After eleven grueling hours of driving, strategizing, and keeping Damon’s questions at bay, Caroline finally felt the familiar sight of Mystic Falls rise on the horizon. Her mind raced, still buzzing from the adrenaline, the tension of the mission, and the image of Klaus at the warehouse. But beneath all that, a deeper, quieter rush of emotion surged through her—Kol. She had forgotten how much she’d felt for him until now, until she saw him again, silent and still in the doorway, and realized how much she wanted him back.

The plan had been simple, if terrifying: retrieve the coffin, keep it safe, and get Kol restored. But simplicity rarely felt this complicated when Damon was involved. The stop at the hospital had been… tense. Caroline had proposed grabbing blood bags for Katherine as a precaution, knowing that she’d need sustenance to stabilize. Damon had smirked, leaned casually against the counter, and delivered his own version of an interrogation to the nurse before compelling her into obedience. Caroline had watched, her stomach tightening, but she kept her composure, noting every subtle shift in his expression and movements.

Finally, blood secured, Caroline maneuvered Kol’s coffin inside her house. She had done it carefully, deliberately, keeping Damon outside. She wasn’t about to let him cross boundaries or see the layout of her home—not yet. That way, she could maintain control, keep herself safe, and focus on Kol.

Now, alone in the quiet of her living room, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. The coffin sat before her, Kol’s presence contained but palpable. Caroline knelt beside it, brushing her fingers lightly over the engraved wood, a small, private smile tugging at her lips. The adrenaline was fading, replaced with a careful calm, a sense of purpose.

She had managed to navigate the day with Damon without letting him overstep, without giving him any more control than necessary. And now, finally, it was just her and Kol—the mission halfway complete, and the weight of what she’d accomplished settling over her. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself a flicker of satisfaction.

Now, she thought, the easy part begins.

… 

Caroline’s hands shook violently as she wrestled with the coffin lid, the weight of it pressing down both physically and emotionally. God, she hated being human right now—every muscle screamed, every movement felt like a race against time she wasn’t sure she could win. With a final heave, she pried the lid open, her heart hammering so fiercely it threatened to drown out everything else.

Her stomach dropped. Kol lay inside exactly as she had feared—grey, desiccated, stiff in century-old clothing, the dagger protruding from his chest like a cruel reminder of death itself. The sight stole her breath, and for a split second, the world narrowed down to just him. Time seemed to slow, each heartbeat echoing painfully in her ears.

“No,” she whispered, barely audible over the rapid beat of her own heart. Panic surged, but she forced it into precision, turning fear into action. She gripped the dagger and ripped it free from his chest, the movement sharp and forceful yet careful enough to avoid further harm.

Kol’s eyes fluttered open. A spark—small, fragile, but unmistakable—ignited hope in Caroline’s chest. She leaned closer, scanning for any lingering signs of weakness or death that might still claim him. His body remained limp, but the dagger was gone—she’d done the first step.

Breathing hard, Caroline straightened slightly, glancing toward the door. Damon hadn’t lingered; good. She’d kept the boundary intact, kept herself safe.

Acting fast, she grabbed the first blood bag, holding it firmly to Kol’s mouth. “Come on, Kol,” she muttered, her voice low but urgent. The black veins appeared under his eyes almost immediately, and he locked onto the bag, drinking with desperate efficiency.

Once the first bag was drained, Caroline didn’t pause. She moved to the second, then the third, all the while murmuring encouragement, coaxing him into stability. Kol’s movements were slow, heavy, disoriented, but each bag of blood brought more strength, more coherence. By the time the fourth bag was finished, he was upright, his breathing steady, eyes focusing with a glimmer of recognition.

Caroline exhaled, a mixture of relief and exhaustion washing over her. She kept her hand lightly on his arm, as if grounding him—and herself—while the reality of what she’d just done began to settle in. Kol was awake. Kol was safe. And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Kol Mikealson: September 29, 2009

Blood. That was the first thing Kol tasted. Warm, metallic, chemical—he grimaced as it slid down his throat. He felt like he’d just been daggered. The thought reminded him of his brother.

A dull ache settled in his chest at the thought of his older brother. Nik. He should have tried harder with Hope, tried harder to prevent her birth. If he had, maybe his family wouldn’t be gone. Kol didn’t hate Hope—she was innocent in many ways—but he couldn’t pretend she’d been anything other than the beginning of the end. She might have been Nik’s daughter, a Mikaelson by blood, but to Kol she wasn’t truly family. Not in the same way. Sure, he cared for her, but if it came down to her or the family he’d lost, he knew where his loyalty lay. He’d choose his siblings in a heartbeat.

He swallowed again and grimaced. That explains the taste. God, he hated bagged blood. The chemical tang clung to his tongue like acid. How do you ruin blood? He almost laughed at the absurdity.

Kol blinked and finally took in his surroundings. He was sitting inside the coffin Nik used to keep him daggered in—same wood, same claustrophobic feel—but he wasn’t in a storage unit anymore. He was in a house.

The living room was a soft, cloying yellow. Pastel yellow couch patterned with flowers, a wooden rocking chair nearby, a TV mounted on the wall. The windows, curtained with white-yellow drapes and decorated with dark green plants, let in a muted light. Dawn or dusk. The air even smelled different—fresh and warm, not like the cold, damp warehouses he’d woken up in before.

He tilted his head, listening. A human moved upstairs—footsteps, running water shutting off, a door creaking open.

Kol stood, brushing himself off, his movements stiff from his long sleep. His clothes were old, dated—like something from the 1800s. And then it clicked. The spell.

His eyes darted to a digital clock on the side table. 6:34 a.m. September 29, 2009.

“It worked,” he breathed, a slow, disbelieving grin curling across his face. “It bloody worked.”

He was back. Seven hundred years. His family should still be alive. Daggered, maybe, but alive. Nik, Rebekah, Elijah, Finn, Freya—all of them. Alive!

But then—Caroline.

His grin faltered. Shit. Shit, shit. He had to find Care. She’d dragged him back here, risked everything. What if she hated him for it? What if she was still human? Worse—what if she was with Damon? Compelled? Dead?

Kol’s spiraling panic was cut off by the sound of soft footsteps approaching. He turned just as Caroline stepped into the living room.

Her face lit up, her blue eyes bright with relief and something warmer he couldn’t name. “Kol! You’re awake!”

Before he could speak, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. Kol stood frozen for a heartbeat before his own arms lifted to return the hug, pulling her close. God, she felt real. Warm. Alive.

“God, I haven’t seen you in seven hundred years,” he murmured against her hair, half a laugh in his voice.

Caroline pulled back at once, grimacing at him. “Really? Not even three hours back and you’re already making stupid jokes? Why did I risk my life to save you again?”

She tried to stay serious, but the corners of her lips betrayed her. The grin won out.

Kol’s own grin widened, boyish and shameless. “Because I’m your best friend, and you absolutely adore me,” he said, drawing out the ‘e’ in adore with a teasing lilt.

Caroline rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Caroline pulled back from the hug, still grinning despite herself. “Okay, before you get too comfortable, you should probably know something. We’re… not exactly where you think we are.”

Kol’s brows knitted together, his grin faltering. “What do you mean? I saw the clock, Care. The date matches. We did it. The witches brought us back.”

Caroline exhaled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, it worked. But… we’re in Mystic Falls.”

For a beat, Kol just stared. Then he let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Mystic Falls? You dragged me across centuries just to dump me in a bloody small town in Virginia? The one I died in?”

Truth be told, it made sense—Mystic Falls was always the epicenter of supernatural drama—but Kol wasn’t about to admit that out loud. He had to be a bit dramatic! 

She crossed her arms, smirk tugging at her lips. “Trust me, it wasn’t my first choice of wake-up destinations either. But Damon—”

“Damon?” Kol’s voice sharpened into a growl. “What the hell was that bloody wanker doing with you? Oh, I’ll gut him.” His hands curled into fists, fury flashing in his dark eyes. The thought of Damon anywhere near Caroline made his blood boil. Had Damon hurt her again? Forced her hand?

Caroline winced, throwing up her hands in surrender. “Okay, listen—I know, I know. But it was my only option to get you back.”

Kol’s gaze narrowed. “And why would he ever help you—help me?”

The question made Caroline falter, her eyes darting away.

“Care?” Kol pressed, his tone firm. “Why did he?”

Caroline started fiddling with one of her bracelets, her voice shrinking. “Because… I might have told him you were… Katherine.”

Kol’s head snapped back. “What?” he screeched. “Why in God’s name would he think I’m one of those back-stabbing, self-absorbed doppelgängers?”

Caroline cringed, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head like a kid bracing for impact. “Maybe… because I told him… you were?” she admitted, her lips curving into the tiniest, sheepish smile.

Kol froze, staring at her like she’d just confessed to stabbing him herself. Then his jaw dropped, and his outrage exploded.

“You what?!” His voice shot up, echoing off the room’s walls. “Do I look like a 5’5 brunette with a martyr complex and a bad habit of betraying everyone she meets? Honestly, Caroline—Katherine? That’s the best you could come up with?”

Caroline flinched at the volume, but her stubborn streak kicked in. “Okay, first of all—yes, because Damon believes anything when it comes to Katherine. And second, do you have any better ideas? Because it worked, didn’t it?”

Kol threw his hands up, pacing a short, agitated circle. “Worked? You lied to that self-absorbed little Salvatore and dragged me out in a bloody coffin under the name of my second least favorite doppelgänger. Do you know the insult? The indignity?” He pointed at himself with both hands, indignant. “I’m Kol Mikaelson! Original vampire. Centuries of charm, power, and talent for chaos—and you reduced me to Katerina Petrova in a box!”

Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath, “Oh my God, dramatic much…”

Kol spun back toward her. “Dramatic? I’ve been mistaken for a lot of things, sweetheart, but a manipulative little human-turned-vamp tramp is not one of them. It’s offensive.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Would you rather still be stuck in a box? Because I can call Klaus and hand-deliver you back. He’s probably still waiting at the warehouse.”

Kol stared at her, the gears clearly turning in his head. “What?” he half-demanded, half-asked, his tone sharp.

Caroline laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Klaus may or may not have seen me and Damon take you… and, uh, may have also seen my face.”

Kol blinked at her, completely dumbfounded. She didn’t. Oh, but of course she did. The woman was brilliant—terrifyingly so—but sometimes her bravery bordered on suicidal.

“You—you what?” he sputtered, staring at her like she’d lost her mind. “You let Nik see you?” His voice jumped from disbelief to fury in seconds. “Caroline, darling, do you have a death wish, or were you just feeling particularly stupidthat day?”

