Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or its characters. If I did, The Originals would never have happened, Kol would be alive and happily causing mayhem somewhere, and Klaus and Caroline would be travelling the world and sexing it up.

When her mother dies and her world turns to ashes in her mouth, and she finally decides to get it together and to flip her switch back on the first person she turns to isn't Stefan. It isn't Damon, or it isn't even Elena, because lord knows she's just about had her fill of her high and mighty supposed best friend.

She turns to the devil, to the man who is wreathed in more darkness than hell itself can contain. The man rules a city from a mansion with his family, and the one person who cares for her above everything else.

When she calls, he doesn't pick up on the first, or even the second ring. In fact for the first time in forever it goes straight through to voicemail. She listens to his voicemail greeting; that clipped British accent so foreign and so familiar all at once.

It makes her smile and it makes her want to cry, but she takes a breath and leaves a message.

"Hey Klaus. I sort of made a mess of things here and I think I need to get away… I think I'm only just starting to realise that I'm not human anymore which seems kind of stupid because it's what you've been trying to tell me for all this time isn't it?"

She pauses, taking another breath.

"You said that one day you'd show me the world. And it's a lot earlier than I expected, and I know you're probably dealing with stuff in New Orleans, but I want to see the world."

When she finally places her phone on her night stand she most definitely does not compulsively check it every minute to make sure that she doesn't miss his call. She does however, set her ring tone to the loudest possible volume, not wanting to miss it even with her super vampire hearing.

But the phone never rings.

And she tries to swallow her disappointment, because maybe she pushed him away hard enough that he's decided that she's not worth the trouble anymore, that he couldn't be bothered to wait around for her when there's women that are probably older, more experienced, and more like him.

They say that opposites attract, but maybe she's a bit too full of light for him.

She packs a suitcase anyway, because never let it be said that the new and improved vampire her gets moody over a guy. He doesn't deserve her anyway.

So she's surprised when she almost trips over the padded envelope propped up against her door the very next morning when she's prepared to leave for the airport without saying goodbye to anyone.

She recognises the writing on the outside of the envelope instantly, and can't help but glance warily around at the tree line surrounding her backyard, like she's hoping that he'll materialise from thin air to do a follow up on his obvious dramatics.

But the ripping sound of the envelope giving way beneath her nails is the only sound she hears.

There are only two things inside the envelope. The first is a plane ticket, one way, first class (of course), with the destination printed below her passenger details.

London.

The second is an old and worn photograph, and it takes her a moment to realise that her hands are shaking when she unfolds it. It's yellowed with age and spotted with god only knows what, but the view across the Thames of Big Ben and the House of Parliament is unmistakeable.

She has to squint, because there's something scrawled across the photograph in a familiar, crawling script that used to make her heart race and her stomach sick with fear. But for now at least, she feels oddly at peace.

I would never presume to deny you anything

London is particularly beautiful this time of year.

Klaus

London is crowded and bustling and full of life, a grey sky covering the whole city like a blanket. It's a place she never thought she needed in her life, and as she clutches her guidebook to her chest with wide eyes she has to pinch herself because she actually can't believe that she's here right now.

She'd been disappointed, when Klaus hadn't been there to meet her at the airport. But someone else had, a greying older man with her name on a sign like they did with famous people in the movies.

She'd been driven in a town car to Claridges, one of the most luxurious hotels in London. And of course, once she'd arrived to her room there had been nothing but a piece of paper neatly folded on her pillow.

And that same familiar writing hadn't offered condolences, or words of flattery. Instead, it had been a simple list of suggestions, places to visit, places to see.

Make sure you catch the Big Ben at sunrise

The Camden Markets are something that can't be missed

Romeo and Juliet is showing at The Globe Theatre tomorrow evening

She's reluctant at first to follow his suggestions, but eventually she runs out of things to do and caves. The Big Ben at sunrise is unlike anything she's ever witnessed, and she does fall in love with the Camden Markets. She can feel the very passage of time itself when she sees Romeo and Juliet at the Globe.

He guides her to the best bars, nightclubs, restaurants, cafes, and everything else that she could possibly ever want or need. And she should find it scary just how well he knows her, but at the end of the day he's giving her an experience she wouldn't have been able to have by herself and for that she's grateful.

