A/N: Warnings for being, um, angsty? Lol, that shouldn't even have to be said. It's implied with all my stories. Also, um, as usual, *SPOILERS FOR MY STORY* I killed off Tyler, so, um. Don't get too attached. Ugh, another Caroline-centric story. I can't get these out of my head. I think that's a good thing? Mm, maybe.

Pairing: Um, C/D, C/M, C/T, and C/K. In that order.

Summary: She can't help longing for him after he's gone and she's supposed to hate him. She has no idea what she's anticipating now.

Disclaimer: Not that awesome. Might steal it from Julie Plec one of these days so we can together right her wrongs.

Also: I am usually a Daroline fan, though I have found myself rooting for Klaus or, occasionally, Tyler and, even less usually, Matt. So. I guess this was to be expected eventually.

Damon – winter

Tyler – spring

Matt – summer

Klaus – autumn

REMEMBER THIS, Y'ALL. I GET SUPER METAPHORICAL ABOUT THIS.

Soundtrack for this fic: "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac & "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" by Pandora's Box.

can I handle the seasons of my life – Fleetwood Mac, "Landslide"

The chill in the air comes first. In reality, it's still autumn and she's adjusting to her junior year of high school, but she bundles up in thick jackets whenever he's not around because she feels so damn cold all the time. And when he's there, she doesn't dare dress in more than the most revealing of her outfits, because that's what he wants—and what he wants, she has to want too.

He compels her not to tell anyone his secrets, and to be obedient.

He doesn't compel her not to be scared, and when she has enough time and capacity to really truly think, she knows that it is crueler than anything else he does to her, this fear that he allows her to have when he could so easily take it away. He doesn't compel her ignorance of what's happening to her, and a tiny part inside of her gets to watch him hurting her and manipulating her. But the part that controls her mouth, the bright, happy part that he creates inside of her with just a look, the part that dominates her brain function most of the time, just happily agrees. And she doesn't even know the horror of it until later, when he leaves her alone for five minutes and she really gets the gist of how wrong this is, and how much he's hurting her.

It makes her freeze inside.

But then he has his softness. He can be like a snowflake; delicate, one-of-a-kind, temporary. Never hers, not really, and she almost never wants him to be. But then he has those moments of sweetness, of vulnerability, and she wants to never let him leave. But the fact is that she's human and he's promised to make her die someday, and she could never be more content with this, with her end. He is her ending, her last season. (But in reality, only her first.) It's a nice way to go, she supposes, knowing how it's all going to end, knowing that he's going to be the one doing it when it reality it could always be something more expected. At least this way, she knows what's going to happen (or so she thinks). He is too cold for words but so quick and short-lived in her arms that she can't help longing for him after he's gone and she's supposed to hate him.

Damon is her winter.

Summer comes next; bright and easy and warm and Matt.

Matt, the easygoing football player with a missing sister and a drunk abandoning mother, and somehow he manages to be the sad brother, the income-making son, and the awesome boyfriend, all at the same time. She just doesn't understand it. He juggles all of these things at once. But she never sees those wrinkles of worry in his forehead, never catches him looking at all of the bills and freaking out about all of it, never finds him begging the Grille manager for just one more extra shift.

No, she only ever sees the goodness inside of him. And what does she do? She ruins it.

She is the jealous bitch that clings to him whenever she's drunk or she sees him near another girl. She's the childish teen running in the woods in summer, like winter can never touch her again (when in reality, Damon is just seven feet from her, whispering in Elena's ear and making her laugh while Stefan watches, and god Caroline is so scared to think of winter freezing Elena like it froze her) and she's free and nothing will ever change.

Then she decides to get in a car with Tyler the night the sirens circle around the town and fire burns the buildings and werewolves are just as screwed as vampires are, and that destroys everything that summer will ever hold for her. It ends the brightest season of all, she thinks at the time.

Katherine kills her, and she wakes up unable to touch sunlight. (And just before Katherine, winter—Damon—found her again and kept her alive, and what the hell is wrong with her for that that she can now remember all of these horrible things the cold did to her, and now she's just like him.)

Unable to touch sunlight. Unable to touch summer. Unable to touch Matt.

And maybe a ring can fix the sunlight and summer, but nothing can fix her craving for Matt—or, more specifically, his blood. Nothing can fix that she has become the winter all on her own, and now she belongs in hell maybe, and she can't touch Matt without her face wanting to change and her fangs pricking her gums and desire for his life's blood making her swallow past the urges.