Caroline’s forced laugh died quickly. “Okay, first of all, not let—he just showed up! Like he always does!” She threw her hands up, pacing a few steps before spinning back to face him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to sneak a coffin out of a creepy storage unit while trying not to get murdered by your travel companion from hell? I didn’t exactly have time to check for lurking Originals!”

Kol groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable. Bloody unbelievable.”

“Don’t start,” she snapped. “I didn’t have a choice, okay? Klaus would’ve seen someone either way—he’s Klaus. He always sees everything. And it’s not like I had time to plan a glamorous escape route!”

Kol dropped his hand, glaring at her. “You realize this means he knows you’re involved. And he’ll come for you, Caroline. He’ll come for both of us. And this version of Nik isn’t all googly-eyed for you.”

Caroline squared her shoulders, chin lifting. “If he does, he does.” She didn’t deny the “googly eyes” comment—Kol wasn’t wrong, as usual.

For a moment, Kol just stared at her, something flickering in his eyes—equal parts frustration and reluctant admiration. Then a dry, humorless smirk tugged at his lips.

“You’re out of your bloody mind,” he said finally, voice soft but biting. “And somehow, that’s exactly why I missed you.”

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, well, next time you can plan your own resurrection.”

Kol’s grin widened, sharp and wicked again. “Oh, I fully intend to. Preferably one that doesn’t involve Damon Salvatore and my brother waiting at the finish line.”

…

The Forbes house was full of laughter and light—the kind of warm domestic glow that didn’t belong in a world of coffins and blood. It was almost comical, really. The hum of the refrigerator, the faint scent of coffee in the air, and the gentle morning sunlight spilling across the kitchen floor all clashed with the heavy scrape of a coffin being dragged through the living room.

It felt like Caroline was hosting a sleepover… if her guest hadn’t just been resurrected from a hundred years of magical imprisonment.

Kol grumbled loudly as he tugged the coffin toward the basement door, muttering under his breath about “slave labor,” “utter disrespect,” and “ungrateful mortals.” Each word came out sharper than the last, his boots thudding against the hardwood.

“You know,” he said, pausing to wipe imaginary sweat from his brow, “after being daggered by my brother and sent back in time, I’d think I’d get a bit more appreciation.”

Caroline leaned against the doorframe, one hand wrapped around her mug, watching him with an unimpressed smirk. “Oh, you’re getting plenty of appreciation,” she said sweetly. “I’m appreciating that you’re moving your own coffin instead of me.”

Kol shot her a glare over his shoulder, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Heartless as ever, darling.”

“Efficient,” she corrected, taking another sip of coffee.

He grunted but didn’t argue, heaving the coffin down the last few steps with a dull thud that made Caroline wince. “If you dent the floor,” she warned, “you’re explaining that to my mom.”

Kol’s laughter echoed up from the basement, rich and amused. “You resurrect me from oblivion just to threaten me with domestic chores. Truly, you’re wasted on this town.”

Once the heavy box was hidden in the far corner—out of sight, out of mind, and hopefully out of her mother’s very mortal discovery—they started cleaning up the aftermath. Empty blood bags went into garbage bags, countertops were wiped spotless, and Caroline threw open every window she could to clear out the metallic tang of blood that clung stubbornly to the air.

For a while, it almost felt normal. Two friends cleaning up a mess together, teasing and bickering, the sound of their laughter soft against the hum of the town waking up outside.

But beneath the light banter and clinking of mugs, Caroline could still feel it—an unease coiled deep in her chest. Every time she glanced toward the window, she half expected to see a shadow watching from across the street.

After all, Klaus Mikaelson didn’t lose track of his family easily.

…

Caroline Forbes: September 29, 2009 

The duo had been laughing for hours, tossing around jokes and plotting elaborate, overly dramatic demises for their enemies once the house was spotless again. It felt good—almost too good—to forget, for just a little while, that Klaus Mikaelson had seen them.

Caroline tried not to dwell on that part. The look on his face, the tilt of his head as she’d driven off—it haunted her more than she wanted to admit. Why had he let her take Kol? Why hadn’t he come after them?

Kol had asked the same thing, but when neither of them could come up with an answer that made sense, he’d shrugged and declared it must be “curiosity.” Typical Klaus, always wanting to see what happened next in his little games.

Now, hours later, they sat sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bowl of popcorn between them, watching the cheesiest vampire movies Caroline could find. They were mid-argument about why Twilight was an affront to dignity (Kol insisted he was offended on behalf of all Originals) when the sharp jingle of keys at the front door cut into their laughter like glass.

Both of them snapped to attention. Kol’s head whipped toward the sound—predator in a suit—and Caroline felt her stomach drop hard. Her mom.

Oh no.

Panic set in fast and hard. Her mom was home. Her mom was home.

She hadn’t thought this far ahead—hadn’t planned a single believable excuse for why Kol was here.

Her brain scrambled for options that didn’t exist. It wasn’t like she could tell the truth.
“Hey, Mom! This is my best friend who happens to be an Original vampire and about 1,700 years old! I’m also a vampire, but don’t worry, we only time-traveled because reality was falling apart, and now he has to stay here because his homicidal hybrid brother—who I may or may not have feelings for—will kill me if he finds out!”

Yeah. No. Not gonna happen.

The door opened. Liz slid off her coat and kicked her shoes to the side, pausing in the foyer when she saw them. Her eyes moved between Caroline and Kol, narrowing in a way that made Caroline’s scalp prickle.

“Caroline?” Liz said, folding the coat over the rack. “I thought you’d be at Elena’s and Bonnie’s today. What are you doing home?”

Caroline swallowed and then, deciding honesty-within-reason would be easier than an elaborate lie, stood and walked forward. “Hey, Mom. I’m just—hanging out with Kol.”

Kol’s grin was lazy and entirely too charming as he rose and strolled toward Liz—the kind of smile that made people suspicious, not relaxed.
“Kol Mikaelson,” he said, offering a mock bow. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about the head of the Forbes household.”

Caroline bit the inside of her cheek. Don’t encourage him. Don’t encourage him. She could practically feel the red flags sprouting behind her mother’s eyes.

“And you are…?” Liz asked, tone polite but tight.

“Kol Mikaelson,” he repeated smoothly, as if the repetition might somehow make him sound more legitimate. He extended a hand, flashing that disarming grin again. “I’m a friend of Caroline’s.”

Liz looked skeptical, gaze flicking between the two of them. Caroline jumped in before Kol could make things worse.
“I met Kol when I was visiting Dad,” she said quickly, forcing an easy smile. “His family’s planning to move to Mystic Falls, and he came early to get started with school enrollment. He was going to stay in a motel, but I offered for him to stay here instead.”

One of the many perks of being a centuries-old vampire: you learn to lie like you were born doing it.

Liz’s expression softened slightly, though she still looked unconvinced. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with a boy—”

“He likes guys!” Caroline blurted out.

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Both Liz and Kol froze. Liz blinked, clearly startled, while Kol just turned to stare at her, one eyebrow arching almost to his hairline.

Oh my God. Kill me now.

Kol recovered first, his mouth twitching with amusement as he looked back at Liz. “Well, that’s certainly one way to put it,” he said dryly, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Liz blinked again, visibly processing. “Oh,” she said slowly, turning back to Caroline. “All right then.”

Caroline nodded a little too quickly. “Yep! Totally harmless! He’s just here until his family settles in, so—no big deal.”

Liz still looked doubtful but seemed to let it drop for now. “All right,” she said at last, exhaling. “Dinner’s in an hour. I expect both of you to be here—and Kol, I hope you like lasagna.”

Kol smiled pleasantly. “Lasagna sounds wonderful, Sheriff. And thank you for letting me stay—it’s a relief not having to share a room with questionable motel carpets.”

Liz gave a short nod and disappeared into the hallway, still frowning faintly to herself.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Caroline turned on Kol. “Don’t say anything. Not a word.”

Kol raised his hands in mock surrender, trying—and failing—to hide a grin. “Wasn’t planning to. Though, for the record, that was the best cover story I’ve ever heard. I’m very flattered you think I could pull it off.”

Caroline groaned, pressing her palms to her face. “I swear, one day your mouth is going to get us both killed.”

Kol laughed, leaning back on the couch. “Probably. But you’ll still cover for me, won’t you?”

She shot him a look that was all exasperation and affection. “Only because you’re my best friend and I clearly have terrible judgment.”

“Mutual flaw,” Kol said with a smirk. “Now, where were we? Ah yes—mocking sparkling vampires.”

Caroline sighed, sinking down beside him again. “You’re impossible.”

Kol grinned, reaching for the remote. “And you love me anyway.”

Caroline smiled despite herself. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

…

September 30, 2009 

Caroline was honestly surprised Kol had agreed to come to school. She half expected him to fake spontaneous combustion just to avoid it. But there he was—grumbling the entire car ride—now trekking across the parking lot like he’d been sentenced to community service.

She made her way toward her friends, who were gathered near their lockers in the usual morning cluster. Elena was standing close to Stefan, his arm draped casually around her waist. They looked picture-perfect as always, that effortless couple everyone else felt slightly self-conscious around. Bonnie stood nearby, a soft smile on her lips as she listened to Tyler and Matt argue animatedly about how “unfair” Mr. Tanner’s pop quizzes were.

It was almost too normal—a comforting kind of chaos Caroline had missed while juggling secret time travel, undead brothers, and her newly resurrected best friend.

Their lockers happened to be near the front office, which was convenient, since that was where Kol was supposed to check in as a “new transfer.” Supposed to.

She’d told him to meet her there once they parked, but five minutes later, Caroline found herself standing alone by the entrance. She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Of course he forgot something.

She glanced out the window, spotting him back by her car, patting his pockets with growing irritation.

Yep. The idiot had forgotten his backpack.

Caroline turned back toward her friends before anyone noticed her staring. No need to explain why some random transfer student was following her around—at least, not yet.

“Hey, Care!” Bonnie called, waving her over with a smile.

Caroline slipped into the group effortlessly, masking her nerves behind a bright grin. “Hey, guys. “Let me guess Tyler is complaining about… Tanner?” Caroline joked knowing full well that's all he used to complain about before all the supernatural drama. 

“How did you know?” Elena joked, Tyler let out an over dramatic scoff lightly shoving Elena, grinning the whole time. The two began to bicker, getting a smile out of Stefan and Caroline. 

“Hey!” Tyler protested. “It’s not complaining if Tanner’s actually out to get me.”

“Obviously,” Bonnie teased.

Matt snorted. “You always say that.”

Caroline laughed, the sound almost genuine. For a second, it felt like everything was normal again—like she hadn’t smuggled an Original vampire into Mystic Falls and introduced him to her mom last night. 

Her gaze drifted back toward the front doors, though, where Kol was finally making his way up the steps, his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. He looked infuriatingly confident for someone about to waltz into a high school.

