Chapter 4

Disclaimer: TVD characters belong to L.J. Smith and the CW

1848

Gwen was not happy to leave Providence. She didn't understand why they had to go. Why couldn't her sick grandmother come live with them? She did not want to leave all her friends behind.

Such had been the complaints of six-year-old Gwen. To pacify her, her mother had allowed her to wear her hair down and her father had promised to get her a pony and let her learn to ride. Gwen had kept her whining to a minimum since then, not wanting to anger her parents and lose the chance to ride. She had been begging them forever to let her learn. Thomas and Lucille Ashwood did not spoil their child, but they knew how hard the move would be for her and hoped these new privileges would help endear her to Mystic Falls.

Thomas was an average man: average height, average weight, average looks. He had grey eyes and thinning dark hair. He had been older, in his late twenties, when he married Lucille, six years his junior. Other than the thinning hair, his age had yet to show. He was a kind, quiet and very intelligent man. Though he inherited his money from his parents, he had worked as a lawyer in Providence. That was where he met Lucille, by chance, at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend.

People had said she was destined to be a spinster, since she was already twenty and not married. Her age had not deterred him from talking to her; her beauty was undeniable, and she was intelligent and clever as well. She was like him in that she preferred small gatherings to large parties and being outdoors to indoors. What surprised him the most weren't her brains or personality, but her interest in him. They married five months later.

In the carriage, Lucille sat across from him and next to their daughter. She was reading a book, but would glance up at him or Gwen every so often. They were going to live her mother, who was ill. Despite the circumstances, she was happy to return to Mystic Falls. Her parents had sent her to live with her aunt, who had the job of introducing her to society and meeting potential husbands. At the time she was furious, but Lucille had gained an appreciation for her parents' plan. Otherwise, she wouldn't have met her husband, or had her daughter. Her strawberry-blonde hair shone as the sun hit it, the same sun causing her soft hazel eyes to water occasionally.

Gwen fidgeted in her seat, growing bored from sitting so long.

"Gwen," her father warned firmly. He knew his daughter: fidgeting and boredom led to trouble or whining. Their carriage limited the trouble she could find, so he knew the whining would be starting soon.

"Thomas," Lucille said knowingly, closing her book. "She's been well-behaved today, but you know she likes to be moving. Besides, we're almost there. Gwen, look out the window. We're passing through town now."

Gwen sat up on her knees and looked out the window. The town was small with only a handful of buildings lining the main, dirt road. It was different than Gwen was used to, but she didn't hate it.

"Where's Grandmother's house?" she asked, sitting back on the bench.

"Just a little ways out of town. There's plenty of room for you learn to ride," her mother smiled. "Mother said Giuseppe Salvatore is now our closest neighbor. Apparently, he's built quite a nice farm nearby. He's the one whose wife passed a year ago," she added quietly to her husband.

Thomas nodded, looking back out the window.

"He has a son your age," Lucille said to Gwen. "Perhaps you two can be friends."

"Maybe," she mumbled.

They pulled up to a very large white house surrounded by tall willow trees. It was built during colonial times and had the tall Greek columns in the front. Gwen thought it looked like a castle. Their house in the city wasn't half the size of her Grandmother's home.

"It's amazing."

"I'm glad you like it, love," her mother said. "Let's go meet your grandmother."

Gwen hopped out the carriage in front of her of parents and ran to the woman standing at the base of the front steps.

"Hello, I'm Gwen," she beamed. The woman smiled and laughed.

"Then I believe I'm your grandmother. It's very nice to meet you."

"Hello, Mother," Lucille said, hugging and kissing her mother's cheek. "Should you be out of bed?"

"It's nice to see you too, Lucy, Thomas. I'm not on my deathbed yet, you know."

"Yes, Mother."

"You all need to get cleaned up," Grandmother said, leading them all inside. "The guests will be arriving soon. Everyone was so excited to see you, I decided to have a welcome back dinner for you."

Lucille and Thomas exchanged a look; they had expected nothing else. Rosemary Jacobs loved to throw a party, especially when it included showing off her daughter. Thomas rolled his eyes at the memory of his elaborate wedding.

XXX

Gwen had wandered into the garden, bored with sitting and listening to the adult conversation. She picked one of the rosebuds and began playing with its soft petals. The bush next to her shook violently, scaring her and causing her to drop the bud. She kneeled down and looked through the bush. Two ice-blue eyes stared back at her.

The eyes disappeared, and a voice said, "Who are you?"

Gwen stood up and saw the owner of the blue eyes was a boy with dark, wavy hair. He looked to be about her size.

