and we pass on the same, a vampire diaries fanfic

non-chronological, first long (-er ish) thing written from caroline's perspective, bear with me. find me at lady-september[.]tumblr[.]com.

caroline/stefan, caroline/damon, caroline/klaus, stefan/elena. character death.

and we pass on the same
Lady September

Stefan is always there to catch her, until he isn't anymore.

The older Salvatore brother shows up on her doorstep three days after the not-so-epic showdown between the different members of the Original family and asks her to run away with them, even if that's not quite the way he puts it.

"We're leaving," he says bluntly, runs a hand through his hair. "Stefan and I," as if she needs clarification. "I thought you might be interested in an exit strategy."

She knows what he's referring to, tilts her head to the side.

"I'm not sure running from Klaus is the best idea, Damon," she says slowly, if only to drag out the time she gets to think about this because she knows Damon is impatient by nature. The hybrid has yet to approach her about their last meeting (and the way it ended) and she's not sure she's willing to have him on her heels for the rest of eternity. She's seen first-hand what it's done to Katherine.

The thing is she'll have to leave eventually. People will start to notice that Caroline Forbes isn't getting any older, that she'll remain a constant seventeen-years-old. She has a couple of years left but after that it's goodbye Mystic Falls anyway.

Leaving in the middle of her last year in high school and on the arms of the Salvatore brothers might be a little dramatic, but then again, what is she known for if not being that?

Damon shrugs. "I honestly think Klaus is more interested in what remains of his family than tracking down some baby vampire," he says matter-of-factly. "I mean, no offence," he adds as an afterthought, eyebrows knitting together.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't know yet."

"What about Abby?"

"She can take care of herself."

"Alaric?"

"He's a grown man."

"… Elena?"

He groans. "Look, Blondie, it was only an idea." He turns away from her slightly, makes to leave. She won't see him for a long time if she lets him. "If you're not up for it I really don't give a—"

"Alright," she cuts him off.

He turns back to look at her. She's surprised him. That's a rare feat.

"You sure?" he asks quietly, his expression suddenly changing back into something soft and she wonders how he's survived for so long with these mood swings of his. "You know what this means, don't you? It means never coming back, Caroline. No more Mystic Falls for you."

He's exaggerating—she's sure she'll be able to slip home and see her mother every now and again, if she's careful—but he gets the message across. She thinks of Bonnie, of Matt and Elena, of Tyler who's out there somewhere trying to break his bond with Klaus for her. She thinks of school, of prom and graduation and everything she's looked forward to.

Everything's changed.

"I'm sure," she nods. "Just let me pack my bags."

On the road, Stefan is tense and quiet.

His face has heartbreak written all over it and it makes her stomach twist into knots. He lives for Elena. Even after everything that's happened, she doesn't doubt that. She's seen the way he looks at her. (She's envied the way he looks at her.) There have been more times in the past few weeks when she's wanted to hit her friend over the head than during the last eighteen years.

Nonetheless she understands that there's too much to forgive between them.

So while Caroline and Damon argue back and forth as they leave Mystic Falls far behind them, he sits still for hours and stares out the window. Sometimes she wonders what's going through his mind, but she doesn't ask him, doesn't try to include him.

She knows he'll join them when he can.

Elena's angry.

"Caroline!" she says when the blonde picks up the phone, all flare and harsh tones, as if she thinks she can demand Caroline's return and she'll comply without a thought. She probably does. "What are you thinking? Get back here! If you want to leave town then you can do it when school's over, okay? We need you here—what about Bonnie? It's so selfish of you, leaving with them when we're trying to—"

Caroline hangs up.

She doesn't tell the Salvatores.

They buy themselves an apartment in Los Angeles.

It takes a fair bit of begging on Caroline's part but eventually the brothers give in because they're already going that way and they can't stay on the road forever. She's in the city she's always dreamed about—albeit maybe not with the handsome actor of a husband she's always pictured next to her, but why dwell?—and she throws herself into the task of decorating their new home with vigor.

Damon makes it clear from the beginning that he wants nothing to do with this part of moving. The second she starts getting into it he takes off, finds a bar somewhere in town where he can drown his sorrows and try not to notice the pretty petite brunettes.

The first evening she's bent over a table, studying magazines, Stefan takes a seat next to her.

"That looks nice," he offers quietly.

She feels like whooping with joy because it's the first time he instigates a normal conversation with her. It's progress, is what it is. "Yeah," she says instead, leaves the page open, taps something into the laptop next to her and waits for the result. "It does, doesn't it?"

He breathes in, glances away. "You know, if you want me out of your hair, all you have to do is ask," he tells her then, hurries through the words. "I can get a place of my own and—"

"Wait," Caroline interrupts, holds up her hands. "What?"