Caroline’s stomach twisted with mild dread. Please don’t cause a scene. Please just play nice for one day.

But of course, things never went Caroline Forbes' way. 

Before Caroline could even brace herself, Kol swung the door open with a theatrical flourish that drew every eye in the lobby. He stepped inside, his backpack sliding dangerously low on one shoulder, and gave a slow, exaggerated bow to anyone who dared glance his way. “Greetings,” he announced, that impossibly smug tone she had learned to tolerate effortlessly filling the space, “Kol Mikaelson, newest student of Mystic Falls High. Try to contain your awe.”

A few students glanced up, eyebrows raised, but quickly returned to whatever they had been doing, uninterested—or perhaps too wary to approach. Elena blinked, caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, and Stefan’s jaw tightened slightly, though Caroline spotted the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—a smirk he was clearly trying not to show. Bonnie’s brow arched in that perfectly judgmental way Caroline adored, lips pressed into a thin line.

Matt and Tyler were frozen in varying states of bafflement. Caroline caught Matt muttering under his breath, “Finally… someone with a bigger ego than Tyler,” which earned a low chuckle from Tyler before he shoved Matt lightly in protest.

Kol’s gaze swept the room slowly, as if personally cataloging every reaction, lingering on anyone who dared glance his way. When it landed on Caroline, he tilted his head with mock seriousness. Caroline shook her head, a silent don’t you dare warning that he immediately ignored.

Prancing over as though he owned the lobby, Kol called out in a sing-song voice, “Caroline! My dear tour guide!”

Caroline closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. Why had she spent a whole weekend with Damon, risking her life, only to be back here with Kol causing chaos? Her friends raised their eyebrows at her subtle grimace, sensing her tension even if they didn’t know why.

Kol leaned on her, draping an arm casually over her shoulder, the kind of move that was infuriatingly familiar. Caroline could practically feel the mischievous smirk pressed against her side. His presence radiated that chaotic energy she’d come to both love and fear, and for a moment, she had to admit—it was exhausting keeping him contained.

“Relax, Care,” Kol whispered, grin evident even in his voice. “High school never knew what hit it.”

Caroline opened one eye and shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. You are not letting me get blamed for this, Kol.

Kol only chuckled, clearly unbothered, letting the chaos begin.

Kol straightened, giving an exaggerated bow toward the group of students gathered by the lockers. “And to the rest of you,” he announced, voice dripping with theatrical flair, “I am Kol Mikaelson, the newest addition to Mystic Falls High. Please, try to keep your gasps and fainting to a minimum—I know it will be difficult.”

Caroline groaned quietly, elbowing him in the ribs. “Kol… please. Just… act normal,” she whispered sharply, hoping no one would notice her whispered reprimand.

Matt was the first to speak up, his tone protective. “You know this guy, Care?”

Caroline sighed, gesturing toward Kol. “Unfortunately, yes.” She forced a smile, trying to make it seem casual. “This is Kol. He’s a friend of mine. His family is moving here soon, and he’s staying with me while he gets enrolled.”

Kol’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes that screamed trouble. Elena stepped forward, extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Kol, I’m Elena.”

Caroline’s elbow shot into his side before he could respond. Hard.

Kol blinked, suppressing a comment that would have been perfectly sarcastic—and cruel. Instead, he forced a polite grin. “It’s… lovely to meet you as well,” he said, though the gleam in his eyes made it clear he was barely restraining himself. Caroline exhaled in relief; that tiny victory was all she needed for now.

The rest of the group followed, tentatively lighting up to Kol’s energy. He cracked a few jokes, and though the others still seemed hesitant and a little weirded out, they played along for Caroline’s sake.

Kol’s attention, however, never fully left Elena. Every time she spoke, he sneered subtly, a barely-there curl of the lip that made it clear his patience was being tested. Caroline understood Elena had done horrible things to his family in the past —hell she and Jeremy even killed him in the past. 

Caroline just hoped she could get through this week without anyone being murdered—well anyone in her friend group at least.

Chapter Text

Kol Mikealson: September 30, 2009 

 Had Kol left his backpack in the car on purpose just so he could make a dramatic entrance?
Yes. Yes, he had.

There were few things Kol Mikaelson loved more than getting under Caroline Forbes’ skin—murder, magic, and annoying his siblings ranked high, but irritating Caroline? That was an art form.

He listened from outside as Caroline’s bright, familiar voice carried through the parking lot, chatting with her friends. Perfect. She was distracted. He could practically feel her disapproval from here, which only made the grin on his face spread wider.

He grabbed his bag, slammed the car door shut loud enough to turn a few heads, and sauntered toward the school, a wicked glint in his eyes. Caroline had told him—very firmly, in fact—to go to the front office, compel the secretary if necessary, and wait for her to “offer” to show him around. A simple plan. Efficient. Predictable.

Naturally, Kol had no intention of following it.

He swung the front door open with a theatrical flourish that echoed through the hall, instantly drawing attention. His backpack slipped dangerously low on one shoulder, his grin easy and infuriatingly smug.

“Greetings,” he announced, his accent crisp and clear enough to make a few students glance up. “Kol Mikaelson, newest student of Mystic Falls High. Try to contain your awe.”

The reactions did not disappoint.

A few students stared, confused or mildly amused, before deciding he wasn’t worth the energy. The doppelgänger blinked at him, clearly unsure what to make of him. The younger Salvatore’s jaw tightened—though Kol caught the faintest twitch of a smirk. The Bennett witch arched a single brow, judgmental in that way only witches could manage. It reminded him far too much of his mother. He shuddered.

Then there were the two boys by the lockers—one with the faint scent of wolf lingering beneath his cologne, the other human, blonde, and already muttering.

“Finally,” the blonde said under his breath, “someone with a bigger ego than Tyler.”

The wolf barked a laugh and shoved him lightly.

Kol smirked. Oh, I like this place already.

He took his time scanning the room, cataloging each reaction before letting his gaze land on Caroline. She was shaking her head in that exasperated, don’t you dare way she did. Naturally, he ignored her.

Kol pranced over, every step deliberate, and called out in a sing-song voice, “Caroline! My dear tour guide!”

She closed her eyes, inhaling sharply like she was praying for patience. Her friends glanced at her, their curiosity piqued. When Kol reached her, he didn’t hesitate to drape an arm over her shoulder, grinning like he owned the place.

“Relax, Care,” he murmured under his breath, amusement flickering in his voice. “High school never knew what hit it.”

Caroline opened one eye and shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Kol straightened, offering an exaggerated bow to the group.

“And to the rest of you,” he declared with mock grandeur, “I am Kol Mikaelson, the newest addition to Mystic Falls High. Please, try to keep your gasps and fainting to a minimum—I know it will be difficult.”

Caroline groaned, elbowing him in the ribs. Hard. “Kol, please. Just… act normal,” she hissed.

He winced. For a human, she really did hit hard.

The blonde boy in the letterman jacket stepped forward, his tone protective. “You know this guy, Care?”

Kol almost laughed. How adorable. He thinks he can take me.

Caroline sighed, gesturing toward him. “Unfortunately, yes.” She forced a smile, trying to make it sound casual. “This is Kol. He’s a friend of mine. His family’s moving here soon, and he’s staying with me while he gets enrolled.”

Kol gave his best disarming grin, playing along—for now. But as he looked around the hallway, soaking in the curious glances and whispers that followed, he could already tell one thing for certain.

The evil doppelgänger stepped forward, extending the same hand she used for backstabbing—or, more accurately, for shoving a white oak dagger into your heart after you’d tried to save the universe from the most powerful witch alive.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kol. I’m Elena,” she said with a bright, saccharine smile.

Kol stared at the hand for a moment, a dozen viciously clever responses bubbling up before he even thought to filter them. Oh, I know exactly who you are, sweetheart.

He could tell her she had the handshake of someone who’d sell out her friends for a diary entry.

He could ask if “It’s nice to meet you” was something she practiced in the mirror after betraying people.

Or maybe he could just smirk and say, “I’d say it’s nice to meet you too, but I do try not to lie before noon.”

His mouth opened—Caroline’s elbow shot into his ribs. Hard. 

Kol blinked, suppressing the sharp retort that immediately sprang to mind. Oh, how easy it would’ve been to say something wickedly accurate—something about hypocrisy and hollow smiles and daggers slipped between ribs. Instead, he curved his lips into what humans liked to call a polite grin.

“It’s… lovely to meet you as well,” he said, his tone smooth but his eyes betraying the truth. The gleam there wasn’t friendliness; it was the quiet, simmering amusement of someone imagining at least six different ways this conversation could have gone wrong—deliciously wrong.

Caroline exhaled beside him, the sound soft but full of relief. Kol didn’t miss the subtle way her shoulders relaxed. Poor thing. She really thought that was a victory.

The rest of the group began to thaw, if only slightly. They smiled tentatively, laughed at his jokes—some forced, some genuine. Kol was good at reading people; he could tell most of them were still wary of him, but they were humoring Caroline. For her sake, they’d play nice. How noble.

He played along, charming when he felt like it, irreverent when it amused him. But his focus—his irritation—kept circling back to the brunette. Elena Gilbert. The doppelgänger with the perpetual expression of wounded innocence. Every time she opened her mouth, something in him twitched. His lip curled ever so slightly, the kind of expression one might mistake for a smirk if they weren’t paying attention.

He could still remember what she’d done. What they’d done. Not that he’d let it slip—Caroline would elbow him into the next century—but the memory lingered like smoke.

Kol leaned back in his chair, watching the group carry on, pretending to be ordinary teenagers. It was almost endearing, really. Caroline shot him another look—one that clearly said behave, or else.

He only smiled, tilting his head as if to say, I’m being good! Aren’t you proud?

Still, as he watched Elena laugh at something Matt said, Kol couldn’t shake the thought that this week was going to be painfully interesting.

And if Caroline truly believed she could get through it without any blood being spilled—well.

Bless her optimistic, delusional, but optimistic little heart.

…

The rest of the day dragged by at the pace of human life—agonizingly slow and unbearably mundane. Kol was used to centuries of chaos, not the ticking of classroom clocks and the smell of cheap cafeteria food. Why did the youngest Salvatore spend his life like this?  Still, he had promised Caroline he’d “blend in,” so he played along.

Barely.

… 

History. As if Kol Mikaelson didn’t already know enough of that. He’d lived through most of it—half the revolutions, a handful of wars, and at least three kings who’d begged for his family’s allegiance. Yet here he was, sitting in a fluorescent-lit classroom in Virginia, being lectured by a man who clearly thought Paul Revere was some kind of visionary.

All of Caroline’s little friend group was in this class—except Caroline herself, of course. She’d bragged that she was in something called an “AP” class. Whatever that meant, Kol assumed it was short for Annoying People who think they’re smarter than everyone else. Still, her absence meant he could speak freely without fear of an elbow to the ribs or a pencil to the eye… again.