"I'm Gwen. This is my new home. Who are you?"

"Damon Salvatore," he said proudly.

"Mommy said your family had a farm. Does it have horses?"

"Yes," he said as if it was the silliest question ever.

"How many? Do you ride? I'm going to learn to ride," she said excitedly.

Damon scoffed. "Girls don't ride horses!"

"I will," Gwen said defiantly.

"We'll see."

XXX

1856 — Eight years later

"Bet I can beat you to the big tree," Gwen shouted over her shoulder. She laughed as she pushed Faye, her white horse, into a gallop. Gwen smiled wider as her hair waved behind her in the wind.

Damon laughed from behind her. "Doubt it."

They raced through the back of Damon's family field to the dead tree near the edge of the forest. It was their spot, right next to a small creek. They went there to hide from their parents, but also from the people in town, who didn't think their relationship was appropriate for a girl and boy of fourteen.

"Whoa, girl," Gwen said, pulling on the reins. Her horse slowed and stopped a few feet away from the tree. Damon followed a few seconds later. "Beat you again," she taunted.

"Maybe I let you win," he teased, dismounting his own chestnut horse.

"Sore loser."

He stuck his tongue at her and helped her from her horse. She didn't need the help, but it was the gentlemanly thing to do. They tied their horses to the tree, and then lay down in the tall grass next to the creek.

"I'll beat you one of these days," he promised.

"Sure," she answered sarcastically. Her mood soured as she recalled his rude comments from outside the schoolhouse the day before. "I thought you couldn't be friends with girls?"

"That's just something you say," he said matter-of-factly. "You know you're the only fun one around here."

"Hmm."

"How's your mom?" he asked, twisting a piece of grass in his fingers.

"Worse," Gwen sighed, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. Lucille had become sick a few months earlier and had been steadily getting worse. Bedridden, she spent most of the day asleep. Thomas had written to her mother's sister, Lila, to come stay with them. He was worried about his daughter and thought another female presence—Grandmother Rosemary had died several years ago— would be helpful for Gwen. So far, Aunt Lila spent most of her time fussing over her mother and yelling at Gwen for not behaving "properly."

Damon sat up and leaned his head against hers, his fingers combing her hair. He could not imagine what she was going through. All he knew was that he didn't like seeing her so sad and quiet all the time. It wasn't like Gwen.

"You never know," he said weakly, " she may get better."

She laughed humorlessly and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her, hoping to comfort her. However, he wished he were holding her under happier circumstances. Damon only joked about not being able to be friends with girls. It was all an act. He wouldn't end their friendship for anything. Gwen was the only one in the whole town who was as wild and adventurous as he was. It wasn't just because they had grown up together and gotten in trouble countless times for their adventures. Even though he had a difficult time admitting it to himself, he was in love with her. His biggest fear was that she didn't feel the same.

She pulled away from him and wiped her eyes. "I should get home, before Aunt Lila decides to confine me to the house."

Standing up, they untied the horses and mounted them in silence. Gwen kept Faye at a slow walk so she could tame her hair before going home. Damon kept pace with her, not sure what he should or could say to make her feel better. Gwen took her horse to the stables. Damon hesitated; he knew he needed to get home, but didn't want to leave her yet.

"Did you have a nice ride, Miss Gwen," the stable hand asked.

"Yes, thank you, George," she said, placing a fake smile on her face. Damon tied his horse up outside the stable.

"I'm capable of getting to the house on my own," she said as they walked across the large green yard toward the porch.

"Trust me, I know," he smirked. "But a gentleman should walk a lady to her house, Miss Ashwood."

She didn't laugh or smile. Under normal circumstances she would have. She stopped at the foot of the steps, wringing her hands nervously and looking to the forbidding house.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked, taking her hands in his.

"Aunt Lila's been talking to Father. She doesn't think it's proper for us to be together unchaperoned."

He didn't buy it. "Our families, and the town, have that talk all the time. They're always going to talk, and we'll always ignore them. Gwen," he said gently, pulling her hands to his chest and leaning his forehead against hers. "What's really wrong?"

"I hate going in there," she said, taking a deep breath. "It doesn't feel like home. It's depressing and suffocating. I hate being here. Does that make me a horrible daughter?"

Damon let go of her hands, only to pull her into another hug. "No," he said quietly. "It just means you're hurting and scared."

"Thank you, Damon," she whispered, hugging him tightly. She pulled away, kissing his cheek as she released him. Though she didn't look at him again, he watched her walk up the steps and enter house, warmth spreading from where she kissed him.