The Vampire Diaries fic: Close to a Fault Line
Title: Close to a Fault Line
Fandom(s): The Vampire Diaries
Rating: G
Word Count: 3,057
Summary: Uncle Mason had said the transformations were the worst nights of his life, and Tyler doesn't disagree, but he thinks with Caroline by his side, he can survive.
Author’s Notes: You can thank voz_76 for this. She asked for something to fill in the blanks after Tyler’s transformation in “By the Light of the Moon,” since we never really were shown what happened, and this is the result. Hope it’s decent!
Close to a Fault Line
Caroline’s never wanted to get somewhere more in her life.
The moment she hears him whisper her name, too softly for any human to hear, she runs inside the cellar so quickly she knows nothing else besides Tyler. That one word has been the only one pinballing throughout her head since she was forced to leave his side, the same litany over and over: his name. She heard every scream, every howl of his from her spot in the forest, cried until there were no more tears, wishing she could take the curse away.
And when the screams finally stopped, she knew exactly what she had to do. Someone else in her position, particularly another vampire in her position, would bolt. But she didn’t. Because, as unlikely a friendship as they had formed, he was just that-her friend. And he needed her.
She finds him curled up in the corner, the chains ripped from their moorings and from his wrists and ankles where he’d tried to escape. Where once she might have cared about her expensive clothes getting dirty, now she couldn’t care less.
She drops to her knees beside him, immediately taking him in her arms. “You’re okay,” she murmurs. “You made it, you didn’t get out. You’re okay.”
Tears have pooled in Tyler’s eyes, more have spilled down his dirt-stained cheeks, and he confesses, “No, I’m not.”
Caroline’s heart breaks for the millionth time that night, and she cradles his head, her hair creating a kind of curtain, wishing to the heavens and beyond that she could be the one suffering instead of him. She cries as he does, her fingers digging into his skin as sobs wrack his body, his every muscle, every bone, every cell feeling like it’s on fire.
She knows now that they’re not just friends. They’re more. She doesn’t exactly know what that entails, but they have something. Something she can’t define. Not long ago she would never have believed it if she was told she would be hugging a sobbing Tyler Lockwood after he’d transformed into a werewolf and back again. Tyler Lockwood? Me? Not a chance, she would have said, He’s a total douche. Now she can’t fathom being anywhere else but right here. She wishes the circumstances were different, that Tyler didn’t have to be saddled with this awful, awful plague, but she’s sure as hell going to stick with him no matter what.
It goes beyond not wanting him to be alone as she was. It’s a desire that envelops her very core. It makes her physically nauseas to imagine him down here by himself without her by his side.
She doesn’t make any more empty promises as she rhythmically strokes her hand through his hair and down his jaw, just stays quiet, intertwines her fingers with his, grateful for her vampiric strength as it allows him to hold on however hard he needs to. Every now and then he utters her name, only her name, in a hoarse combination of a whisper and a moan as if he’s afraid he’s hallucinating her presence.
“I’m here,” she says each time. “I’m not leaving you.” She kisses his head, his temple, his torn knuckles, anything and everything, whatever she can think of to provide comfort. She wants to do more, but she doesn’t know how.
She’s not sure how long or late it is-she’s the farthest thing from caring about trivialities like that-when Tyler’s cries finally subside, his pain retreating to that of a migraine instead of oh-God-please-kill-me-now. Caroline’s cheek rests against his, her hand still firmly grasped in his, and she wonders if he’d fallen asleep.
She’s proven wrong, though, when he says, “You should have left.”
His voice is nearly gone, but she can hear it just fine. “I told you I wouldn’t,” she says. “You know me: I’m as stubborn as they come.”
Tyler tries to laugh, but it hurts, so he doesn’t.
“Can you…can you move?” she asks. “As comfortable as this floor is, I think it’d be better to get you onto a bed or a couch or something. If you can’t, I swear I’m not above carrying you.”
Tyler does accomplish a laugh this time (more of a breathy chuckle, really). “Yeah, I can move.”
His words are stronger than his actions, and his nerves feel like they’re grating against barbed wire as he maneuvers himself upright. It’s by sheer willpower that he stands, his bones creaking as they make their final shifts into place. Caroline clears her throat, her head turned away from him as she holds something up. Tyler doesn’t have the energy to blush, but takes the shorts and pulls them on as quickly as his pain lets him. He rationalizes that he shouldn’t have any pride left after what Caroline had just supported him through, but there’s a difference between her seeing him cry and her seeing…him.
