(the pain) make it stop
In retrospect Caroline believes she let it happen on purpose; that perhaps, on a subconscious level, she wanted to die. There is no other explanation for why, when Tyler came at her in anger, in uncontrolled rage, she didn't fight back. She allowed him to throw her into the wall, loom over her, and sink his sharp, bright-hot teeth into her neck. It had been a sweet sort of pain, almost like a soft sigh of relief. At last, she had thought.
It was in that moment she knew she was done fighting. She was done saving Elena, her friends, herself. What was the point of it all? She was stuck in a seventeen-year-old's body, doomed to immortality. All she felt was pain. And now? Now, she had a chance at peace.
As Tyler had reared back, shock and disbelief in his eyes he bumbled out a strangled "sorry," and fled.
Caroline had slid down the wall, blood seeping from her fresh wound and sobbed.
There she rested until the fever took, overwhelming her mind. Flashes of pain—emotional and physical—clouded her thoughts as she prayed; no, begged, for release.
It is in that haze that Klaus appears before her, the stern line of his lips turning downward into a sympathetic grimace.
"Caroline," he says, "love, what have you done to yourself?"
She smiles up at him, sweat lining her brow, and whispers, "I freed myself."
He crouches down next to her, knees dipping into the long since dried remains of her blood as he brushes her sweat soaked hair out of her face. "What do you mean?" he inquires quietly, tone flat and carefully emotionless.
"I'm allowing myself to die," she wheezes through chapped lips, "so that the pain will stop."
She thinks she sees something flash before Klaus' eyes, simultaneously furious and understanding, but it's gone a moment later, as if it had never been there in the first place. "I can make the pain stop," he tells her confidently. He is always so infuriatingly confident.
"No," she replies gently, "you can't."
"I am the cure," he says resolutely, edge of anger present. "I can make the burning cease, sweetheart. Let your mind clear, put you at ease."
"The pain is good," she rasps, leaning into his touch as his fingers ghost over the rotting bite adorning her neck like some sort of sick beautification. "It reminds me of why I have to let go. I can't—I can't go on, like this. Watching everyone die, being tortured; I'm—I'm done. Please let me go," she begs, hot tears spilling from her eyes and parting a way through the grime covering her cheeks, "please."
"That is what you wish?" Klaus asks, curious expression taking to his face. "To wither away; to be forgotten?"
She nods and then winces from the pain, vision going fuzzy.
Klaus' features harden. "Then I am sorry," he grounds out, "for that is one wish I cannot grant. I am a selfish man, Caroline, and your death does not fit in with what I have planned."
"No," she sobs weakly, "please, you must understand—please, please—"
His teeth elongate immediately, eyes glowing gold and veins pulsing reddish black as he rips into his forearm furiously, allowing warm blood spill over in copious amounts. He rears back, fangs coated in his own blood, positions Caroline against him, and forces the bleeding wound to her mouth.
She struggles at first, refusing the gift of life he is giving her, but her weakened state makes her no match for him. Soon, she begins to suckle gently, fangs latching onto the wound as her eyes grow dark with need. He strokes her hair absently as she feeds; he only pulls away once she's had too much. "There, there," he rumbles lowly, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?"
"I hate you," Caroline grounds out pathetically, tears streaming freely. "I wanted to die,I wanted to."
"No," he argues, "you didn't. You wanted to give up," he sneers. "That is not the same thing."
"What would you know?" she snaps, wiping angrily at the blood and tears layering her face.
"Oh, Caroline," he hums dangerously, "a lot more than you seem to believe." He pauses, peering down at her curiously. "I can make the pain go away," he offers suddenly, eyes oddly intent, "if you'd like."
She glares, eyes mistrusting. "How?"
"I can make you turn it off, make everything dull. All you have to do is ask…," he trails off, threading his fingers through her matted hair.
Caroline thinks of Elena, Damon, Stefan, Matt, Bonnie, her mom… her dad, and withers. She looks up at him, chin raised and eyes burning. "Fine," she decides, "do it."
A slow, sinister grin settles on Klaus' lips. "As you wish."
She's his; now, and for all of eternity.