"I figured," he says, shrugs, "you and Damon might want to be alone."

She feels slow, like she's not picking up on the real meaning behind those words. She frowns. "Why?" she asks, because she can't imagine leaving Stefan behind right now. (Truthfully, she can't imagine ever leaving him behind.)

Stefan stares back at her. "I thought you two were—"

And it clicks and Caroline's laughing. She sees the expression on his face and presses both of her hands over her mouth to stifle it. "I'm sorry," she manages to get out in between giggles. "No. God, no. I've been down that road once before, remember? Didn't end well."

There's a spark of emotion in his eyes.

"I remember."

She latches onto it, wants to see more. "Yeah, you had to play all vampire-in-shining-armor and rescue me." She puts on a show: rolls her eyes and pouts.

He actually chuckles.

She feels proud of herself.

They only stay in Los Angeles for three years. That's no time at all for a vampire, everyone tells her, but she thinks they managed to get a good routine down during those years. Honestly, when she looks back at it, she thinks it was the happiest time of her life.

This is how it starts:

"Caroline," someone calls out after when she's walking down the corridor. "Hey, wait up."

She turns and there he is, all green eyes and sharp jaw. She's always been a sucker for guys like him—not that there are a lot of them in Mystic Falls, mind you. She lets him catch up with her, watches as he jogs the last steps. She doesn't understand why he wants to talk to her now.

He gives her somewhat of a smile. "Thanks."

"What is it?" she asks, maybe a little sharper than intended because she can see the smile die a little on his lips and she wants to hit herself over the head. "Sorry, I'm sorry," she hurries to apologize even if she shouldn't really care what he thinks. Maybe it's because of the air he has around him, that look in his eyes. He seems older, somehow, wiser than all the other kids their age. She feels tired all of the sudden, so she closes her eyes and rubs a hand over her face. "It's been a tough week and I feel like I can't even remember most of it."

"It's fine. I just, uh…" He clears his throat, shrugs. "I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Why?" she asks. "It's not like we're friends."

They're not.

"You're very direct." He chuckles so she guesses he doesn't take offence. It's a way of being self-destructive—she's blunt and brutal until people prove her right. "Maybe because I think you're a nice person and he's my brother." The corners of his mouth twist. "And maybe because I feel like it's partly my fault."

She pauses as she reaches her locker.

Caroline, you and me, it's not gonna happen.

"It's not your fault, Stefan," she says. He raises his eyebrows and she snorts. "You're not responsible for my actions. Look, I knew it was a bad idea. It wasn't hard to figure out it'd end like this. I need a little time to get over it and then I'll be fine."

He nods.

"You're strong, Caroline," he says. "You'll survive this."

It hits her, then, and she knows—

She stares maybe a little longer than what's normal and when he looks concerned she shakes her head, takes a deep breath and tries to steady herself. She gives him a smile, opens her locker and tries not to linger on the fact that no one's ever said those words to her before.

He touches her arm, smiles back gently. "Trust me."

Problem is she does, whole-heartedly.

Sometimes, during the early days on her own, she remembers.

There was a time when she walked through the Grill with Bonnie, telling the witch all the things she found out about the new kid in town: Gemini, army family, "his favorite color is blue". She can recall the way she felt about the future, the way she felt about everything in general. She can recall the life she imagined they would have together, that morning during first period where she tuned out the voice of her teacher to think about the mysterious Stefan Salvatore.

They would have it all: nice children in a nice home in a nice neighborhood.

And it's ironic, she thinks, because during those years they lived together—if you trade children for an obnoxious brother—that's kind of what they had.

The first night he drinks human blood since the night before Wickery Bridge—and of course she knows about that, she snaps at Damon when he asks, Elena is her best friend—she raises her eyebrows at him. She finds him with a blood bag in his hands and it catches her off-guard.

"What?" he says harshly, very quick to the defense. "You think I shouldn't?"

"No," she answers, crosses her arms over her chest and stares back at him. That's not it at all, he's getting it all wrong. "I think you need to get that little problem of yours under control. And I think you should stop putting words in my mouth."

Damon laughs.

She thinks sometimes they forget she's not girly little Caroline anymore. She thinks sometimes they forget she's not her best friend.

Elena's crying.

"Caroline," she whispers into the phone. "Caroline, please, everyone leaves me and I can't lose any more people Caroline Bonnie won't talk to me and Jeremy's gone and I don't know what to do Caroline please come back home Caroline please please please—"

"I'm sorry, Elena," she answers, compassion and guilt lurching inside of her. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth, but facts are facts. "I understand that you're upset but you have to understand that I can't—"

This time Elena hangs up.