The ache in her chest starts to hurt a little less, and she stops seeing her mother everywhere she goes. And although it's going to be a long time before she stops missing the woman that she had loved and respected so much she knows that one day she's going to wake up and she's going to be okay.

And she thinks that the thing that surprises her most is that he hasn't yet shown himself. Surely he must be around the city somewhere, unless he's officially reached new levels of micro management and he's guiding her on an overseas trip from New Orleans.

But somehow she knows that it's not his style, and the level of detail and planning that goes into the places that he guides her to each day could only be achieved by someone either with an intimate knowledge of the city, or someone who was staying in the city.

She keeps an eye out for him after that small realisation. And she thinks that she sees him sometime, hovering on the peripherals of her vision, almost there but not quite. Like a ghost, like a mirage. It's the reflection of sunlight off sandy blonde hair, an accent floating across a crowded square when she concentrates hard enough to pick out his voice from hundreds of others.

It's maddening and infuriating, and she can't help but think that she's caught in a game of cat and mouse with him. But she knows that this is happening on his terms, as always. He will appear when he's good and ready and not a moment before.

She can be patient. She can wait.

When she gets back to her hotel after a long day of pounding the pavement and drinking in the art and the music and the culture there's a gift bag waiting on her bed, the familiar logo of a jewellery store stamped across the blue bag.

Her heart quickens in her chest as she approaches the bed, picking up the bag like it's a poisonous creature out to get her. She glances suspiciously around the room once, because while expected this is still sort of creepy.

She's surprised then, when all she finds is an innocuous looking box. It takes her a moment to slide the lid off before the silver linked charm bracelet is spilling out onto her palm.

Its worlds away from the diamond bracelet he'd gifted her with so long ago, breathtaking in it's simplicity, but still probably costing an absolute fortune. There's a stock card to go with the bracelet, and her breath catches when she reads the words.

I saw you admiring this in the window earlier in the day. Consider this as a memento of your time in London. I hope the city was everything you hoped it would be.

- Klaus

And this time, she doesn't hesitate when she slips the bracelet onto her wrist, admiring the way the silver Big Ben charm catches in the light of the dying sun.

When she gets back from dinner there's another ticket waiting on her bed.

As beautiful as Paris is, it's not really the city for her. She loves the hustle and bustle of the French, but she's not in love with it like she thought she'd be.

There are far too many humans for her to ever be comfortable standing shoulder to shoulder with people, and she'd had to warn away a pick pocketer who had tried to steal her purse off her shoulder while she'd tried to give an elderly couple directions to the Eifel Tower from the Arc d Triomphe.

It's not until she's underground, viewing the Catacombs of Paris that she feels the very hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her heart quickens, venom floods her mouth, and she turns her head just in time to see him slip into place behind a brunette in their tour group, who immediately turns and gives him an obvious onceover.

He flashes the brunette a charming smile, and her scoff is loud even to her ears as his gaze rests on her. If that girl knew exactly who she was checking out with the idle curiosity that she envied others sometimes, if she knew exactly what the handsome blonde man standing behind her was capable of…

The devil standing across the way stuffs his hands into his pockets, eyes still resting on hers and a lazy smirk painted across his features.

And she drinks the sight of him in, because it hits her like a truck all of a sudden, just how much she's missed that smirk, that effervescent charm, the ability to be at ease and dominate any situation that he's in. His presence seems to fill the small space, and she clutches at the strap of her small handbag and swallows audibly.

Because she's missed it, she realises. A part of her has missed him.

To his credit, he doesn't speak to her until they're back above ground, and she's adjusting to the sudden assault of light on her senses.

"Good afternoon Caroline." He greets her politely, hands clasped behind his back as they both stare out at the bustling street before them. "How did you enjoy London?"

She turns to him, cocking her head to the side.

"Why weren't you there to meet me?" She asks curiously, ignoring his previous question in favour of asking one of her own.

Klaus smirks, gaze not directed towards her, sunglasses covering his eyes.

"I see you took my advice and went to the Camden markets." He replies quietly, tugging gently at the scarf looped around her neck. "And I thought that you would want some time to yourself after everything that had happened. Stefan called. I almost got on a plane to Mystic Falls then and there just to snap his neck."

She pauses for a long moment, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she forces air into her lungs.

"I thought you were going to show me the world. Would you like to travel with me?" She asks, and he has to actually lean closer to her to hear her properly, super enhanced hearing and all.

