A/N: Ok, this kind of ran away with me. I'm pretty sure Gwen hangs around and writes herself when I'm sleepy, that's how out of control this chapter was. It's pretty much Chapter 1 from Gwen's POV, with a lot of her thoughts. She really things a lot, and goes off on some odd tangents sometimes, but I think she's very believable. Let me know what you think, eh? Next chapter we meet Gwen's maker and I'm debating on whether or not to give him a POV.

Oh, and the word vespertine in the context of this story means 'blooming during the evening.'

Onward!

Vespertine

Chapter 2:

Gwendolyn

Gwen POV:

Lovely.

Just fucking lovely.

The one time I decide I can go out without Garet tailing me like a love sick puppy, I run into Orin and his little gang. Of course, since their range borders the one belonging to Garet and me, I was bound to run into them; I just didn't count on Walker recruiting them for his stupid little fight with Garet.

Great.

Just fucking great.

I had to run, of course. If they caught me, I'd be dead within the day. They'd have their own sort of fun with me first, of course. Then they'd hand me over to Walker, and Walker definitely wanted to kill me. He knew nothing else would hurt Garet, his coven-brother, more than killing me - the only vampire Garet had ever created.

You see, Garet and Walker had once been friends. Closer than brothers. They had the same Maker, about two hundred years ago. This Maker - Tobias - loved them both as sons he never had, the only two of our kind he had ever made and they loved him as much as any father. Their love was so strong for him that a promise from this long-dead man has kept my maker alive to this day.

Tobias made them promise to never harm the other. He had witnessed his own coven fall upon and destroy itself before he made Walker and Garet, and he never wanted either of his sons to suffer the same fate, watching their family destroy itself. They were both of Tobias' coven and so he made them swear on their love for him, as near-brothers, to never raise their hands against each other. They agreed, and so they are bound to never physically harm each other.

Of course, emotional damage is a different story.

At first, it wasn't a problem. They were - and still are - feral to an extent. They use humans as food, have no real ties to the community, and can and occasionally do pick up and move at a moment's notice. They didn't have anything to become attached to.

One day, Walker met his mate.

Marilyn was a beautiful woman when she was alive; she made a stunning vampire. She was not only beautiful, but smart and above all Talented. She had a way of seeing the flaws in you; maybe you were a little weak on the left side, or you a particular subject of conversation made you lose your temper easily.

Or maybe, you loved someone you shouldn't.

Garet has always been a naturally easygoing man. He just lets things wash over him and takes everything in stride. He wasn't the type of person to want something he knew he shouldn't - far from it. He was unnaturally giving for a vampire, incredibly humble and selfless. He had a way of letting his actions speak for him. When he was human, he was the type of person others went to for advice; when he spoke at town meetings people listened to every word he said.

And one day he fell in love.

She was a pretty girl, he says when I can get him to speak of it. Bright red hair and the cutest freckles on her cheeks. Bright green eyes, a small gap between her front teeth, and a way of looking at you when she was upset that made you want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness; she had all of the boys who knew her begging her father for her hand. She lived in a small village in Ireland where her father raised sheep and she loved all of the animals with the fierce innocence of a child, even the ones her father slaughtered to feed the family.

She was also very human.

Marilyn was beautiful, but she was also a covetous person. She didn't like the way Walker and Garet were so much like brothers; her coven wasn't nearly so close and she was jealous of the way Garet was so much a part of Walker's life. So, she set her ability to find his weakness and just like that his little green eyed girl was marked for death. Her body was found in one of the outer pastures, seemingly torn apart by animals.

Garet knew better; he knew it was Marilyn and confronted her about it. It quickly turned into a fight and Garet did what anyone would have done. An eye for an eye. A love for a love. After that, Walker spurned his coven-brother, vowing to hurt Garet, promise to Tobias or not.

They parted ways, Walker heading for the Americas and Garet following his easy going wandering ways around the world. True to his nature, my maker let the past rest; he still loved the green eyed Irish girl with all his heart, but he was pragmatic enough to realize she was gone and to let her rest peacefully. Walker would do no such thing and over the years his hatred festered, his promise to get back at Garet never forgotten.

Garet met me in Aurora, Colorado in the summer of 1985 on the evening of my 16th birthday. I think he was finally beginning to feel the loneliness of his existence because instead of killing me like he would have any other meal, he let me live; just barely but enough to allow me to change. For 14 years we lingered in the Denver area, living like drifters and content with it that way. He was the big brother I never had, a big brother with two and a half centuries of knowledge and patience.

One night I messed up and killed someone important. Important enough that disguising the murder as an animal attack wasn't enough. We were forced to flee Colorado, drifting around the northern part of the United States before deciding to settle down.

Imagine Walker's delight when Garet turned up in Walker's chosen home with a young vampire in tow; one he was unnaturally attached to.

And so, 200 hundred years after this stupid chain of events started, here I was running from three idiots with the combined brain inventory of one cell.

Not that them being stupid made them any less dangerous. I wasn't able to take on one of them alone, so all three was out of the question. For only the third time in my existance as a vampire, I felt panic.