Just like that, summer slips from her grasp, because he finds out just how cold and soulless and wintry she supposedly is, and summer and winter were never meant to be together, she realizes.

Spring is the time of changes and new beginnings, and that is the time she and Tyler share together. In actuality, it isn't really spring, but it is for them. They are both adjusting to their new lives and their new bodies and needs and horniness and other things, and they do it together spectacularly well. And he's…marvelous. He's new green leaves, a sudden warmth in the air when she feels the coldness surrounding her again but he flashes her that smile that makes her grin and feel warmth spreading from the tips of her curled hair to her pointy high heels. And sure, he's an asshole, but he's the kind that you'd die for, just because. Because. Because she loves him.

They're a kind of Romeo and Juliet, she says one day, just werewolves and vampires instead of Montagues and Capulets, and he grins at her.

Romeo's stupid. He's an idiot, falling for a new girl every week. I'm much smarter than him. I've got you.

Okay, she amends, he's not quite so much of an asshole as a charming-at-certain-times dick.

Speaking of his—

…No, never mind.

Their spring together is warm and comforting at the time when she needs more to be held than to be kissed, and his overwhelming heat is enough to make her forget Damon's iciness and Matt's tentative warmth, and she can sleep beside him contentedly, spooned in his arms like something worth being loved and missed and needed and wanted. Spring and winter go hand in hand. He and she belong together. For a time. He makes her stomach flutter with butterflies.

Then Klaus forces hybrid blood down his throat, and Tyler tries to convince her that everything is going to be okay, but she doesn't know if she can believe him. Vampires and werewolves are one thing, but hybrids are dangerous, more dangerous than a baby vamp of one year can handle, according to her oh-so-brutally-honest sire (winter haunts her after all this time with a smirk and laugh, but so does summer cleaning the tables in the corner, and who is she if not her past).

She makes herself believe him, because she has to.

Fall has always been her favorite season. Winter is detestable, summer makes you come home scratching your ankles and wishing you'd worn sunscreen because the burn is bittersweet but painful, and spring…spring ends too early.

She learns that over Tyler's corpse, shrieking and asking him to come back.

But if she has to be honest, spring didn't end with Tyler's dead body and her begging (she hasn't begged since her figurative winter, with a sneer and blue eyes peering at her and making her his despite her cries). It ended with a hybrid bite on her shoulder and a million-year-old sensitive vulnerable badass stepping into her bedroom and asking about birthdays and art. It ended when little butterflies in her stomach were replaced with mutant pterodactyls for Klaus. It ended when Klaus took her in his arms for a dance and left her drawings and little notes in her bedroom. It ended when he held her from behind and whispers "it's me, you're safe" and she believed him. That's when it truly ended.

And so fall began. It began with enchantment and things changing like the leaves and a sudden hole in her heart whenever Klaus gives her those cold eyes that almost-but-not-quite remind her of the winter. She tries to ignore the sparks and the way he addresses her, the way he looks at her when he thinks she isn't looking (or when he knows she is), because she isn't supposed to be with him. Autumn and winter don't mix—do they? And god knows she's dark enough and cold enough to be the winter now. Or at the very least, she's capable of it.

"How long can you avoid the tension?" autumn asks her, and she has no reply, because the fall has always meant anticipation for her and she has no idea what she's anticipating now.

He shows up on her doorstep one day, dressed in a suit complete with a tie, and asks her if she's ready for that plane ride to Tokyo now. She doesn't know how to respond, except to take his gentle warm painful freezing intense burning hand (how can autumn be so mixed up, or is he a combination of spring, summer, and winter instead of just fall?) and secretly admire the view (him, not the landscape as they drive away from Mystic Falls) as he drives her to the airport in that lovely Rolls-Royce. People watch the car go by, but Klaus has always been about flair and not about danger at heart. Perhaps hybrids aren't that scary after all…not this particular one, anyway. Maybe he has kindness at his core instead of anger.

She doesn't quite know when or how this season will end, but she hopes that it will have a far longer lifespan than winter, summer, and spring combined.

Then the airport comes in sight and he grips her hand tighter. She has no luggage with her, nothing to remind her of Mystic Falls or the other seasons of her life. She only has him, her strange mixture, and so she squeezes back. Because maybe he is enough.

A/N: So. I guess I would classify this as Klaroline? IDEK. But I hope you liked it nonetheless. It's posted as my first official Klaroline piece, but trust me, there are some more in the works. Lol, my page says I'm supposed to be gone sometime soon, so I'm going on like a writing rampage. :)

Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please offer up some feedback!