A/N: Deep breaths now! This is the Season (maybe Series) Finale! :) It's a long one, so get yourself a cup of tea and get cozy. I don't have to remind you all again that this is The Originals season 1, right? Ok, then. Have that in mind.

More than ever, I have to thank my lovely beta coveredinthecolors for the AMAZING work she did with this chapter. I was a pain in her ass about this finale and she did not lose her cool with me once, which was incredibly generous of her. If you still find any mistakes there (and I'm sure you will), it's because I keep retouching the story on my own like the rebel kid that I am, so they're all mine and I'm sorry.

At the same time I'm dying to be done with this story, I'm also sad to see these characters go. I had an amazing time writing them (Elijah ❤) and I hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit as well. Also, I'm really dreading this finale and what you guys'll think. I hope you know that I gave it this story my very best and everything you read here is from the bottom of heart, so please be kind! I'm SO looking forward to your feedback and your comments and, please, don't feel shy. This is the end, folks! It's the time for you to share! If you have read this from beginning to end, I'd love to hear from you. :)

There are a BUNCH of A/Ns at the bottom explaining some of my decisions here and also answering some questions some of you might have. Read that or not, it's your choice, this is over anyway. But I'd really appreciate it if you did!

As always, thank you SO MUCH for reading and for your amazing support! :) It's been an honor, folks! ❤

Caroline's new favorite thing is to sit on the rocking chair by the window in the baby's room. She doesn't know if Klaus thought about this while he was putting the nursery together or if it was a lucky coincidence, but it has quickly become her favorite nook in the house, perfect to soak up the morning sun.

And to think that in just a few more weeks she'll have the company of a tiny person in her arms while she gently sways back and forth on her rocking chair... So much has happened since Caroline found out about the pregnancy that it sometimes felt like it was lasting an eternity, but now that she's approaching her due date, time is moving faster than ever.

The last few weeks haven't been half-bad, all things considered. They've been getting some lovely days — sunny, but not too warm, with a gentle breeze that sways the curtains like a cool caress. More importantly, there have been no immediate threats to fight, no impending deaths to escape. Doom has taken some time off, and as unusual as it might be, Caroline is not about to start questioning those small blessings. They are far and few around here. Peaceful days that would be just another Tuesday on anyone else's life are the exception in New Orleans. She has definitely learned not to take it for granted.

She had some time to catch up on her what to expect when you're expecting readings, her latest exams were all great and she's occupied two hours of Cami's friend's time a couple of days ago with all sorts of questions about the birthing process. "Wow. You really did come prepared, didn't you?" Dr. Lisa chuckled when Caroline pulled a bunch of cards out of her bag. "I'm always prepared."

She patiently talked Caroline through the whole thing — first signs, what to do, how long to wait, possible complications, how to tell false alarms from real contractions, and so on and so forth. She has a complete guide now, step by step, for when the time comes. Now all she has to do — besides wait — is give a crash course to her guardians. Something tells her Klaus and Elijah are more likely to freak out when she goes into labor than she is.

Of course, she was forced into an unexpected change of plans. Eve was supposed to deliver her daughter. It didn't really matter where or how; if her friend was there, Caroline trusted her to have everything under control. A stabbing pain flashes through her, quick and merciless, every time she remembers Eve is gone. It's been weeks, but the grief is still the same, still there, lurking around, ready to jump at Caroline whenever she starts thinking about giving birth.

As uncomfortable as it is, though, she's delayed dealing with this for as long as she could; now it's time to make some decisions. Should she go to a hospital or should she stick to Eve's idea of having a home delivery? Maybe Dr. Lisa can be persuaded to come to the compound — not by compulsion, though. She knows what Klaus is going to suggest, and the answer is a resounding no. No one's going to be compelled to do anything against their will, especially not the people in charge of bringing her daughter into this world. It's supposed to be a magical, joyful, heartwarming moment, not tainted by barbaric mind-control.

Caroline is writing it all down, point by point, compiling a thorough list of all the things she still needs to decide on and things that have to be made ready by her due date. Plans A, B, C and D for good measure, in case anything goes wrong, just so she won't have two panicked vampires running around like headless chickens, ready to snap necks left and right out of sheer hysteria.

This is Caroline in her element, it's what she does best. Prepare.

"Writing a love letter to one of your many suitors?" Klaus asks from the door, an amused grin dancing on the corner of his lips. Ever since Caroline moved back in, he's been at his absolute best behavior. They still have their occasional arguments because, well... It's Klaus. But all in all, she'd give him a B+ for effort — A- if she's feeling generous and he's in a particularly good day. Against all odds and much to general astonishment, he really is trying. She can't complain. "Who's the lucky recipient?" he continues. "Elijah? Jackson?"

Caroline rolls her eyes. "It's you, actually." His eyebrows shoot up as he flashes her a dimpled smile. "But don't get overexcited, it's not a letter. It's a list." She lifts her notebook, showing him what she has been working on. This is page three already. "All the points we need to cover in preparation for the baby's arrival."

"That's disappointing."

"What? No way," she protests. "Lists are incredibly romantic. Nothing makes my heart beat like a good, thorough list."

He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together. "You're an odd little thing, aren't you?"

"I can write Dearest Klaus at the top, if it'll make you feel better."

He laughs, hearty and open, and Caroline notices, not for the first time, how good he looks like this. The way it softens his expression, how his eyes crinkle around the corners. It makes him look so much younger - so much more like the twenty-something guy he was before he was turned than the thousand-years-old hybrid he's become. It's a rare moment when Klaus is totally relaxed, and it sends a contented kind of warmth spreading through her chest.

She really hopes their daughter gets his dimples.

"Ouch," she complains, flinching a little when the baby kicks. Klaus stops laughing, gives her a strange look, and Caroline realizes he's never actually felt the baby move. "Do you want to...?" she points to her belly. He opens his mouth, hesitating. "Oh, come on." Caroline leans forward, taking his hand. He kneels down in front of her and she guides his hand to where the little Mikaelson inside of her has been fidgeting. A moment later, she feels the kick. "Ouch. Jesus. Straight to the rib. Did you feel that?"

Klaus stares at her belly with a silly astonished look on his face, a curious glint in his blue eyes, so clear under the soft morning light. He excels at reaping life, but the miracle of making it remains a mystery to him, and he looks like he cannot believe there really is a tiny human being in there. Their daughter, his and hers. Caroline knows the feeling intimately; she can hardly believe it herself, and she's the one getting her internal organs spanked on a daily basis.

"She's a little fighter, isn't she?" he comments as the baby continues to stretch her little legs, but gentler now, thankfully.

"I guess we know who she takes after."

There's another kick in her lower abdomen, this time a really strong one. Caroline yelps, doubling over, and when she opens her eyes, she's no longer in her baby's room, with Klaus. She's back at the church, chained and surrounded by witches. One of them — who is it? Monique? No, it's the other Harvest girl — is shaking her, pinning her shoulders down. "You have to stay awake!" she's screaming at her face. "You have to push!"

Her head is spinning. It's like being ripped out of a nice dream and thrown into a living nightmare, that sense of easy happiness replaced by lancinating pain, starting in her stomach and radiating across her entire body.

Caroline has been coming in and out of consciousness for the past — what? Thirty minutes? Three hours? She has no idea. It feels like forever. They've carried her up to the altar, pushed her legs up and covered her with a towel, which is now drenched in sweat and stained red with blood. Genevieve is standing at her feet, while the rest of the witches — including the ones she'd beaten up before, with their bloodied, grim faces devoid of any sympathy — pin her body to the table. The bleeding got so bad the despair in the witches' voice has escalated, but Caroline barely has the energy to stay awake, let alone fight them. She keeps blacking out, the unbearable pain tearing through her skull, blurring her vision into white. It doesn't take a genius to know there's something very wrong with her.

Genevieve yells again for her to push, but Caroline's only response is to stifle a sobbing, painful scream. In some distant corner of her mind, just beyond conscious thought — something she's utterly incapable of at this point — she knows the baby needs to come out. Eve's face keeps flashing in her mind, telling her to listen to her body, and what her body is telling her right now — what it's torturing her into doing — is to push. But still Caroline refuses to. She knows the second her daughter comes out, they'll take her away, and there will be nothing she can do to stop them. The only reason they're keeping her alive at all is because they need the child. Caroline is pretty much the only thing standing between those witches and their sacrifice, and she's an anemic, half-conscious barrier at best. She has no idea what she's hoping for here, but maybe — if she can hold on long enough, if she can keep the baby in just a little bit longer — something will happen. Maybe magic will happen. A miracle will come.

The problem is, she's getting weaker and weaker… Each second that goes by, Caroline feels as the last remnants of her strength ebbs away, her limbs becoming too heavy, her vision narrowing. What will they do then, if she becomes too far gone to push the baby out, but not yet dead? Stick a knife into her stomach and rip out the child with their bare hands, probably.

"Caroline, I need you to push!" Genevieve urges. "The baby is almost here, you're going to hurt her if you don't let her out!"

"No..." she breathes out, lolling her feverish head from side to side and squirming fruitlessly to get away from the witches' grips, but the energy to resist is bleeding out of her — literally. "I can't... It's not time yet..." she mutters incoherently, as her determination quickly dissolves into hopelessness.

She gets another splintering stab in her lower belly, her body cramping up violently, and, almost involuntarily, she starts to push. "That's it! It's almost here!" Genevieve cries. Caroline would rip her head off just for daring to give her a pep talk while she's trying to force her daughter out of her for a sacrifice.

Suddenly, the church's heavy double doors fly open, and Caroline's head snaps towards it. Someone storms in, her blurry vision and the faint lighting means it takes a moment for the person to resolve into focus. But then she hears his roar — a violent, fierce sound of pure black rage that thrums through her like electricity. Like hope.

Caroline immediately starts thrashing again, though with not as much intensity as before, and the witches tighten their grip on her arms and legs. The two big guys she'd kicked before rush to stop Klaus, but he rips their heads off with only his hands as though they were blades. For just a brief second, Caroline allows herself to feel optimistic, to think that, even if it's already too late for her, at least the baby will be saved. But then the witches turn to him, their palms out, and he goes flying into the air. They lift him above the altar and pin him to the wall behind. He grunts as he tries to move his arms against the invisible force taking hold of him, but it's useless. That brief spark of hope withers and dies in her chest, and Caroline stops fighting.

They have Klaus. It's over.

"Don't touch her! Get your hands off her! I'll kill you all!" he's screaming, spitting fire, growling, but it's no use.

She catches his eyes and, for a moment, he stops shouting. She sees herself reflected in the darkness of his gaze, all the fear, the helplessness, the guilt, the animalistic rage flaring hot inside of her, it's all there. It stings at her heart, and it's when she knows for certain that they've lost. Klaus is just as desperate as she is, just as weakened — and just as scared. He knows what's coming, and he knows he'll be forced to watch, unable to do anything to stop it. It'll kill him, just as it is already killing her.

Then another wave of pain overcomes her, and there's no more space to think of anything else as she bites her lip to stifle a wail.

"Caroline! We're running out of time!" Genevieve yells. "If you don't push, she will suffocate and die!"

She takes a sharp, quivering intake of air, closes her eyes and blocks out everything else — the witches, Klaus' fury, the church — focusing only on her daughter. She doesn't have a choice anymore. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... she chants nonstop in the back of her mind as she grinds her teeth, gathering every ounce of strength left in her body to push.

"That's it! Come on!"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, you hateful bitch!" she grits out, her body collapsing exhausted on the table as she tries to regain her breath.

Against the lancinating pain splitting her open from the inside out, Caroline goes again. Each push leaves her panting and burned out, but she doesn't stop.

"One more push, Caroline," Genevieve says, her voice rising above the sound of Klaus' threats. "She's almost here."

Caroline is at the end of her wits, she can feel her body won't endure this for much longer. If she passes out, it'll be the end for her and for her daughter. So she swallows past the lump and the dryness in her throat, forces herself up on her elbows, ignores the dull ache in her lungs as she takes a deep breath, and pushes with everything she's got. She grits her teeth, screaming, holding on to the last of her strength for dear life.

She feels the baby coming out, Genevieve pulling the rest of the way. "There. There she is," the witch is murmuring.

All the chaos seems to come to a halt, Caroline's very heartbeat feels held in suspense. The witches let go of her, Klaus goes quiet and even her panting breath subsides. The whole world stops moving. And then she hears it... The sound of her baby crying, hollering at the top of her tiny lungs. It fills the entire church, reverberating off the walls, finding echo deep inside of Caroline, sending a thrum coursing through her veins unlike anything she's ever felt.

Genevieve wraps a towel around her baby and lifts her up for Caroline to see. "You have a beautiful baby daughter," she says. "We must start the sacrifice as soon as the moon sets on the morning sky."

"Please..." she croaks, her voice brittle and barely above a whisper. "Please, can I hold her? Please..."

The witch hesitates, exchanging a glance with the others before she walks around the table and carefully places the baby in her arms. As soon as Caroline has her haphazardly nestled against her chest, doing her best despite her chained wrists, the baby stops thrashing about, calms down, her cries dwindling to a stop.

A quaking sob escapes Caroline's lips. Her little girl is beautiful. Despite everything that happened tonight, all the trauma and the horror, of having been ripped out of her mother too soon, she's absolute perfection. It feels like the whole world has been trying to keep this moment from happening almost since the day she was conceived, and yet, against all odds, she's here. How can something so small be so strong, so resilient?

It's because of who her father is, Caroline remembers. The Mikaelson blood in her veins. For all the terrible burden that's brought her, it's also made her impervious to the evil that's tried relentlessly to end her life.

She looks up at Klaus, then. For a moment, the storm clouds dissipate and his eyes are wide and bright with emotion, his lips parted in disbelief. A warm, luminous feeling spreads through Caroline, and the barest hint of a smile dares to break onto her lips. And then everything happens at once, so fast she barely has any time to register.

Something cool touches her throat, and then there's a swift, splintering pain across her neck at the same time someone pries the baby away from her. Caroline tries to scream, but all that comes out is a strangled gurgly half-sound. She feels like she's drowning, fighting so hard to breathe, but it's no use. Everything seems to slow down around her.

A weight settles across her, pressing down heavy upon her chest. Her body suddenly feels as though it weighs a million pounds, pulling her down. She feels so, so tired, and darkness tempts her with tenderness, with relief. Caroline closes her eyes, ready to let go.

The last thing she's aware of right before she finally surrenders to oblivion, is a terrible, guttural wail.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Davina truly is a blessing. It only makes Marcel feel worse for all that this girl has been through in her short life. And for all that is probably yet to come.

She showed up while he was tending to his guys with the help of Cami, who refused to leave despite his insistence that it was dangerous for her to be there with so many vampires about to get into a blood-crazed trip. If there are two people in this whole town he wants to stay as far away from the compound as possible this evening, it's those two girls. But they're too loyal, too kind-hearted for their own good.

"I can't go home with everything that's happening, pretend that it's not my problem and go to bed like it's just another Thursday," Cami said.

"But it's not your problem, Cami. You're not a part of this."

"I am. You and Klaus made me a part of this, and my uncle was a part of this. He left a whole file with my name on it about the Guerreras because I was supposed to be a part of this, and maybe if I'd decided to play my part sooner, this wouldn't have happened. Your guys wouldn't be hanging by a thread, you wouldn't have gotten bitten and Caroline wouldn't be -"

She stopped herself then. It's crazy that she'd feel responsible for any of this at all, but he realizes nothing he says will change her mind. If he pushes her out, she'll just go roam around the city after Caroline on her own, and god knows what she'll find lurking in the shadows tonight, or how many bitten vampires are traipsing about right now, just waiting for some easy snack to come their way. So he allowed her to stay, with the condition that she had to remain right where he could see her at all times. And if he starts losing his mind... Well, then she has to run.

Many of his guys were already dead, some killed by Elijah or by the wolves, some quickly consumed by the werewolf venom. But many were still agonizing. Diego among them. Cami helped him make them as comfortable as possible, and even raided the Mikaleson's blood stash to feed them. The stronger they are, the better their chances to fight the infection, but the truth is... Marcel doesn't really have a plan. He makes them stronger, helps them last longer, and then what? The only thing that will save them is Klaus' blood, but how the hell is he supposed to get that? Klaus will never heal them willingly, not after tonight. Marcel was way too weak to fight him at the top of his form; after a hybrid bite, he doesn't stand a chance. Maybe whatever the witches did to him gives him better fighting odds, but... What about the baby? Whatever his feelings for this goddamn family, Marcel knows they're all out there trying to save Caroline and her child.