For someone so relentlessly sunny, Caroline Forbes was alarmingly violent. The girl had slaughtered multiple covensafter the death of her twins. Kol had seen it—admired it, even. A true wolf in sheep’s clothing. Or perhaps a wolf who sometimes believed she was a sheep.

He leaned back in his chair, lazily twirling a pen between his fingers as Stefan Salvatore took the seat beside him. Out of all the familiar faces in this insufferably tedious high school, Stefan was the second most tolerable—calm, careful, and boring to the point of artistry.

“So,” Kol murmured, voice low enough that only Stefan could hear, “you’re the reformed Ripper, then? The good brother? Must be exhausting, pretending to care this much.”

Stefan stiffened, eyes flicking sideways. The poor Ripper actually looked terrified. Kol nearly laughed out loud. Had he really not realized Kol was a vampire? Gods, baby vampires were so stupid.

Then again, Caroline had always been sharp. Maybe the Salvatores were simply exceptions—strength without sense.

Stefan’s gaze drifted briefly toward the doppelgänger, engrossed in some whispered conversation with the Bennett witch, before turning back to Kol. He whispered—far too loudly for Kol’s taste—“How… how did you know that?”

Kol resisted the urge to sigh. Why did Nik fancy this one again? He didn’t even lower his voice to vampire range. Embarrassing.

“Oh, please,” Kol said, leaning back until his chair creaked. “You practically radiate guilt and self-loathing. It’s like sitting next to a walking confessional. I’m amazed you haven’t burst into flames out of sheer remorse.”

Stefan’s expression hardened—righteous and restrained, the way all the tedious ones looked when confronted with truth.

“Don’t worry,” Kol added, flicking his pen idly against the desk. “Your little secret’s safe with me. I’m not here to expose you—or whatever tragic morality play you’ve got going. You’re far too dull to bother with.”

Stefan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, turning his attention to the front where the teacher was droning on about the American Revolution like it had been the height of human achievement.

Kol smirked. “History,” he muttered under his breath. “As if I didn’t live through half of it.”

His gaze flicked toward the doppelgänger. Even sitting still, Elena Gilbert managed to irritate him. He couldn’t decide what offended him more—that she wore Katerina’s face, or that she did it so poorly.

To occupy himself, Kol opened his notebook and began to doodle. His sketches started as idle scribbles—daggers, coffins, maybe a severed head or two—but his hand moved almost of its own accord, tracing the sharp, elegant lines of Elijah’s face. The proud tilt of his jaw, the constant air of judgment—it was practically muscle memory at this point.

Next came Rebekah, her expression caught somewhere between fury and fondness, curls spilling over her shoulders like she’d stepped out of one of their endless family feuds.

Finally, his pen lingered on Niklaus. The smirk came naturally: the same insufferable mix of arrogance and pain. Kol shaded the eyes darker than the rest—stormy, dangerous, unreadable. He stared at the sketch for a moment, pen hovering, then drew a tiny dagger sticking out of Nik’s chest. That made him grin.

By the time the bell rang, Kol had filled half the page—faces of a family that refused to die and refused to let him forget them.

He snapped his notebook shut and stood, stretching lazily as students began to file out. Fluorescent lights, teenage hormones, and the stench of cafeteria food assaulted his senses.

Still… as Stefan risked another cautious glance in his direction, Kol couldn’t help the smirk that curved his lips.

At least Mystic Falls High wasn’t too boring.

… 

If there was one thing Kol Mikaelson had decided about modern education, it was that the food was an atrocity. He poked at the unidentifiable heap on his tray with mild disgust. “They serve this to children? Barbaric,” he muttered to himself, pushing it away entirely.

He scanned the cafeteria, unimpressed. The noise, the fluorescent lights, the chatter about algebra and crushes—it all grated on him. Then his gaze landed on two familiar faces at a corner table: the werewolf-to-be and the blond human. Tyler Lockwood and Matt Donovan.

Kol grinned. Entertainment, at last.

He sauntered over, dropping into the seat across from them with the easy confidence of someone who had never once asked permission in his life.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted, flashing a disarming smile. “Mind if I join you?”

Tyler squinted, clearly wary. “Uh… sure, I guess?”

“Excellent,” Kol said smoothly, folding his hands in front of him like he was settling in for tea. “So. Tell me—how does one survive in this delightful little backwater without dying of boredom?”

Matt raised a brow. “You’re new, right? You’ll get used to it.”

“Doubtful,” Kol replied. “You both look like you’ve been here forever, and you seem miserable.”

Tyler let out a low chuckle. “Wow. You’re kind of blunt, huh?”

“Oh, I find honesty refreshing,” Kol said, feigning innocence. “For instance, Lockwood—are all the boys in Mystic Falls this temperamental, or is that just a family trait?”

Tyler blinked, taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kol smirked, tilting his head. “Nothing at all. You just… strike me as someone who throws a lot of tantrums. Probably yells at referees. Maybe punches lockers?”

Matt snorted, failing to hide his laugh. “He’s not wrong.”

Tyler shot Matt a glare. “Oh, shut up, Donovan. Like you’re any better?”

Kol’s grin widened. “Ah, Donovan. The loyal best friend. Still waiting for someone to notice your good heart and poor decision-making skills?”

Matt frowned, confused. “What’s that supposed to—”

Kol leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, every word sharp as a blade. “It’s tragic, really. Some people are just background characters in their own lives.”

Tyler’s jaw dropped a little, Matt’s eyes narrowed—and Kol could already taste the tension thickening in the air. Perfect. He was just about to deliver the finishing blow—something cutting, cruel, and funny—

“Kol!”

Caroline’s voice sliced through the noise like divine intervention.

Kol froze mid-sentence, glancing up to see her striding toward the table with her tray in hand and her signature I swear to God, don’t you dare look.

“Ah,” he said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. “Speak of the angelic tyrant herself.”

Caroline gave him that tight, warning smile—the one that said she’d break his fingers if he didn’t behave. “Mind if I join you guys?” she asked sweetly, sliding into the empty seat beside Kol.

“Please do,” Matt muttered, still eyeing Kol suspiciously.

Kol’s grin didn’t falter. “We were just getting acquainted. I was telling your friends here how inspired I am by the local athletic culture. I might even try out for the football team.”

Tyler blinked. “Wait—you play?”

Kol shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “Oh, I dabble. You’ll find I’m… naturally gifted at most things.”

Caroline’s elbow found his ribs before he could add something smug. He winced, but his grin only grew.

“Be nice,” she warned in a sing-song voice, picking at her salad.

“Always, darling,” Kol said lightly, then looked at Tyler and Matt with faux sincerity. “Truly. I can’t wait to… bond.”

The two boys exchanged wary glances, clearly unsure whether to laugh or file a restraining order.

Kol, of course, was delighted.

…

 The bleachers were still mostly empty, the late-afternoon sun turning the field gold as the cheer team ran through their pregame warm-ups. Caroline was in full command mode—ponytail high, hands on her hips, voice crisp and bright as she corrected a formation.

KKol leaned against the fence, sketchbook in hand. His drawings weren’t of the field or the cheerleaders—they were of faces. Klaus’s smirk, Rebekah’s sharp grin, Elijah’s calm patience. His family, captured in a dozen absentminded doodles. Somehow, putting them on paper made the chaos of the world feel a little more tolerable.

He didn’t even notice Caroline jogging over until her shadow fell across the page.

“You’re doodling again,” she said, grabbing her water bottle from beside him. “Most people watch the game, not… sketch their estranged family members.”

Kol smirked. “They’re character studies. Keeps the mind sharp.”

Caroline laughed softly, her eyes catching the faint tension in his shoulders. “I get it, Kol. You miss them,” she said, nodding toward the drawings. “It’s okay.”

He raised an eyebrow, annoyed at the sentimentality but secretly appreciating it. “Care, I’m not sentimental.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, smirking. “Except when you draw every single annoying face of everyone you care about.”

Kol huffed, flipping the page with a flourish. “It’s not sentimentality, it’s strategy. And besides, it’s hardly my fault people make excellent subjects.”

Caroline nudged him with her shoulder. “Fine, strategist. But try to play nice today, okay? No murder.”

He groaned, leaning back and twirling his pen. “You mean… tolerate the unholy doppelgänger while pretending not to want to strangle her?”

Caroline’s jaw tightened, but she gave him a small, fond smile. “Exactly. I know you hate Elena. I get it, I do. I’ve hated her too—trust me, she can be easy to hate at times.”

Kol’s eyes flicked to her, a mocking gleam in his eye. “Hm. Comforting words from a human child. I’ll try not to laugh.”

Caroline scoffed, shoving his shoulder. “Child?!” she exclaimed. “Said by the 2,000-year-old fossil!”

Kol’s expression went from mock offense to genuine exasperation. “1,700! I am not 2,000!” he snapped. “Now go back to jumping around with your hurtful bony elbows and demonic doppelgangers!” he called after her as she walked down the bleachers back toward the field.

“Yeah, okay!” she shouted, before pausing mid-step, spinning around in mock outrage. “Bony elbows?! Seriously!”

Kol cackled, darting away before she could reach him—and not before a well-aimed water bottle bounced off his head, earning another gleeful laugh from Caroline

Caroline Forbes :September 30, 2009 

To Caroline’s surprise, the day had actually gone well. Well… mostly. Lunch had been a minor battlefield, but Kol hadn’t tormented—or killed—anyone to her knowledge. He’d even tolerated Elena without trying to rip her head off. To be fair, he had met Elena when she was a vampire, and she had been a massive, infuriating bitch then. Caroline could understand the hatred—Elena and Jeremy had killed him once, and made Klaus watch. In Caroline’s eyes, Kol had every right to loathe the Gilberts.

Of course, he couldn’t go five minutes without insulting her in some way. And the audacity of calling her elbows bony? That had earned him a well-aimed water bottle to the head earlier. She’d refused to let him forget it.

Now, with the first football game of the year starting in five minutes, the bleachers buzzed with excitement. Students shouted, the band warmed up, and the smell of popcorn and hot dogs hung in the air. Caroline was perched on the bench with her pom-poms neatly folded at her side, trying to focus on her cheerleader responsibilities instead of the chaos that was her life.

Elena walked over and sat down beside her, the faintest crease of tension between her brows. She seemed… off. Anxious, bothered, a little flustered, and Caroline noticed it immediately. For once, Elena wasn’t trying to charm or dominate the conversation—she just looked… unsure.

After about thirty awkward seconds, she finally turned to Caroline, fidgeting with the straps of her backpack. “Caroline… can I ask you something?” Her voice was low, hesitant.