Caroline turns back around after a moment, peeking through her fingers until she’s sure he’s covered. “Hey there,” she smiles sympathetically, placing a hand lightly on his arm.
Tyler gives her a small smile and says, “I feel like I’m ready to run a marathon. You?”
Caroline shakes her head and puts an arm around his waist, trying to take as much of his weight as possible as they make their way to her car. The stairs are a nightmare, but they figure it out, and Tyler collapses into the front seat, clenching his teeth.
She drives in silence; there’s nothing more she really can say.
She considers driving to his house, but she doesn’t know if his mother would be there-she doesn’t even know where she’d start in terms of an explanation-so she takes them to hers instead. Her mother, she’s positive, is at the station (again), and wouldn’t be home until at least the morning, so they’d be safe until then. For once, she’s glad her mother’s a workaholic.
Tyler’s too distracted to notice that they don’t stop in the living room, but rather head upstairs, and it’s only when she goes to set him down on her bed that he realizes. “Hang on,” he says, refusing to sit. “This is your room.”
“Is it?” Caroline inquires facetiously. “Thanks for letting me know. I was wondering what this place I’ve been sleeping in for the last seventeen years was.”
Aware he won’t win otherwise, he pulls out the trump card. “I’m going to get your comforter dirty.”
Caroline scrunches up her nose, knowing he’s right. “Good point,” she says, steering him towards her bathroom. She leans over to turn on the hot water of the bath, and then looks at him.
He looks worse now that he’s under actual light, his face marred with dust, tears, and sweat, some blood matted in his hair and her nail marks still unsightly on his skin. Her face softens and she grabs one of her hand towels, wetting it in the sink and turning back towards him.
Tyler looks at it with distaste. “It’s pink.”
“So?” says Caroline, knowing full well he’s trying to preserve what dignity he has left. “Just shut up and sit.”
With a heavy sigh that makes his chest burn, Tyler does as he’s told, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and half-leaning against the wall. She takes a seat next to him, angling his head towards hers.
It’s relatively slow work and her sink gets splattered an unattractive muddy brown as she systematically washes the dirt from his face, her expression an advertisement of I’m so sorry and I wish this didn’t have to happen. Tyler had tensed at first, but soon gave in, relaxing under her touch, which every once in a while elicited a light shiver up his spine.
“There,” she says after a while, tossing the towel in the sink. “Much better.”
His face is bruised and there’s a cut above his eye, but other than that he-his face at least-looks decent. “All right, bath time.”
“I’m not four,” he says without any real anger. When she makes no move to exit, he pleads, “I feel like I was run over by a truck, but I’m not going to let you bathe me.”
Caroline has every intention to do just that (she had seen him naked before after all), but concedes. “Fine. I’ll just…try and find something for you to wear.”
Tyler waits until she closes the door before undressing and lowering himself into the scalding water. For as much of a fuss he put up, he has to admit it feels phenomenal. The water does wonders, unwinding his muscles as much as possible and washing away the grime. His body still protests everywhere, his every pore throbbing and stinging, but at least it’s not quite as blindingly anguishing as it was a few hours ago.
By the time he’s done, he smells decidedly like a girl, the only options in Caroline’s bathroom being mango-scented shampoo and conditioner and coconut extract body wash, but at the moment, it’s really the least of his concern.
He steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, expecting Caroline to greet him with her hands on her hips, ready to bend him to her will, but she doesn’t.
He finds her freshly showered in a pullover and shorts, fast asleep at the end of the bed. There’s a clean, large t-shirt and sweat pants he doesn’t recognize-he figures they’re maybe her dad’s or even Matt’s, but doesn’t dwell-next to her, clearly meant for him. He slips them on gratefully, then looks down at Caroline with a soft smile gracing his face.
He hadn’t realized just how tired she must be. He himself is exhausted beyond reason, but she hadn’t exactly had it easy either. Spending hours helping him find chains and affix them into the cellar, staying with him through the worst and coming back after all was said and done, sitting with him through everything. Even now he still can’t believe she did all of it for him. For him! For Matt he could understand, Elena, Bonnie, Stefan, anyone but him. He doesn’t understand it.