She doesn't tell the Salvatores.

When Stefan leaves with Klaus no one tells her.

It's a day later, when she's done running damage control with her mother, that she wonders why Bonnie and Elena haven't called her yet. She goes to the Salvatore boarding house and finds Damon drinking. It doesn't take more than a look at him to understand that's something's wrong. He looks wrecked—half-crazed, even.

She demands to know what's going on and when he tells her she doesn't know what to think.

"And why am I only hearing about this now?"

He looks taken aback at the betrayal in her voice. "I… didn't really think you'd care," he says and that hurts more than she cares to admit. He pauses, as if he needs time to regroup, and then he pats her awkwardly on the shoulder. "We'll get him back. I… will get… him back." He nods to himself.

Caroline sighs, shakes her head. "Damon," she points out, "you're drunk."

And then she ignores the pain she's feeling by putting him back together piece by piece. She throws herself into the task. She gets him sober, showered and clear in the head again. Then she heats up blood for him like a good friend, sits him down at the table in the kitchen and puts together the start of a plan to get Stefan back. She refuses to do any of the actual work herself, though, because that would make the truth all too clear.

The boy who loves his brother is never really going to choose her.

One day when she gets home from waitressing they're sitting in the living room.

They grow quiet when she enters, turns to look at her. Damon's fists are clenched and Stefan's eyes are red. They look wary and weary, somewhat grateful at the intrusion. There's so much history between them, so much anger and regret and love. She shrugs her shoulders and gives them a little smile.

"Don't mind me," she says. "I'm just here to change—I'm going out."

She hasn't made any plans, there's nothing urgent for her to attend to, but she leaves the boys to talk because they so clearly need it. They've been tiptoeing around each other for weeks and she's getting tired of it. They need to clear the air, get everything out. There's more than a century of past to forgive and forget. She slips out the fabulously decorated apartment in a new set of clothes to wander around the city, leaves them to their business.

Never let it be said that Caroline Forbes is tactless.

In the early days of adjusting to being a vampire, she's emotional. She thinks she's fine and then a word from her mother, a stray thought, a bad commercial on TV can set her off and she's in need of someone to save her.

When that happens she fumbles after her phone. Her hands are shaking and tears are blurring her vision and it hurts, it hurts, so she calls him because he's still the first one she thinks of. (He shouldn't be, shouldn't be her first option—she should be calling Matt or Elena or even Bonnie.)

"Hey," he answers smoothly. "Everything okay?"

She clutches her phone tighter to her ear, tries to stop the sobs from bubbling up but ends up crying anyway. There's no way to stop it. Her legs give way and then she's on the floor, resting her head against the chest of drawers. She feels like she can't breathe, like she's drowning and there's nothing she can do about it.

There's concern in his voice. "Caroline," he says.

And it's Caroline, I promise you I will not let anything happen to you and Caroline, I get it, you think I'm too serious. Caroline, you and me, it's not gonna happen.

She's not sure when she starts to say his name, but she can't seem to stop.

"Stefan, Stefan, Stefan, Stefan, Stefan—"

"I'll be right there," he says and hangs up.

They mostly sleep in the car, sometimes in motels.

When that happens, Stefan always disappears immediately. He avoids human contact as much as he can and leaves his companions to themselves. Sometimes he disappears for hours, wandering around the forest, hunts to get the jittery feelings to go away. He prefers his own room and so that's what they do, they give him that one simple luxury because they're worried about him.

Caroline and Damon—although they won't admit it—are still reeling at the loss of Mystic Falls. She doesn't want to be alone and so they always decide to share a room, awkwardly at first but easier after time.

They're still not as bad as him.

It's Damon who tells her.

Well, it's Damon who delivers the news, but he doesn't actually have to say anything. She recognizes the look he wears—remembers the last time she saw it, when she put him back together—but it's worse for wear and this time there's nothing she can do to help him, no promises to make it better and no plans to put together. She's been dreading this since Elena's daughter called last week.

She doesn't ask questions, doesn't want to know.

(How did it happen? Where is he now? What about you? What's going to happen? What should I do? Am I going to be alone now?

Stefan, Stefan, Stefan, Stefan, Stefan—)

When she closes her eyes she sees the boy with the green eyes, sees him walk through the corridors of Mystic Falls High on the first day of school with a smile on his lips. She remembers everything: the good times, the bad times. I promise you I will not let anything happen to you.