The smile on his face is dangerous and thrilling all at once, and he doesn't say anything, simply offers her his arm.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Okay when I said travel together, sharing a hotel room was so not what I had in mind." She throws at him as he nudges her into the room before him. "You are so sleeping on the couch." She adds as Klaus deposits the keys onto the side table with a roll of his eyes.

"I figured we'd hit this road block sooner or later sweetheart. This is why we have a two bedroom suite." He replies, setting her suitcase outside a closed door.

She swallows her embarrassment as she watches him disappear into the other room, taking in the décor with a quick, sweeping glance.

He doesn't seem the least bit affected at her apparent rejection, and that stings a little bit because she's sort of become used to it, a constant that's been in her life for almost a year now, a temptation that she's been fighting against because although he's done plenty of awful things and there was that one time he was going to sacrifice her in some ancient ritual, he's actually pretty easy on the eyes and there's a depth to him that is both surprising and attractive.

He might be the devil, but he's more than just a pretty face. As if guessing the train of her thoughts he braces himself against the door frame.

"How about you get settled in and we can go and get something to eat?" He prompts gently as she nods dumbly at him.

It's still strange, seeing him here standing in front of her in the flesh. He's not a mirage, or an apparition, and she actually has to resist the urge to reach out and poke him in the chest because how is she going to explain that one away?

She leaves her door open as she digs around in her suitcase for an appropriate dress to wear, humming to herself under her breath as she finally digs out a dress and a pair of heels that match.

She slips them on, pausing long enough to spray some perfume and check to make sure her bracelet is still there.

"Okay so where are we going for dinn-" She pauses, words dying in her throat as she stops short at the sight before her.

Klaus is out on the balcony talking quietly into the phone. His back is to her and he's wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist and tied in a knot at his side.

Klaus finally turns, and she resists the urge to drag her eyes down his body as he gives her a knowing smile, head still bent as he listens to the person on the other end. He holds up one elegant finger, mouthing that he'll only be a minute as she nods to herself and tries to think of some way to make it look like she hadn't just been openly staring at him.

He wraps up his conversation as promised and practically stalks towards her, wicked gleam in his eye as he gives her an obvious once over.

He leans in close to her, and he's close enough that she can see the water droplets formed on his chest, the quiet power contained beneath just beneath his skin.

"You're lucky we're sharing separate bedrooms sweetheart." He breathes out, his breath hot against her ear. "You look ravishing in that dress."

She feels like a deer caught in headlights as she blinks back at him, watching as his lips curl into a glorious smile.

"Besides, I like sleeping in the nude."

And then she blinks, and he's gone.

"Okay so who decided that snails would become typical French cuisine?" She says a little distastefully as she prods at the hard shell with her fork.

Klaus lets out a long suffering sigh as he pours her out a glass of champagne.

"Actually sweetheart, evidence suggests that the French have been eating snails since prehistoric times. And the trick is to not think about what you're eating." He informs her with a quick smile, popping the fleshy innards of the escargot into his mouth and chewing.

She manages to spear her own snail with the fork, trying not to look at the shape and texture of it. She closes her eyes and closes her lips around the fork, trying not to bite down in case Klaus is just pulling her leg and it ends up tasting foul.

"You actually have to chew it Caroline." Klaus explains patiently as he takes a sip of his champagne.

She's actually surprised at the taste, buttery and garlic infused all at once, and she can almost almost forget what she's eating. She swallows and immediately reaches for her champagne, downing most of the glass in a few gulps.

Klaus chuckles, pouring some more for her.

"New experiences come with seeing the world. That wasn't so bad was it?" He asks knowingly, and she hides her growing smile by taking another drink of champagne.

They stop by a blood bar that night, because apparently Paris has this whole vampire underground scene going on that seemingly no humans know about. On the outside it's like an obscenely expensive looking club, but on the inside vampires mill about and blood is poured freely into crystal cut tumblers and it's all pretty fancy.

Klaus orders her favourite blood type without having to ask and she doesn't wonder how he knows that, just goes with it and clinks her glass against his and looks around with wide eyes.

"I had no idea places like this even existed." She voices out loud as she tries not to squirm under the gaze of a male vampire passing by. He's looking at her like she's a prize to be won and she most certainly does not enjoy it, which is why she leans into Klaus' touch when he wraps an arm a little possessively around her waist.

