chapter six — bloodlines 

      Gwyn looked at the illuminated screen with a sullen dislike. Her thumb hovered over the small green button as the phone vibrated on the palm of her hand. Damon's name flashed on the screen and she contemplated dismissing the phone call. She was slightly nervous. Considering the possibility of him calling to violently threaten her father made her uneasy. With unsteady hands, she answered the phone. "Gwyn," Damon's voice sounded relieved, almost as if he didn't expect her to answer. "Remember Logan Fell?"

      She knew he was some form of an extremely minor celebrity in the small town and him unexpectedly hindering their scheme when he arrived with the compass. She glanced outside the window of her bedroom; nightfall had arrived sooner than she had expected and she could feel a chilling breeze. Wrapping herself with her cardigan, she nodded. "Yeah, Scumfell with the compass, right?"

      Leaves crunching could be heard from his side of the speaker and owls hooting. "Well, the douchebag was turned and killed a bunch of people," Gwyn straightened, her grasp on her phone tightened. "He told me there was another way to open the tomb. We were going to meet up but someone killed him. The sheriff just called me." Gwyn pondered on the thought. Could there be another way? The necklace was completely destroyed. What was she missing?

      She swung her legs over the side of her mattress, shuffling her shoes on while she grabbed her keys from her nightstand. She stopped, wondering if she was really going to go back to helping Damon, then she remembered her father. She really couldn't catch a break. "Alright, I'll meet you at the church."

      Driving through the desolate streets of Mystic Falls when the moonlight was thick and when the stars twinkled like crystals were like a refreshing intake of air. Soundless and care-free. Gwyn tapped her fingers on the steering wheel to the sound of her music. The thoroughfare was surrounded by grasslands and the edge of the forest, it was almost ominous. As she made a smooth turn, an alarming figure appeared right in the center of the road. Gwyn gasped as the person collided with her windshield, resulting in her losing control of her vehicle. The car swerved and tumbled onto the side of the road. Glass shards slashed her skin and her head was slammed onto the steering wheel. Her car's roof was pressed against the asphalt; completely disfigured and unrepairable.

      Gwyn reluctantly opened her eyes as the erratic movement ceased. She released a shaky breath, trembling hands caressing the interior of her car in disbelief. She couldn't even process the events that just occurred. Everything had happened so quickly. Someone had intentionally stood on the road. Craning her neck to the side, the figure that emerged from nothingness laid across the road—mutilated until their arm suddenly shot out and the other, snapping back each limb into place again. She watched with a horrified expression as the person, which she could see was a man, stood on their feet unfazed and charged towards her with determination. She struggled to release her seatbelt but it wouldn't budge. But the thumping of her head made it nearly impossible to focus. She couldn't think over the ringing of her ears and pounding spreading from her temples. Gwyn raised her shaking hand and erupted a large blast of psychic energy; the trees and foliage surrounding the area forcefully swayed back from the eruption and the man was hurled back far enough that Gwyn could barely discern his facial features.

      The man stared from where he laid for a brief moment before disappearing in a quick blur. She couldn't see his eyes but she knew he was glaring at her with pure hatred. She stopped her thrashing and rested her arm back by her side, listening into the silence for any sign of him. Then Damon appeared by her side, crouched and concerned. Gwyn shrieked, throwing a weak and misguided punch his way. He dodged her attack, grabbing her hand. She recognized that warmth, that detached severance from nature. She knew him by touch. "Damon," She muttered, recognizing his life-force. She had never been so relieved.

      "You look stuck." She refrained from making a snarky remark. He pushed himself off the asphalt and attempted to move the damaged car. He couldn't.

      Her hands gripped the seatbelt. "It's my seatbelt," She cried, tears brimming around her eyes. "I can't get out." She was in a state of uncontrollable panic. She wasn't sure why. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, but there was something upsetting about the situation that shook her to the core.

      He shushed her comfortingly, his thoughts heavy with possible ideas on how to save her. "I'm gonna get you out," He was by her side again. "I want you to put your hands on the roof. Just like that. You ready?" She complied without any comment, pressing her palms on the cool metal of the roof, sniffling. He counted and then yanked the seatbelt off. She collapsed into his sturdy arms. "I got you." He carried her vulnerable body and steadied her while he helped her stand. "Can you stand? Is anything broken?"