Shaking his head, he pulls back the comforter on her bed and, ignoring the knives of agony that shoot up his limbs, picks her up and sets her against the pillows. She stirs, but doesn’t wake, another testament to her fatigue. He fully intends to take the couch, but then pauses. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but she had brought it up, and he’s still reeling. He literally wouldn’t have been able to do it without Caroline, and honestly he still longs for her comfort. Just her next to him would be enough.
So, unable to help the bit of nervousness that swirls within him, he shuts off the light and climbs in beside her, pulling the covers over both of them. In sleep, she seems to sense his presence and squirms towards him, her hand resting over his chest. He’s a little alarmed, but just drops his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close.
The last thought he has before he too falls into a satisfying slumber is that he could get used to this.
It’s noon the next day when Liz finally makes it home, countless cups of coffee streaming through her system yet doing next to nothing to combat her weariness. The house is silent as she walks in, and she figures Caroline is out with friends or at the Grill. She frowns, though, when she looks at the floor, where muddy shoe prints decorate the hardwood. There’s two sets, one clearly a male’s; she holds no illusions that Caroline’s still innocent, but she’s not very appreciative that they’d tracked mud through the house.
She grabs her cell phone and dials Caroline’s number, intending to give her a piece of her mind, but nearly drops it in surprise when she hears Caroline’s ring tone go off from somewhere to her right. She turns, seeing Caroline’s keys and phone on the counter. She glances upstairs in confusion-Caroline never went out without both, which would imply she’s still home. But she also never was one to take naps, which serves to confuse Liz further.
She strides upstairs, half of her wanting to just forget it, deal with whatever it is when she’s not running on zero sleep, but the rest of her shoots it down. She knocks softly on Caroline’s closed door, but when there’s no answer, she opens it, looks inside, and-
Shock assaults her like a tidal wave. Of all the things she may have anticipated seeing, this is not it.
She simply stares, seeing Caroline and Tyler-Tyler Lockwood!-fast asleep in Caroline’s bed, her daughter snuggled against him and Tyler’s arm hugging her to him. They’re both fully clothed which all but nixes the idea that extracurricular activities had gone on, but it doesn’t provide any explanation either. She searches her brain for anything that would help her out, but there’s nothing. As far as she can recall, Caroline and Tyler had never even been friends, let alone close friends. What she sees before her and what she knows are violently contrasting.
She has every intention of telling them both off, but that quickly fades as she continues to observe. Their faces are so peaceful, Caroline’s especially, and Liz can’t find it in herself to wake them. It’s noon and the scene before her makes no sense, but instead of yelling, all she does is back out of the room and shut the door, making her way to her own bedroom to get the sleep she so craves. There’ll be plenty of time later to get to the bottom of it.
Caroline wakes before Tyler does, her head fuzzy as she slowly pulls herself out of sleep. It doesn’t take her long to acknowledge that today isn’t the same as any other day. She looks at her hand and then upwards, Tyler’s placid face greeting hers. His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks that are no longer bruised, and she feels a welcome heat on her back from his arm that remains there.
The previous night’s events quickly come back to her, and she shuts her eyes, Tyler’s screams and sobs invading her memory again. She inadvertently clenches Tyler’s (well, Matt’s technically) shirt and buries her head in his chest, as if by doing so she can make yesterday disappear.
Through his unconsciousness, Tyler feels her tense, and forces himself awake. His pain level had decreased significantly from the night before, but he still feels like crap, every muscle aching like he’d done wind sprints for ten hours straight. Even that, though, diminishes when he notices who’s next to him.
“Thought this was a dream,” he comments, his voice hurting just as much as the rest of him.
Caroline looks up again, and chuckles. “This time it’s real,” she says. There’s a haunted sort of sadness in her eyes, and Tyler wishes there weren’t.
“Listen, Caroline,” he says. “About the-”
She puts a finger to his mouth, effectively halting his words. “Shh,” she says. “You can thank me later.”
Tyler starts to sit up, guessing this is the “You can leave now” moment, but then laughs as Caroline lets out a noise of protest. “What was that?” he asks.
“You’re warm,” she says. “Vampires never are. At least, I’ve never been except when you’re…I think it’s because you run so much hotter than anyone else.”
