Details are intentionally vague but hopefully not confusing. Enjoy!

She still remembers Jenna after all this time. Of course only her imagination can supply what her face might have looked like the moment before the stake had been driven through her chest. Caroline remembers Tyler too. The way he had smiled at her that afternoon in the school hallway before his neck had been broken and he had been reborn to a new existence. She even remembers the look in his eyes when he had told her he loved her moments before he had bit her weeks later. Yes, Caroline still remembers. She remembers everything Klaus did.

If Bonnie were still here, she would angrily remind Caroline of much, much more. Of a millennium spent doling out death and destruction. But Bonnie is gone now; Elena is too. Tyler and Alaric hadn't lived through that final confrontation. Caroline still sometimes gets a call from Stefan or even Damon, but they left town long ago when it became clear that Elena's happiness and their continued presence in Mystic Falls were untenable. Only Matt is still around, but he no longer recognizes his own children, much less his onetime girlfriend.

Even if Bonnie were here to voice her objections and act as Caroline's conscience, Caroline suspects it wouldn't alter her current path. The demise of strangers no longer troubles her like it once did. From time to time that simple fact almost strikes her as tragic. The old Caroline might have been selfish and silly, but she also had a big heart for everyone. Would that young girl recognize herself in the creature that she had become? Perhaps Daddy had had the right idea after all, holding on to his integrity at all costs. But no, Caroline is utterly incapable of choosing death over life- a trait she shares with the sole occupant of this tomb.

It is dusty in the tiny circular chamber; a single shaft of sunlight from a crack in the ceiling is the only source of illumination. From the generous amounts of dust littering every surface it is clear that no one has been here in decades, probably not sense he had been placed here. Her gaze is drawn inexorably to his resting spot and her feet soon follow. She is before the coffin before she can even remember making the conscious decision to move, almost as if she were still a human that could be compelled. Her fingers trail over the polished wood of the coffin caressingly, like a pianist over smooth ivory keys.

It's now or never. It had taken a year to find the spell Bonnie had used to seal him in-an ancient curse tucked away safely in a hidden grimoire-and another two years to find a witch willing to undertake the spell to break it. Caroline is certain that he has been freed from the spell's reach hours ago. She had witnessed firstand the incantation being performed in the spot where the White Oak had once stood. He still remains in sleep, however, like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty in the tales she had loved as a little girl. But she is no prince, and it is not a kiss that will bring him back to waking life.

She pries open the lid of the coffin easily, the protesting sound from its ancient hinges reverberating in the stillness of the crypt. Even now, she almost changes her mind. His face looks handsome and serene, with none of the lively mischief or quick-trigger anger she is used to seeing on his features. His face had always been a shifting kaleidoscope of emotions, it seems wrong to see him looking so peaceful in sleep. Wordlessly, she reaches down to her side and produces a blood bag from her purse. Ripping a corner away with her teeth, she leans forward, carefully allowing the liquid to ooze from the plastic into his parted mouth. He remains motionless for a moment, before his entire body starts and he begins to drink. He laps up the blood hungrily, as if he can never get enough, but his eyes remain shut.

Once the last of the blood has disappeared, he finally opens his eyes and takes in the blonde vampire looming over him. He seems to consider her a moment, expressionless. His voice sounds hoarse from disuse as he mutters at length a single question: "Why?"

"Who knows," she tosses off casually as ever, still a teenager at heart while her friends are in the ground. Despite her careless, singsong tone, there is something almost solemn about the way her fingers move to his lips, carefully rubbing a trickle of blood away from the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I'm finally ready to really live now. Maybe you seem like the person to do it with."

He continues to stare at her intently, not making any move to pry the heavy chains that wrap his folded arms securely to his chest, although she suspects he could do so in an instant. His eyes are slightly narrowed as he takes in every detail of her appearance, as if she were a puzzle he was not quite certain of the answer to.

"Do you think you could do that?" she asks conversationally, leaning an elbow against the coffin's lid and cupping her face in her open hand as she gazes down at him. "Leave off the vengeance and the hybrid armies for a few decades at least?" There is something almost flirtatious in her tone, in the way her free hand plucks at the fabric of his shirt. His outfit is horribly outdated now; they'll have to do something about that straight away. Her mind is already moving in the direction of such frivolities when his next question demands her attention once again, cutting across her excited plans for the future.

"Will you stay with me this time?" His tone is quick and cutting. And finally, anger glitters in his eyes. He remembers too. Remembers her flight before the final battle, her ultimate unwillingness to go against her friends. It had been only the last in a long string of betrayals, but it cut deeply all the same.

She holds his gaze calmly, appearing unperturbed by the aggression apparent in his expression and voice. A moment later, she reaches down and begins to remove the heavy iron chains from around his body.

"Cross my heart," she whispers in his ear, wanting nothing more than to place a kiss on his downturned mouth. "Hope to die."

The chains fall off a second later and the power shifts between them accordingly as he unfurls his body and sits up. She takes a step back but remains silent and still, despite a vague fluttering of nerves, watching as he effortlessly pushes himself out of the coffin to stand before her on the cold stone ground. He moves his head to one side gingerly, and the bones in his neck creak in protest. His eyes never leave hers.

He seems to be considering her again for a long moment, his hand reaching out and cupping her neck. She is unsure at first if he intends to bring her closer with it or throw her against the wall. Perhaps he isn't certain himself. Whatever the silent mental debate raging in his mind, he seems to come to a decision quickly. His features soften almost imperceptibly and a gentler emotion sparks in his eyes once more.

"Time to leave Mystic Falls then," he announces with a small, decisive nod. His index finger strokes once down the long column of her throat, lingering on the hollow of her collarbone.

"Seriously overdue." She offers him a smile, allowing herself to be pulled closer by his other hand at her back. Caroline never could fight the undertow. Klaus is a force as irresistible as gravity. "How 'bout Paris?"

"Paris," he mulls, drawing the two syllables out as if tasting them. "Why not?" Both of his hands suddenly slide down to her waist, gripping tightly through the thin layer of fabric. She finds herself abruptly lifted into the air, his lips pressed against her throat. She feels the nip of teeth in the same spot a moment later, but it only makes her smile widen. It seems suddenly as if no time has passed between them since those few months of stolen moments and secret embraces that not even watchful Stefan had caught on to.

"Will you write me poetry? Hold my hand as we walk along the Seine?" she teases, making no move to be set down.

"Sweetheart," he announces clearly, slowing lowering her back to the ground. "You'll never be rid of me." There is a subtle threat laced with that soft promise. But Caroline's tastes have been refined over the years. She finds that a measure of bitterness only makes a drink more complex and therefore the more memorable. She thinks she could happily sip what Klaus is offering her for eternity.

They leave for France the next day, and while the faces of her long-gone friends remain in her heart, Klaus's is the only one she sees when she opens her eyes.