chapter thirteen — a confession 

  Gwyn stood outside the Salvatore residence with apprehension thick on her expression. She stared at the doorknob for a few minutes, unsure if she should open the door and enter whatever was waiting for her inside. She knew Damon was there. She couldn't mistake his obnoxious voice from inside. She wasn't sure if she was prepared enough to see him. As much as she feigned an emotionless facade, she couldn't deny the heartbreak that she endured as she realized Damon had completely eradicated everything they had constructed together for months for another woman he had been obsessed over. She didn't know why she was surprised. It had always been Katherine since the beginning. That was the whole reason why she even returned to Mystic Falls.

As she contemplated whether she should leave, the heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a shocked Damon Salvatore. "Gwyn," He breathed out, processing the spectacle of her standing outside his door. He didn't think she would show. He had heard her shallow breathing from outside and immediately rushed to the door. She wasn't obligated to make an appearance. If he hadn't made a careless mistake, he knew she would've been there for him, but things were different now. She wasn't there for him anymore. "You made it."

She rolled her brown eyes with disdain, within seconds the facade was back and she simply pushed him aside and entered the residence. "Fuck off." Was all she said as she walked further into the quarters. Alaric was beside the fireplace while Stefan and Elena were beside one another. Elena drank from a small white mug as Stefan rubbed her knee soothingly. The sight was enough to make Gwyn uncomfortable. "Alright, why am I here?" She didn't sit down despite the wordless offer from Stefan. She was uncomfortable with the atmosphere, the hushed thoughts lingering in the air as they all eyed her with knowing gazes.

Stefan attempted to conceal the glossy pity in his eyes as he took in Gwyn's appearance. She looked the same, but her eyes glimmered with a detectable sorrow. "We were hoping you could help shed some light on the Lockwood family," Stefan explained.

Gwyn, although easily detected the overwhelming sympathy that radiated from Stefan, appreciated his futile attempts. He knew she didn't want pity. "Why would I know anything about the Lockwood family?" She asked, unsure.

Damon perched himself on the antique couch's armrest beside Elena. "Well, you wouldn't, but those memories from your dead ancestors might." He spoke hesitantly, uncertain if he should be speaking to her at all.

As soon as the words fell from his lips, she immediately glared at him. Her gaze was thick with burning rage, acrid like green poison. Simply hearing his voice was enough to have her blood bubbling. Elena noticed the tension between them and leaned forward, settling her mug down on the coffee table. "Damon explained you have your ancestor's memories inside your head?" She asked gently.

Gwyn removed her burning gaze away from him and eyed Elena with a much softer approach. "Sometimes I get glimpses of memories, like flashes, but if you want me to access something specific, I'm going to need to concentrate. I can't guarantee I'll have anything. My family and ancestors aren't from here. We came here in the eighteenth-century."

Elena's expression changed into deep thought. Gwyn could see her picking through possible solutions. "What about Isobel's research from when you guys were at Duke together?" She asked Alaric.

With furrowed brows, Stefan leaned forward. "You had she had spent years researching this town," Stefan said.

Alaric sighed heavily. "Isobel's research here in Mystic Falls was rooted in folklore and legend," He explained, "At the time, I thought most of which were fiction."

"Like that amazing vampire story," Damon said.

Elena, with an attentive expression, brought her knees to her chest. "Aside from vampires, what else?"

"The lycanthrope."

Elena raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Wait, as in werewolves?"

Damon readjusted himself in his antique chair, scoffing at the mere mention. "No way," He said, "Impossible. Way too Lon Chaney. I've been on this planet for 160-some odd years. I've never come across one. If werewolves exist, where the hell are they?"

Gwyn didn't remove her gaze from the glittering reflection of the gemstones from her jewelry. "They were almost brought to extinction," Gwyn explained, and when she noticed their intrigued expressions, she didn't dwell any further. "Why are you suspecting the Lockwoods?" She asked, changing the course of the conversation.

"Because vervain didn't affect the mayor on Founder's Day but the Gilbert Device did," Damon apprehensively explained, "And it affected his son Tyler."