"Vampirism has been around for a lot longer in Europe. You'll find places like this in almost every major European city, and some smaller ones. You just have to know where to look." Klaus murmurs into her ear as she swirls the blood around her glass.

They go out dancing that night, and although she doesn't recognise any of the music playing the euphoric atmosphere in the club is the best kind of high. She orders a drink and heads straight for the dance floor, Klaus choosing to watch from a place at the bar.

She closes her eyes and swivels her hips, letting the music take over. She could almost feed off people's emotions in here, never mind their blood.

A French boy gets too handsy with her, and before she can deal with him herself she feels a warm arm curl around her stomach, a strong chest press against her back. She doesn't have to turn around to know that it's Klaus, and she clutches his arm warningly and gives a minute shake of her head.

Klaus is Klaus, and she'd rather not have bloodshed on the dance floor tonight, not while she's having so much fun. She leans back into his chest, tipping her face up towards his.

There's a tick in his jaw and she can tell that he's forcibly restraining himself, stopping himself from ripping into the boy before her and spilling his blood all over the slick floor.

"I've got this." She promises him, before she's crooking her finger with a come hither motion towards the younger boy.

He's either brave or stupid, because he steps closer, all up in her personal space. It doesn't take long for her to compel her way past a haze of alcohol and drugs, and tell him to leave her the hell alone. Just for good measure she adds that he should be respectful of women.

Consider it her good deed for the day.

The music changes and the bass drops and she's practically vibrating, glass still held in hand as she finishes off her drink. Klaus still has one hand pressed over her stomach, still holding her against him in such a way that she can't escape.

She doesn't want to escape, she realises as he noses down the column of her neck, pressing a ghost of a kiss beneath that sensitive spot near the shell of her ear.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to forget the rough dig of bark at her back, that thing he did with his hips that made her see stars. He'd had a thousand years to practice the art of sex and seduction and manipulation, and she'd been a willing recipient that one time in the forest when she'd been a little bolder and a little less vulnerable.

She's rescued by the club lights switching on, the business finally shutting down for the night. The startling change is like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown on her, so she reaches for Klaus' hand instead and pulls him out into the cool night air.

She tries to forget the feeling of being in his arms.

She files 'jumping Klaus's bones' away in a box that's tightly sealed and labelled with 'do not go there,' because although yeah he might have been right about the whole allure of darkness thing, she's not even sure if she's ready to open that particular Pandora's Box again.

Klaus does nothing further to torment her, instead remains surprisingly civil and amiable as he guides her through Rome, sharing the history of the great city that was once one of the greatest empires the world had ever seen.

It's fascinating to hear history like this as they wind their way through the Colosseum at midnight, having compelled the guard to let them in. It's eerily quiet, the absence of hundreds of people that usually fill the vast space providing a strange sort of stillness.

They break into the Sistine Chapel and he doesn't say anything, simply joins her on the floor where she's lying and staring up at the painted roof in awe. It's unlike anything she's ever seen, and she wonders how someone could have laboured over something so beautiful for so long, wishing she had the patience to do the same.

Perhaps one day she would.

He points out some techniques, one hand folded over his chest, using the other to trace out a particular scene or story or what the motivation was for Michelangelo.

"Is this the part where you boast about how well you knew him and how you were buddies?" She asks lightly, and immediately regrets her words when she feels him go stiff beside her.

"I did know him actually." He returns quickly. "He was a great man. Rebekah was his favourite though."

And that's it. He doesn't elaborate, and he doesn't boast and it surprises her. She tucks her chin into his shoulder in a silent apology as he runs a hand gently along her waist.

"Will you tell me about him?"

And it's his voice that lulls her into sleep as the paintings and the colours seem to swirl before her eyes.

When she next opens it she's back in the hotel room, blankets tucked securely around her and boots resting carefully at the foot of her bed.

And she tries to blink away the mental image of him tucking her into bed so tenderly, because it's far too uncharacteristic of him and it scares her.

"What was your favourite period of history?" She asks him suddenly the next afternoon, where they're sharing a bottle of Prosecco and being punted down the Grand Canal of Venice in a gondolier.

He's sprawled across the opposite seat to her, looking every inch like a supermodel that's about to have his photograph taken. She actually snaps a sneaky one with her iPhone, but of course it doesn't escape his notice as he graces her with a quick smile.

He looks thoughtful for only a moment before giving her his answer.