Much like Cami and Davina, that girl does not deserve the nastiness she's been dragged into. All because she made the mistake of getting carried away by Klaus' pretty face and easy charm. Marcel had no idea what Francesca and the witches were planning for her, no one told him she was a target; if he'd known, he would've stopped it. His resentment for Klaus notwithstanding, he wishes nothing bad for that kid. Feels sorry for her, even, just as he is sorry for Caroline. She's a good person, with a kind heart; helped to save Davina's friend, Timothy, took care of a bunch of injured wolves in the Bayou, tried to stop Klaus from murdering Rebekah. Marcel owes her, and he'd help her if he could. If he knew how. Right now, he doesn't even know how to help himself. He wishes he could have the chance to give a few words of wisdom to her baby girl, seeing as she'll have the same father figure as he did growing up, but he'd rather she lives to be disappointed in Klaus than she dies before she even gets the chance. How anyone could want to hurt an innocent baby is just beyond him. It makes him shake with anger, thinking that he got played just so some witches could take that pregnant girl to do God knows what to her unborn child.

He's running out of time here to save his own life and that of his guys, but he can't get in the way of the Mikaelsons saving that girl. He's trapped between a rock and a hard place, and it's all his own damn fault for falling so easily on Francesca Correa's trap. He gave her the distraction she wanted to hijack the spell, which in turn gave the witches the chance to kidnap Caroline, and then, after his guys got beaten by Elijah, all she had to do was step in and finish the job. How did he not see it? How could he rule this city for so long and not know the Guerreras were still alive? They were right under his nose this whole fucking time. He should've known there was something off the moment he got those detonators from her. He thought it was great to have an ally among the humans wanting to eliminate the werewolves as well; never stopped to think about why she'd want to do that.

And he called himself a king... For the second time now, his greed has cost the lives of his men, his loyal followers — his friends. He's not worthy of being their king. And he's especially not worthy of Cami and Davina's friendship. He'll end up getting them both killed as well.

Davina went there searching for Klaus. Apparently he bit Josh earlier when he was trying to figure out where Marcel had taken the two Crescent wolves who went missing. As always, Klaus thought the way to get what he wanted was to torture someone's loved one. It worked, but he was supposed to go back to heal Josh and never did. Never will. Now Josh's way worse than everyone else. He got a nasty hybrid bite this morning, won't last the night.

Marcel explained to her everything that happened and why she shouldn't expect Klaus to fulfill his promise. So she asked about their fight, if he's managed to draw blood from Klaus, and where it had happened. He told her, she went off and came back an hour later with a plastic cup half-filled with blood she'd collected off the sidewalk — and a dying Josh right behind her — thinking that she has saved the night.

How does he explain to her that the amount she collected is not nearly enough?

"I appreciate what you did, D," he starts. "But there's only enough here for one."

"No!" she barks, all indignation. "This has to be enough! It's all there was!" Marcel gives her an understanding look as he takes the cup from her hands. Josh is lying on a chair, his face the color of ash already. "Marcel, I can't choose," Davina says, her voice quivering as her eyes brim with tears. "Please, don't make me choose."

How could she ever think he would do that?

"Save your friend," he tells her. "I can take care of the rest of us."

He crouches down next to Josh, helping him sit up straight so he can drink. He can barely open his eyes, the poor guy. This is him in a few more hours, he realizes. It gives him a good idea of what awaits him. Somehow he managed to go for centuries fighting werewolves in New Orleans without ever getting bitten, only to be infected by Klaus, the man who's a walking miracle cure. Irony and all that shit.

"I can't," Josh coughs out, trying to push the cup away.

"Judging by the look of that bite, you don't have time to argue," he tells him.

"Marcel..." Cami says in a pleading tone. He meets the concern on her bright, soulful eyes and gives her as much of a smile as he can muster at this time. He regrets so badly having brought her into this mess... His interest on her made Klaus keep her compelled for months. She's too good for this dark world of theirs. It will eat her up.

"Josh is one of my guys," he says, calmly, to both her and Davina. "And enough of my guys have died today. Come on, Josh. Drink this."

He turns the cup against his lips, watches as he takes the first draught of Klaus' blood, and sits with him until he's drank everything. It'll probably take some time until he's completely recovered, but Marcel can already see some of the color returning to his cheeks. He'll be fine. If everything else today fails, then at least they've spared a nice guy, and Davina still gets to keep a friend.

One problem solved. Now, on to the next, before the burning ache on his neck becomes too much for him to bear.

He leaves Josh to Davina's care and stands up, taking a good look around the courtyard. This is what he has to fight for.

"Hey," Cami says, rushing after him as he makes to leave the compound. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'll find Klaus," he replies. "Get his blood and save as many of my guys as I can."

"I think I can help." Marcel frowns at her, ready to turn down whatever crazy idea she's about to offer, but she hurries to add, "For that you'll need a weapon. And it just so happens that I have an arsenal."

"An arsenal? What are you talking about?"

"Come with me and I'll show you."

Marcel is half-inclined to turn her down anyway, but he has to admit that he's curious. What kind of arsenal could Cami possibly have?

Davina joins them, once she's fairly certain that Josh will make a full recovery, and Cami guides them both to an apartment block close to the docks. Marcel has been to her place — more than once, actually — so he knows this isn't where she lives. The apartment is nearly empty, just a fridge a table and a couch. The kind of inconspicuous place drug dealers would use to make business. But it gets weirder when she takes them through a fake door that opens into a tiny room filled with stuff. It's the only way Marcel can describe it. Shelves and shelves and yet more shelves with boxes, files and the strangest kind of objects he's ever seen. It smells like dust and vervain in there.

And then it clicks... It's Kieran's stuff.

"So this is what Kieran was hiding," he says. "What Francesca was after."

"More like stockpiling," Cami offers. "From what I gather, it's mostly weird weapons."

"No," Davina says, checking the stuff on the shelves. "It's dark objects. Made by witches."

"Co-opted by the humans," Marcel adds. He's pretty sure some of these things are familiar to him. They must've been around at some point, before they ended up in the hands of the O'Connells. Cami's family has been leading the human faction for generations. So this is how they do it. It all makes sense now. Except... He's pretty certain the priest did not mean for any vampires or witches to ever lay eyes on this stuff. "Kieran's been keeping this a secret for years. You really sure you wanna show me all this?"

"You told me once that knowing my uncle's secrets could get me killed. What if those same secrets could save the lives of my friends?"

"Look at this," Davina interrupts, showing them what looks like a shuriken. "I learned about it in the lycée, it's called the devil's star. They say one throw can make a thousand cuts."

"A thousand cuts sounds about right. I need to make Klaus bleed."

Davina gives him the star, and for the first time tonight he actually starts to feel a little hopeful. He and his guys might yet make it to the next morning.

God, he could kiss Cami right now. He probably would, if Davina wasn't here. Then again, they'd never know about the star if she hadn't come. He can kiss Cami tomorrow. Provided he can find Klaus, of course.

"Marcel," Cami starts, turning to him with a concerned crease between her eyebrows. "They took Caroline. I don't know why, and I don't know what they've done to her. But Klaus and Elijah are probably trying to save her and the baby right now. Do whatever you have to, but make sure she's safe. Both of them." And then, almost like a plea, she adds, "She's my friend."

He puts a hand on her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry. I never meant harm to that girl and her child, and nothing Klaus did tonight changes that."

"Be careful, ok?"

Well, he thinks. Not like I have much to lose now.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Elijah follows Niklaus' trail all the way to the church.

He's been all over town, went to every major congregation point to the witches in the French Quarter. No sign of Caroline, and no sign of any witches either. With each passing minute, he grew weaker, slower, his senses becoming impaired, and it considerably hindered his progress. It wasn't until he got a whiff of blood at a bar that he finally got a clue.

There was a dead body, signs of struggle, and Niklaus had clearly been there. However debilitated he might be, he could recognize his brother's scent anywhere. He was bleeding, and so Elijah followed his trace. The blood stopped after a while, so he had to depend exclusively on the scent. Smell is hardly a vampire's strongest sense and, in the state he's in, it was unreliable to say the least. It led him to a couple of dead ends until he caught the familiar trace of copper in the air. Not Niklaus', but enough that he knew something was off.

St. Anne's church. As he gets closer, he picks up his brother's scent again. And hers. He can smell so much blood...

He finds enough energy in him to run the rest of the way as a growing sense of urgency spurs him forward. It's too quiet, he notices with dread. Caroline, Niklaus, blood and silence. No, no, no...

He pushes the heavy double doors open and, slowly, grinds to a halt. The scent of death inside overwhelms him, a coppery taste staining the air. His vision is doubling, getting blurrier, and Elijah blinks several times, narrowing his eyes to try and make out what he's looking at. And then he wishes he hadn't.

It's as though the floor has opened up underneath him, swallowing him whole; like he's fallen into a bottomless pit of cold. His heart sinks into his chest, and then it shatters. For a moment, he's just standing there, incapable of taking another step forward, towards a reality that he cannot fathom.

His brother is sitting on the floor by the altar with Caroline's head on his lap, her body stretched out next to him. One of his hands is cradling her head, the other is placed on top of her stomach. The silence is roaring in his ears; not a heartbeat in her chest, nor in her womb.

"No..." Elijah breathes out, forcing his legs to move at last, approaching the altar. The closer he gets, the more the scene resolves into focus, the sicker he becomes. As he crouches down next to her, touching Caroline's cold, pale fingers, he finally sees the gash on her throat, the dry blood staining her clothes.

This girl... This beautiful girl, with her whole life ahead of her, after months of fear and unspeakable dangers, finally excited about being a mother... Gone. And so violently. Elijah promised her she would be safe when he met her. He gave his word that he would burn down the entire universe before he let anything hurt her. She stayed because she believed in him. In them. Because she trusted him and his brother, and they failed her. They were too selfish to let her go. Too greedy. Even with all the attacks she suffered, with all the evidence that the hatred rooted into this city's rotten soul would never allow something as radiant and good as Caroline Forbes o thrive and for her child to be at peace, they still kept her here. For their own sake, not hers. And now they've lost her.

Elijah doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself.

And neither will Niklaus.

His brother hasn't moved a muscle. His face is a mask of grief, his eyes are dark as coal, distant, haunted, and there's so much pain there...

"How...?" Elijah asks, barely able to find his voice.

Klaus is quiet for a long time. "I was bested," he says, dryly, his voice pitched low and grave.

"And the child?"

"They took her."

"She's still alive?" He doesn't respond, doesn't even acknowledge his question. "Niklaus. We need to go after her." When there's still not a blink from his brother, Elijah reaches out, touching his face gently, forcing him to look up. "Brother, listen to me," he says softly, holding his gaze levely. "We can save your daughter. It's what she would want us to do."

Klaus casts him off with a shrug, looking down at Caroline once more. His face crumples up as tears well in his eyes, his hand caressing her hair ever so softly. It's painful to watch, so Elijah turns his face away as his brother says goodbye to her. He wishes he could give him more time; he wishes he could have time himself. But his niece has to be their priority now.

Niklaus takes a shuddery breath and finally meets his gaze. There's a quiet fury simmering behind the darkness of his eyes, threatening of impending retaliation like dark clouds in the horizon threaten rain. For once, Elijah wishes to see him unleash it all against the perpetrators of this horrible crime. They deserve all the suffering only the darkest, most corrupted part of Niklaus' rage is capable of inflicting.

He puts his arms underneath Caroline's body, carefully lifting her off the ground. With vacillating steps, he takes her up to the altar table and puts her there. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs against her skin as he leans over to place a kiss on her forehead.

When he turns back around, Niklaus lifts his arm to his mouth and bites down on his own wrist. "You've been bitten." Klaus' blood is indeed powerful. It heals his wounds in an instant, eliminating the infection that has been burning through his veins for hours. "We don't go back home without my daughter," he says. "And the heads of every single one of those witches."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Klaus is thinking of anger.

That's what's moving him right now. What's propelling him forward, making his legs react, his muscles tense, a buzz coursing underneath his skin. Anger. It shoots through him like electricity, settles deep into his bones, pulsing in his ears like a bass drum. All his other needs, all his other cravings, are pulverized in the wake of the rage that dominates him. Klaus is at the edge of his wit, and all it will take for him to plunge into the depths of mayhem is a single shove. He would burn down the entire world, unleash every horror in existence, devastate this whole city, just to make them pay, with interest. Anyone. Everyone. He doesn't care anymore. Let them all die.

They've taken her from him. The one thing he dared to love in almost a thousand years of a meagre, miserable existence. Caroline was the heartbeat of his world, of his very soul. Without her, everything has gone quiet. Dead. Meaningless. They've taken her away, and the emptiness left by her absence has been filled with uncontrollable, world-burning rage. The kind of rage that will eat him up, corrupt every last part of his being, become brutal, savage, inhuman. It will tear apart all it touches, and it won't ever, ever stop. Not reaping all the souls in New Orleans will be enough to quench his thirst — to make up for what he's lost.

They don't know the kind of violence he is capable of. They don't know him. They've seen the version of him that's been tamed by her, that would stop before he crossed a line she would never accept. Now the darkest part of his fury has become unhinged. They will know him now, the real Klaus Mikaelson. The monster that's inhabited the nightmares of generations throughout history, who tore through villages and kingdoms, destroyed entire families, chased after his enemies until they were driven mad with paranoia, afraid of their own shadows, of the voices in their own heads. The calm at the center of his storm had a beautiful, melodic name and a sunshine smile that could stop the raging war inside of him. With her gone, a storm is all he is. War is all he craves for. And he will give it to them, unleash it upon them. They shall regret the day they crossed his path.

Klaus tastes ashes in his mouth, sees nothing but red. He can't allow himself to think of anything else but the anger, otherwise he will succumb to grief. He could barely move when Elijah entered the church, didn't even know if he still had a voice. He used it all to scream off the top of his lungs when they sliced her throat open right before his eyes, straining to get free of the invisible ties keeping him from going to her. And just as it seemed he was about to do it, they twisted his neck and left him dead on the floor, inches away from where Caroline bled to her death.

Their cruelty will be dutifully repaid. And that's all there is to him right now, because he needs to save his daughter and he doesn't think he can do it if he lets it sink in that he's lost her mother. He's not a father without Caroline, doesn't know how to be. She's the only reason why he ever endeavored to become one, why he dared to believe it was possible for him to wrestle with the traumas of his past and the mistakes he made with Marcel and raise a child of his own.

Because of her. It was all because of her.

He thought the last shred of hope he had had been torn apart by Mikael in 1919, and for nearly a hundred years, Klaus Mikaelson was nothing but vileness and destruction. He became the abomination he was made out to be. But Caroline saw something in him. She believed he could be better than he was, that in the middle of all that monstrosity and depravity, there was good. Something worth saving. Worth loving, maybe. She believed in something better for all of them. And because of her, so did he.

Now she's gone, and she's taken all his hope with her. All his goodness. He promised he wouldn't do to his child what was done to him, what Caroline's father did to her. But how could he ever be a father like this? What kind of parent will he be?

"The tombs are empty, the grounds are deserted. She's not here," Klaus growls at his brother.

The cemetery was the obvious choice of location to start searching, but there isn't a single soul, a single sound, anywhere. They're on the cusp of dawn, and Klaus heard them say they would perform their sacrifice when the moon set in the morning sky. They don't have much time left.

"This is the only place they can be," Elijah retorts.

"They're not here, Elijah. We're wasting time!"

"Their Harvest was here, the reaping was here. This ritual they want to perform is supposed to feed their ancestors, all of whom are buried here. They must be here." Elijah whirls around and his eyes befall a statue on top of one of the tombs. A weeping angel. "This statue," he says, pointing at it. "We've passed by this three times, all whilst going in the same direction."

Klaus approaches the tomb, touching the tips of his fingers to the stone. It feels cold, rough, real. But if his brother is right... Then it can't be. "They've fabricated some kind of illusion."