Tyler silently lies back down, putting his arm around her again. “I should probably get out of here before your mom comes home,” he says, though it’s halfhearted.
Having Caroline curled up against him like this, not wanting him to move, well. It’s…nice. He’s never really had this feeling before. Where he could lie with someone-just lie there-and be perfectly content. What they have isn’t like anything he’d ever experienced. He’s not sure what to call it, and he’s not quite sure how it happened, but he is sure that he wouldn’t give it up for the world.
He begins to say something else, but then they hear a sound coming from the direction of Liz’s room and look at each other. They haven’t done anything, but still, their position could be considered compromising.
So, even though the wonderful warmth Caroline had been enjoying leaves as soon as Tyler moves, and Tyler’s muscles abruptly become furious again, they separate, Tyler reaching to pick up his shoes and shorts from the bathroom floor. He heads towards the window, not wanting to risk going through the front door, but Caroline stops him.
She grasps his forearm, causing him to turn around. “I just want you to know,” she says, “I meant everything I said. I’m not going to leave you. Okay?”
Tyler gazes at her, still finding a hard time believing all of this is real-not just the curse, but that Caroline had stayed with him through everything. “Okay,” he replies with a smile.
Caroline presses a faint kiss to his cheek, telling him she’ll see him at the pep rally later that day. As he climbs out the window, Caroline’s lips leaving a blazing, invisible mark on his skin, he knows deep down things have changed irrevocably. He feels different, different than he’s ever felt, Caroline imprinting herself in every part of him. Something that’s simultaneously frightening and exhilarating.
He glances up at her room once he starts heading down the street, and sees her there with an expression he’s never seen before, and he wonders if he has one that resembles it.
He stops that line of thinking as quickly as it springs up. It doesn’t leave him, only increases every minute, but he forces it down.
She’s with Matt, he tells himself over and over again.
It’s always followed up, however, by another voice that says: But maybe she won’t be forever.
Uncle Mason had said the transformations were the worst nights of his life, and Tyler doesn’t disagree, but he thinks with Caroline by his side, he can survive. Caroline’s words live in his head, echoing there like a constant reassurance, a constant calming force that gives him hope for the first time in his entire life.
I’m staying right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you.
Fandom(s): The Vampire Diaries
Rating: G
Word Count: 3,057
Summary: Uncle Mason had said the transformations were the worst nights of his life, and Tyler doesn't disagree, but he thinks with Caroline by his side, he can survive.
Author’s Notes: You can thank voz_76 for this. She asked for something to fill in the blanks after Tyler’s transformation in “By the Light of the Moon,” since we never really were shown what happened, and this is the result. Hope it’s decent!
Close to a Fault Line
Caroline’s never wanted to get somewhere more in her life.
The moment she hears him whisper her name, too softly for any human to hear, she runs inside the cellar so quickly she knows nothing else besides Tyler. That one word has been the only one pinballing throughout her head since she was forced to leave his side, the same litany over and over: his name. She heard every scream, every howl of his from her spot in the forest, cried until there were no more tears, wishing she could take the curse away.
And when the screams finally stopped, she knew exactly what she had to do. Someone else in her position, particularly another vampire in her position, would bolt. But she didn’t. Because, as unlikely a friendship as they had formed, he was just that-her friend. And he needed her.
She finds him curled up in the corner, the chains ripped from their moorings and from his wrists and ankles where he’d tried to escape. Where once she might have cared about her expensive clothes getting dirty, now she couldn’t care less.
She drops to her knees beside him, immediately taking him in her arms. “You’re okay,” she murmurs. “You made it, you didn’t get out. You’re okay.”
Tears have pooled in Tyler’s eyes, more have spilled down his dirt-stained cheeks, and he confesses, “No, I’m not.”
Caroline’s heart breaks for the millionth time that night, and she cradles his head, her hair creating a kind of curtain, wishing to the heavens and beyond that she could be the one suffering instead of him. She cries as he does, her fingers digging into his skin as sobs wrack his body, his every muscle, every bone, every cell feeling like it’s on fire.