Caroline tilted her head, giving her friend a small, patient smile. “Of course. What’s up?”

Elena hesitated, biting her lip. “It’s… about Kol. I know you’re friends with him, but… he’s really intense. And, well, I just… there's something off about him.”

Caroline tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh. “Yeah, there’s a lot ‘off’ with Kol,” she admitted, leaning back slightly. “But he means well. Sometimes.” She nudged her friend lightly. “He’s my best friend. I’ve known him for years. He’s a lot like you, in a way.”

Elena tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. Caroline continued, her voice softening. “It’s been rough for him lately—” Understatement of the millennium. “He only has his siblings and me. And… even his relationship with his siblings is a bit rocky. You have to get to know him. You’ll love him once you do.”

Elena considered that, frowning slightly. “So he’s like me and Jeremy?” she asked hesitantly.

Caroline blinked, amused despite herself. Elena, I love you, but god, can you be self-absorbed at times. “Yeah. His parents are dead,” she said carefully, not adding the unspoken ‘good riddance’ that hovered on the edge of her tongue.

Before Elena could respond, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the game. Caroline straightened, shaking off the conversation. Kol, as usual, was probably off somewhere plotting his own amusement, and now it was her turn to focus—cheerleading, keeping her friends safe, and praying the football game didn’t turn into chaos before she had a chance to intervene.

…

The game was going well. Caroline stood on the sidelines, rubbing her pom-poms together with an occasional enthusiastic shout of, “Go Timberwolves!” The crowd’s energy thrummed in her chest, the smell of popcorn and fresh-cut grass filling the air.

Then something smacked her shoulder. She spun around, ready to scold whoever had thrown it—only to find Kol standing there, his usual mischievous glint replaced by an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

He raised a hand, subtly pointing to the left, behind the field. Caroline’s head turned, but the view was blocked by the brick fence.

Leaning closer, voice low, she whispered, meant only for him, “Danger?”

Kol frowned but nodded.

“Vampire?”

Again, he nodded.

“Salvatores?”

Another nod.

Her groan was audible only to him. “I’ll meet you there,” she said, already moving.

Kol gave a quick nod and melted back into the shadows behind the field, disappearing before anyone on the sidelines noticed anything unusual.

Caroline glanced back toward the stands and nudged Elena lightly. “Hey, I gotta go to the bathroom. Bonnie’s in charge while I’m gone. Shouldn’t be too long.”

Before Elena could respond, she was already sprinting toward the fence, leaving her pom-poms abandoned on the bench, adrenaline propelling her forward. God damn Salvatores, always causing trouble.

She rounded the snack shack and slipped behind it. Kol was already there, leaning casually against the wall, sketchbook tucked under one arm, his posture alert. His face remained serious, unreadable, and Caroline felt a twinge of concern. What the hell had the Salvatores done now?

“I heard a neck snap, and dear old Damon’s voice, then I heard Stefan as well. Looks like we’ve already got a murder, and it’s only my first day!” he quipped lightly, the humor a thin veil over his vigilance.

Caroline simply nodded, irritation flaring in her chest. There was no point in hiding it. She took the lead, moving cautiously along the perimeter, Kol close behind, watching her back like a shadow. Together, they melted into the space between the field and the fence, a perfect team—silent, focused, and ready for whatever mess the Salvatores had decided to create this time.

The closer Caroline got, the more she could hear the low, tense arguing between the brothers. Kol remained hidden in the shadows a few feet behind her, completely out of their line of sight, his arms crossed and eyes glinting with barely restrained amusement.

She stepped into the light where they could see her, forcing herself to stand tall despite the knot of unease in her stomach. The brothers’ argument continued for another minute, sharp words cutting through the air, until Caroline finally risked a glance at Kol.

He was rolling his eyes, the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. She could practically hear him thinking, What idiots.

Her gaze flicked downward to the ground, where Mr. Tanner lay chest up, his neck snapped, the scene impossible to ignore. Caroline’s stomach churned, but she forced herself to stay calm.

After another tense minute of waiting, she cleared her throat. The sound was sharp and deliberate, making both brothers snap their heads toward her.

Stefan’s face was pale, horror and concern warring across his features as his eyes flicked between Mr. Tanner and Caroline. Damon, on the other hand, looked almost… amused, though annoyance and anger flickered across his face as well. The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a way that sent a shiver down Caroline’s spine—he was always dangerous when he was even slightly entertained.

Kol, still hidden, leaned casually against the wall, watching the brothers with an expression that mixed exasperation and delight. Some things never change, she thought. And some people will always be idiots.

Stefan’s face went white; horror and concern warred across his features as he moved instinctively to shield her. Then, in a soft, dangerous voice, he tried the one thing Caroline would never, ever allow again.

“You will walk away,” he said, the words silk and ice. “Go back to the game and forget you ever saw this.”

The syllables slid against her like cold water. For a breath Caroline felt the world narrow—the echo of being made to move, to obey, the memory of things taken from her. Her stomach dropped and a hot flash of panic rose like bile.

Kol stayed against the brick where he’d been leaning, a dark shape in the shadow. He didn’t step forward. He didn’t have to. He’d known. Of course he’d known. The way his jaw tightened and the almost imperceptible flare at the corner of his eye said more than words: he understood exactly what the attempt meant, and exactly what it would do to her. He watched, coiled and furious, but stationary — letting Caroline choose how she would answer.

Caroline didn’t give him the chance to make that choice for her. Her hand rose like lightning. The slap cut the air—flat, hard, the sound of a shattered command. Stefan staggered, stunned.

She didn’t stop. The small butterfly knife at her belt was there for a reason; she drove it into his side with clinical, controlled pressure — not to kill, but to make him hurt enough that he would think twice. Stefan doubled over, breathless, clutching the wound. His wide eyes met hers: shock, betrayal, the instant realization that this was final.

She leaned in, her voice low and flat as a blade. “Do that to me again,” she said, every word measured and lethal, “and I will drown you in vervain until you can’t speak, skin you, rip out your heart. Understand?”

Stefan opened his mouth, closed it, no answer coming that could repair what he’d tried to do.

Damon’s look was a dangerous mix of annoyance and amusement—his smile slow, small, the kind that tugged at the edges of everything threatening. “Blondie,” he drawled, voice teasing but sharp, “you’re becoming more… and more interesting.” He started moving toward her, deliberate, predatory, each step measured, like a predator circling. Caroline’s fingers clenched around the butterfly knife as she withdrew it from Stefan’s side, her pulse quickening.

Kol remained perched against the wall, every muscle coiled, watching Damon with hard, animal patience. He wanted to move—to tear into them, to protect her by sheer force—but he didn’t. He wouldn’t take that choice from her unless Damon made a truly foolish move. He stayed back, silent, a shadowed sentinel.

Caroline’s eyes flicked to him as Damon reached Stefan, who was still doubled over, hand on his side, faking sympathy. Kol’s gaze met hers for just a moment. The almost imperceptible nod he gave said it all: I saw. I know. I’m here. I’ve got you.

A small, grateful smile tugged at Caroline’s lips. Even though she couldn’t do much to Damon while she was human, knowing Kol was there steadied her nerves. His silent presence was enough—a shield in the shadows, an anchor against the chaos that Damon thrived on.

Damon’s eyes flicked between the three of them, amusement still lingering but curiosity sharpening. “So… what’s the status of Katherine? She ready to come home yet, Doctor Blondie?” His voice was deceptively casual, but the underlying danger was unmistakable.

Stefan stiffened immediately, jaw tightening, glancing at Damon with irritation and warning in equal measure. “Damon, she’s in the tomb—just like she’s been since 1864,” he said, voice sharp as he got to his feet, still clutching his side as it healed.

Caroline groaned inwardly, the tension from the road trip replaying in her mind: the endless drive, the dusty industrial lots, the weight of the coffin in her hands, Damon’s probing questions, his dangerous fascination with Katherine’s condition. He thinks he’s getting Katherine back now, she thought bitterly, not realizing the one in the coffin isn’t her—or isn’t the same reason we went.

Damon’s lips tugged into a smirk. “Tomb, huh? You sure she’s still resting nicely? Didn’t I see her—well, someone—earlier this week?” His tone was teasing, but Caroline could feel the sharp edge of his mind circling, testing, pushing.

Kol shifted slightly, still in the shadows, eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. Caroline had told him every detail of the road trip the moment her mother went to bed—the long drive, the dusty storage units, the coffin, Damon’s relentless questioning. He’d heard how she handled Damon then, how she navigated every dangerous edge, and he knew she could do it again. And he would be there, silent and ready, in case Damon misstepped.

Caroline squared her shoulders, forcing calm into her voice. “She’s fine. Safe. I’ve been helping her understand how the world works while she’s getting back to full strength.”
Please buy it, please, she thought, heart hammering.

“That’s great!” Damon said a little too cheerfully, a spark of something dangerous behind his eyes. “Makes my job easier. But she should be up and running now—I mean, it’s been three days, right? And I’ll be there in case Stefan here tries to make a move!”

Shit.

Caroline forced herself to stay composed, though panic clawed at her chest. He was too hostile, too sharp, for her to outright refuse. She let out a long, deliberate sigh, letting the faintest note of exasperation slip into her voice. “I don’t think it’s a great idea,” she said, watching Damon’s expression harden, anger creeping across his features. “But if you can keep her safe, I’ll drop her off at the boarding house tomorrow night. I just want to get her some modern clothing of her own—so I can have mine back.”

She knew that last, almost throwaway bit would make him more likely to believe her.

Damon’s anger didn’t disappear, but the edge softened into something like grudging understanding. “Fine, Blondie. Tomorrow night,” he said, giving a curt nod. He started walking toward his car, his posture radiating warning and amusement all at once. “See you tomorrow, Blondie. 9:00 sharp.” The threat was barely veiled, a pulse of danger in the late afternoon air.

Caroline exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders relax just a fraction. She watched Damon get into his car and drive off, leaving Mr. Tanner’s lifeless body on the ground and Stefan—still groaning slightly from his wound—next to her.

Kol remained on the wall, silent and unmoving, every muscle taut with readiness. He’d seen everything. He didn’t need to move. Caroline had handled Damon as she always did—careful, clever, and just enough daring. Kol allowed himself the smallest nod, satisfied that she’d survived unscathed.

Caroline glanced up at him briefly, offering a tiny, grateful smile. In the quiet aftermath, with the dead body and the threat of Damon lingering like smoke in the air, it was enough to know Kol was there—always watching, always ready.

But with the immediate threat of Damon gone, another problem quickly surfaced—Stefan. He was now fully healed, moving with that tense, controlled grace that made him seem twice as dangerous. Fear and anger flickered across his pale features as his eyes locked on Caroline.