Elijah flashes to the top of the tomb, his face falling as he looks out into the distance. "That's one way to put it. It's... endless."

Klaus scrubs a hand across his face, feeling a brand of exhaustion that has little to do with his body. "How are we supposed to do this?"

"We keep going. Let's mark the tombs we've passed through so we'll know when we're walking in circles."

The fire of his brother's resolve is commendable, Klaus thinks, but he finds it hard to share his belief. He's already failed his daughter once by losing her mother. He's about to fail her again.

Elijah pushes him onward, and his anger, his vindictive desire, keeps him going. They know they're at the right place, or the witches wouldn't have bothered spelling it. But to actually find the correct spot...

They walk for hours around the cemetery, watch the sky turn purple and then lighten up to blue, and still they make no progress. Elijah has dutifully marked the tombs every time they turn a corner, but there seems to be no end to their illusion.

"There has to be a way around this," his brother says. "Even if we could just push through. We need to focus."

Something fragile snaps inside of him all of a sudden, and he is overflown with the grief and the despair he'd been pushing down. He stops walking, his arms falling helplessly next to his body, his shoulders sagging in despondence. "This is the world I created."

"Brother -"

"All of my scheming, the enemies that I have made every single day of my life - this is the end result. What did I expect? That my child would be born into a happy life? That her mother would be alive to know her daughter? That we could live and thrive as some kind of family? I never wanted that! That was your fantasy, not mine!" he roars, pointing a finger towards Elijah, his anger expanding to include his own brother. "You pushed it on to me until I made it my own. Until I believed it. This was my hope, Elijah! My light! She was my light! And now she's gone!" His voice wavers around the edges, choked by the tears he fruitlessly tries to hold back. "I let Caroline in. I don't let people in. And I couldn't protect her. I couldn't save her. I should've let her leave, go back to her family, to her hometown, where she would be cared for. But you had your devious dreams of building a home for our family," he grits out angrily again. "And you contaminated me with your illusions! I needed her, Elijah! And now she's gone!"

He lets out a growl of frustration, walks away from Elijah and then stops. He has no idea what to do with this feeling. Vengeance he understands; he will break things, tear people apart, drink the blood of his enemies. But this resentment that eats away at him? He can't hurt his own brother. And so he sheds off his anger, before he turns on the last person still standing by his side. His daughter's best chance. It clenches itself into a tight knot, coils around his insides like a snake. Without the rage to support him, Klaus flounders. His legs threaten to give in under his weight and he sits down with his head between his knees. Without the anger, he is drowning. Lost. It was all that was keeping him together.

Elijah sits down next to him. A long, poignant silence, heavy with implication, stretches on between them.

"I lost her, too," his brother speaks after a moment, putting a hand on his arm. "And it's nothing compared to what you feel. But I won't lose my niece as well. I refuse to. Let's find your daughter, Niklaus, so you can tell her how much you loved her mother."

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For long agonizing seconds, her mind is completely blank. She has no idea what's happening. It's like when she woke up from the surgery after that car accident with Tyler, coming off the very strong drugs. Was she in an accident? She is sluggish, heavy, her thoughts clouded. There's a stillness in her chest, cold and — not painful, not exactly. But worse, somehow. Uncomfortable. Caroline feels strangely... hollow. Like someone carved out a hole inside of her and sucked everything out. Like something is missing. Something big and vital.

This doesn't look like a hospital.

She tries to align her scattered senses — the dim light seeping in through colorful-glazed windows, the ominous silence, the coppery smell of blood. Blood. It's like a scratch overwhelming her perception, then a jolt of electricity coursing through her body, awakening her awareness from a deep sort of slumber, growing until it's an itch on her skin, a craving. It roils in her gut like fire, this desperate need. Old, cold, dried blood. How does she know that?

The scene finally resolves around her. She's at a... church?

A memory flickers through her mind. A voice. A raw, guttural scream.

Klaus.

Her entire body is lit up as her full memories are sparked back into life, crashing into her like a tsunami. She sits up with a gasp, her hands flying to her throat. There was supposed to be a gash there, where they sliced her open, but her skin feels smooth and perfect, if a bit cold.

The baby.

Panic seizes Carolines, her heart pounding in her ears, as she touches her stomach. It's completely flat, like it was nine months ago. Like there was never a baby in there. Her eyes well up with tears, her vision swimming as she closes her eyes against the crushing sense of loss that smashes down upon her.

And then she feels... Something. A cool and calculating clarity she cannot explain, that makes her oddly serene and level-headed, clouds dissipating in the matter of a second.

She can feel something calling out to her, this force that thunders across her body, stronger than the hunger, than the panic, stronger than anything else. And she realizes... It's her daughter. She's still alive. Caroline can feel her presence like it's an extended part of herself, as though invisible lines of energy are drawing them together. But she is... Far. Too far. The distance throbs like physical pain and, all at once, the whole world contracts to just her and her baby.

The room tilts as she jumps off the table, steadying when she touches her feet to the ground.

Caroline feels numb, empty and so insanely hungry. But there's only one thing she needs right now, the only thing that matters, the most important thing there's ever been in her entire life: finding her daughter.

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Caroline was like sunshine.

Elijah remembers thinking that a short while after they met. She was scared, angry, homesick, consumed by doubts that were enough to drive anyone insane, but still she could turn it all into light in the space of a second. Nothing could put it out. Bright like the sun. Caroline's vivacious, energetic personality was in direct contrast to their own; they repelled while she attracted. She could look into their rotten cores and find redemption. And for that, Elijah loved her. To creatures such as them, accustomed to the darkness, that is so rare. To them, she was sunshine.

And yet, all the grief and the heart-stopping pain he feels over her loss... It is nothing compared to Niklaus'.

Elijah recalls the exact moment he realized something fundamental had changed about his brother. It was the middle of the afternoon, a few days after Caroline had moved back in, and Elijah heard music. It was a soulful, nostalgic tune, echoing across the otherwise cold corridors of the compound, and it made him stop. The only music he'd heard since their return to New Orleans were his own sad tunes on the piano back at the plantation house, but it was more of an outlet, an expression of his state of mind, than true pleasure. While paintings had always been Klaus' art, music was his. It'd been a long time since there was any music in the Mikaelson household just for the joy of it.

Curious, Elijah followed the sound. At first he thought it was just Caroline, but he passed by her room, and then Niklaus', all the way to the ballroom on the first floor. They hadn't used that space once since moving in.

He heard the sound of laughter, and then quick steps, before finding his sullen, broody brother dancing with Caroline who, as always, looked as bright as a jewell. It was a slow song, but they didn't really bother with following the rhythm as they moved around. They were just... Having fun. Enjoying themselves. Niklaus, ever the exhibitionist, was showing off some complicated moves Elijah's pretty certain he picked up during the foxtrot fever years. Every time he spun her around, Caroline would crack up laughing. And every time she did so, Niklaus' entire face would light up.

The scene was so entrancing Elijah couldn't stop staring. Niklaus looked magically younger in that moment, more like the gentle boy he used to be before their parents made monsters out of them all. Elijah was stunned; he never thought he'd see that boy again.

They laughed at the awkwardness of trying to slow dance with a nearly nine months bump between them, a light-hearted banter, until Klaus stole a kiss from her. Such a juvenile gesture, not demanding or possessive or brash as one would expect of him, but rather like he just couldn't help himself. It sent Elijah's mind reeling back to a thousand years in the past, when they used to dance around bonfires in the woods and Klaus would steal bashful kisses from Tatia with color on his cheeks.

Elijah smiled to himself, but he couldn't stop the stab of jealousy. That out of all of them Niklaus should be the one to find that kind of uncomplicated happiness seemed so inexplicable. At times, even unfair. Well, perhaps uncomplicated was the wrong word; it was definitely nothing short of complicated for the two of them to get to that point where things felt easy and natural. But the domesticity of his life with Caroline since her return to the compound was definitely cause for envy, and Elijah meant it in the best possible way. His own feelings for her had nothing to do with it.

He'd already understood then how it was seemingly impossible for him not to get involved, sucked into the whirlwind of emotions that marked Caroline Forbes' arrival to New Orleans. He'd put her on a pedestal, and in that sense she wasn't wrong to accuse him of treating her as an ornament. She was the mother to be of the first Mikaelson child in a millenium. Elijah was bewitched. And it was only too easy for that to get confused and out of hand, blossom into something else, because Caroline, as it turned out, was extraordinary in her own merit.

Over the years, Elijah saw an infinite array of lovers parade in and out of his brother's life. Well, they all did have so many of them. But Niklaus used to fancy himself as a bit of a lady's man back in their old Crescent City days. He behaved himself like a little prince, spoiled and entitled, making his way through the world as though he expected it to move out of his path. It usually did. And the society women of that time, so repressed and condenmed to lives dictated by men and their ridiculous rules, ate it up. Niklaus was a free spirit, a force of nature, impossible to avoid — he still is, Elijah reckons, it's just the times that have changed around him.

His brother has a passion for the challenge, and for defying his enemies and anyone who dares to cross him. The tamer he became in the name of diplomacy, of establishing peace between the factions, the more ferocious he was in how he broke hearts. He had affairs with the mayor's young wife, the French ambassador's fiancé, with the twin daughters of the chief of police, the leader of the Crescent wolves and a handful of others related or married to prominent figures, some of them all at the same time. It caused their family so much trouble... Most of them were absolutely disposable, a handful perhaps came to be very dear. But none managed to capture his attention for more than a few weeks. Niklaus' appetite was as restless as his volatile nature, and he was never careful in how he handled them. As soon as he was done, he'd send them on their way, and those who refused… Well. They didn't protest for long.

No matter how hard Elijah picks his memories to the last time he's seen Niklaus as devoted to someone as he is — was, he corrects himself with a sharp pang — to Caroline Forbes, he just can't. Not since Aurora. Granted, they spent long stints of time separated. There could've been someone he never knew of, but he doubts it. Niklaus is far from discreet when he finds himself a new obsession, especially in the form of a person. As subtle as a thump to the head, his dear brother. Caroline's face is all over his sketches and paintings, has been so for years. There would've been evidence of a longer lasting infatuation if there had been any.

The thing with Caroline is that she wasn't just someone Klaus wanted to have for the sake of spite. Or, at least, didn't remain so for long. Caroline didn't just charm him or inspire him with her beauty, as was the case with so many of his fleeting muses before. She challenged him, refused to bend to his whims, to accept his bad behavior and lack of compassion as just another personality trait, held him accountable for his every mistake - and demanded more from him. Her sharp mind and even sharper tongue were always quick to lash at his misdeeds. She never backed down, always looked him straight in the eye, and wasn't the smallest bit afraid. From what Rebekah shared of their time in Mystic Falls, it wasn't just a matter of being confident that he wouldn't hurt the woman carrying his child; she'd always been like that, right from the start, and not just towards him either. She was fiery, that girl. Fierce. Fearless. Annoyingly so, were Rebekah's words. Her lack of restraint when it came to staring down Mikaelsons extended to their sister as well, and the two of them found themselves in several quarrels over minor school grievances. It explains why Rebekah grew so fond of her during the time they spent together in New Orleans; his sister always respected those who stood up to her far more than those who relented.

That passionate, intense spirit of hers drove Niklaus crazy, how he couldn't control her, couldn't instil her with the sort of fear that made everyone bow down to him. But, even if at times he reacted rather brazenly — he has, after all, an infamously bad temper — the truth is Caroline's character captivated him. He was just as attracted to her enthusiasm and essence as he was to her alluring exterior.

It was in that moment that Elijah finally understood how far they'd come. To see his brother - his vicious, cold-hearted, selfish brother - in such an uncharacteristically merry mood, dancing with a girl so dear to him in the middle of the afternoon, so careless and free...

Well, it filled Elijah with promise, made him realize he wasn't wrong in his predictions that that child could be the door to his brother's redemption, to the salvation of their family. He was just looking at it the wrong way. It was the child what brought them all together, yes. But it was Caroline who had changed everything.

If Niklaus, of all people, could find happiness, then not all was lost for the rest of them.

Now... Something has gone off behind his brother's eyes. The last shreds of his humanity. Darkness is all there is left.

It took him nearly a thousand years to find love again after the last time, and this loveless, barren existence nearly destroyed him. It nearly destroyed everyone. Losing Caroline might've broken him beyond repair. All the hope, all the promise for his redemption — gone. Especially if they can't get to his daughter in time. That little girl is Niklaus' last connection to Caroline. She's what they've all fought for all these months. What her mother died for. And more than anything Elijah knows Caroline would never forgive them for not saving her child. Not finding her is not an option. They have to.

And yet, they've been circling this cemetery for eons and not a trace of the witches has been found.

"We've passed here already," Niklaus says, his voice devoid of any fire now, as he touches the mark Elijah left on the stone inside one of the tombs the witches used for their rituals. Empty, as every other corner they've inspected so far.

"Then we have to move faster," he insists, ready for a u-turn and to keep going. They can't stop.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sunlight is like knives and sandpaper upon her skin. Caroline can barely keep her eyes open against the brightness, everything is so washed out, so white. But it doesn't hold her back. There's not enough discomfort in this world to keep her from finding her daughter.

She doesn't really know where she's going, just allows her legs and her instincts to guide her, the energy lines pulling them together across the distance. Eventually, she makes it to Lafayette cemetery. Figures, she thinks in some far corner of her mind. The City of the Dead, like Monique said, the witches' sacred ground. Of course that's where they'd go for a sacrifice as big as the one they intend. Caroline cannot look up at the sky to see whether the moon has already set or not; it's too much light for her sore eyes. But she can still feel her baby, so that tells her it's not too late.

Now... where to go?

There's a trail of something pulling her. She can't tell exactly what it is — a scent, a sound, a feeling. It just leads her through the endless rows of tombs, until she starts hearing voices. Male voices. Talking, arguing.

Klaus and Elijah.

Her heart stutters, but she follows their voices into one of the tombs. The one Sophie took her all those months ago when she first told Elijah and then Klaus about the pregnancy. Being out of the sun feels like a small mercy and immediately her mind seems to defog a little.

They're saying they don't know where the baby is. That they're running out of time.

"We've passed here already," Klaus says.

"Then we move faster," Elijah replies.

"Or smarter," she offers.

They both whirl around at her with wide eyes, all the color draining off their faces, both stunned into a silence heavy with dread and incredulity.

"Caroline," her name escapes Elijah's lips, barely a whisper, as though he's afraid of saying it out loud.

Klaus takes hesitant steps towards her. His unblinking eyes rake over her entire body, stopping for a longer moment on her neck, where the fatal wound was supposed to be, before moving up to her eyes. His desperate screams thunder through her mind; it was the last thing she heard. She can feel it in her bones, like a cold thrum of energy. The memory steels something inside of her, something twisted with a terrible kind of anger.

Caroline flinches when he touches her, his shaky hands cupping her face as though he cannot believe she's really there. As though he's afraid she'll prove to be just a figment of his imagination, or that she'll suddenly vanish out of thin air. It feels... different, his touch. Like electricity burning through her nerves. Not exactly pleasant. But she doesn't shrug him off. There's such agony in his eyes, such sadness... He's grieving.

"How are you here?" he asks, his voice airy and choked.

"I woke up in the church. And I knew I had to find her." She stops, something sparking inside of her. "I can feel her," she says, stepping away from Klaus' grasp. "She's here. I can feel my baby."

"You died with the baby's blood in your system," Elijah says, a hint of sorrow in his tone. "She's in transition. She has to feed if she is to survive."

"To be reborn a vampire," Klaus finishes for his brother.

That hunger, the overwhelming feelings, the screaming memories... The void inside of her, the silence where her magic was supposed to be singing. She's no longer alive, no longer a keeper of nature's balance. A vampire. That's what she is now.

"You need to feed," Elijah continues. "To complete the transition."

Caroline shakes her head. "I don't care about me. I'm gonna go find my daughter."

She exits the tomb with Klaus and Elijah right behind her, again wincing when her skin is touched by daylight. But she can sense her baby's presence stronger than ever now, so she just ignores the distress and follows that feeling. Somehow she knows exactly where to go.

A couple of turns ahead, Caroline finally spots her. Genevieve, flanked by the two Harvest girls, pointing a knife towards her baby.