She knows now that they’re not just friends. They’re more. She doesn’t exactly know what that entails, but they have something. Something she can’t define. Not long ago she would never have believed it if she was told she would be hugging a sobbing Tyler Lockwood after he’d transformed into a werewolf and back again. Tyler Lockwood? Me? Not a chance, she would have said, He’s a total douche. Now she can’t fathom being anywhere else but right here. She wishes the circumstances were different, that Tyler didn’t have to be saddled with this awful, awful plague, but she’s sure as hell going to stick with him no matter what.
It goes beyond not wanting him to be alone as she was. It’s a desire that envelops her very core. It makes her physically nauseas to imagine him down here by himself without her by his side.
She doesn’t make any more empty promises as she rhythmically strokes her hand through his hair and down his jaw, just stays quiet, intertwines her fingers with his, grateful for her vampiric strength as it allows him to hold on however hard he needs to. Every now and then he utters her name, only her name, in a hoarse combination of a whisper and a moan as if he’s afraid he’s hallucinating her presence.
“I’m here,” she says each time. “I’m not leaving you.” She kisses his head, his temple, his torn knuckles, anything and everything, whatever she can think of to provide comfort. She wants to do more, but she doesn’t know how.
She’s not sure how long or late it is-she’s the farthest thing from caring about trivialities like that-when Tyler’s cries finally subside, his pain retreating to that of a migraine instead of oh-God-please-kill-me-now. Caroline’s cheek rests against his, her hand still firmly grasped in his, and she wonders if he’d fallen asleep.
She’s proven wrong, though, when he says, “You should have left.”
His voice is nearly gone, but she can hear it just fine. “I told you I wouldn’t,” she says. “You know me: I’m as stubborn as they come.”
Tyler tries to laugh, but it hurts, so he doesn’t.
“Can you…can you move?” she asks. “As comfortable as this floor is, I think it’d be better to get you onto a bed or a couch or something. If you can’t, I swear I’m not above carrying you.”
Tyler does accomplish a laugh this time (more of a breathy chuckle, really). “Yeah, I can move.”
His words are stronger than his actions, and his nerves feel like they’re grating against barbed wire as he maneuvers himself upright. It’s by sheer willpower that he stands, his bones creaking as they make their final shifts into place. Caroline clears her throat, her head turned away from him as she holds something up. Tyler doesn’t have the energy to blush, but takes the shorts and pulls them on as quickly as his pain lets him. He rationalizes that he shouldn’t have any pride left after what Caroline had just supported him through, but there’s a difference between her seeing him cry and her seeing…him.
Caroline turns back around after a moment, peeking through her fingers until she’s sure he’s covered. “Hey there,” she smiles sympathetically, placing a hand lightly on his arm.
Tyler gives her a small smile and says, “I feel like I’m ready to run a marathon. You?”
Caroline shakes her head and puts an arm around his waist, trying to take as much of his weight as possible as they make their way to her car. The stairs are a nightmare, but they figure it out, and Tyler collapses into the front seat, clenching his teeth.
She drives in silence; there’s nothing more she really can say.
She considers driving to his house, but she doesn’t know if his mother would be there-she doesn’t even know where she’d start in terms of an explanation-so she takes them to hers instead. Her mother, she’s positive, is at the station (again), and wouldn’t be home until at least the morning, so they’d be safe until then. For once, she’s glad her mother’s a workaholic.
Tyler’s too distracted to notice that they don’t stop in the living room, but rather head upstairs, and it’s only when she goes to set him down on her bed that he realizes. “Hang on,” he says, refusing to sit. “This is your room.”
“Is it?” Caroline inquires facetiously. “Thanks for letting me know. I was wondering what this place I’ve been sleeping in for the last seventeen years was.”
Aware he won’t win otherwise, he pulls out the trump card. “I’m going to get your comforter dirty.”
Caroline scrunches up her nose, knowing he’s right. “Good point,” she says, steering him towards her bathroom. She leans over to turn on the hot water of the bath, and then looks at him.
He looks worse now that he’s under actual light, his face marred with dust, tears, and sweat, some blood matted in his hair and her nail marks still unsightly on his skin. Her face softens and she grabs one of her hand towels, wetting it in the sink and turning back towards him.
Tyler looks at it with distaste. “It’s pink.”
“So?” says Caroline, knowing full well he’s trying to preserve what dignity he has left. “Just shut up and sit.”
With a heavy sigh that makes his chest burn, Tyler does as he’s told, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and half-leaning against the wall. She takes a seat next to him, angling his head towards hers.