      Gwyn's furrowed expression deepened as she shook her head. The soles of her shoes touched the ground and Damon's hand was pressed against her lower back. His face was dangerously close to hers. As he delicately brushed her soft hair from her face, her eyes fluttered closed as she tumbled down. He didn't hesitate to catch her. "Whoa, you're fading fast, Gwyn." He gently shook her. "Gwyn, look at me. Focus" His thumb was pressed against her bottom lip as her doe-brown eyes flicked to his, an uncharacteristic softness in them. She looked unrecognizable with her guard down. He was used to the cussing, harsh glares, and constant snide remarks about everything he did. But right now, Gwyn was crying and trembling in his grasp.

      He looked concerned, worried for the woman encircled around his arms—the only person that didn't look at him with burning hatred. "I'm gonna kill that asshole." Was all she said before becoming unconscious and falling straight into his arms.

      He lowered her for a moment, caressing the back of his fingers against her hair—almost tenderly.

      Then he realized what he was doing—that inkling of that stupid feeling. "Damn it."

<<>>

      Gwyn regarded the gentle vibrations of a moving vehicle before her eyes opened. Her head was pressed against the clear glass of the car and she groaned while delicately touching the small bruise on her hairline. Dried blood stained her fingertips. A wave of recognition coursed through her as she smelled the familiar musky cologne. Shuffling onto her other side, Gwyn chanced a confused glance towards Damon. His gaze remained on the road, a calm casualness to him. "Where are we," She questioned, her voice thick. She didn't recognize the area they were driving through.

      He nonchalantly answered, "Georgia." She didn't appear entirely shocked by the declaration. She knew what witch was in Georgia. They weren't acquainted, but word spreads around quickly. Hopefully, she provided the answer they needed to open the tomb.

      As they neared the location, the two of them didn't speak. Gwyn centered her attention on keeping her eyes closed and Damon was focused on not glimpsing her way. They finally arrived. It was an empty parking lot of a small bar. She opened the door and inhaled deeply the fresh air. The breeze flew through her like a refreshing crash. She leaned on the roof of the car for some form stability, but she stumbled. Damon sped by her side in a hazed blur, but he supported her. He helped her straighten with soft hands. Turning to face him, she offered a small, unsure smile.

      Upon entering inside, the interior was the typical appearance you would expect; a pool table, tacky decor, and hundreds of bottles of varying alcohol. Rock music was playing through the room and the chatter of the people was difficult to overhear. A woman was cleaning the bar's countertop with a white rag when she noticed Damon, her eyes widening and a beaming smile arose. "No. No, it can't be. Damon!" She hopped over the bar and was quickly in front of him. She was wonderfully tall, beautiful with her excited expression. "My honey pie." She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Damon moaned appreciatively at the touch of her lips.

      Once they released each other from their fervent embrace, she strolled behind the bar and raised a clear bottle in the air. "Listen up, everybody. Here's to the man that broke my heart, crushed my soul, destroyed my life, and ruined any and all chances of happiness. Drink up." She poured the clear alcohol into shot glasses, placing them right in front of her and Damon. "So, how'd he rope you in?"

      Gwyn easily drank the offering. "He threatened to brutally murder my father," She answered nonchalantly, fiddling with the empty glass. "How'd you meet?"

       Bree chuckled, "College."

      Gwyn raised her eyebrows with an amused expression. "This idiot went to college?"

      Damon rested his head on his palm. "I've been on a college campus, yes."

      "About twenty years ago, when I was a sweet, young freshman. I met this beautiful man, and I fell in love. And then he told me about his little secret, which made me love him even more. Because you see, I had a little secret of my own that I was dying to share with somebody." She looked at Damon with a fondness. "Changed my world, you know." Gwyn chanced a small glimpse at Damon through her lashes, admiring him from a somewhat different perspective.

      "I rocked your world."

      Bree laughed. "He is good in the sack, isn't he?"

      Gwyn pursed her lips. "Definitely wouldn't know." Maybe she thought of it once or twice.

      "But mostly he's just a walkaway-Joe," Her expression hardened and she slammed the shot glass on the counter. Gwyn noticed her aura easily transform into an irate shade. "So, what is it you want?"

<<>>

       "Ready, go!" Gwyn raised the glass to her pink lips, allowing the burning alcohol to sear down her throat. Triumphantly, she slammed the empty glass down on the counter. She smirked arrogantly while she nudged Damon. "I thought you'd be better at this." She said tauntingly. This was the third round, which was also the third time Gwyn had successfully swallowed every shot of alcohol quicker than everybody else that was participating.