Damon spends the night. He doesn't say much and she doesn't need him to. There's nothing he can say to ease the emptiness they feel anyway. She's simply grateful that he allows her this one last comfort. They curl up in bed together, her head on his chest and his fingers wound tightly in her hair like he's afraid to let go. It reminds her of the last time they did this, how clueless and naive and young she was. She's not any of those things anymore.

(Worst thing is she's not sure that's good or bad.)

He leaves the next morning.

"You're what I'm proudest of," he tells her sincerely, kisses her mouth over and over again until she has to blink away tears from her eyes.

There's finality to it. She watches his back as he walks out the door, watches him reach the sidewalk, glance back at her. He smiles. She waves.

Then he's gone, too.

"Forever."

She's on her back on a couch in the Salvatore boarding house. They've been out to the forest, hunting squirrels and rabbits and whatnot—it's strange how fast that becomes normal, but she thinks it definitely beats preying on humans. It's one of those things that lead to thoughts about what she is, though. She breathes out heavily.

"I'm going to live forever."

"Glad to see you've finally caught on."

Stefan's in a chair, looking at her over the top of the Great Gatsby. He's smiling at her, clearly amused, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Ha, ha. You're hilarious," she drawls.

Truthfully, he is. It's not always the first thing people pick up on when it comes to Stefan Salvatore because he's never really given an opportunity to show it. Caroline knows he has a really good sense of humor. She wonders if he's always been like that.

She tries to paint a picture of what it was like a hundred years ago—uses what she remembers from history class before she dropped it. She can't.

"I can't imagine what the world will be like in a hundred years," she muses out loud. It's someting she's never really thought about before. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him put down his book and look at her. "How do you do it? Live that long without going crazy? I mean, you have to see so much, lose so many loved ones… so many generations of people that just come and go…"

For the first time she has a clear view of how old Stefan and Damon really are, how much they've seen—the world has changed around them.

Stefan sighs. "You can't think about it like that, Caroline," he says patiently. "I focus on the good things, not the bad." He looks at her with something she can't place in his eyes. "You will, too. You'll see."

That is if this town doesn't kill them all first. Caroline thinks it very well may.

When she doesn't say anything, mind lost in things yet to come, he glances down at his watch. He stands up, straightens his shirt and gives her a brief smile before he heads for the door.

"Where are you going?"

He pauses, glances back. "Oh, I'm meeting Elena at the Grill." He must've caught something on her face because he hovers, frowns. "I didn't think—"

"Go," she interrupts, waves her hand to absolve him of the guilt he's obviously feeling and stares at the ceiling instead of him because that's easier. "I'll be fine."

She doesn't want him to and she probably won't be, but she doesn't say that. Instead she goes back to thinking about the future, about who she'll be and everything she can do with all the time she now has on her hands. She pretends she's not disappointed when she hears the door click shut because she already knows this.

The boy who loves her best friend will never really choose her.

She's dead set on finding work in Los Angeles, for experience and everything. Being a waitress might not rank very high on the list of genuine beauty that she strives for, but it's a start and she wants it. She's never worked before in her life.

"You know," Damon says lazily, "if you really want to work"—and there's disgust in his voice when he says it—"the least you can do is compel your way to it." He grins, all teeth. "I could do it for you."

"No!" she protests, spinning around to glare at him. "No way, nuh-uh."

He holds up his hands, exchanges an amused glance with his younger brother (who's smart enough not to rain on this particular parade of hers). "I was joking."

"And I'm being completely serious, Damon. No compelling people. Promise me you won't."

He does.

Her bubbly attempts at making friends and getting herself somewhat of a life here does work out, in the end. Nora—who's from New York—knows someone who knows someone who needs help in their restaurant for a couple of days and Caroline jumps at the opportunity.

"I got myself a job!" she exclaims the second she opens the door to their apartment, her smile bright. "I mean, it's only for tomorrow and Wednesday, but if I do it well they might hire me."

Damon rolls his eyes at her, but the corners of his mouth quirk upwards.

Stefan smiles indulgingly. "Sounds great, Care," he says quietly. "Congratulations."

(And really, that means the world to her.)

This is how it ends:

They're in New York, years and years after Los Angeles—they always stay in the US, though, in case they're needed: in case someone whose name they don't mention calls (but they will never know she has)—and it's a mistake. They're a little too drunk and a little too giggly and a little too reminiscent of the past and it just happens.

She wakes up before him, has the time to take in the situation and watch him. His face is relaxed when he sleeps and the years seem to drop from his face. She can almost imagine what he looked like in 1864, young and human.

Then he wakes up and green eyes are staring at her and this is not how it's supposed to be.

He still loves her.

He'll always love her.