"Probably the Renaissance. Everything changed during that period of time; politics, culture, art. It was a true rebirth of lost knowledge and it was a beautiful thing to witness."

She likes Venice. It's crumbling and ancient and within the next 100 years it'll probably be underwater but for now at least there's a strange sort of untamed beauty about it, and it's fast becoming one of her favourite places.

She stumbles across some street graffiti, a whole wall of it as she runs her fingers over worn sandstone.

"Do you know what any of it means?" She asks Klaus curiously, who's studying the writing with a furrowed brow.

"Of course." He returns lightly. "I'm reasonably fluent in Italian. What are you most curious about?"

She hides her smile.

"All of it really. But what about this one?" She asks, pointing to a short, three word sentence.

"Che sara sara." He pronounces promptly, tongue manoeuvring the romance language with ease. "What is to be will be." He adds with a smile.

"And this one?" She asks, running her fingers over a slightly longer sentence. She wouldn't mind learning a language, especially if she's planning on coming back.

Klaus pauses for a long moment, glancing at her somewhat warily. She raises an eyebrow expectantly in his direction as she sighs.

"Chi la dura la vince. He who perseveres wins at last."

She falls silent at that, because isn't that just the story of their lives?

"What about your least favourite part of history?" She asks, many hours later when her feet are sore and her hair is tangled by the wind. They've explored possibly every corner of Venice that can be explored on foot, and they've got maybe one more day before Klaus whisks them off to somewhere else.

She has to catch his arm to forcibly stop him from entering his bedroom, and he glances strangely down at her hand, where it's curled into the fabric of his ever present Henley.

He turns to face her, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Would you let me show you?"

There's a strange sort of atmosphere that still hangs over Auschwitz concentration camp even decades later as it stands empty. They're here before the dawn, grey sky slowly giving way to gold as the sun creeps slowly over the hills.

He guides her carefully over the railroad that stretches to the building before them, a lost symbol of the last journey of hundreds of thousands of innocent souls. There's a strange sort of depravity and malevolence she can taste on the air, and she shivers violently, pulling her jacket more tightly around her body.

She can almost feel the suffering and the horror, pressing down on her with an almost suffocating force, time not healing wounds created here.

Her boots crunch into pebbled paths as they silently wander across the camp, taking in the watch tower, and the high walls, and the few remaining cabins where hundreds of innocents used to cram into the same small space, persecuted only because of the different set of beliefs that they held.

It's harrowing and awful and still Klaus says nothing as she tucks a hand into the crook of his arm and rests her head against his shoulder. She feels his muscle flex beneath her hand, his head tilted towards her in a silent acknowledgement as she lets him lead her across a bridge and to another building.

And it's only when she sees the chimney on the roof that she digs her heels in, because she just knows intrinsically what this is, that this was a gas chamber where hundreds of thousands of people went to die with a sort of clinical precision that was perfected by humans during this period of time.

Klaus offers her his hand, and she reaches out to take it without hesitating this time.

"You asked me about my least favourite period of history." He begins without preamble as he pushes open a rusted door and steps through it, guiding her over the heightened step.

The tiles are yellowed with age, but the silence is suffocating, and his voice bounces all around the small space. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to block out the ghosts of hundreds of thousands, who met their end in this room and suffered so much for it.

"We think of monsters as those with fangs and fur and claws." Klaus continues, one thumb sweeping over the back of her hand gently. "But it never ceased to disgust me just how much humans had perfected killing each other over such a short period of time. And so quickly and ruthlessly."

A single tear slips down her cheek as she stares, shocked around the small chamber. In another life, in another place this might have been her, or him, or someone that she loved.

She jumps at the feeling of his knuckles brushing against her cheek, smoothing away the moisture left behind. She can't see much in the darkness, but she can see enough to know that his expression is tender, open, broken down.

"And it made me think that if humans held so little value for their own lives, and the lives of each other… why should I?"

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle clicks into place, and she finally feels like she understands what it is that makes him tick, the complicated swirl of emotions and motivations and experiences that have forged him and made him into the person that he is today.

As always, he is still a study in contradictions.

She keeps her hand in his as they leave out the front gate, and she cranes her neck back to read the words twined within the metal of the gate itself.

Three words.

"What do they mean?" She tugs him to a stop, and despite his obvious strength he lets her, instead turning his gaze towards the top of the gate, disgust and disdain written plain across his features.