"And at the school carnival, his uncle Mason exhibited inhuman behavior when he fought one of the carnival workers," Stefan said, "It suggested some sort of a supernatural entity."

Gwyn thought of the possibilities. She knew of the stories her father had told her when she was a small child; the death and genocide of werewolves centuries ago, but she never even considered the likelihood of them residing in Mystic Falls. Gwyn nodded as she understood why they needed her presence there. "You were hoping either my memories or Isobel's research would reveal what they are."

Alaric seemed slightly uncomfortable speaking about Isobel. "Well, all of her things are still at Duke," He said, clearing his throat. "I mean, her office is still there. She's technically still missing."

"So can we get access to it," Damon questioned, "Ric, we need to know what we're dealing with. If this wolfman thing is true, I've seen enough movies to know it's not good. It means Mason Lockwood is a real-life Lon Chaney. At that little Tyler, punk may just very well be Lon Chaney Jr. Which means Bela Lugosi—meaning me— is totally screwed."

As Damon spoke with a theatrical flair, Gwyn focused on the golden and orange flames that danced above the wooden logs.

<<>>

The room smelled of antique wood as Gwyn stepped further inside the building, admiring the rippled image through the panels of glass beside the door frames. "Isobel was officially employed by the anthropology department given that most paranormal phenomena are rooted in folklore," Alaric explained as they followed him. There were dainty yet rusted chandeliers swinging ever so slightly from the small breeze from the open door. As they neared around a corner, a woman appeared shifting through an old file cabinet, sorting through a collection of papers. "Excuse me. I'm Alaric Saltzman. I called earlier."

The woman smiled as she recalled their previous conversation over the phone. She turned and redirected her attention on them, her eyes remaining on Elena for a second longer. "Yes, of course," She walked forward, extending her arm outward. "I'm Vanessa Monroe, research assistant—comparative folklore. Let me just grab Isobel's keys."

Upon noticing the strange glance, Alaric introduced them. "I'm sorry. These are my friends—Damon, Elena, and Gwyn. I hope this isn't too much of an imposition."

Vanessa dismissed his concerns. "Please. Isobel's office is right through there," She walked behind a large wooden desk, opening a small drawer. "Isobel was one of my first professors. I'm a grad student. She was brilliant. One of the reasons I went into folklore," She closed the drawer with her knee, the keys interlaced in her hand as she sat on the corner of the desk. Her expression deepened. "I have to ask. Has there been any news?"

Alaric answered immediately. "No. No, I'm afraid not."

Upon noticing the lack of interest to dwell on the conversation, Vanessa pushed herself off the edge of the desk and walked forward. "It's right this way." She unlocked a wooden door and allowed them to enter inside. The room was decorated with dozens of old embellishments, nearly all surfaces were dusty and untouched. "I'll grab the light. Feel free to look around. It's fascinating, isn't it?" With a small smile, she left the room.

Gwyn glanced around the room, wondering which of the hundreds of items she should carefully examine. From the corner of her eye, she could see the outline of Vanessa returning. She didn't expect the metallic crossbow latched in her hands. The weapon was directly aimed at Elena, which resulted in a sharp gasp from her. As Vanessa pressed the trigger, Damon rushed forward, barricading Elena from the weapon. He groaned as the pain blossomed and nearly lost his footing.

With a quick jerk of her wrist, Gwyn pushed Vanessa against a bookcase, the invisible force keeping her from moving anywhere. With narrowed eyes, Gwyn stepped forward and intently examined the woman. "Talk." Was all she said as she closed her hand in a closed fist, limiting Vanessa's intake of fresh air. Sure, it was a little counterproductive, but the witch was fond of the theatrics.

"Please. I freaked," Vanessa said through strangled choking. "All right, you would have done the same thing. It is not possible. Katherine Pierce can't be alive and Damon Salvatore died in 1864. I read Isobel's research."

Gwyn loosened her hand. "Well, surprise, bitch."

Vanessa breathed deeply as the door opened from the side of the room opened, revealing Elena and Damon. She glanced at Gwyn as she neared the panicked woman. "I'm Elena Gilbert, Isobel's daughter and a descendent of Katherine Pierce. And this is Damon Salvatore, who you just shot."