It’s relatively slow work and her sink gets splattered an unattractive muddy brown as she systematically washes the dirt from his face, her expression an advertisement of I’m so sorry and I wish this didn’t have to happen. Tyler had tensed at first, but soon gave in, relaxing under her touch, which every once in a while elicited a light shiver up his spine.
“There,” she says after a while, tossing the towel in the sink. “Much better.”
His face is bruised and there’s a cut above his eye, but other than that he-his face at least-looks decent. “All right, bath time.”
“I’m not four,” he says without any real anger. When she makes no move to exit, he pleads, “I feel like I was run over by a truck, but I’m not going to let you bathe me.”
Caroline has every intention to do just that (she had seen him naked before after all), but concedes. “Fine. I’ll just…try and find something for you to wear.”
Tyler waits until she closes the door before undressing and lowering himself into the scalding water. For as much of a fuss he put up, he has to admit it feels phenomenal. The water does wonders, unwinding his muscles as much as possible and washing away the grime. His body still protests everywhere, his every pore throbbing and stinging, but at least it’s not quite as blindingly anguishing as it was a few hours ago.
By the time he’s done, he smells decidedly like a girl, the only options in Caroline’s bathroom being mango-scented shampoo and conditioner and coconut extract body wash, but at the moment, it’s really the least of his concern.
He steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, expecting Caroline to greet him with her hands on her hips, ready to bend him to her will, but she doesn’t.
He finds her freshly showered in a pullover and shorts, fast asleep at the end of the bed. There’s a clean, large t-shirt and sweat pants he doesn’t recognize-he figures they’re maybe her dad’s or even Matt’s, but doesn’t dwell-next to her, clearly meant for him. He slips them on gratefully, then looks down at Caroline with a soft smile gracing his face.
He hadn’t realized just how tired she must be. He himself is exhausted beyond reason, but she hadn’t exactly had it easy either. Spending hours helping him find chains and affix them into the cellar, staying with him through the worst and coming back after all was said and done, sitting with him through everything. Even now he still can’t believe she did all of it for him. For him! For Matt he could understand, Elena, Bonnie, Stefan, anyone but him. He doesn’t understand it.
Shaking his head, he pulls back the comforter on her bed and, ignoring the knives of agony that shoot up his limbs, picks her up and sets her against the pillows. She stirs, but doesn’t wake, another testament to her fatigue. He fully intends to take the couch, but then pauses. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but she had brought it up, and he’s still reeling. He literally wouldn’t have been able to do it without Caroline, and honestly he still longs for her comfort. Just her next to him would be enough.
So, unable to help the bit of nervousness that swirls within him, he shuts off the light and climbs in beside her, pulling the covers over both of them. In sleep, she seems to sense his presence and squirms towards him, her hand resting over his chest. He’s a little alarmed, but just drops his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close.
The last thought he has before he too falls into a satisfying slumber is that he could get used to this.
It’s noon the next day when Liz finally makes it home, countless cups of coffee streaming through her system yet doing next to nothing to combat her weariness. The house is silent as she walks in, and she figures Caroline is out with friends or at the Grill. She frowns, though, when she looks at the floor, where muddy shoe prints decorate the hardwood. There’s two sets, one clearly a male’s; she holds no illusions that Caroline’s still innocent, but she’s not very appreciative that they’d tracked mud through the house.
She grabs her cell phone and dials Caroline’s number, intending to give her a piece of her mind, but nearly drops it in surprise when she hears Caroline’s ring tone go off from somewhere to her right. She turns, seeing Caroline’s keys and phone on the counter. She glances upstairs in confusion-Caroline never went out without both, which would imply she’s still home. But she also never was one to take naps, which serves to confuse Liz further.
She strides upstairs, half of her wanting to just forget it, deal with whatever it is when she’s not running on zero sleep, but the rest of her shoots it down. She knocks softly on Caroline’s closed door, but when there’s no answer, she opens it, looks inside, and-
Shock assaults her like a tidal wave. Of all the things she may have anticipated seeing, this is not it.
She simply stares, seeing Caroline and Tyler-Tyler Lockwood!-fast asleep in Caroline’s bed, her daughter snuggled against him and Tyler’s arm hugging her to him. They’re both fully clothed which all but nixes the idea that extracurricular activities had gone on, but it doesn’t provide any explanation either. She searches her brain for anything that would help her out, but there’s nothing. As far as she can recall, Caroline and Tyler had never even been friends, let alone close friends. What she sees before her and what she knows are violently contrasting.