"No!" she screams, a sound so raw and mauled it's barely human.

Elijah grabs something and throws it at Genevieve. The witch drops with a painful yelp, the knife flying from her grasp. But the two girls are already at work. They join hands and start chanting, their palms out towards them. Caroline can see the spirits that come to their aid, all their ancestors drawing together to feed them strength to finish the sacrifice.

Her first instinct is to call upon her magic, but all she finds is the void. She's disconnected from the natural world; living, but not alive.

"You fools!" Monique barks at them as they're sent flying into the air by an invisible power. Caroline falls against a statue with a groan. "You dare to come against us in our place of power, in our strongest hour! You don't face three! You face us all!"

Caroline pushes herself off the ground with an angry grunt. Having all these witches join forces against her, against her daughter, is making her more vindictive than ever. She was one of them and they killed her. They deserve to disappear into nothingness on the Other Side.

She starts running with a speed and a might she never had before, and she makes it to Genevieve just before the witch manages to pick up the dagger again, kicking it away from her hand and striking her right across the face. The woman's slim figure tumbles back to the ground, and Caroline punches her again to keep her down. She can hear her baby crying, but as she tries to rush to her daughter, she's crushed by a splitting, paralyzing pain. She screams, holding her head like it's about to burst, her vision exploding in white, and she's brought down to her knees.

She tries to lift her head, to yell for Klaus to go to the baby, and she sees the moment when he sends a piece of the iron fencing flying straight into one of the Harvest girls' chest. The strength of their spell diminishes, and Klaus and Elijah should finally be able to make it to the baby, but Monique is quicker. She takes the dagger and rushes to finish the sacrifice, conjuring a wall of fire to surround her and keep the two Originals from approaching.

"No! No!" Caroline growls, and Genevieve increases the pain in her head until her shouts are but an incoherent tune of despair.

And suddenly, it all stops. Panting and still feeling the pain echoing across her bones, Caroline sees that Monique has been hit by something. A weapon of some sort. No, not just a weapon. It's a dark object, plunged into her chest, but causing her entire body to bleed through tiny little cuts. She drops the dagger and falls to the ground.

Before anyone can move, though, Marcel shows up and takes the baby, flashing away with her daughter in his arms.

"Klaus!" she yells at him, a clear command in her voice. He seems to hesitate for a second, probably considering whether to go to her aid first, with Genevieve still standing right behind her, but the fire in her eyes must be glaring, because he then disappears after his adoptive son.

It's the cue for Genevieve to start torturing her again, but it doesn't go on for long. Elijah strikes her unconscious and the pain stops, Caroline's body dropping to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

"Are you ok?" Elijah asks, crouching down beside her.

No, she wants to say, her eyes scrunched shut against the luminosity. She's in pain, the very light is agony, Marcel just took her baby and she's dead. The smell of blood from the little witches' body is filling her nostrils, overwhelming her every sense, making her stomach stir violently. She's not ok. She might never be ok again.

But she nods her head anyway.

In amidst all the thoughts screaming in her head, all the feelings threatening to tear her apart and the worry gnawing at her insides over her daughter, Caroline sits up and sees red when her eyes fall over Genevieve's form.

"Get her."

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Caroline's screams were like a thousand knives piercing through Klaus' heart all over again. His entire body wanted to reach out to her and stop her pain, tear Genevieve's head off for hurting her. It took him right back to the church, to being forced to watch her suffer through a harrowing labor only to get mercilessly slaughtered right before his eyes, all the while rendered helplessly useless.

He can hardly believe she's really here. Turns out their daughter did what he couldn't: save her mother from permanent death.

Klaus was shaken when he touched her, half of him believing that he was imagining her, that she was a product of his desperate, distraught imagination. If Elijah hadn't been there, he doesn't think he would've trusted his eyes. She felt cold to the touch, and there was something amiss in her eyes, an odd sense of detachment about her, like she was there, but not completely. Caroline seemed... hollow. He felt her flinch when he reached out to her. Transition is an ungrateful thing. The last moments of your natural life are amplified — all the feelings, the memories, the sensations, it all rolls into one giant punch of emotional torment, overwhelming enough to break one in half. Klaus can't even fathom what it must be like for her, given the absolute agony she was put through. No wonder she's so unsettled. But she's also driven.

There was something more important than the hunger or the grief pushing Caroline forward: their daughter. Above everything else, the most intense feeling she carried with her into the afterlife, and that has been heightened by her transformation, is the desperate need to save and protect her baby. She hasn't even fed yet; most vampires would've succumbed to the cravings at this point, but not her. Their girl is the only thought on her mind.

Which is why he knew that if he dared to go to her aid while Marcel slipped away with their child in his arms, she would never forgive him. Klaus doesn't think Marcel would kill her, not anymore, and especially not after he murdered Sophie Deveraux' niece with that strange weapon of his. Marcel saved his child's life. But Klaus bit him a while back, and the second the poison in his veins takes over, he'll no longer have any control over his own actions. His venom-induced cravings might prove too much for him to resist.

He heard his daughter crying from the top of her little lungs, oblivious to the danger she was in, but likely scared nonetheless. So he exchanged a knowing look with Elijah, and dashed off after Marcellus. It wasn't hard to track him; he was hurt, infected, the wound on his neck still open, exuding a pungent smell. But there was something else there as well. Something lighter, softer, different from any scent he's ever felt. It awakened an urgency inside of Klaus, a primal sort of instinct, almost as though it was calling out to him, palpable and strong: his daughter's scent. Klaus held on to it and followed Marcel all the way back to the compound.

It's eerily quiet there, such a sharp contrast to the mayhem that took over mere hours before. But the scenario inside is that of a war zone: bodies all over the place, blood staining the ground and the walls, the very air choked with the smell of decay, of death. The water cascading on the fountain in the middle of the courtyard has turned red. Klaus doesn't have to check to know every single one of the vampires there are dead, and not by Elijah's hands. It has werewolf odor all over it. Francesca Correa and her brothers, if that's even what they really are, came back to finish the job.

Only two hearts still beat inside the house: Marcel's bruised one, slowed by the effect of the venom, and his daughter's, small but so strong.

Klaus walks up to his former protege. Marcel is sitting on the ground, back against the bloodied fountain, his face streaked with silent tears. His daughter looks so impossibly small in his arms, but so calm. She's no longer crying, but he can see her little eyes open, marveling at this new world around her with quiet interest.

"I thought there would be more time," Marcel says, his voice weak, defeated. "I was too late."

Klaus would've killed every last one of these vampires himself just mere hours ago. He almost killed Marcel. But he still finds himself feeling sad for the other man. He was tricked by Francesca, incensed against the werewolves to distract Klaus from the real threat looming over his household. Marcel lost all his friends, Klaus lost Caroline, nearly lost their baby, and the witches lost their sacrifice — and their lives. The only winner tonight was Francesca, the player no one ever bothered with, never even noticed.

"You took my daughter so I would come here to heal you and your friends," he says, pulling back his sleeves and putting his arm out for Marcel. "Here."

The younger man looks up at him, his expressive, overbright eyes filled with anguish. "This bite... All this... I know it didn't come from nowhere. This is the last note in a song I started a century ago, when I brought your dad to town. I'm sorry, Klaus."

If he'd heard those words last night, Klaus would've spat it back in Marcel's face, levied an accusation in return, told him he deserved every last terrible thing that happened to him. He was full of hatred last night, determined to kill whoever stood in his way and put an end to these disputes. Now, though... He's not too sure yet, but his daughter's presence is enough to grant him some renewed perspective.

Klaus has made so many mistakes that have deeply hurt and disappointed the people he loves. His siblings, Caroline, even their child. His hatred and vengefulness over Marcel and Rebekah's betrayal drove Caroline away from their home, made her stay in the Bayou for over a month. From the top of his arrogance, he believed he could control every single supernatural being in this town, subdue them into obedience, eliminate them if needed. And it was this arrogance that ended up almost costing him everything.

"No," he says as he crouches down in front of the other man, putting a hand on his shoulder and catching his gaze. "You saved my child's life, Marcel. For that, I will be eternally in your debt. Please." He puts his arm out for him again, and this time Marcel doesn't turn down the offer. He sinks his teeth into Klaus' wrist, drinking his blood. Almost as soon as he pulls away, the ugly wound on his neck starts to close. "We will take down whoever brought this upon us. I swear."

Marcel gives him a tiny nod, and then he gives the baby over to Klaus.

He hesitates a second before taking her, this fragile, tiny life saver. She makes a little noise of complaint when he settles her on the curve of his arm, and then she stops, looking into Klaus' eyes as though she knows him.

A smile tugs at his lips. "Hey, there," he murmurs. It's unbelievable that she's really here, that she exists at all. Klaus realizes it hadn't fully sunk in yet. It's the most surreal moment of his entire existence, for certain. A warmth spreads across his chest, radiating all through his body, and Klaus knows in that moment that there is absolutely nothing he wouldn't do for this little girl. It's a kind of love he's never felt before, unconditional and stronger than himself. It's hard to believe he was capable of making something this pure, this perfect. Well, he didn't. Not on his own. It's Caroline's doing, of course. Their little girl is all her.

He wonders if there was ever a time when his parents felt this way about him, right after he was born — his mother, even though she knew he was the product of her infidelity, and Mikael, still unaware of his origins — or if he was held in contempt from his very first breath. Klaus can't imagine ever turning on her, ever wishing her any harm, no matter what. It just makes him realize how truly monstrous his parents were, if even someone as damaged and bitter as him can feel this kind of love for another being.

"I never thought that was a look I'd see on you," Marcel says, grinning. "Careful or you'll drool all over her. Congratulations, man. You're a dad."

Klaus smiles. "I suppose I am."

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"Why?" Caroline demands, her voice cold and level, but drenched in venom. Anger darkens every line of her expression, and Elijah notices something sinister in her unflinching stare.

She's different, and not just in the obvious manner. Yes, she's in transition, something neither human, nor vampire. Part of her is still navigating this limbo between worlds, between life and death. A change in behavior is to be expected. But what those witches did to her — it transformed her in a more fundamental level. It could be temporary, an awkwardness spurred by her amplified emotions and the sheer hatred consuming her. It's understandable. But Elijah had never seen her looking so... ominous.

"The ancestors gave me no choice," Genevieve replies, exasperated.

Elijah cuffed her and tied her up in a way she cannot use her hands to focus a direct attack on them. And if she were to attempt a spell — well. He's quicker than her. She must be awfully uncomfortable, not to mention sore. He would've finished her off quickly, but Caroline stopped him. She wanted to look Genevieve in the eye and ask her why.

"You know why," Elijah told her.

"I know why her ancestors wanted my daughter dead. I don't know why someone like her would have the courage to do it."

Because she's a monster, Elijah wanted to tell her. But aren't them all?

After everything Caroline's been through, if staring down at her murderer and demanding answers was the way to quiet her spirit and give her closure, then so be it.

"You were willing to sacrifice an innocent child for more power," Caroline snarls at her.

"Not just power. For my life. It was the ancestors' decree. It was her decree." Genevieve's voice quivers, and Elijah grabs her face none too gently, forcing her to look at him.

"Whose decree?"

"I'm surprised you have to ask. After all, you were the one who convinced your siblings to consecrate her in New Orleans soil."

Elijah pushes Genevieve back, a cold feeling spreading through his guts. He exchanges a glance with Caroline. "Esther," she says.

"So not even death can stop my mother from seeking the annihilation of her own flesh and blood."

"This isn't the end," Genevieve continues. "As long as that child lives, the witches of New Orleans will never stop coming for it - Esther will never stop coming for it. It has been decreed. Your baby will be consecrated among her ancestors. She will not live." The witch lets out a pitiful wail as bloody tears run down the corners of her eyes. "They're coming for me. I failed. Please... Understand, I just wanted to live," she appeals, staring at Caroline, whose expression remains impassive. "Tell Klaus... I'm sorry."

Caroline takes the dagger the witches were going to use for their ritual and plunges it deep into Genevieve's stomach. The witch gasps, her eyes bulging in pain and fear. And then Caroline pulls the dagger up, cutting her open all the way to her heart.

"I'm not," she says, dropping the dagger as she turns on her heels and walks out.

Elijah's stunned for a moment. The witch was dying anyway, her ancestors were taking from her the life she should've never been given, that was stolen from the last of the Harvest girls, who will probably be rising from the dead somewhere in this same cemetery. It's hard to tell whether the quick death was a mercy, but it was definitely a gruesome one. Caroline had murder in her eyes, and she acted not to let the witches who orchestrated her death take away her revenge. She was the one to send Genevieve back to the underworld, with a painful twist.

It's their own fault. They crushed her spirit by doing the unthinkable, the most atrocious act possible. Elijah doesn't think even Niklaus, at the height of his cruelty, would be capable of something like that. That she would dare to apologize to his brother... If Caroline hadn't killed her, Elijah probably would.

There's a darkness in Caroline now. And they were the ones to bring it out.

Or rather... His mother was the one to bring it out.

He doesn't know what to think. How could he ever imagine that Esther would, at this stage, still be plotting to have all her descendants murdered? Even an innocent baby, born of a mortal mother. Her own granddaughter. Doesn't she know what that would've done to Niklaus? That he would spiral into the untamable beast they've always tried to prevent him from becoming? Or was that precisely what she wanted, to tip him over the edge, drive her son to the ends of madness? How can she despise her own progeny so much that she'd condemn him to an eternity of misery? He's the product of her affair, it's her fault Mikael subjected him to all kinds of torture and horrors, her fault that he turned out the way he did. And it's not fair that she would decree, from beyond the Veil, that he should suffer and never find even a modicum of happiness to pay for her mistakes. That explains why Mikael stopped by for a visit before the implosion of the supernatural purgatory. Esther must've been the one behind that as well.

Such terrible parents that, a thousand years later, they're still trying to destroy their children's lives.

What are they to do now?

Elijah finds Caroline standing at the tomb's entrance, hiding in the shadows. They're many hours away from sunset still.

"Here," Elijah says, taking off his daylight ring. "Take it. Go back to the compound."

Caroline looks from the ring to his face. "No, that's yours."

"Right now, you need it more than I do. Go to your daughter, Caroline. I can wait here for the sun to go down."

She considers him for a spell. "It's not burning me yet. I can make it back to the compound."

"But -"

"I'll be fine, Elijah. I made it here, didn't I? This is nothing."

With a sigh, he puts the ring back on his finger. Technically, sunlight won't kill him either. Not permanently, anyway. But it will be terribly painful and he'll likely burst into flames before he makes it out of the cemetery. But what Caroline will experience is not nothing either. The sensation is that of a thousand needles piercing your skin, making it raw and sensitive, and then having salt rubbed over it. She won't burn, but she will suffer. Then again, after everything she's been through since last night...

"Put this over your head," he says, removing his jacket, helping her cover her head and shoulders. It won't help much, but it'll protect her somewhat. "Are you ready?"

Caroline nods. And then the two of them dash off.

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"We should've known our mother would not be bound by anything as obvious as death, and now she has control of the witches. They will never stop."

Caroline sighs, gently rocking her chair, which she had to pull away from the window. All those times she spent daydreaming about having her daughter in her arms in this chair... Safe to say nothing has gone as she dreamt, as it should. It's all wrong, starting with herself. Caroline feels broken, and even with her baby snuggled to her chest, there's still something terribly disquieting inside of her, in the hollow where her magic was supposed to be. She used to feel connected to the world around her, to the earth and the air, to the energy emanating from all living things. Now there's just this deafening silence and sunlight, the strongest expression of nature, of life, makes her want to die.

But right now she has to stay alive.

The moment Caroline laid eyes on her baby, she crumbled. She was trembling when she took her in her arms, could barely believe that she was really there. She'd only held her for brief seconds before the witches snatched her away, and even though Caroline came back from the dead as though with the sole purpose of rescuing her daughter from the hands of those monsters, a little voice in her head kept whispering that she would never see her again. Yet here she is. Perfect and healthy and quietly taking a nap after having the worst first day of life anyone's ever had.