Damon, although appeared collected, had a flare of annoyance glimmering in his crystal eyes. "I'd be extra nice to me right now."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Look, we need your help. We need to see all of Isobel's research, anything related to Mystic Falls." It didn't take much to convince Vanessa, especially with Damon and Gwyn both intensely glaring at every movement she made.

She soon retrieved a heap of boxes that contained notebooks, loose papers, and antique books. They sorted through them, each of them picking which to examine. "This box tracks Katherine's arrival to Mystic Falls in April of 1864."

Elena stared at the box with disappointment. "Is that all there is of her?"

Vanessa nodded. "All that I'm aware of." Gwyn glanced over to the small box with a disinterested gaze, concluding she couldn't bring herself to care about the contents of Katherine's box. She returned her eyes to the stained paper perched on her lap, furrowing her brows together as she read the words.

"I think I found something," She said while standing upright. "Vanessa, here."

Vanessa closed her book, retrieving the floppy papers from Gwyn. "There's no record of werewolf mythology in Mystic Falls. But here are some of the lesser-known legends." She pointed to a small illustration on the paper, speaking a Native language. "Which roughly translates to 'The curse of the sun and the moon'. It's Aztec. It explains one origin of the werewolf curse traced through Virginia. The short story—600 years ago, the Aztecs were plagued by werewolves and vampires. They terrorized the countryside, made farming and hunting impossible until an Aztec shaman cursed them, making vampires slaves to the sun and werewolves servants to the moon. As a result, vampires could only prowl at night, and werewolves could only turn on a full moon. When the full moon crests in the sky, whosever unlucky enough to fall under the werewolf curse turns into a wolf."

Damon stood behind Vanessa. "Can they control the transformation?"

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't be a fucking curse if they had control."

Vanessa chuckled. "Werewolves will attack humans. But instinct and centuries of rivalry have hardwired them to hunt their prey of choice—vampires."

Damon jerked his head to the side, interest entirely piqued. Elena's eyes widened as the words processed inside her head. Gwyn merely raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Well, if werewolves are hunting vampires, I would know about it."

"Not if there aren't that many werewolves left alive," Vanessa explained, "Hundreds of years ago, vampires hunted them almost to extinction."

Elena appeared muddled by all the information. "Why would they do that?"

Gwyn glanced down at the illustration of the Aztec shaman. "To protect themselves." She spoke with familiarity lacing her words as if she knew the severity from personal experience.

Vanessa nodded. "Legend has it that a werewolf bite is fatal to vampires."

<<>>

Gwyn wrapped her hand around the car's door handle with a particular eagerness as a chilly breeze collided against her exposed skin. When the door didn't open, she pulled again and again. She wasn't particularly keen on remaining outside as Alaric and Elena spoke with Vanessa in the distance. Damon appeared beside her, the keychain encircled around his index finger. He pressed the button and the doors unlocked. Without a word, she quickly pulled open the door but was abruptly stopped by him. "You have every right to hate me," He said, "I understand."

Gwyn sighed as she released the handle with visible discontent. She was silent for a moment as she pieced together a sentence. "I don't hate you," She struggled to say. And there was the confession, a weight lifted from her as soon as the words fell from her glossed lips. He eyed her expectantly. She returned the gaze reluctantly. There was a vulnerability shifting between them, something she wasn't entirely comfortable with. "I don't deserve this, Damon." She spoke with an unfamiliar gentleness, a wounded tone covered each word.

He grabbed her hand and she resisted the urge to retract it from his anxious grasp. "You don't, you deserve so much and I'm sorry I ruined everything." His words fell from his lips in a hurried rush, desperate to express his deep regret. "I just need to know if I've lost you forever."

From the distance, she could see Alaric and Elena approaching them. Gwyn pressed her lips together as she pulled her hand from him. She didn't know the answer to his question. Had he lost her forever? She knew she wouldn't be able to experience his touch without knowing those same hands caressed Katherine, his lips that were pressed against hers were tainted with Katherine's manipulation.

She backed away and opened the door, closing it without another word.