His German pronunciation is crisp and flawless and it sounds entirely natural rolling off his tongue.

"Arbeit Macht Frei. Work makes one free."

He's strangely silent for the rest of their day together, and they both get ready for bed in a strange, melancholy sort of silence. He pauses as they stop before the door to her room, and he ducks down quickly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, smoothing away some hair.

"Goodnight sweetheart."

That night she waits an hour before pushing in the door to his room and climbing onto his bed. He's half hazy with sleep but he lifts the covers for her and she settles in against his chest, listening out for his heartbeat.

She's surprised when she learns that it's just as strong as hers.

"I didn't show you all of that today so that you'd feel sorry for me." He voices in the silence, emboldened as ever by the darkness.

"I don't feel sorry for you. But I think I understand a little bit."

That night she learns what it's like to be in his bed, and she's surprised when she finds that she doesn't exactly hate how it makes her feel.

She sees him differently now she realises, as he hitches his back pack further up his shoulder and continues on up the grassy hill.

There's something different about him. He's softer, displaying more kindness and compassion than she'd ever hope to see from him. That ever present smirk is more often than not a gentle smile, and while she'd never admit it out loud this softer side of her sort of terrifies her a little.

Because it opens up a whole world of possibilities that she didn't want to consider before her mother's death.

He doesn't want to make her switch off her humanity again, but he makes her want to turn away from the things that make her human; a small town life, a college degree, a boyfriend and a white wedding.

Things change and she's changed and a part of her thinks that she can't ever have that anymore, not now that she's seen all that the world has to offer.

She's totally having a Sound of Music moment here, even if they are in Switzerland and in the wrong country. And she really wants to throw her arms out and twirl around and sing at the top of her lungs but she also knows that she's going to look totally stupid.

She opts of course, for the former, listening to the musical chuckle that echoes from in front of her.

She collapses on her back in the soft, green grass, squinting up at the cornflower blue sky and the countless fluffy white clouds scudding gently across the wide expanse.

Klaus blocks out the sun as he peers down at her with one brow arched, and she reaches up a hand and pulls him to his knees with one quick movement. His knees bracket her hips, and he's looking down at her with barely concealed awe, like he can't believe that she's real.

"We didn't have far to go sweetheart." He says softly, lips curling into a sinful smile. She tries not to stare.

"We have all of the time in the world." She tells him knowingly as his smile grows wider if possible.

"That we do." He agrees quietly, one thumb teasing along the strip of skin between her jeans and her top.

She closes her eyes at the sensation, fighting the urge to arch her hips up into his. She jumps slightly at the feel of his lips pressing into the column of her throat, a dry, steady drag as he presses gentle kisses into her flushed skin.

"Where would you like to go next?" He murmurs into her ear, fingers twitching along her ribs like he wants to map her skin with his hands, cover her body with his.

She wants to let him.

But he's hovering above her, so insistent and hesitant at the same time. And as always, he's giving her a choice. He's shown her all that he can in such a short amount of time, and surely he can't leave New Orleans behind forever.

He's giving her an out.

But she doesn't want it.

"I want to go home." She breathes into his ear, feels his body stiffen above hers, hands gripping her waist in a vice like grip.

"Home." He repeats roughly. "Back to Mystic Falls?" He asks bitterly as she frowns up at him, gripping his chin gently and forcing him to look at her.

She's teetering on the edge of something great here, and it's a bit like that Taylor Swift song where she sings about something lasting forever or going down in flames.

She knows which she'd prefer.

"No Klaus." She corrects him gently. "I want to see your home. I never thought I'd hear myself say this but I'm getting kind of tired of travelling. I'd like to stay somewhere for a little while." She voices tentatively, playing with his necklace that's dangling between them.

Klaus stares at her for a long moment, brow furrowing with confusion.

"You want to come to New Orleans?" He asks, clarifying like he can hardly believe what he's hearing.

She nods, tangling fingers through sandy blonde curls and tugging his face down towards hers.

She breathes her answer as she finally presses their lips together.

"Yes."

And later that evening it seems entirely natural for her to let him peel her clothes away from her body, and worship her for hours with hands and lips, so different to the raw and desperate fucking that they'd done once before, when they thought that it would be the last time.

When they're both finally sated she lets him pull her into the circle of his arms, and she doesn't plan on moving for a very long time.