She feels blessed for this moment, to be able to hold her baby. The mere fact of being alive — or something like that — is a privilege, considering she very nearly wasn't, but all the things she's been deprived of still hurt. She couldn't breastfeed her daughter, had to give her a bottle. Her body is no longer that of a new mother, all the evidence of her pregnancy have been completely erased when she was healed by her new nature. She's not a full vampire yet, but already she feels like less than a human being. This hunger inside of her is not natural, and she's been fighting it since she woke up at the church. It was easy to quench it down while she chased after the witches, but now that things have slowed down and the adrenaline is running off, the craving is screaming again.

The only thing keeping her together is her baby. This impossible love, like nothing she's ever felt, that fills up all the gaps left by her incompleteness. The moment she held her beautiful little girl, she felt her pulse slow down, felt the bitterness in her heart melt away, giving place to something softer that, at least for now, has calmed her a little. The entire world around her narrowed down her child. That's the only glue stopping Caroline from falling apart.

Especially with Klaus and Elijah whispering in her bedroom like she didn't just get a hearing enhancement and can't understand everything they're saying.

She gets that they're trying to give her a moment of peace with the baby while they discuss the unpleasantness without disturbing her, and she can appreciate the sentiment, but what's the point? It's not like she can sit this one out.

"Nor would I expect the Guerrera wolves to back down," Klaus continues. "The baby is regarded as royalty by some of the other clans and, as such, she is a threat to Francesca's claim to leadership. Not to mention... She killed every last one of Marcel's vampires. Their bite is now lethal to Caroline. They will never be safe. The worst of my enemies are now all within this city's borders. And I have brought into the world a weapon they can use against me."

"Then we will arm ourselves. Brother, we've fought every adversary in this town and we have won, we'll fight them again, no matter what they are. We'll make this home a fortress."

Caroline shuts her eyes, stifling a deep sigh as to not disturb the baby's sleep. It's astounding Elijah still believes they can really keep her safe, after everything that's happened. Witches, werewolves and even the vampires, however cluelessly, put down their differences and bonded together against them. They are the enemies to everyone else in this town, and they've proved they're willing to go beyond all limits of civility and decency if it means winning the war, even sacrificing children. This isn't a fair fight. And it will only get worse now that the baby is born.

It's amazing how much of a difference a single day can make in a person's life. Or death, in that case. Caroline would've never thought like that before. She was all about finding peace and giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Look where that took her.

They can't be naive about this anymore, place their bets on a possibility. There's too much at stake. They have too much to lose.

"I will not have her live her life as a prisoner," Klaus tells Elijah.

"Then we'll leave here, together. All of us."

"Wherever we go, however far we run, those who seek power and revenge will hunt us, they will hunt her. She has inherited all of our enemies with none of our defenses."

"So whether we stay or we leave, we condemn her."

"There is a third option," she says, stepping into the room with the baby still firmly in her arms. Both brothers turn to look at her, almost surprised that she'd been listening.

Caroline wishes she could believe Elijah, she really wishes she could honestly say they'll just fight whoever comes for her. But she knows now that's not true. Last night was the final nail on that coffin. As a witch, there was maybe more she could do to protect her daughter: a bunch of protection or cloaking spells, glamours, charms, amulets... As a vampire, however, a single werewolf bite is enough to take her down, and they're now surrounded by a pack that is just as lethal in their human forms as they are in their furry forms. They can't protect her. Not for sure. Klaus is right. Whether they stay or they go, if they're with her, she is condemned.

Caroline swallows back the tears threatening to come down. "I made a promise to my daughter and to myself that she would grow up safe and loved. And yet here she is, on her first day in this world, with a dead grandmother who is bent on sacrificing her and a dead mother who has to drink blood to survive, and I'm the one who loves her the most." She stops, her voice breaking up at the edges as a sob escapes her lips. What she's about to say is too painful, it actually physically hurts. But it's the only way. "I think..." she falters, takes a shuddery breath."The only thing to do is... Send her away. Somewhere they won't ever find her. Far away from us. While we clean up this mess."

Elijah jumps to his feet, shaking his head in denial. "No. This is insane. You heard Genevieve. So long as she lives, that baby will he hunted. The further away from us she is, the more danger she's in. No one can protect her better than ourselves."

Klaus stands up, walking over to Caroline, stopping right behind her, the two of them facing Elijah. "Not if no one knows she lives," he offers, and she immediately understands what he means.

It's perfect. A little crazy, definitely awful... But perfect.

Elijah's brow furrows into a deep frown. "What is it that you intend to do, brother?"

Klaus puts a hand on her shoulder, pulling her slightly closer to him. "Whatever it takes to save my family."

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It's going to take ages to wipe out all the marks of the battle of New Orleans from their house.

Marcel had all the bodies collected and taken elsewhere, said he wanted to give his fallen comrades an honorable farewell, and most of the mess has been cleaned off, but everywhere Elijah looks, he spots something different that had previously escaped their attention. Stained glass, broken railings, crushed lamps... The list goes on.

Above all, however, is the smell. Not all the bleach in the world could erase the smell of blood. Elijah suspects that's why Caroline won't even come close to the courtyard. She's stayed firmly indoors, and the one time she stepped out on the walkway she looked like she was about to get sick, and immediately went back inside, shutting the door behind her.

She hasn't fed yet. By now, the hunger should be so overwhelming she shouldn't be able to think of anything else. All her survival instincts should've kicked in, transforming her into a predator — and everyone else into prey. But she looks completely unaffected, and even averse to blood. It's not an uncommon reaction, especially with witches turned vampires. Their new condition is more like an affliction to their bodies, and the response isn't always immediate. At the same time they crave the blood, their very organism rejects their new state. It's against their natures. Considering how traumatic Caroline's transformation was, he expected her to have a hard time. But he's impressed, he has to say. She's been in transition for hours and still she shows no signs of weakness, perfectly in control of herself. It takes a lot of restraint to be able to resist the cravings for this long.

When Klaus stepped out to get their plan in motion, Elijah offered her a blood bag, but she politely asked him to take it away, with a hard expression across her face. Her reaction caused him some concern, but there's still time, and he doesn't think she'll be feeding while her baby is still here. She's probably enjoying her last remaining moments with her daughter feeling somewhat as her old self.

Elijah is still not entirely sure they're doing the right thing, though. He understands New Orleans is a warzone now, and it will remain so as long as the Guerrera wolves are in possession of the enchanted stones. But where else in the world will this child ever be as safe as with her hybrid father? Or her newly-turned vampire mother? Or her Original uncle? His brother is likely the single strongest creature to walk this earth, and Elijah is virtually indestructible. Caroline will need a minute, but once she settles into her new nature, she'll become a beast defending her daughter. Where are they going to find a stronger or more motivated defense? To take her away from them, is to render them completely useless in protecting her. Niklaus' idea of faking her death is an interesting one, but who's to say it'll work? Or that the witches won't be able to sense she lives, just as they sensed she existed from miles away, while Caroline was still in Mystic Falls, unaware of her own pregnant state?

It's just too risky. There is no perfect option, though. Niklaus was right about that at least; wherever they go, enemies will be sure to follow. It's been like that since the beginning of times. But it would still be Elijah's choice. They could find somewhere far away, secluded, get a trustworthy witch to cloak them and stay there for as long they had to, until they found a way to neutralize the stones and return Niklaus to his full strength.

But it's not up to Elijah. That little girl's parents have made a decision for their daughter and there's nothing he can do but offer his support. No one will suffer more than the two of them, and if it's what they want... Then so be it. Elijah will do whatever is required of him, and hope for the best.

While Caroline and Niklaus joined together to announce their decision, Elijah took a step back and looked, really looked at what he was seeing. Beyond the obvious pain and the heartbreak and the grimness that marred both their expressions, he realized that, in amidst all that fire and blood, they've become the family Elijah always hoped they would be. A unit. Niklaus, Caroline and their baby. It was a mesmerizing sort of realization, but a poignant one as well. It's tragic that it's taken this kind of horror for their bond to become this solid. And it's even sadder that their child is about to be taken away from them.

He sees when his brother arrives back from his errands. They exchange a look, and then Niklaus goes up the stairs and joins him on the second floor, overlooking their thrashed courtyard.

"Did Marcel play his part?" he asks.

"He managed to locate a stillborn baby in a hospital in upstate Louisiana," his brother explains. "He took it to Oliver, said it was her. He'd apparently been kept unaware of certain details of Francesca's arrangement with the witches, thought all they wanted was Caroline, that they wouldn't harm the child."

Elijah bites back a disgruntled sound. Oliver. That traitorous little rat...

"That doesn't improve his situation in the least," he says.

"No, it doesn't," Niklaus agrees.

"Did Jackson know?"

His brother shakes his head. "He's innocent."

Well, that's a relief. As much as Elijah finds it hard to ever trust a werewolf again, no matter who they are, he finds a measure of comfort in the fact that Jackson Kenner wasn't involved, and he suspects Caroline will too. To think that they'd allowed her to live amongst traitors all this time would cause his brother to slaughter that entire pack, who are also distantly related to him. Not to mention it would most definitely crush whatever's left of Caroline's soul.

So Oliver was the only one. Elijah never liked that vermin. Marcel saw him circulating with the Guerreras and did some digging. Apparently he made a side deal with Francesca when he thought Jackson wasn't riling his people enough against the vampires. He was never interested in peace talks, didn't just want a seat on the table or his place back in the city; he wanted blood for blood, revenge for all the years he was forced to spend in his wolf form in the swamp. Elijah knew that was bound to happen. There was no way those werewolves didn't carry any resentment for the abuse they were subjected to for decades. He just finds it interesting that Oliver would be willing to betray his own people to get what he wanted and align himself with a rival pack. Wolves are usually proud and extremely loyal. This one, it seems, was the rotten one in the litter.

When no one wanted to follow him instead of Jackson, he didn't hesitate to jump ship, telling Francesca all about the agreement with Klaus. He must've been the one behind the bombs against his own people as well. Neither Elijah nor Klaus, or even Jackson, ever figured out how those bombs were planted and by whom. They now know the explosives came from Francesca, and so did the bomber, but it would be almost impossible for a stranger to enter the camp unnoticed to plant the second set of explosives without getting noticed. All this time, they'd been looking in the wrong direction. The culprit was part of the pack all along.

On the other end, Francesca had been kindly offering intel to the vampires about an insurgence coming from the Bayou, getting them all ready to strike back and fight for their rights, creating the perfect storm to cover her plan and keep their family distracted while she delivered Caroline to Genevieve and walked away with her prize. It took down about a dozen doves with one stone.

And together, they all came to the same conclusion: Caroline and the child represented a risk. Her, because she was a witch, and the baby because she was wolf royalty.

Oliver never appreciated how close Caroline became with some of the wolves, especially their alpha. He was constantly antagonizing her, but they brushed it off as bickering and let him be. They should've known he wasn't to be trusted when he tricked Rebekah into the woods to help the witches in exchange for having their curse broken, which never happened. It was Caroline and Eve who eventually forced Sabine to undo the spell, and his betrayal of Rebekah remained unpunished.

Elijah doesn't know if he believes Oliver really wasn't aware that they intended to finish the baby as well, but Marcel said his information was solid and that he didn't even know what had happened to Caroline. Didn't care either. All he cares about is that he is now in possession of one of those precious little black kyanites, and that has made him an enemy. When they take down the rest of the Guerreras, he's certain Oliver will be amongst the first on Niklaus' hit list. His death won't be a quick one, that's for certain.

But Oliver's ignorance of the baby's fate gave them what they needed: an opportunity to plant the story. It'll take more to convince everyone, but Elijah has to admit that it's a solid idea. What he's most worried about, however, isn't the werewolves.

"I trust Marcel has fully agreed to our terms?" he continues.

Niklaus lets out a wary sigh, and Elijah turns his face towards him. His brother is a wreck. Perhaps he still hasn't made a complete recover after having his energy fully drained following the full moon, but Elijah doesn't think that's the biggest reason for the ridges on his forehead or the drop on his shoulders, as though the weight of the whole world lies upon him. An altogether different kind of exhaustion has befallen him, one that will take much, much longer to heal. The type that leaves scars behind.

"He has agreed to allow me to compel him to forget what he knows of my child," Klaus says. "In exchange, he wants vials of my blood. I'll provide it to him as soon as I return."

"The witches will have to believe this, brother. Soon that fourth Harvest girl will resurrect. The coven will rebuild. Who knows what kind of orders from mother she'll bring with her from the Other Side? If they sense that your child lives, they will hunt her."

"Our mother is dead, Elijah. And as soon as the Guerreras are dealt with, nothing will be able to touch my daughter again. Especially not a ghost," he spits out, words drenched in contempt. "The witches will buy what we sell. We just have to sell it properly."

There's a long pause, and with every passing second, Elijah can feel the unease growing inside of his brother. He allows the silence to lengthen, giving time for all the unanswered questions and his brother's doubts to die. Regardless of his own hesitation, Elijah knows his feelings are nothing compared to what Niklaus and Caroline are experiencing right now. It'll take a huge amount of courage to let that little girl go and have faith that she'll be safe and better off without her family. The last thing he wants is to add to his brother's already extraordinary ordeal.

But the clock is still ticking. He needs to leave tonight.

"Then all that remains now is to say goodbye," he finally says.

Niklaus nods his head slowly, his eyes distant, thoughtful. "They will be watching us, all of them. If all three of us leave together, it will draw too much attention. I will go alone. They have a memorial up for all the dead of the gang violence that's taken our streets. I've put up a plate for my daughter." He stops, swallows. "Take Caroline and make your mourning public when I'm gone."

"I don't imagine that will be too difficult. Grief, after all, is grief. But, brother... Who can protect her better than we can?"

Klaus turns to him, his eyes sparkling with life for the first time in a long while. "There is one person."

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For a moment, Caroline just ignores Klaus' presence. She knows he's there, by the door, can feel his closeness in a strange palpable way even though she hasn't looked up and he was very quiet in his approach, probably trying not to disturb her. It's like a rasp in her awareness, something about him reaching out to poke her attention. It's hard to think she'll ever get used to these inhuman sensations.

She shifts a little in her place, still sitting on her rocking chair, her daughter cradled in her arms. She read in one of her books that physical contact is really important to build a strong mother-baby relationship. Normally, that happens through breastfeeding. So Caroline is doing the best she can with the little she's got to offer. Not in her worst-case-scenario preparations did she anticipate this disaster, getting murdered right after giving birth and being technically not alive to care for her one day-old daughter. Not even her body temperature is right, her skin getting abnormally cooler by the hour as she goes on without feeding. She'll soon reach that point where the coolness will go from uncomfortable to deadly and her organs will start failing, but she's not thinking about that now, not while she still has her daughter here. It won't be for long, though.

Klaus is here to take her away. They agreed he'd leave as soon as he was done tying all the loose ends with Marcel. They needed the vampire to be completely on-board, otherwise it would all be useless. If Klaus is here, it's because it's time.

Caroline feels her heart sink. It's too soon.

"I thought giving birth to her in that church, in chains and surrounded by people who wanted both of us dead, was going to be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do," she speaks, her voice low and weepy, even though she's trying very hard to hold back the tears. She's shed enough of them for a lifetime. It's everything her daughter's heard since she came into this world — screams and crying. Caroline's afraid that's all she'll ever know of her mother. "But having to give her away after just getting her back... It's even worse."

"I'm sorry the beginning of her life has been so violent," Klaus says quietly.

"It's not your fault, Klaus." Caroline finally looks up at him. The sorrow in his eyes is daunting, but an exact mirror of her own. "I know you fought for us."

A complex mix of emotions flickers through Klaus' face — anger, guilt, shame — and then he dips his chin low, looking away from her.

She wants to comfort him, tell him that he doesn't have to beat himself up, that there's no way he could've ever predicted last night's catastrophe. Francesca's plan was extremely intricate, it involved a lot of people, a lot of duplicity towards many different groups and it demanded too many gears set in motion for it to even work. There was a lot of luck, too. Any tiny thing gone wrong and she wouldn't have gotten her way. So claiming that they should've known better, that they should've realized they couldn't trust anyone, that the Mikaelsons are too old to be tricked this way, it may all very well be true, but... How does anyone do that? How does anyone live that way? It's impossible. At some point, you have to trust someone, and in New Orleans, there's always a risk attached. Just ask Jackson. His best friend, whom he nearly gave his life to save, betrayed not only him, but their entire pack.