“What is he talking about, Caroline?” Stefan growled, voice low and sharp, a mixture of accusation and disbelief.

Caroline’s jaw tightened, but she kept her tone even, carefully measured. “He’s gone for now,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward where Damon had left. “You don’t need to make a scene. We’re safe for the moment.”

Caroline took a steadying breath, forcing her pulse to slow and her voice to stay calm despite the storm brewing in front of her. “Stefan… listen to me. Damon’s gone. He isn’t here anymore, and I handled it. I swear.” She took a careful step toward him, keeping her hands visible, neutral—but ready.

Stefan’s glare didn’t falter; if anything, it sharpened, slicing through her composure. “Handled it?” he growled, jaw tight. “Caroline, there’s a dead man on the ground! And now you’re telling me Katherine… she’s out of the tomb? How—how is that even possible?” His hand flexed, hovering near his side as if he might strike.

Kol remained in the shadows against the wall, coiled and silent. Every fiber of him wanted to leap forward, to tear into Stefan for even questioning Caroline in that tone, but he didn’t. He had learned long ago that Caroline’s strength often exceeded anyone else’s—and she had survived Damon today. He knew she could handle Stefan, and he would act only if Stefan crossed a line.

Caroline met Stefan’s glare, forcing steady control into her tone. “It’s complicated,” she said carefully. “But yes, she’s out. She’s safe. And right now, what matters is that we stay safe and alive. You can argue later—but you’re not helping anyone right now by losing control.”

Stefan’s chest heaved with restrained fury, his eyes flicking to the body on the ground and then back to her. “You make it sound so simple, standing there like nothing happened,” he muttered.

Kol’s eyes softened fractionally as he watched Caroline hold her ground, the almost imperceptible nod he gave her acknowledging both the danger and her capability. She had him. He didn’t need to intervene—not yet.

Caroline forced a calm exhale, tilting her head slightly. “I know you don’t like it. Neither do I—but Damon’s threat is gone for now. Trust me when I say I’ve got this. And yes… Katherine is out, but she’s no danger. I wouldn’t let anything happen to anyone because of her.”

Stefan’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, doubt flickering across his pale face, but his jaw remained tight. “This isn’t over, Caroline,” he said finally, voice low, dangerous. “Not by a long shot.”

Kol’s eyes tracked every movement of Stefan, every twitch of his expression. Stefan stormed off, Caroline could only assume he was heading back to the boarding house. She finally turned her attention to Stefan once he was gone, waiting to speak until Kol emerged from the shadows.

“That went well.” Kol joked, his voice dry. 

Caroline let out a slow breath, the tension in her shoulders finally starting to ease as Stefan’s retreating figure disappeared over the edge of the field. She gave a small, exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “Well… if by ‘well’ you mean surviving without being compelled or decapitated, then yeah. That went well.”

Kol stepped out from the shadows, his casual posture belying the sharp alertness still coiled in his body. His lips quirked in a dry, almost amused smirk. “Survived, yes. Thrived? Debatable,” he said, voice dripping with mock admiration. “You handled both Salvatores without losing your temper—or your head. I’ll admit, I’m impressed.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t get used to me being impressive. Today was… a fluke. And you, Mr. Silent Guardian, could at least have cracked a smile once or twice instead of lurking like a bat in the shadows.”

Kol’s smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of mischief and appraisal. “I am a bat,” he said smoothly, “silent, watching, ready to rip anyone’s throat out if they get… stupid.” His gaze flicked toward the far end of the field, thoughtful. 

Caroline let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Thanks for the support., im glad i dont have to deal with a second dead body.

Kol chuckled softly, the sound low and quiet, more to himself than for her benefit. “Anytime my favorite human.”

Caroline gave him a mock glare, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Favorite human, huh? I’ll take it. Just… stay out of trouble, okay?”

Kol leaned back against the wall again, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. “Out of trouble? Sweet Caroline, you really don’t know me at all.”

She groaned, shaking her head. “Come on, let's get back to the game.”

Stefan Salvatore: September 30, 2009 

Stefan’s chest pounded as he stumbled away from Caroline, leaving Mr. Tanner’s lifeless body behind. His stomach churned, bile rising uncomfortably as his mind raced. What did she mean—Katherine was out of the tomb? He had thought that was a closed chapter, a nightmare safely locked away. Now she was back. And Elena… she wouldn’t be safe. None of them would.

A cold, crawling panic gripped him. Should he leave town? Break things off with Elena? Protect her from Katherine at all costs? His thoughts twisted in on themselves, spiraling with every possibility, none of them good.

And the nausea wasn’t just fear—it was disgust, simmering beneath the surface. He hadn’t seen Katherine in decades, not since 1864. Not since… she had used him, manipulated him, compelled him into things he would never have chosen otherwise. The memory of her voice, smooth and dangerous, compelling him even when his own will screamed no, made his stomach heave. How could his brother—his own flesh and blood—be okay with that? How could Damon be okay with her? Being with the woman who had abused Stefan’s trust, his control, his very life… and maybe worse?

Stefan’s fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. Every muscle in his body screamed for action, for retaliation, for some way to protect those he loved from a threat he hadn’t anticipated. And yet… he felt helpless, trapped by circumstances he could barely comprehend.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a ragged breath. He had to think, had to plan, but the nausea, the anger, the memories—they crowded in too fast, a storm he couldn’t yet calm. Katherine was back. And Stefan Salvatore had no idea how to stop what was coming next.

…

 Stefan Salvatore: October 1, 2009

After hours of pacing and stressing in the woods, Stefan found himself outside Caroline’s house. His chest felt tight, his thoughts a whirlwind of Tanner’s death, Damon’s threats, and the shocking news of Katherine’s return. Going home, facing Damon, watching that calculating smirk—it was too much. Not tonight. Not until he could steady himself.

So here he was, on Caroline’s porch, hesitant, out of place. He knocked on the door, trying—and failing—to keep his fangs fully hidden. The tension coiling in his shoulders wasn’t just from restraint; it was the mental exhaustion of processing everything that had happened.

Through the window, he caught movement. Caroline, sleep-tousled and unstyled, in soft, pastel pajamas, approached the door. Her face was bare, the morning light softening her features, making her look younger, almost fragile. And yet, her presence grounded him in a way nothing else had that night.

“Stefan?” Her voice held concern and curiosity, a gentle tremor underlying it. “What… what are you doing here?”

He looked down, then back at her, voice barely steady. “Is… Katherine really back?” He tried to demand answers, tried to sound angry, but the words came out small, broken, betraying the turmoil he felt.

Caroline’s eyes widened, and in that moment, Stefan saw her puzzle fall into place. Shock melted into understanding, her gaze softening.

“Come in, Stef,” she said, voice calm and reassuring. “I’ll tell you everything.” She opened the door wider, a small, knowing nod accompanying the invitation.

His pulse quickened. The nerve it took, after everything tonight—after what could have happened—to invite him in. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then stepped over the threshold. No barriers, no defenses, just him walking into the unknown.

Caroline closed the door softly behind him and gestured lightly ahead. “This way,” she said. She led him upstairs with an easy confidence, a stark contrast to the chaos of his thoughts. Finally, she stopped in front of a closed wooden door, tilting her head toward it, encouraging him to enter.

Stefan lingered at the threshold, chest tight, mind racing, but the subtle trust in her gesture nudged him forward. One step at a time, he moved inside, bracing himself for the truths Caroline had promised—but already feeling a small measure of relief simply being in her calm, steady presence.

Stefan stepped inside and immediately realized he was in Caroline’s bedroom. The soft  early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He took it all in—the neatly organized shelves, the pastel tones, the subtle hints of Caroline’s personality scattered across the space. But then his gaze landed on something that made his stomach tighten: Kol Mikaelson, sprawled across her bed, utterly at ease.

Stefan stiffened, instincts kicking in, every muscle tensing.

“This is a genuine insult to vampires! I mean, Dracula was a little bitch! He was scared of water! Water!” Kol’s voice rang out, exaggerated and theatrical, as he turned his head toward Stefan. 

Then, with a tilt of his head toward Caroline, Kol raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, as if silently asking her a question.

On the TV, an old black-and-white vampire movie played—probably from the 60s—with cheesy effects and wildly overdramatic acting. Kol had clearly been enjoying himself, offering snide commentary in that infuriatingly playful way only he could.

Caroline stepped forward, crossing her arms with a calm but firm expression. Her hand reached out and shut off the TV, silencing the film mid-dialogue.

Kol groaned theatrically, flopping back onto the pillows with exaggerated disappointment. “Traitor!” he exclaimed, voice heavy with mock indignation. “A true crime against cinema! To deny me Dracula? I am… I am devastated!”

“Oh, you were just complaining about how terrible it was,” Caroline shot back, hands on her hips.

Stefan, still standing tensely at the door, fought the urge to roll his eyes and pace in frustration. Kol sprawled across the bed like a mischievous child, while Caroline stood there like a patient—but very exasperated—babysitter.

Finally, Stefan spoke up, voice tight and cautious. “Are you… a vampire too?”

Kol turned his head, grinning widely. “Yes. Yes, I am. Would you like to see who’d win in a fight?”

Caroline smacked the side of his head. “Kol! Be nice!” she scolded, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. Kol cackled in response, undeterred.

“Ignore him,” Caroline said, turning her attention to Stefan. “Come on, sit down. I’ll explain everything about Katherine.”

Stefan hesitated, unsure where to sit. Caroline nudged Kol off the bed, who landed with a soft thump on the floor, and patted the space next to her. Stefan cautiously sat down, glancing at Kol sprawled on the ground and then back at Caroline’s small, reassuring smile.

Kol scoffed in mock outrage. “Excuse me!” He grabbed a pillow from the floor and tossed it at Caroline’s face. “But what about Katherine?”

Kol then flopped dramatically, walking toward the door, shutting it with a flourish, and returning to the bed to faceplant across Caroline’s pillows, much to her annoyance. She sighed, brushing his arm off and giving him a pointed look.

“Kol Mikaelson,” she muttered, “you are unbelievable.”

Kol peeked one eye open, smirking. “I prefer memorable, thank you very much.”

Caroline groaned softly but finally turned back to Stefan. “Now, I’m going to tell you the truth—but I need you to listen. Okay?”

Stefan only nodded, his expression tense, eyes locked on hers, silently urging her to continue.

She took a steadying breath, her voice soft but deliberate. “Katherine… she was never in the tomb, Stefan. She made a deal with one of the Lockwoods back in 1864. They got her out of Mystic Falls before the church was ever sealed.”

For a moment, Stefan couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The words didn’t make sense; they crashed through his mind like shards of glass. “What?” he finally managed, his voice low, hollow.