So while Stefan wavers between wanting to discuss it and wanting to ignore it ever happened, she packs her bags. Because she's realized that she can't do this to herself anymore, can't be this self-destructive anymore. She has forever to think about now and she can't start it on a bad note.

He tries to talk her out of it and, of course, puts all the blame on himself. "Caroline, you don't have to leave," he pleads. "We'll deal with this. We'll get past it."

Damon puts a hand on his brother's arm.

"Let her go," he says quietly. "She needs to do this."

She wonders when Damon became so good at reading and diffusing situations like this, wonders if he's always been and she's just never noticed it before. And she's one of those girls now—caught in between the Salvatore brothers. She's Katherine and Rebekah and Elena, oh God Elena and that promise (she promised).

Caroline, you and me, it's not gonna happen, he told her.

Now he is a hypocrite and she is—

She doesn't know what this makes her but when she takes her bags and goes she has the strongest feeling she hasn't lived up to her word.

They leave the same night Damon comes to her door.

He takes her bags and loads them into his car. Stefan doesn't get out to greet her: he's in the back seat, his eyes distant. She wonders what's going to happen to that sports car of his, remembers the double date with detached sadness. Nothing has ever been easy for her but she thinks it was easier back then.

"I am so proud of you," her mother tells her as she holds her tight and it's the first time she's ever heard those words from her mother's lips. "And I'll always love you. Don't forget that."

Caroline holds her breath until they're out of town.

Elena's certain.

"I understand why you left," she says calmly. "I get it, okay? I know we haven't always, but this one thing I do. I'm sorry if it seemed like I didn't, Caroline. I didn't mean to judge you or belittle your decision. I miss you, that's all." She sounds like she's done a whole lot of growing up during the past year.

"I miss you, too."

Elena's voice catches. "I don't think I'll call anymore, Care," she whispers and there's badly disguised pain there. "But take care of yourself, okay? I love you. And take care of them, too." She breathes in harshly. "Make sure they'll be okay."

She promises.

She doesn't tell the Salvatores.

Klaus finds her shortly after she gets the news of Damon's death.

They don't play back and forth, there's no cat and mouse games between them. Maybe there should've been. She doesn't know, can't tell the difference anymore. She's tasted mortality and she wants to forget, she wants the oblivion that comes with great cities and art and music. She wants his pretty promises now that she knows she can handle it. She wants a thousand more birthdays.

So she takes him back to her apartment. Not her home—she'll never have a home again.

"Are you ready to see the world, love?" he murmurs against her skin.

She wonders if they would forgive her this but, she reasons, Caroline Forbes will never say yes to him. She's not Caroline Forbes anymore. Everything that tied her to that life is gone. She's seen all America has to offer and now she's hungry for the world. She rolls him over.

"You said something about Paris?"

Elena dies at the age of ninety-two.

It's a peaceful death—in her bed in the Gilberts' house that's full of family who loves her. She slips away from life in the early morning, about the same time as the sun starts to appear on the horizon: her favorite time of day. It's late summer, almost seventy-five years since she met a boy outside the men's bathroom.

Caroline wonders if he was the last thing on Elena's mind before she closed her eyes.

(She knows Elena was the last on his.)

This is what she remembers:

Damon is leaning back in a chair, his feet on his brother's desk. His hands are behind his head and his smile is genuine, the laugh lines more pronounced in the afternoon sun that hits him. He's enjoying himself almost a little too much, the book he was reading forgotten in his lap as he watches them. He winks at her when Elena's not looking and makes faces at different points in the story that has her biting her cheeks to keep from laughing out loud. The years have drained from his face and he looks young again.

Stefan watches his girlfriend with a fond expression on his face. He's standing in the doorway, still in his coat because he's been out hunting. There's not a mark on him that shows it, however, the way her clothes are always bloodstained afterwards. He's not a very messy person at all. There's a look in his eyes that tells everyone that he loves coming back to this, loves seeing the people he cares about like this. He looks happy and that's very rare. He keeps the story on track with gentle words whenever his girlfriend ventures from it, makes sure this moment will last a little longer.

Elena is all laughter, golden and innocent in a room of killers, the center of attention. They let her be. She's telling some story or another from their youth—a story in which Caroline tries too hard and Elena is best at everything, but she tells it differently: Caroline always succeeds when she wants to and Elena wishes she had her drive. She waves her hands around, tries to paint a better picture and she's not a very good storyteller but she is breathtakingly beautiful.

Caroline is sitting opposite of her friend. There's a mug of heated blood in her hands that she's stolen from Damon's supply and she sips from it slowly, teaches herself control through distraction. She feels warm and tingly and content.

Stefan catches her eye and smiles.

Caroline is strong.

(Caroline perseveres.)