She has every intention of telling them both off, but that quickly fades as she continues to observe. Their faces are so peaceful, Caroline’s especially, and Liz can’t find it in herself to wake them. It’s noon and the scene before her makes no sense, but instead of yelling, all she does is back out of the room and shut the door, making her way to her own bedroom to get the sleep she so craves. There’ll be plenty of time later to get to the bottom of it.
Caroline wakes before Tyler does, her head fuzzy as she slowly pulls herself out of sleep. It doesn’t take her long to acknowledge that today isn’t the same as any other day. She looks at her hand and then upwards, Tyler’s placid face greeting hers. His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks that are no longer bruised, and she feels a welcome heat on her back from his arm that remains there.
The previous night’s events quickly come back to her, and she shuts her eyes, Tyler’s screams and sobs invading her memory again. She inadvertently clenches Tyler’s (well, Matt’s technically) shirt and buries her head in his chest, as if by doing so she can make yesterday disappear.
Through his unconsciousness, Tyler feels her tense, and forces himself awake. His pain level had decreased significantly from the night before, but he still feels like crap, every muscle aching like he’d done wind sprints for ten hours straight. Even that, though, diminishes when he notices who’s next to him.
“Thought this was a dream,” he comments, his voice hurting just as much as the rest of him.
Caroline looks up again, and chuckles. “This time it’s real,” she says. There’s a haunted sort of sadness in her eyes, and Tyler wishes there weren’t.
“Listen, Caroline,” he says. “About the-”
She puts a finger to his mouth, effectively halting his words. “Shh,” she says. “You can thank me later.”
Tyler starts to sit up, guessing this is the “You can leave now” moment, but then laughs as Caroline lets out a noise of protest. “What was that?” he asks.
“You’re warm,” she says. “Vampires never are. At least, I’ve never been except when you’re…I think it’s because you run so much hotter than anyone else.”
Tyler silently lies back down, putting his arm around her again. “I should probably get out of here before your mom comes home,” he says, though it’s halfhearted.
Having Caroline curled up against him like this, not wanting him to move, well. It’s…nice. He’s never really had this feeling before. Where he could lie with someone-just lie there-and be perfectly content. What they have isn’t like anything he’d ever experienced. He’s not sure what to call it, and he’s not quite sure how it happened, but he is sure that he wouldn’t give it up for the world.
He begins to say something else, but then they hear a sound coming from the direction of Liz’s room and look at each other. They haven’t done anything, but still, their position could be considered compromising.
So, even though the wonderful warmth Caroline had been enjoying leaves as soon as Tyler moves, and Tyler’s muscles abruptly become furious again, they separate, Tyler reaching to pick up his shoes and shorts from the bathroom floor. He heads towards the window, not wanting to risk going through the front door, but Caroline stops him.
She grasps his forearm, causing him to turn around. “I just want you to know,” she says, “I meant everything I said. I’m not going to leave you. Okay?”
Tyler gazes at her, still finding a hard time believing all of this is real-not just the curse, but that Caroline had stayed with him through everything. “Okay,” he replies with a smile.
Caroline presses a faint kiss to his cheek, telling him she’ll see him at the pep rally later that day. As he climbs out the window, Caroline’s lips leaving a blazing, invisible mark on his skin, he knows deep down things have changed irrevocably. He feels different, different than he’s ever felt, Caroline imprinting herself in every part of him. Something that’s simultaneously frightening and exhilarating.
He glances up at her room once he starts heading down the street, and sees her there with an expression he’s never seen before, and he wonders if he has one that resembles it.
He stops that line of thinking as quickly as it springs up. It doesn’t leave him, only increases every minute, but he forces it down.
She’s with Matt, he tells himself over and over again.
It’s always followed up, however, by another voice that says: But maybe she won’t be forever.
Uncle Mason had said the transformations were the worst nights of his life, and Tyler doesn’t disagree, but he thinks with Caroline by his side, he can survive. Caroline’s words live in his head, echoing there like a constant reassurance, a constant calming force that gives him hope for the first time in his entire life.
I’m staying right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you.