Caroline’s expression darkened, guilt flickering in her eyes. “She was never trapped, Stefan. All this time, she’s been—”

Kol’s voice cut in smoothly, finishing the sentence for her. “She’s been watching you over the past 150 years.”

The room went utterly still. Caroline’s gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Stefan’s. His face drained of color, eyes wide, unfocused. Watching him? All this time? His stomach twisted violently. Every place he’d ever lived, every name he’d ever used—it all suddenly felt invaded. Violated.

His voice came out as a broken whisper. “Was I ever… safe?”

Caroline looked helplessly toward Kol, who—for once—didn’t look smug or amused. There was something strangely solemn in his eyes, a flicker of sympathy that Stefan never would’ve expected.

Something strangely solemn flickered in Kol’s eyes, a rare glimpse of sympathy that Stefan never would have expected.

Kol sighed softly, the sound heavy with meaning. “Once,” he said quietly. “If we’re being honest… only once. When you were with my brother and sister—Niklaus and Rebekah—she watched, but she never came near you. Not with Nik around.”

The words grounded Stefan, if only slightly. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his mind clawing for something—anything—solid to hold onto. The idea that he had been safe, even briefly, was a small comfort. But he didn’t remember anyone named Niklaus or Rebekah. That must have been during the period when his humanity was off; he’d have to go through his journals to make sense of it.

The rest of the night passed in a tense rhythm. Caroline spoke carefully, explaining how she had lied to Damon about Katherine being in the coffin, and that it had actually been Kol, desiccated. Yet Stefan sensed there were pieces she wasn’t sharing, threads of truth she was holding back.

Finally, after hours of careful explanation, Stefan mustered the courage to ask the question that had been clawing at him since the morning.

“Where is Katherine now?” His voice was hesitant, almost brittle.

Caroline glanced at Kol, raising an eyebrow. He let out a scoff.

“You think just because my brother tracks everyone and has tabs on everyone, I do too?” Kol said, mock offense dripping from his tone.

Caroline deadpanned, hands on her hips. “I know you do. Strategist.”

Kol pouted dramatically. “Okay, fine, I do. Still… rude assumption, though!” He grabbed his phone from Caroline’s nightstand, muttering to himself as he scrolled. Something about “no manners” and “why did Nik fancy her again.” After a tense minute, he spoke, voice smug.

“She’s in New York at the moment.”

Stefan nodded slowly, absorbing the news. “So… what are you going to do about Damon? He’s expecting to see Katherine tonight.” His words were hesitant, wary.

Kol’s grin widened, his pride practically radiating from him as he looked toward Caroline. “Well, I’ve already handled that!”

Caroline raised a brow, both surprised and slightly annoyed. “What does that mean, Kol?”

Kol’s smirk stretched wider. “I compelled one of my brother’s little minions to go get her. She’ll be in Mystic Falls in four hours. Plenty of time! And the vervain is being drained from her as they drive, so I should be able to compel her to fit our story perfectly.”

Caroline blinked, sighing with a mixture of relief and exasperation. “Of course you did. At least the plan will work… though not all the vervain will be—” She paused, turning fully to face him. “When did you call?”

“Yesterday,” Kol replied, voice proud. “I knew we needed a jump start. Given my family’s tactics, she’ll be vervain-free by the time she arrives.”

Stefan’s confusion deepened. “Wait… how would you compel her? And how could she even have vervain in her system? I don’t understand.”

Caroline’s grimace faltered slightly before she spoke. “Vampires can build a vervain tolerance. Katherine’s been drinking it for the past 150 years.” Stefan stared at her, baffled by how much she knew.

“And I’m able to compel her because—” Kol’s voice suddenly deepened, the accent unchanged but the tone heavier, almost theatrical. “I’m a special vampire.”

Caroline laughed, light and warm, and Kol joined her with a low, amused chuckle.

Stefan’s brow furrowed, still struggling to grasp the details. Questions bubbled endlessly in his mind, but beneath the confusion, he felt a rare sense of calm. For the first time that day, despite the chaos, he wasn’t alone—and that, somehow, was enough.

Stefan stood, reluctant to leave but knowing he should. “Thank you… both of you. For all of this. It means a lot,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

Caroline nodded, stepping closer and opening her arms. He hesitated for only a moment before entering her embrace, the warmth and familiarity grounding him. Caroline reminded him so much of Lexi, the comfort of her presence easing some of the tension and pain coiled in his chest. Thinking of Lexi, he realized he should call her, check in—she’d always understood him.

Caroline hugged him back just as firmly, and after a beat, Kol joined in, his presence adding a surprisingly steady layer of support. For a few moments, the three of them stood together in quiet solidarity, the chaos of the day outside the walls of the Forbes house seeming distant and unreal.

Finally, Stefan pulled back, teary-eyed but smiling faintly. “Thanks… I should head out now,” he said, his tone hesitant but lighter than when he’d arrived. He nodded toward them and started toward the door.

“If you’re sure, Stef… just know my door’s always open, okay?” Caroline called softly. He paused, turning back to face her.

“This… stuff,” she continued, her voice steady and serious, “it’s hard. Facing an abuser, reliving it, it’s… it’s a lot. If you ever need someone to talk to, or just to listen—I’m here. I get it. I won’t watch you struggle.”

Her sincerity struck him, and he realized how rare it was to have someone who not only knew his secret but accepted him—and who also understood the weight of what Katherine had done without excuse or mockery.

Kol’s voice, unexpectedly serious, cut through the quiet. “If you want me to handle anything else with her—compel her, talk to her, whatever—let me know. I just… can’t kill her. Not yet, at least.”

Stefan could only nod, the weight in his chest too heavy for words. He knew if he tried to speak, he’d break down completely.

As he stepped out of the Forbes house and into the cool night, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: genuine safety, acceptance, and even… happiness. For the first time in years, he felt like he could breathe.

Chapter Text

Hello, I just wanted to put this here. I'm going back and re-writting some of the earlier chapters, since im unhappy with them. Particularly Chapter 2,3, & 4,I've already posted chapter 2s re-write, so only 3 & 4 are left. You don't have to go back and re-read them to understand the rest of the story, but somethings are going to be changed slightly (nothing too major) like certain interactions and Carolines inner monologue. The writings been bothering me a bunch, so i'm re-writing. It shouldn't take too long for me to re-write them! Chapter 3 is going to have the biggest change, alot of it will be quite diffrent but it won't affect the rest of the story too much.. I think. But, a new chapter might not come out for a little while, depending on how long it takes me. Thank you guys for your support so far on this fic! <3

Chapter Text

Caroline Forbes: October 1, 2009 

After Stefan left, the house grew quiet again. Caroline and Kol sat in stillness, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound between them. Neither spoke for a long time.

Kol was simmering—his anger radiating through the room like static. He wasn’t furious with Stefan; his rage was reserved for Katherine. What she had done was beyond cruel—it was monstrous.

Caroline’s chest ached with guilt. She hated that she hadn’t seen it sooner. Everything Stefan had said, the way he reacted to her pain—it all made sense now. His detached calm, his words about “forgive and forget.” He wasn’t dismissing her; he was echoing the lesson he’d been forced to learn. Forgiveness as survival. Forgetting as self-defense.

Kol suddenly pushed up from his chair, pacing. His movements were sharp, restless, dangerous. “I might just kill Katerina,” he muttered, voice trembling with restrained fury. “If Damon doesn’t like it, I’ll kill him too.”

“Kol—” Caroline started, standing halfway.

He turned on her, eyes blazing. “No, don’t ‘Kol’ me! They’re abusers, Caroline!” His voice cracked, echoing through the quiet house. “They don’t deserve to live another damn day!”

Caroline’s throat tightened. It wasn’t that she disagreed—God, she wanted them dead. Every instinct in her screamed for it. But she couldn’t afford chaos, not now. Everything she’d been building depended on timing.

She drew in a slow, deliberate breath, meeting his gaze steadily. “I know,” she said softly. “I want them gone just as much as you do. But not like this. I’m not going to let them ruin our plans. They’ll get what’s coming to them, Kol—but it has to be when we decide. Not when our anger decides for us.”

Kol froze, the fury in his expression shifting into reluctant understanding. After a long silence, he let out a breath and sat back down on the edge of the bed. “You’re right,” he admitted quietly, dragging a hand through his hair.

Caroline’s lips quirked faintly, the shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I always am.”

Kol shot her a look, half a glare, half a sigh. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was a reluctant hint of a smile there too.

The tension in the air loosened slightly, replaced by the hum of quiet determination. For now, they’d wait. But the promise lingered, unspoken between them—when the time came, Katherine and Damon would pay.

…

Caroline and Kol slipped into the school together, the morning air between them taut with plans and unspoken threats. Kol was buzzing—restless and dangerous in that way that always meant he’d either charm someone into a stupor or start a small war by lunchtime. When the message came through, they’d move. For now, they split: Kol off to “acquaint” himself with the student body (translation: cause controlled chaos), and Caroline to her locker to assemble the façade of an ordinary teenager.

She was halfway through sliding her history book into the cubby when she heard footsteps hesitate at the next row. The metal clink of a locker door told her who it was before she even looked — Stefan. She cracked her own locker just enough to peek and saw his jeans and scuffed shoes. He looked… frayed. Like someone who’d been punched by a hundred sleepless nights. When he shifted, his fingers fumbled with an invisible worry that made her chest tighten.

“So,” he said finally, voice thin and shaky, “is she… here?”

Caroline closed the locker fully and turned to him. She kept her tone measured, reassuring—everything had to sound casual, reliable. “Not yet,” she said. “Kol’s got the lead. When she arrives, he’ll tell me. We’ll go together. I’ll keep you informed the whole time—no surprises.”

Stefan’s shoulders visibly eased, the taut line in his jaw loosening into something like fragile relief. He slumped back against the lockers and let out a breath that sounded like it had been held for days. “Thanks… for everything, Caroline,” he murmured, and the gratitude in his voice made her chest ache.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, forcing a small smile that felt steadier than it did honest.

Footsteps approached, and Elena appeared with that bright, easy energy that always made Caroline’s insides both soften and ache. “Hey!” Elena chirped, completely unaware of the frayed edges of the moment she’d interrupted. Stefan’s posture tightened for a beat when he saw her, then relaxed when recognition replaced whatever ghost had possessed him.

Elena’s smile faltered, her brow creasing in concern. “Hey, are you okay, Stefan?” she asked softly, laying a hand on his arm.

For a second, he didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the floor, thoughts clearly spinning behind his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, worn. “Honestly… no.” He hesitated, glancing at Caroline before looking back at Elena. “I need to talk to you later. Can we—talk at lunch?”

Both girls blinked at him, startled by the sudden seriousness in his tone. Elena managed a small nod. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks,” Stefan said quietly. He turned toward the hall, then paused mid-step. Looking back at Caroline, he added, “Thanks again, Caroline.” Then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Caroline stood there blinking, caught between confusion and curiosity. She hadn’t been this unsure in a long time—and that was saying something.