It's the perfect way to start forever.

"Well I never thought I'd see the day when Nik got the girl." Rebekah drawls as soon as Klaus helps her out of the front seat of the car.

She looks up at the French Colonial style mansion with awe, rolling her eyes towards Rebekah good naturedly.

"Technically I got him, but who's keeping track?" She replies airily, waving a hand dismissively towards Rebekah as Klaus chuckles from behind her.

Rebekah's eyes track her brother's movements lazily, one perfect brow rising when Klaus moves to get their suitcases out of the trunk.

"You've got him more whipped than even I thought possible. I'd say well done but I've yet to experience this new version of Nik. For all I know he might be even more volatile than before."

She hooks her handbag around her arm and steps towards Rebekah with a quick grin.

"Somehow I find that hard to believe. Nice place you've hooked yourself here."

Rebekah looks pleased for an instant before turning on her heel and gesturing for them to follow.

"It does the job nicely. You'll have to excuse the mess, Kol threw a party and he has yet to clean up from it. It seems that Elijah doesn't quite have the same authority over our younger brother as you do Nik."

She reaches out for Klaus' arm as she watches his gaze darken, taking in the messy courtyard, empty bottles and glasses strewn around the wide expanse.

"If he knows what's good for him he'll have it cleaned within the hour!" He raises his voice threateningly, and she muffles her giggle in her fist when she hears a long suffering sigh echo from the landing above.

"You spoil all my fun Nik." Kol appears on the mezzanine, grinning down at his older brother. "And I see you've finally managed to convince the lovely Caroline to come and stay with us. I give her a week before she runs screaming from you. You never were good at permanency."

"Did you like being daggered Kol? Because that certainly can be arranged." Klaus bites out through gritted teeth as she exchanges a glance with Rebekah, who just shrugs.

"And once again brother dearest, you prove just how original you are in your threats. It's getting a bit old don't you th-"

Kol's eyes bulge as he lets out a pained moan, a piece of wood sticking out through his stomach.

Elijah steps around Kol, leaning against the balcony seemingly unaffected by the fact that he'd just stabbed his younger brother with a piece of splintered wood.

"Welcome Ms Forbes, and please forgive my younger brother's rudeness. It seems that he's still adjusting." Elijah says with a pleasant enough smile, hand darting out and pulling the makeshift wooden stake from Kol's stomach.

Kol groans, slumping against the balcony with a muttered curse.

"Be nice to your brother Kol. I think you'll find him much changed." Elijah remarks knowingly, a wink in her direction as she gapes back at him open mouthed.

"Well." Rebekah voices, clapping her hands together once. "Now that this pleasant family reunion is over, perhaps I can show Caroline to where she'll be staying?" Rebekah asks Klaus, who gives her a sharp nod.

She follows the other blonde into the shade of the house and up the stairs, countless doors on either side of the hallway leading to god only knows where.

Rebekah pauses before a particular room, twisting the doorknob and ushering her through.

She's not sure what she was expecting, but she's surprised at just how open and airy the room is. Three floor to ceiling windows provide most of the light streaming into the room, soft white curtains billowing gently in the breeze.

The room is decorated in blue and white, accents of yellow here and there in the form of a bed spread and a desk and a lamp shade. There's a bookshelf for any books that she might need, a wardrobe ready for her clothes.

"This is your room for as long as you'd like it. I'll leave you to get settled in." Rebekah says kindly.

She steps further into the room, taking it all in with a soft smile on her face.

"Do you like it?" Klaus voices from behind her, and she jumps, having forgotten for a moment that he was still there.

"I do." She confirms with a nod, running a hand over the fabric of the bed spread.

"I'm glad." He replies softly, setting down her suitcase and coming to kneel before her.

It's strange, seeing him in such a submissive position, and she senses that this is most definitely a one time thing, perhaps the first time that he's willingly done something like this.

She reaches out and takes his hand, fingers lacing with his.

"Thanks for showing me the world. Even if it was a small part of it."

He presses a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, expression surprisingly tender.

"You are most welcome. Was it everything you hoped for?"

She pauses for a moment, considering her answer.

"No. It was so much more."

AN: I've always wanted to do a Klaus and Caroline travel the world, and this was my take on it.

This pretty much disregards everything that happens in The Originals, because Kol is alive and in his own body and I really hate that fucking show.