Isolating themselves wouldn't have helped. They would've still been singled out as enemies and attacked from all sides. And even though Caroline was initially against Klaus' plans and not in favor of inviting Genevieve and Francesca to their table, she eventually went along with it because they ran out of options. Or rather — they were forced out of options.

They've made too many mistakes over the last few months, but last night... It wasn't Klaus' fault, none of them were guilty. The only people responsible for the horrible crimes committed were the ones behind it. For once, Klaus didn't act thinking of himself or his best interests. He would've probably prefered to get everyone in a car and drive as far away from New Orleans until the baby was born, let the city implode and everyone kill each other while they were gone. It would've made his job of taking over much easier once the factions had weakened themselves fighting their meaningless war for power. But he knew there would be consequences, and that Caroline would've never gone willingly. She likes to think that she would've been rational and practical about it, but that's a lie. Her friends in the Bayou would've been mercilessly persecuted the second they were gone. Klaus was thinking of them, and how vulnerable they would be if they'd so much as decided to wait another month before trying the spell again. And he was thinking of their daughter, who would've come into the world right in the middle of all that mess, as a witch-werewolf hybrid.

In the end, Francesca and Genevieve had been counting on their concerns and it was all for nothing. But it doesn't change the fact that Klaus was doing the right thing. Just as he is now, faking her death and taking her away from their family. It's for the best.

How could she ever comfort him, though, when she feels just as responsible? When she has to fight just to keep her thoughts clear enough for her to function, with this emptiness inside and this hunger that is threatening to eat her whole? She wouldn't even know where to start.

"I put everything she's going to need in that bag," she says, nodding her head towards the baby bag she's filled with all the most important items. Formula, diapers, clothes, bottles, pacifiers, blankets and the teddy bear Klaus bought, that used to be inside her crib. "There's also a list on the front pocket with basically everything I could think of. Some instructions and other things she'll need to buy — and what not to buy."

The barest hint of a grin appears on Klaus' lips. "I'll make sure she reads it first thing."

"There's also another envelope." Caroline turns back to the baby. "It's a letter. For the baby."

"She's a bit young to read," he teases softly.

"We don't know how long she'll be away for."

"She'll be returned to us long before that, Caroline," Klaus assures her.

You don't know that, she wants to say. No one does. But for once Klaus sounds hopeful about something, and Caroline doesn't have it in her to shut him down.

Caroline leans forward, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead, breathing her in one last time. She takes a moment memorizing every detail on her tiny face — her chubby baby cheeks, the slope of her little nose — and trying to imagine what she will be like in a year. It's hard to tell who she takes after more. Caroline doesn't think she looks a lot like herself when she was a baby, not from the pictures, anyway, but her mom could have a different opinion. Moms always do. She's definitely all Klaus around the eyes, though.

"She needs a name," Klaus says.

And there's also that...

Caroline chews on her lower lip, thoughtfully. "Clara. Laura. Sylvie. Lily. Jenna." Caroline says the last one without really thinking, then she steals a glance at Klaus, who gives her a short eyeroll before finally stepping into the room.

"How about..." he starts. "Eve."

Caroline's eyes widen in a mix of surprise and awe. "Eve," she tastes the name on her tongue, a warm feeling spreading through her chest as a huge smile breaks onto her lips. Her face feels tight, moving those muscles for probably the first time since she was brought back to life.

Klaus gives her a dimpled smile, his expression softening. "Aside from the obvious homage, Eve means life. With everything that's happened today, how brave she had to be on her first day in this world, how much death surrounded her… She prevailed. I think it's fitting. A reminder of what we were all fighting for. That not all is lost."

"Eve..." she repeats, looking back at her daughter. At Eve.

"Eve..." he continues. "Elizabeth."

Caroline's smile widens in a manner she did not think herself capable of tonight. "That's my middle name, too."

The look on Klaus' eyes soften into something almost sweet - if that was actually possible for him. "I know."

"Hi, Eve," she whispers. Eve Elizabeth. It's perfect. How did she not think of that name? It's astonishing that Klaus was the one to come up with it, but in the best possible way. "I'm so sorry that I have to let you go, but I hope you'll always know that I love you. So, so much."

Bracing herself for courage, Caroline stands up and gives the baby to Klaus, helping him settle her comfortably on the curve of his arm. A shuddery breath escapes her lips, and then tears are streaming down again, hot against her cool cheeks.

"She'll know," Klaus says gently. "Because you'll tell her yourself."

Caroline lifts her gaze to meet his again, and immediately she gets a sharp stab of guilt in her heart. She takes in the scene — Klaus Mikaelson, the cold-blooded, unflappable Original hybrid — with a baby in his arms, holding her so tenderly, heartbroken over the prospect of having to send her away for a while.

All Caroline wanted all those months was for Klaus to make up his mind and become a father already, rather than just someone who's having a child. It's two different things, and as protective as he was of her, bordering on paranoia a lot of the time, he wasn't acting like someone who was ready to be responsible for raising a little person, with all that it entails. Now look at him, staring around the room he put together so thoughtfully, and that won't be used anymore, with such sadness. It took him forever to get here, and now that he is, he has to give it away. It's not fair.

All day today, Caroline wasn't convinced she'd be completing transition. Being a semi-vampire has been terrible enough. She doesn't think she can fully be one. The amplified emotions and screaming memories are still rushing through her like a punch, driving her mad. It's been a struggle just keeping herself up. It's as though she can feel every cell in her body rejecting the vampirism, the worst thing that can happen to a witch. Getting used to this... It might never happen.

Caroline decided she was going to let her half-life take its course and not feed. She just had to make sure Klaus left with the baby before she was ready to admit it. If she told him, he wouldn't do what he's supposed to.

Now, though, as she looks at him with their daughter, ready to leave for God knows how long... Caroline realizes this can't be the last time she sees this. Him, and her. As impossible as it is to live in her own skin right now, she'll never find peace on the Other Side — if there's even anything left of it. She's just not ready to give up on her girl. And on Klaus. She'll need him more than ever if she's to make it through the next few months without losing her mind, but he'll need her too. They're probably the only people in the world capable of understanding each other's grief right now, and it seems unfair to leave him alone to weather it. And not only that... But to add to his misery by dying as well. Elijah told her what he was like last night, when he thought she was gone. How he'd found Klaus on the church floor, holding on to her body as though it was his last link to life. Less than a person. Much like herself when she woke up.

She's hurting, but so is he. Different kinds of hurt, perhaps, but still... They're both losing something precious tonight. And Caroline is just not ready to say goodbye yet, not to her baby girl, and not to her child's father.

"Go," she tells him. "Before I change my mind."

He hesitates a heartbeat longer, then he throws the bag over his shoulder and leaves, disappearing down the hall.

Caroline shuts her eyes against the tears, stifling a sob she's been holding back for hours. This is the last she'll cry over this as a human.

Now, she needs to find blood.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Klaus waits outside his car at the agreed spot. He's in the middle of nowhere, Mississippi, with nothing but miles and miles of deserted farmland all around. He drove around for a bit until he was certain that no one was following him. If there was, they've long given up.

She should be here any minute now. He sent her the location as soon as he figured it was safe to stop; she was already close by. While he waits, he takes his time to appreciate the last moments he'll have with his daughter for who knows how long. Ideally, Klaus would like to say they'll be done handling the Guerreras before the next full moon, but something tells him it won't be that simple. Genevieve wouldn't have spelled those stones to draw from his strength without adding a fail-safe against allowing him to make a perfect recover once transformation time was gone. It would be only too easy. He can still feel the lingering effects of the spell now.

And then there's Caroline. She's doing... terribly. Doesn't take much to notice how unmerciful transition is being on her. She was holding on, trying to put on a strong front, but he could see the ruin in her eyes, the misery, all the dread and the discomfort, on top of the heartbreak over their daughter's departure. Adaptation won't be gentle on her. Witches turned vampire rarely ever have an easy time. Instead of giving in, surrendering to the hunger and the beastly instincts, their bodies fight the new instincts they depend upon to stay alive as though it was an infection. He and his siblings have never really tapped into their magic when his mother turned them into beasts, with the exception of Kol, and not even he was all that keen on it, not back then. Moreover, the original spell was very likely milder on its subjects than the subsequent transformations. For witches who are in full control of their power, perfectly connected to nature's call, it can be a vile thing.

Klaus never wanted this for her. As much as the thought of one day losing her to old age, or the idea that she might not even want to stay with him for long, deciding instead to go live her life next to a mortal, made him grind his teeth in revulsion, he would've never forced Caroline to turn against her will. It crossed his mind, of course it did; eternity with her is far too tempting a thought not to. But now he feels almost guilty for having ever entertained the idea, even if just for a heartbeat.

Creatures made of weaker fiber don't always make it past transition and the first couple of months as a vampire, but Caroline is not weak. She might suffer in the beginning, but she'll come out the other side, of that he's certain. She's too diligent, too focused not to. All those aspects of her personality will be enhanced once she completes transition. He would dare say she has all the required qualities to excel at it; her monster won't ever control her. But she'll need a minute, and it'll likely be the most trying and challenging minute of her entire life. Her horrific death, all the pain and the fear she must've carried with her into the afterlife... It'll all come back to overwhelm her. Having to deal with that as well as adapting to her new strengths and heightened senses, it'll be a test to her resilience. But Klaus knows not a soul more capable than Caroline Forbes.

Yes, she'll make it. If not for her own sake or even for his, then for their daughter. It just... Puts things on hold for a while, probably. Including figuring out how to beat the Guerreras and take back the stones. They don't even have a witch they can trust anymore. That just makes it all the more complicated.

But that's all for later. Right now, Klaus just wants to look at his daughter and all the impossible perfection of her existence. She is beautiful, indeed. And so much like her mother, although... Something about her eyes makes him think of Rebekah. He was hoping she'd be a little Caroline, and it seems like he might've been granted his wish. May she inherit her mother's temperance as well.

He hears the sound of the car engine before he sees the headlights in the distance. Klaus stands up straight, bracing himself.

The red convertible — with the roof in place, as would be advisable for the occasion — stops, and his heart lurches when Rebekah steps out.

Oh, how he's missed his little sister...

She walks up to him, and a gentle smile breaks onto his face. "Hello, sister," he says.

Rebekah smiles back at him, all the resentment and the millennium-old heartbreak of their last encounter erased from her beautiful features, her eyes glinting in such a tender way that it makes him think she might've missed him too. A little bit, at least.

She takes a step closer, peering at her niece. "She looks like her mother," she coos. "Maybe there is a God after all."

"Well, she has a hint of the devil in her eyes. That's all me." The words hang between them for a lighthearted moment, and then Klaus realizes they need to hurry. There's an infinity of things he wishes to tell Rebekah — about the two of them, about Caroline, about his daughter — but there is no time. There's a lot his sister needs to take care of, starting with getting as far away from here as possible. "You'll need a witch you can trust to cast a cloaking spell."

"I'll get one."

"Be careful. Our mother -"

"I know, Nik," Rebekah cuts him off with a reassuring squeeze on his arm. "I'll get a good witch. They exist, you know."

"I do. I had a baby with one." And look what happened to her... This world has a way of twisting and bending everything that is good and beautiful. But he won't let it break Caroline. And he'll be damned if he lets it take his daughter. "No one can ever find her," he says assertively.

"I know what to do, Nik."

He places a kiss on his girl's forehead. "I promise any soul who wishes you harm will be struck down," he whispers to her. "Just as sure as my blood runs in your veins... You will return to us."

Klaus falters only a moment longer before passing the baby over to his sister. Then he walks back to the car and retrieves her bag. "Caroline's sent this," he explains. "There's a list inside, she said. Everything you need to know. It's probably twenty pages long."

Rebekah lets out a short laugh. "I'd expect nothing less of her."

Klaus nods in agreement, grinning. "And this," he says, taking a small wooden knight from his pocket. "Is from me."

Rebekah's eyes widen in awe, immediately recognizing the piece he sculpted for her a thousand years ago, when they were both only a few years older than his daughter is now. The knight she held on to with all the might of her tiny hands to give her courage through the storms. "Nik..." she breathes out, tears brimming in her gaze.

"Despite our differences, Rebekah, there is no one I would trust more with my daughter's life." He pulls her close, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek. "Be happy, sister."

Rebekah nods. "She will be happy, Nik. I promise."

He smiles at her again. Suddenly he's not so afraid anymore. This isn't what he wanted, and it still hurts to see her go, but... She will be in good hands. The best hands. "I know."

"What's her name?"

"Eve," he says. "Her name is Eve."

Rebekah beams almost like Caroline did when he suggested the name. "Eve Mikaelson."

"Eve Forbes-Mikaelson," he corrects. "Caroline would kill me if I didn't hyphenate."

Rebekah grins. "She certainly would." There's a pause. "Tell her... Tell her I'm sorry. For everything. All this craziness started before she was even born. Tell her I'll take good care of her girl, and that I'll make sure she knows all about her mom and dad, until it's time for her to go home."

"I'll send your regards."

He walks with Rebekah to her car, helps her get the baby settled on the little carseat she arranged, puts the bag safely away, and then steps back as she drives away, disappearing into the night.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

There's a monster inside of Caroline.

Before, while she was in transition, it was an emptiness that seemed to spread with every passing hour. A black hole consuming everything around it. But after only a single sip of blood, the hollow gained form, teeth and claws, and it roared into life. It's been howling inside of her, fierce and furious, ever since.

Elijah gave her her first blood bag right before they went out to the memorial, and even then it was a struggle to control herself. She could hear everything. Every whisper, every breath, every sob — blood coursing through veins in a weird symphony that guided her eyes directly to singing carotids. Every time Elijah gave her hand a squeeze, she knew her monster was starting to show around her eyes and she'd bury her face in his neck and pretend to be crying until it was safe again.

When Camille came running towards her, tears in her eyes, shaking her head against the horrible news, Caroline almost lost it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," her friend said between sobs, wrapping her arms around her.

Caroline cried too. Half of it was grief, the other half was in despair at how much she wanted to sink her teeth into her friend. All she could think of was how easy it would be, how nice it would feel. The urge rose up inside of her like madness, such a natural impulse Caroline almost didn't notice what she was about to do until her fangs were already out, brushing against the skin under Camille's ear.

Elijah took her hand and pulled her away. "We have to go," he said apologetically to Cami. "She's still recovering, not supposed to stay outside for long."

"If you need anything, anything at all," Cami said, holding her shoulders. It was painful to see the upset in her big eyes, how heartbroken she was. Caroline was never a good liar, but in this case, she doesn't even have to pretend. She is mourning a death — her own — and the loss of her child. "Please, send Klaus my sentiments. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Camille," Elijah replied for her, perhaps realizing that it was taking every ounce of restraint in Caroline's body not to explode. It was not smart to get her in such close proximity to someone else's throbbing veins.

As he ushered her away, he kept a hand firmly on her back. "Are you ok?" he asked once they were out of earshot. Of others, that is. The entire city is within her earshot at all times, it seems.

"No," she bit out. "I wanted to eat her."

"You're new. The hunger is a bit overwhelming in the beginning. But you'll get better at it."

Honestly, Caroline wanted to laugh. She held back on it because it wouldn't be appropriate for her to be seen bursting into laughter in a time like this, so she held her head down and bit on her lip until it went away. She felt crazy, but what Elijah said was just...

Better. What exactly does getting better at eating people means? Every single human being on planet earth is now dinner for her. There's no getting better.

When she got home, he gave her another bag, told her to rush to the freezer every time she started getting cravings. "And if gets too bad," he said, "and you feel like you're about to lose it, come find me."

How to explain that she feels like she's losing it the whole time? She's had five blood bags since she returned from the memorial. Five. That's five people she could've killed. Just standing near the window is torture. It's like her head is going to hatch something awful at any moment, but it's not pain what she feels. It's... everything. The wind sweeping across her skin, the old wooden floors creaking around the house, the voices floating in from the street, the lights that are all suddenly so much brighter - the never ending hunger.

And that's not even counting all the things thrashing about in her mind. The punch of emotions is so much worse than during transition. Half the time she feels so much grief, so much sadness, she thinks it'll kill her. The other half she's so overflown with anger and outrage she thinks she might kill everyone else.