Elena, however, was full-on panicking. “What was that? What’s going on? And why was he thanking you?”

Caroline sighed, shutting her locker. “It’s not my place to say, ‘Lena. But… I helped him out last night.” She glanced in the direction Stefan had gone, her voice softening. “Whatever he wants to talk to you about though, I honestly have no clue.”

Elena didn’t look convinced. Suspicion and worry flickered across her face, but after a moment, she gave a short nod and a distracted wave before heading toward her first class.

As the hallway emptied, Caroline leaned back against the lockers, exhaling slowly. She could feel the threads of her plan stretching in every direction—and now Stefan’s unexpected vulnerability had added a whole new complication she hadn’t anticipated. She needed to talk to Kol.

…

By the time lunch rolled around, Elena looked like she was about to explode. She and Stefan hadn’t been dating long, but they’d gotten close fast—almost too fast. Caroline could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off her from across the cafeteria. If Stefan was planning to break up with her, well… it would definitely explain the tension. Then again, Stefan could be remarkably stupid sometimes.

Caroline grabbed a tray and slid into an empty seat against the wall, where she had a clear view of the room. It didn’t take long to spot Elena, sitting at a table near the middle, anxiously twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Moments later, Stefan entered—shoulders tense, expression uneasy.

Oh boy, here we go.

He walked straight to Elena, saying something quiet that made her frown. Caroline couldn’t hear the words, but the air between them looked heavy, charged. They started heading for the door, clearly intending to talk somewhere private—when the doors slammed open.

Kol stormed in, his expression murderous. The entire cafeteria seemed to flinch at the force of his entrance.

Stefan froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he watched Kol make a beeline straight for Caroline’s table.

Kol reached her in seconds and slammed his phone down hard enough to dent the table and spiderweb the screen. The entire room went silent for a heartbeat before chatter resumed in uneasy waves.

Caroline’s blood went cold. Kol only got like this when something had gone horribly wrong.

“Kol?” she asked quickly, not bothering to hide the worry in her voice. “What happened?”

Kol’s jaw clenched, his voice tight with fury. “She got away.”

Caroline’s stomach dropped. No. No, no, no.

“She couldn’t have,” she said automatically, shaking her head. “You said the guard was—”

“The guard was younger than her,” Kol snapped, cutting her off. “She snapped his neck and ran. They have no idea where she went. Just that she escaped right after entering Mystic Falls.”

Caroline’s pulse thundered in her ears. Katherine Pierce was in town. Free. And already one step ahead.

She barely registered Stefan moving until he was suddenly there, crossing the cafeteria with Elena trailing close behind, confusion etched on her face.

“Wait—she escaped?” Stefan’s voice cracked slightly as panic bled through. “You don’t know where she is?”

Caroline met his eyes and saw the fear there—raw and familiar. She’d promised him no surprises. And now…

Elena’s voice cut through, high and worried. “Stefan, what are you talking about? Who escaped?”

Kol looked like he was seconds from tearing someone apart, Stefan looked on the verge of losing control, and Elena’s panic was starting to draw attention from nearby tables.

Caroline stood abruptly, forcing authority into her tone. “Follow me. Now.”

Without waiting for a response, she strode toward the back hall. The others followed quickly—Stefan tense, Kol silent but seething, Elena throwing confused glances between them.

Caroline led them into an empty classroom, shut the door, and locked it with a sharp click.

The silence was thick for a moment, everyone’s breathing audible. Finally, Elena broke it—her voice sharp with fear and frustration.

“What is going on?” Elena demanded, eyes flicking between Caroline, Stefan and Kol. “Someone tell me right now!”

Caroline inhaled, the air thin in the cramped classroom. This was not how she wanted to do it — she’d rehearsed a softer way a dozen times — but there was no softer way that would keep them alive. She flattened her expression until it felt like steel.

“Elena. I’m going to tell you something. And you have to believe me. Okay?” Her tone left no room to argue.

Elena opened her mouth, then closed it, confusion and hurt vying on her face. “I don’t—I don’t understand.” Her voice trailed.

Kol snapped—more reflex than malice, a raw edge to his words. “Just shut up and listen, you bloody doppelgänger, before I rip your throat open.”

The room went as silent as a grave. Elena’s face drained of color; for a heartbeat she looked as if she might flee. Caroline grabbed Kol’s arm and squeezed, a quick, hard reminder. He obeyed, but his eyes stayed dangerous.

“Kol—enough.” Caroline’s voice was low but absolute. She turned back to Elena. “Listen to me.” She forced herself to be gentle now, because Elena was fragile and because panic would ruin everything. “The supernatural is real. Vampires, werewolves, witches, magic, curses — all of it. And it’s been here among us for a long time.”

Elena blinked, then scoffed in disbelief. “What? Care… I’m serious—this is some joke, right?”

Caroline’s jaw tightened. “I’m not joking.” She looked at Stefan, and he nodded once, solemn. “Both Stefan and Kol are vampires.”

Elena’s scoff died on her lips. She took a half-step back, eyes fixed on Kol as if seeing him for the first time. “That’s—no. That’s not real. You’re messing with me.”

“Kol, show her.” Caroline kept her voice calm, the single sentence an instruction and a gamble.

Kol’s smirk faded. He stepped forward and let his expression slacken, deliberately, until his irises darkened and veins ghosted at the corners of his eyes — a slow, unnerving change that made the hairs along Elena’s arms rise. The transformation wasn’t theatrical; it was small and clinical and utterly convincing. Elena sucked in a breath, stumbling back until her shoulder hit the desk.

“Wha—” she whispered, eyes huge.

Stefan moved forward instinctively, a hand hovering between Elena and Kol like a shield. “Elena, breathe. I know this is… a lot.” His voice was low, earnest. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But believe me — you’re safe here.”

Elena’s face flickered through denial, fear, and then something quieter: curiosity edged with an alarmed fascination. 

“If… if this is real, if you’re serious, why—why tell me? Why now?”

Caroline drew in a slow breath. This was the part she hated — the part where truth stopped sounding like protection and started sounding like a threat.
“Because Katherine is here,” she said finally. “And we need you to be aware, so when she tries something, you’re ready.”

Elena blinked, confusion knitting her brows. “Katherine? Wait, isn’t that—”

“Yeah,” Stefan cut in quietly. “The same Katherine.”

Elena’s mouth fell open as understanding began to dawn. “Wait… if you’re a vampire, does that mean Damon is also—”

Stefan hesitated, then gave a grim nod.

Elena staggered back a half-step. “Oh my God.”

Caroline’s tone softened, but her words were sharp. “All those animal attacks lately? They weren’t animals, Elena. That was Damon. He killed those people.”

Elena’s breath caught in her throat, eyes wide with horror. “No… no, he—he wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, he would,” Caroline interrupted, not unkindly. “And Stefan can tell you more about vampires, about Damon, all of it. But right now, we need to focus on Katherine.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. “Katherine isn’t just some vampire, Elena. She’s smart, manipulative, and she looks exactly like you. If she’s here, it’s not by accident. And if she wants something — from you, from Stefan, from any of us — she’ll get it unless we stop her.”

Elena swallowed hard, glancing between Stefan and Caroline. “She looks like me… but why? Why me?”

Kol’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “Because you’re her doppelgänger,” he said quietly. “And that means you’re already part of something much bigger — and much more dangerous — than you realize.”

…

After their conversation ended, the group left the school and headed to the Gilbert house. Caroline quickly went over the invitation rule so Kol could get inside without issue. She urged Elena to fill Jenna and Jeremy in, stressing that keeping them in the dark would only make things worse. Caroline watched as Elena explained everything she’d learned just a few hours earlier, the two family members listening with a mix of shock and disbelief. Once Elena finished, it was Caroline’s turn to step forward and make sure the rules were clear.

Caroline crossed her arms, pacing slightly as she emphasized each point. “Alright, I know it’s a lot to take in. But here are the ground rules. One: don’t explicitly invite anyone inside, even if they look like someone you know. Two: don’t go after anyone alone. Got it?”

She let her gaze sweep the group, making sure the weight of the rules sank in. Elena and Jenna nodded seriously, Jeremy’s eyes wide but attentive, Kol smirking slightly but keeping quiet, clearly aware this wasn’t the time for jokes.

“Good,” Caroline continued, her tone firm but calm. “This isn’t about scaring anyone. It’s about keeping everyone alive and keeping the situation under control. We can handle this… together. But we follow the rules. No exceptions.”

She took a deep breath, letting the authority in her words settle. “And remember… trust each other. Trust the people who know. Questions? Concerns? Now’s the time to speak up, because once we’re out there, there’s no turning back.”

Kol raised an eyebrow, clearly itching to act, but Caroline caught it with a sharp look. “Later,” she said smoothly. “For now, focus. Eyes open, brains on. That’s how we survive this.”

The group exchanged tense glances, the reality of the situation sinking in, before they finally nodded in unison.

…

After a while, Caroline, Kol, and Stefan stepped out of the Gilbert house. The cool night air hit them, carrying away some of the tension that had filled the room moments ago. Caroline glanced at Stefan—he looked drained, his usual composure frayed at the edges. Her tone softened, all earlier sharpness gone.

“How are you holding up?” she asked quietly, her voice gentle but steady, as if testing how close he was to breaking.

“Terrible, honestly.”

Caroline nodded, sympathy flickering in her eyes. She reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder in silent reassurance. “Come on. You can stay with me and Kol while we plan our next move.”

Stefan nodded wordlessly, following her to the car. They climbed in—Caroline behind the wheel, Stefan in the passenger seat, Kol settling into the back. The car was quiet for a while, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of wind outside.

Kol, who had been uncharacteristically silent for hours, kept glancing at Caroline, deep in thought. She caught his look after buckling her seatbelt, tilting her head in question. What?

Without answering, Kol bit into his wrist, the scent of blood filling the car. He extended it toward her.

“Drink.”

Caroline blinked. “What?”

“Katerina plays dirty,” he said, voice low, serious. “She’ll kill you if she gets the chance—and you’re the only one here who doesn’t come back from that. So drink.”

Caroline hesitated only a moment before nodding. It wasn’t a bad plan—and she wasn’t about to argue with logic when Katherine Pierce was involved. She took his wrist gently, pressing it to her lips, drinking just enough before pulling back and swallowing.

“Good?” she asked, wiping a trace of blood from her lip.

Kol nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time that day. “Good. Now at least if things go wrong, you won’t be the one paying the price.”

Caroline leaned back against her seat, exhaling slowly. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Kol smirked faintly in the rearview mirror. “With Katerina? It always comes to that.”