      Damon wiped the residue around his mouth. "Sorry I can't unhinge my jaw like a snake to consume alcohol." He secretly enjoyed this casual experience with her. She wasn't glaring at everything that moved, she smiled until the wrinkles appeared by her eyes, and she laughed joyously to his jokes.

      Gwyn's phone vibrations distracted her. She fished for the device in her pocket and answered the incoming phone call, a wide grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Dad!" She said, barely hearing his response over the loudness of the room. "Hold on, it's loud in here." She thoughtlessly pushed through the small crowds of people and walked through the entrance doors and was welcomed with the nightfall's chilling breeze and starry skies.

      She was going to utter another word when her hands were suddenly restrained. Their grasp was harsh and uncaring as she cried out, their calloused palm was then pressed tightly against her lips. "No witchy business." He whispered in her ear as he violently dragged her towards the back of the building. Gwyn didn't appear frightened or discouraged by the restraints.

      She smiled as he tossed her by a small metal staircase connected to large oil containers, leaving her unattended while he stalked away. He seemed confused by her amused expression but disappeared within the shadows nonetheless. With a collected sigh, she closed her eyes and centered her attention on Damon; his warm touch, piercing eyes that glittered with a tinge of coldness, and his masculine cologne. She could see him clearly within her mind and she called Damon through their psychic tether, urging him to discover where she was taken. She appeared in his thoughts like a small whisper, intriguing him and forced him to wander outside. It wasn't long before he found her. He looked concerned as he rushed forward. Gwyn jerked her head to the area she last saw him.

      However, before he could understand, the man sped towards Damon, hitting his kneecaps with a metal baseball bat. Gwyn cried as she collapsed onto the floor in sync with him. The pain was unbearable. Then it happened again, and again, and again, and again. She was really going to kick his ass.
"What the hell?!" Damon screamed through clenched teeth. The man doused him with gasoline. Soaked and writhing in pain, Damon glared. "Who are you?"

      The man chuckled humorlessly. "That's perfect. You have no idea. You killed my girlfriend."

      Gwyn forced herself to stand. "You gotta be more specific, asshole. I've helped this dick hide more bodies than we can count." She said through firmly clenched teeth. The pain was burning agony, pulses of excruciating anguish.

      "She went to visit Stefan, and he killed her. You helped him get rid of her body." Realization dawned upon her beautiful features. He was referring to Stefan's friend, the blonde woman who Damon ruthlessly murdered so the Council wouldn't suspect him. And as he kicked Damon's face, a match in his hand, Gwyn knawed on her lower lip to suppress the threatening screams to escape.

      "Lexi," Gwyn muttered, her hand covering her throbbing nose. He scratched the match against the box, a tall flame lighting the area. Gwyn watched as Damon struggled to move, groaning with each small movement. If she didn't do something, they were both going to die a horrible death. She stared into his watery eyes, a pleading expression plastered on her face. "Don't do this," Her voice echoed through his mind hypnotically, like a siren's call. She radiated her magic forward, cloaking him with a mesmerizing effect. "I'm begging you. Don't hurt him. Now leave." The man's face eased, his focus on the spellbinding essence she was placing on him. He seemed shaken, scared that he had no control over his actions now. He offered one more glance down at Damon before disappearing again.

      Gwyn rushed over to Damon's side and appeared relieved that he was okay. She moved his head onto her lap, fingers tenderly raking through his hair. "I didn't know you could compel vampires," Damon said, surprise evident in his strained voice.

     She chuckled. "Neither did I."

<<>>

      "So, why did you save me?" The music softly played over Damon's radio as they cruised through the empty road.

      Damon tensed for a brief moment before relaxing, keen on avoiding eye contact. "Well, you're not the worst company in the world, Gwyndolyn." She gave him a teasing glare. "You should give yourself more credit."

      She playfully slapped his arm. "Seriously, dickwad. Why?"

      Damon controlled his heartbeat. "You were there on the road. All damsel in distress-like and we needed to find another way to open the tomb and you're not the worst company in the world, Gwyn." He answered truthfully, his voice much softer and serious.

      She smiled, gazing at the road. "I saved your life."

      He returned the affectionate smile. "I know. It was badass."

      "Don't you forget it." And with that, they both tore their soft gazes away from each other and pretended neither of them were feeling that stupid feeling.