How does a person live like this? No wonder so many vampires are insane. There's no way to keep your mind sound through this transformation. Elijah told her he and his siblings snapped one day and ended up killing almost their entire village. He probably thought he was being reassuring when he shared that, trying to make her realize it's normal. How can murdering a whole community ever be normal? And at the same time... She can totally understand. Caroline could easily bleed the entire French Quarter dry in a rampage and not stop to think about it until she was done. When it takes over, the bloodlust is all there is.

"The guilt comes later," Elijah said. "It crushes your soul. Many can't handle it."

Right. The humanity switch. Caroline never really understood the concept, always felt that calling your humanity a switch was dehumanizing in itself. But she can feel it, as though it's an actual physical thing. A fail-safe button she can push and be done with it. No more pain, no more guilt, no more anger, no more caring about anything. It would be so easy...

A little voice in the back of her head has been whispering to her to turn it off. The stormy ocean drowning her senses and her reason ever since she took that first sip of blood would dissolve into a calm, windless lake in the span of a second. The temptation is real.

So aside from all the heightened senses, overwhelming memories, murderous impulses and the skyrocketing anxiety, there's also that: having to quiet down the little voice telling her to just let go.

She's already questioning whether completing the transition was the right decision after all when Klaus finally returns home.

She hears him talking to Elijah in the study room down the hall, their voices coming in and out of focus as she tries to block out the rest of the noises. He asks about the memorial, whether Elijah thinks everyone believed their grieving, if the Correas were there to witness it. And then he asks about Caroline.

She can't listen to Elijah giving him an account on how fucked up she is, so she steps out on the balcony to let the city's cacophony overwhelm her senses and block out the rest of the conversation. The looks Elijah kept giving her were almost unbearable. Pitiful, compassionate, mournful... Like all he can see when he looks at her is a corpse with its throat slit open. The last thing Caroline needs right now is for Klaus to do the same.

When she hears Klaus coming into the room, she wraps her arms tightly around herself against the sudden chill that settles within her, her temper flaring for no apparent reason. He hasn't even said anything and she's already mad.

She goes back into the room, both because it's impossible to hear herself thinking with all that noise and because her eyes begin to sting after staring at the bright lights for too long. Elijah told her that gets better with time too, that she'll learn how to adapt to all her new senses. Not if I gouge my eyes out first, she thought, briefly considering whether having her eyes growing back inside her skull could be worse than the stabbing pain of staring at fluorescent lights.

Klaus is standing by the door, watching her. He looks like a walking wreck, the strain showing on his face, but there's a glimmer of something there. Like hope or gratefulness. Some kind of relief, maybe. And Caroline realizes, as her gaze comes up to his, that she's feeling something new. Something she hasn't felt yet ever since she completed transition. It's not a spike of anger or a bout of depression; it's softer, kinder, something that allows her to take a breath without feeling as though a thousand needles are piercing through her lungs.

"How was it?" she asks almost without missing a beat. It feels like a million hours since he left with Eve. She wanted to call him and ask if everything was ok, why he was taking so long, but Elijah assured her that it hadn't been that long, she was just feeling time ebb away differently. Every second lasts about a million agonizing ones. Caroline has never been good at sitting down and waiting; the delay now very nearly tore apart the last shreds of her sanity.

"She'll be all right," he replies. "Rebekah will take her far away. She'll find a witch to put a cloaking spell on them. No one will ever find them."

No one will ever find them. It should bring her relief, but the words sink into her like a hook. No one includes herself. Ever is a hell of a long time. And right now, it feels like freaking eternity. But she doesn't trust herself to know of her daughter's whereabouts and stay away, so it's probably for the best.

Klaus looks pensive, his eyes suddenly distant and sad as he starts to speak in an uncharacteristic small voice. "I knew it was the right thing to do, that it was for her protection, but... Giving her away, even to my own sister, was... Impossible. I thought it'd be easy, knowing that it was her best shot. Up until the moment Rebekah took her from my hands, I wasn't sure that I wouldn't change my mind."

"I know," she replies simply. She went through it twice: first when they stole her from her arms at the church, and then when she let Klaus take her away.

He takes tentative steps towards her, but stops himself, like he's afraid of coming any closer. Like he thinks she'll shatter at any moment.

Truth be told, she wants to. Caroline wants to crack open and catch fire. But more than anything, she doesn't want Klaus to know how wrong she is. Right now, it doesn't feel like she'll ever be completely okay again, like this feeling of inadequacy, as though she's inhabiting someone else's body, won't ever go away, but if she surrenders to this, if she sees her fears reflected in someone else's eyes, if Klaus believes that she won't ever heal as well, then that is when she'll truly crumble.

"Have you eaten?" he asks.

Caroline unwittingly casts a glance towards the discarded bags in the corner, the taste of blood still coating her throat. Klaus makes a face that feels like a punch to the stomach.

She's seen many things in Klaus' eyes over the years. Disdain. Anger. Regret. Jealousy. Adoration. But not pity. Not for her. Rage ignites inside of Caroline, licking through her body like wildfire. Those witches have taken everything from her. Her life, her daughter, everything she knew about herself. She won't let them have this too.

She needs Klaus to look at her as he did when she entered his family's mansion on the night of his mother's ball: like she was the only person in the whole room. In the whole freaking world. She needs the eyes that would fill with lust whenever she kissed him, like he could barely contain himself. The eyes that promised her every wonder under the sun. Not the eyes that see the hole that's been carved into her soul. The eyes that see her dead.

With fire burning hot in her chest, Caroline strides across the room with her jaw set to determination.

"Caroline -"

Before he can treat her to a frown or an excuse, she slides her hand to cup his cheek and smashes their lips together. She needs to feel like herself again, like Caroline Forbes, the girl who revels in proving wrong anyone who dares to doubt her, to tell her that she can't. They tried to break her, but she won't let them. She refuses to. And she will not allow Klaus to bend under the strain either.

They've taken almost everything, but they will not have Klaus, too.

He hesitates to return the kiss, taken aback by her abrupt reaction, but she deepens the contact and he stops fighting. His hand resting on her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh through the fabric of her dress like he never wants to let her go. The kiss is a million shades of longing and despair, threaded by a shared grief and also, maybe, relief. The memory of what perfect joy is supposed to feel like. In his touch, Caroline finds the link to her old self. She can push away the emotions that have been threatening to tear her apart and focus only on the taste of him, the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence. She can be the strong, fearless girl who woke up in Klaus' bed almost nine months ago with a smile like sunshine on her face.

She pulls away, their foreheads touching, the short hairs on the back of his neck between her fingers.

"Caroline," Klaus nearly whispers, his breath brushing against her lips. It sends a familiar tingle up her spine, makes her arch under his touch, press herself flush against him. Instead of relaxing, though, Klaus' body tenses. "You don't want this."

His tone is soft, and she's sure he means it kindly, concerned for her state of mind, which is understandably compromised. But he's wrong, and his resistance makes she pull harder on his hair, her eyes flashing with a blend of want and annoyance. "You don't know what I want."

Klaus attempts to escape the intensity in her gaze, but Caroline kisses him again, so fiercely now that it cuts straight through all his hesitation. She feels the change in him, how his heartbeat suddenly quickens, the way his touch becomes less desperate, less hesitant, and more possessive. His hands sweep down the side of her body, leaving her skin ablaze, making her ache to feel him closer still.

For the first time tonight, Caroline craves something that isn't human blood, her veins thrumming with a different kind of need. She wants more than to disappear or set fire to the whole world. She wants Klaus. Like she's always wanted, but somehow more.

She gasps against his mouth when he slides his hands up her thighs, pulling her up. She wraps her legs around his waist, not breaking the kiss while he carries her across the room, lowering her onto the bed, laying her down with all the care in the world.

"Caroline..." Her name rolls off his tongue soft and curled like a reverence in that lilting, rich way of speaking that she always thought so unfairly sexy. They're both breathing hard and a little wide-eyed, a shimmer of wanton need in Klaus' eyes. It's a spark of the look she's craving, the eyes of the man who desired her. A look that makes her feel like maybe she's going to be all right after all, more than just a broken toy or a childless mother or an out-of-control vampire. She can be herself again.

In that moment, Caroline only exists in his arms. All the gaps left by her magic are filled with Klaus, with how much she loves him, and it flows through her with the same kind of powerful rush that magic did. It's almost... normal. Different, altered, but not broken, not inhuman. She doesn't struggle to focus. To breathe. To feel. And even if her entire self screams with lust, Caroline finds a measure of peace there, and she holds on to it with everything she's got.

He presses his lips against hers, brief, but it does more to warm her up and satiate her than five blood bags ever could. She cups his cheek again, her fingers brushing against those scarlet lips she's craved for longer than it's appropriate to admit.

"Are you sure?" he asks again, still holding back even as he drinks in her body.

She slides her palms down his torso until she finds the hem of his shirt, gripping it and pulling it up his head. Then hooks her hand around his neck and pulls him back down, her legs wrapping around him again. She can feel the press of his growing bulge, and the familiar fire that burns in his irises. This isn't pity. This isn't pity at all. Klaus wants her, and it's all she needs for now.

"I need you," she whispers, capturing his lips with a biting kiss. "Make me feel."

Caroline shuts her eyes as he takes her mouth in a long, deep kiss, unleashing a greediness that had been building up in both of them for months. He shreds her concentration far too easily, gripping her thigh, his hand sliding up her dress, and it's just as she remembers.

She loses herself in the heat of it, in the passion, and lets Klaus drown out her anguish with the palm of his hands and the wet tip of his tongue.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Klaus can't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours, but it's enough for him to feel as though he were transported through time and space when he wakes up. Captured in the deep of the night from New Orleans and taken back to Mystic Falls, almost nine months ago.

The earliest hours of the morning are perhaps the only quiet time around the French Quarter — right after the late-nighters have finally passed out somewhere and just before the early-risers are out. Sunlight has just broken way past the clouds, peaking bashfully through the window, a light, chilly breeze swaying the curtains. And Caroline Forbes asleep right next to him, her hair spilled around her head like a golden halo, her skin as perfect and smooth as cream, her face a windless sea of peace.

Klaus feels the same itch for pencil and paper now as he did then, inspiration oozing as his eyes rake over every single detail — all the valleys and hills of her body, covered only by a thin layer of sheet. He was there all through the night, touching and tasting all those curves with his lips and his hands, but already he misses the closeness, having her writhing underneath him, gasping and moaning and breathing out his name like a prayer. More importantly, knowing that, in that moment, she was his. She was all his. It was an addict's first smoke after years without a cigarette. Almost too much.

For a second, all the ghastly remnants and the grief of the day before seem to have vanished with the night. Klaus even finds himself smiling, holding back the urge to reach out and touch her, pull a lock of blonde hair that's fallen over her face behind her ear so he can properly see all the light freckles dusting her cheeks and nose.

Last night didn't make anything better, it didn't fix any of their problems or erase the throbbing pain in their chests. The memories of what Klaus witnessed in that church will be seared onto his mind, coloring his every nightmare, long after he's done tearing the ones behind it limb by limb. But there was a bit of hope too in their time together, a healing of some sort. There's a long way ahead still, and it's likely nothing will ever be made right again, not completely. Caroline died. That can't be changed. But they got a second chance nonetheless, so they can destroy the enchanted stones, slaughter every single last Guerrera who dares to remain in New Orleans and bring their daughter back home.

Picking up the pieces is hard, and frankly not something he's intimately familiar with. The few times he's had to go over this have been traumatic and left long lasting scars. But they have to start somewhere. As long as she's here, Klaus can even allow himself to believe in happy endings. Caroline Forbes might truly be a miracle worker, making a believer out of him.

He could stay like this forever, watching her, pretending that they're back in Mystic Falls and the future is still a blank page ahead of them, that things haven't yet gone awry. He feels as the sun starts to light up the foot of the bed, the comforting warmth inching ever closer. It touches Caroline's exposed calf, and then Klaus hears a low sizzling sound, blisters popping all over her skin. Caroline stirs, her face contorting into pain even before she's fully awake.

In a second, Klaus' bright mood is wiped away as he's brought back to present day reality, where Caroline was brutally murdered after giving birth and brought back to the land of the living as a vampire. In a blink, he's at the window, pulling the curtains tightly closed, immersing the room in darkness.

When he turns back to the bed, Caroline is sitting up, sheets haphazardly wrapped around her as she touches her calf, already healed but for a minor redness.

Klaus eyes her sadly, and then looks away. "I'm sorry," he says, sheepishly. "I forgot."

"It's fine," Caroline replies, not quite hiding the slight panic on her voice, the edges dulled by the lingering drowsiness.

Klaus goes around the room, picking up his discarded clothes and getting dressed with a purpose. "I'll take care of it," he announces as he slips into his jeans.

"Take care of what? What are you doing?"

"I'll go find Marcel. I'm sure he can convince Davina to make you a daylight ring."

"Klaus." He pulls on his shirt. "Klaus." He stops, turning back at her commanding tone. "Get back to bed."

"The sooner we get this done -"

"I don't need a daylight ring."

"What do you mean, you don't need one? Of course you do."

"I mean, I don't need one right now. I'm not looking forward to going outside. In fact, I'm good just staying right here."

Klaus frowns, staring at her as though she's making absolutely no sense. "You don't want to go outside?"

"Eventually. But not at the moment, no."

"Why?"

Caroline puffs out a heavy gust of air, closing her eyes. Klaus sees the moment a ripple of anxiety seems to pass through her, her entire body becoming tense, soft creases showing between her eyebrows. "I can tell there's someone walking by right under our balcony. In a hurry, quick heartbeats. I can hear their blood pumping in their veins. It's calling out to me." When she opens her eyes again, they're red around the irises, her veins popping all of a sudden. "I'm a liability right now, Klaus. I shouldn't be allowed to go outside. The longer I'm forced to stay in, the better."

Klaus feels his shoulder sag as the sense of urgency bleeds out of him, replaced by a constricting guilt at Caroline's disappointment in herself. None of this is her fault, and yet she talks as though she's failing for being hungry or having predator instincts threatening to overpower her.

He can't honestly say he still remembers what it's like to be a new vampire. He remembers facts — that the euphoria was terrific; that the taste of warm blood was like nothing he'd ever experienced, addicting and stimulating like the worst kind of drug; that he and his siblings easily went through entire villages in their early days. But he doesn't know what it felt like anymore, to be awash with guilt, to despair in the face of a craving that seems to know no end. Now, even when he does commit mass murder, he hardly ever feels any regrets over it. Then again, he also cannot remember what it was like to be a generally good person.

It's also been a very long while since he last cared enough about someone recently turned. There hasn't been anyone of significance since Marcel, he doesn't think, and that was almost 200 years ago. He'd forgotten how hard it was to see someone he loves struggling with their new nature. It's so difficult for him to relate... There are far too many things about himself that Klaus has grown to abhor over the course of his life, but his nature has never been one of those. He likes being strong, powerful, immortal. He even revels in being ruthless. And he's come to appreciate it all even more since he freed his werewolf side from the binding curse.

Marcel had been eager to become a vampire for years when Klaus finally turned him, he was ready to put up with all the consequences, but Caroline never wanted that for herself. She's a witch, and as such her very nature rejects the crookedness of vampirism.

He feels awfully selfish for feeling that Caroline's immortality is not such a terrible thing, especially when she's so clearly grappling with her new condition. Immortality has brought her back, it has given their daughter the chance to know her mother, and it's given the two of them forever. The jab of guilt is inevitable, though, because this is still all his fault. If he hadn't been so blind in his own greed, so arrogant, none of this would've happened. Caroline wouldn't have died, Eve would be here with them, and their first sunny morning together wouldn't be tarnished by such grimness.

He wants so badly to comfort her, but he doesn't know what to do, what to say. He feels awkward in such a situation, afraid of his own inadequacy to offer solace. Elijah would know what to do, of course. He always does. But perhaps this isn't something his brother can fix — or rather, not something that he should have to. Caroline is the mother of his child, the woman he loves, and he's the one who let her down.

He may not be able to understand her pain — what it was like for her to give birth in such abominable circumstances, to have the baby stolen from her arms whilst she bled to death — but he does know what it felt like for him. It was the single worst, most terrifying moment of his entire existence. And he certainly understands the ache of not having their daughter with them now, of seeing Caroline suffer like this.

He walks over to her, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to her. "You're hungry," he says, softly. "Your body is forcing you to feed by making you over-aware of your surroundings. It's telling you to hunt."

"I know. That's all I am now, all the time. Hungry."

"It gets better."

"What if it doesn't? What if I'm a ripper, like Stefan? What if, once I start, I can never stop? I had five blood bags last night, one after the other, and I could've easily had more."

"You're not a ripper," he says firmly. "You're nothing like Stefan."

She looks down at her own hands, folded across her lap, doubt clouding her eyes. "You don't know that," she says, in a small, fearful tone.

Klaus reaches out to her, cupping her face gently and forcing her to look at him levelly. "I do know that," he says, trying to find the right words. "Because I know you. Becoming a vampire doesn't magically turn you into a heartless monster. It amplifies what you already are, what you feel. And you're the single most obstinate person I know, Caroline. Your cravings aren't a sign of ripperism, it's just your body adapting to a new necessity. It's telling you what you need in order to survive. But I promise you it gets better, you will get better at it. And, frankly... The way you are, I can't imagine you'll take long to master it. You can bend anything to your will, even indestructible Originals. This will be easy."

He wasn't sure what to tell her to make her feel better, less helpless and let down, but the truth is, as he went, he realized he didn't even have to make anything up, or try to think of the best version of facts to give her. He just had to tell her the truth. Klaus honestly believes if there's anyone that can thrive as a vampire, it's Caroline Forbes.

He remembers being astounded by how she commanded a roomful of proud, supernatural beings during that bash Elijah threw. How the people in the Bayou looked up to her for guidance and comfort after the bombs. She made an ancient pack of werewolves devoted to her; didn't even flinch, not once, while she crossed the entire French Quarter on foot, in transition, to find their daughter. Caroline may doubt herself, she might hesitate at times, but she is a queen, even if she doesn't see it. The kind of flair she has cannot be bought or taught, and it cannot be killed either.

He realizes there's a darkness in her now that wasn't there before, and it's to be expected. The way she died, how they took their daughter away from her, it's bound to leave a scar that cannot be healed like the marks on her skin. There's a shadow lurking beneath the brightness, monsters and raging fury dancing behind her dazzling light. But the light is still there.

As he looks into her eyes, he watches the fear and the uncertainty unraveling inside, the shadows rippling through her, giving a different edge to her gaze, to the way she perceives the world around her. But he can also see the brightness trying to cover up the dark. The worst kind of cruelty could not break Caroline's spirit. And he loves her so much more for that.

Caroline's lips tip up into a tiny grin. "So what you're saying is I'm a paranoid control freak on steroids now, basically?"

"Well." Klaus arches his eyebrows. "Your words, not mine."

Caroline chuckles weakly, taking is hand in hers. She traces the lines on his palm with the tip of her finger. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a very short life line?"

"What is a life line?"

"It's that line here," she says, tracing it again. "The longer your life line, the longer you'll live."

"That sounds positively scientific."

"Says the hybrid," Caroline grins. "Yours is very short, which suggests an abrupt interruption. It's ironic, but it makes sense at the same time." She pauses, her expression becoming more somber all of a sudden. "How do you do that? Live forever."

"I don't know. You just do."

Caroline swallows, still not looking him in the eye. "You know, last night... I was pretty certain that I couldn't do it. Up until you showed up to take Eve, I was decided not to complete the transition."

"What?" Klaus bites out, suddenly all serious. "You were going to...?"

"Die?" Caroline nods, finally meeting his gaze. How can she look so placid whilst telling him that she planned on killing herself? And while he was conveniently away, nonetheless. "I didn't want to be a vampire and, more importantly, I didn't think I could. Transition was hard enough, I couldn't even begin to imagine what actually turning would be like."

"And you weren't going to say a thing?"

"What would you have done? You had to take Eve away, I couldn't simply tell you that — hey, by the way, I might not be here anymore when you come back. You would've shoved a blood bag down my throat."

"Of course I would!" Klaus slams back, all fiery indignation. "You can't possibly think I would've just let you kill yourself."

"And that's exactly why I didn't tell you. It wasn't about you, Klaus. The last minutes of my life were the worst I've ever had, and it was all coming back, playing over and over in my head, nonstop. My daughter was pulled from inside of me in the most brutal and painful way to be sacrificed. I held her for two seconds and then they slit my throat. And then I woke up feeling... Broken. Wrong. I couldn't feel my magic anymore. Even before I started practicing, I could always feel the world around me, like I was connected to every living, breathing thing, and then... Nothing. It was just... Dead. And that was transition. I knew it would be much worse once I became a vampire. But then... When you took her, and I looked at you, with our baby in your arms... I knew that couldn't be the last time I was seeing her. It couldn't be the last time I saw either of you. So I did it. I went to your stash downstairs and I drank the blood, and I kept drinking. And drinking. And drinking. And then when I went out with Elijah, to the memorial... I almost bit Cami. Right there, in front of everyone. My friend was hugging me, balling her eyes out about my dead daughter, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to eat her."

"Caroline -"

"I know what you're going to say. I got the talk from Elijah. It gets better, you'll learn how to control it, yadda yadda... It didn't make me feel reassured, though. I was... Falling apart, Klaus. I anticipated it would be awful, but it was even worse. It was pure agony. I could still feel the cut on my throat, their hands around me, holding me down as I tried to break free, - your screams were ringing in my head... I was sure I couldn't do it. If I could barely last an hour, how was I supposed to last eternity?"

Klaus finds it hard to keep his voice civil just then, a sour tang in his mouth. "It was my fault. I promised I'd protect you, that I'd never let any harm come your way, but I was too arrogant. In my vanity, I allowed my enemies to come too close, thinking that I could control them or take them all down with a snap of my fingers. I was bested and you paid for it."

Caroline scooches forward on the bed, sliding a hand up his neck and searching his gaze. "We were all bested. We all thought we were doing the right thing and they tricked us. There's no way we could've known that they were all in it together. How was anyone supposed to imagine Francesca Correa was a Guerrera werewolf when her family had been living in the Quarter for decades, right under Marcel's vampire nose, and he never suspected a thing? If you make yourself out to be responsible for something like this, you'll never forgive yourself."

"And I shouldn't. Perhaps neither should you."

"I don't blame you," she says, in a gentle but incisive, clipped tone.

"I've been making enemies my whole life, Caroline. I never realized how dangerous that was because I can't be destroyed and I've never had anything to lose. My family can't be killed, and whenever it got too risky, I put them into boxes and dragged them with me wherever I went. Nothing anyone could ever really take from me was truly precious. And then when I did find something that mattered, more than anything else... I was careless. What I feel for you doesn't just come by for creatures like me. I can't love something as much as I love you and let you be killed right before my eyes. There's no excuse."

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Caroline's eyes widen in surprise. She's rendered speechless for a moment, her heart giving a sudden lurch in her chest.

It's the first time Klaus has ever used the L word. To her, anyway. She doesn't even know how to react. Deep down, she's known this for a while, but there's still a power behind that word. It's definitely not every day Klaus admits to having feelings for anyone, but to actually say it out loud that he loves her... Even if it's just the two of them, Caroline feels the weight of his confession. She doesn't think he even realized what he was saying; it just slipped out.

As the initial shock wears off, Caroline wants to wrap her arms around him and pull him into her, but the look on his face stops her. At the same time a radiant feeling spreads across her chest, Caroline's heart breaks a little at his pinched expression, the shame darkening his face, the sheer hurt in the murky blue of his eyes. Klaus is a wreck, awash with guilt, ready to retreat back into his shell of misery and self-pity.

She regards him studiously, trying to find the right words to let him know exactly what's going through her head, to make him understand how he's the very thing keeping her together right now. But translating the most convoluted set of feelings she's ever had in her entire life into words is a challenge.

"Stefan told me once how vampires have some obsessive tendencies, because of all the emotions," she starts, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. Klaus gives her a very confused look, but Caroline just ploughs on. "He said, when it gets too much, doesn't matter if they're new or not, they — we — will focus on just one emotion, in order to placate the rest. He was trying to explain to me what was happening to Elena after she turned. She was off-balance, obsessing with your sister, trying to pick a fight that would probably end with her dead. He said she was focusing on one thing instead of letting everything in at once. It made sense, but I never really understood the mechanics of that, how it was possible to obsess over just one thing like that. Well... Last night I think I finally got it. I was totally overwhelmed by these... feelings. It felt more like torture, though. Like I was getting beaten into the ground by emotions. No one was built to be overrun by so much, so fast. And at some point, I don't know when exactly, I just knew that no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I was going to give in. It was stronger than me. Either one of those emotions would break me or all of them would.

"The thing is, I didn't have many positives to hold on to last night… I could've focused on the pain, the heartbreak, and then I'm not sure I would've made it through the night. Or I could've focused on the rage, the thirst for revenge, and become a killing machine in the blink of an eye. Or... I could've given in to the emptiness. To the hole inside of me where my magic was supposed to be. Let it take over and shut down my emotions so that I wouldn't feel it anymore. It would all be one big nothing. It was tempting. It still is, a little bit... Just seems easier. But instead… I focused on you."

Klaus' eyebrows bunch, a puzzled expression clouding his handsome face. "I needed something to hold on to, something strong enough so I wouldn't drown in all the awfulness. I needed to feel something that wasn't pain, or guilt, or anger, or hunger, to remind myself that I still have a human soul, even if my body isn't anymore. And what I found... Was you, Klaus. How I feel about you." Caroline pauses, her lips curling almost imperceptibly at the edges. "I love you."

The creases between Klaus' eyebrows deepen before smoothing out, her words registering like a shock. Caroline's smile spreads. "I died a couple of nights ago and I never said it. You should know that I love you. You should know that the reason why I even made it through the night, why I'm here right now, is you. It's because I love you. Because you made me remember, even if you didn't realize it, that I still have light inside of me, that I deserve to be loved. There was never anyone else for me, Klaus. It was always you. Only you."

She lets her confession travel, sink into him, and for the longest time, Klaus just peers at her, something vast and silent in his eyes. And then, slowly, a smile breaks onto his face, those stormy clouds dissolving at last. He leans forward, one of his arms snaking around her waist, their noses almost touching, giving Caroline enough time to move away from his grasp or stop it if she wanted. When she doesn't, he finally kisses her. Slow and soft and thoroughly. It's need and fondness and devotion, all mashed into one kiss.

When they finally pull away, Klaus looks the perfect mirror of how she feels: ecstatic, a little shaken and not entirely believing that, after everything, there's still some measure of happiness to be found. They haven't taken everything from them, and as long as they've got each other, they can still make it right.

"Promise me that we will make them pay," she says, sweet revenge flickering through her eyes, her mouth watering in anticipation.

"Every last one of them," he replies.

"I want to see the moment the light goes out in Francesca's eyes."

"They'll be brought to justice. We'll kill everyone who would dare hurt our daughter."

"And then we'll bring her back to us."

"I promise you, Caroline, I won't rest until she's here, with us, as a family."

That's what they are now. Family. And their bond is stronger than any Guerrera and any witch could ever hope to break.

Caroline presses a quick kiss to the corner of his lips again, sealing the deal. From this day on, they don't stop until Eve is back in her home, with her parents and her uncle — and, hopefully, her aunt as well. It's a promise.

"Then say it again," she coaxes.

"What?"

"What you said before. But wipe the misery off your face."

A luminous smile spreads across his lips, cutting dimples into his cheeks, a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes. And to think Caroline spent so many years denying the electricity that courses through her when he looks at her like that...

"I love you," he says, the words tender and warm, his unflinching gaze fixed on hers. "I love you, Caroline Forbes. Always and forever."

Caroline smiles like sunbeam, kissing his neck and then the edge of his jaw before gluing her mouth to his once more.

This isn't their happy ending. Not yet. But it's a damn good start.

Said I loved you without hesitation
So easy for you to break my foolish heart
Now I wonder if you ever speak my name
Will I always be defined by my mistakes?

In the eyes of a saint I'm a stranger
We're all trying to find a way
At the death of every darkness there's a morning
Though we all try, we all try
We're all one step from grace

I made myself believe
There was no fight left in me
But redemption doesn't fall down at your feet
In the half light, we raised a hand to my defeat
And I watched the world fall
And I rebuilt it piece by piece

In the eyes of a saint I'm a stranger
We're all trying to find a way
At the death of every darkness there's a morning
Though we all try, we all try
We're all one step from grace

The End.

SCREEN GOES BLACK. ENTER THE ORIGINALS LOGO. BLOOD DRIPS. ROLL THE CREDITS. TA-DA! :D

A/N 1: Regarding the baby name, I understand not everyone is going to be happy about this, but I had a thorough conversation with my beta (who was originally against this name choice) and she agreed, after reading this, that it was a fitting idea. And I personally liked it, it was my original idea, so I decided to go with it. If there's one thing I learned from that survey I conducted a few chapters back is that everyone has their own preferences, so I obviously don't expect you all to appreciate it. I do hope you'll feel good about it anyway, but if you don't, I feel really sorry, but it's done. lol

A/N 2: I just want to clarify, in case anybody did not watch TVD/TO or simply don't remember, that I didn't pull the whole "witches have a harder time transitioning into vampires" thing out of my ass. That's actually very canon. I'm saying this because some people might think 'Caroline is the best vampire, she would never' and things like that, but, even though she did have a hard time in her early days as a vampire, I figured, since she's a witch in this story, it would be even worse for her. Hence, this. Basically.

A/N 3: I know a lot of you were expecting her to be a heretic or even a regular hybrid. Sorry to disappoint, folks! lol Heretics are syphoning witches, which wasn't her case, and she's not a werewolf, so the hybrid part didn't really work either. She's a vampire (which feels like full circle to me? even though I liked witch!Caroline? I don't know). HOWEVER. In my head, there are some particularities to her condition, but I won't go into it cause it's irrelevant here. IF I ever decide to write season 2, and you still feel like reading it after this finale, you'll hear all about it.

A/N 4: The song at the end is the one that would play in that final (in my head, I have all these songs for scenes lol). It's Grace, by Rag'n'Bone Man. Did I totally steal that from the Season 4 finale? Yes. Do I care? Not really.

A/N 5: Yes, I realize the finale reads a bit open, but I also did write warnings about this several times before, and I believe some people even asked me directly and I was always honest about this. The Originals season 1, period. I tried to tie up the loose ends as best as I could, considering. I mean, season 1 finale is BLEAK. Like, everything hurts and we're all dying kind of thing. There's no closure for absolutely anyone. This at least puts our people in the path for redemption (and also in bed, which is where I wanted them to get since the very beginning) with a plan.

A/N 6: But Yokan, will you be writing season 2? The answer is I don't know. A month ago, it would've been a definitive NO. Now, I may be feeling more inclined, mostly because it's being very sad for me to say goodbye to this universe that I've come to enjoy a lot more than I ever thought I would. But writing another 300k words season is A LOT of work and A LOT of dedication and I'm not sure I want to commit myself to it because, frankly, I don't know if I have the motivation. Last few updates have been very slow and I'm thinking a lot of people might have given up and dropped out of reading this, so that's motivation number one gone. I'm not gonna ask you guys to comment and let me know if you'd be interested because, honestly, I DON'T KNOW IF I WILL EVER WRITE IT and there isn't a specific condition to make me change my mind. Having said that, if not enough people are interested, I definitely won't write it, if you all hate this and never want to read anything by me ever again. So this is Schrodinger's fanfiction for you. lol

But I'm more looking forward to knowing how you felt about THIS story and this finale than whether or not you'd like to read a follow up. If you did like this, then I'll know you'd be likely to give a season 2 a try (at least in theory lol). So if you do feel like dropping me a note here and making me feel better about this story and completing such a bold project (by my own standards for myself, of course), then I would love nothing more than to know more people out there have enjoyed reading this journey as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Since this might very well be the end of the line, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who stuck with me throughout this season and especially to those of you who were kind enough to let me know you appreciated this story! Writing this pushed me through some complicated moments and I am truly grateful that I had your comments and opinions and messages to motivate me to keep going. Truly appreciated it, guys!

Goodbye!