I couldn't escape them and I knew. Abruptly, an invisible hand reached into my chest and pulled me sharply forward. I couldn't help my stumble and gasp; what the hell was that?! As suddenly as it came, it was gone and I was once again running down blessedly empty streets with no more company than some goons hellbent on delivering me to my murderer. I approached an intersection, once again thanking whatever deity was listening for the run down section of town that had no people on them.

The same tug yanked me sharply to the right and I complied, skittering around the turn and upping my speed a notch. Maybe if I could get to Abigail, I could lose them. I was well aware one of the guys with Orin was a tracker, which is why they weren't too concerned with keeping up with me.

They don't know about Abigail, though, a part of my mind reminded me. You don't want her in danger.

I winced at both the though and another insistant yank. I was suddenly aware of the easy panting of my followers - much closer, I thought with renewed panic - and was almost jerked clean off my feet as the pull didn't go away this time, almost throwing me around the next corner. I glanced back, fighting the urge to let my panic overtake me as I met the excited red eyes of Renald, Orin's tracker.

I almost didn't look ahead of me in time to stop myself from running into yet another vampire, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and looking incredibly annoyed with me. I barely registered his pure white hair and scarred face.

God, does my reputation proceed me or something? I couldn't help thinking with despair. Was he here at Walker's behest too? Where was Garet? Was I going to die already?

Orin, Renald and Trent came around the corner, slowing when they saw I had stopped. Suddenly this stranger was the least of my worries; I knew the goons were out to get me. There was a slight possibility that the white haired man behind me was simply passing through. I tensed and hissed menacingly.

Orin just chuckled. "Ah," he purred, "Gwen. Fancy meeting you here."

I hated the way his tone made me feel filthy and I gathered myself, growling. The stranger shifted his feet at Orin's words and I got the feeling he didn't like them any more than I had. This made me feel a bit better and I started to slowly head toward him. Two was better than one, especially now. Maybe he would help. My panic swelled again. Where was Garet?!

Trent took a deliberate step toward me and looked over my shoulder at the white haired guy who still stood behind me, motionless except his carefully even breathing. "Who's your friend, Gwennie?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I couldn't say 'he's not my friend' because then they'd jump me. What was to guarantee that this stranger wouldn't join in? But what other choice did I have? I couldn't pull him into this unwillingly; that would be unfair. No one else deserved to die like I was about to. Terror overtook the panic and I was suddenly glad I couldn't cry.

Renald took a step as deliberate as Trent's and I couldn't help the whimper that escaped me. I didn't want to die. He laughed, clearly savoring my fear.

Suddenly White Hair snarled, pulling me behind him and moving forward, toward them. I had almost forgotten him and I blinked at his broad back stupidly as my fear drained away, leaving me strangely empty. I took a breath and blinked again stupidly. He smells good. Sharp and evergreen.

I was pulled from my weird thoughts by his voice.

"I'm glad you met us here like we planned, Gwen." He put a slight emphasis on 'planned.' I resorted to my usual method of interaction; gaping like a moron. He shifted again, seeming to consider his options as he looked the three in front of him over. He seemed ready to scrap with them if he had to and I couldn't help my sigh of relief as I peeked around his elbow; he was taller than me.

Orin, Renald and Trent seemed to wish they were somewhere else and I made a face at them. Serves them right. How's it feel, boys?

I decided to play along. Anything to get rid of them. "Not that I didn't have some problems getting here."

Orin was dumb, but he wasn't suicidal. He straightened and shot a glare to me, waving the other two off. "Be careful, Gwennie," he said dangerously. "Your new friend can't babysit you all the time. Walker will have his due." One more glare my way and he was gone.

I took a deep breath, tasting pine needles and fresh snow on my tongue, and let it out in a big gust. I wanted to shiver and cry and hug this man who had saved my life. I had been certain that they would get me, especially with Garet a big, fat no-show. As I struggled with my inner teenaged girl, I saw the muscles of his back tense.

"Thank you." I tried to keep my voice even; I certainly didn't want to scare this poor guy with my sudden need to bounce off the fucking walls. I studied my shoes, unsure as to how one says thank you to someone who just saved your life. And then I realized that Orin would report to Walker. I had just put this man in danger. "I didn't mean to drag you into this." I couldn't keep my sadness out of my voice. Some thank you this was... 'Thanks for saving my ass. Your reward? A death sentence on your head.' It sure had a ring to it.

I realized he had turned to me, and I looked up, studying his face. The pull was still there, a faint tugging, a whisper in the back of my mind to step closer. I was sure this wasn't any impulse of my own, but I didn't have time to puzzle it out; he was speaking.

"Hey, no worries, eh? At least you didn't run me over. For a second I thought you might." He lifted one corner of his mouth in a cynical smile and I couldn't help grinning in response. A tendril of mouse-brown hair blew into my face and I brushed it back behind my ear, the image of me barreling over him like a cartoon flashing in my mind. That made me laugh.

"Yeah," I agreed intelligently.

Suddenly he froze, muscles locking up. He looked like someone punched him in the gut. I frowned. "Something wrong?" Something that I did?

As suddenly as he tensed, he relaxed and shook his head sheepishly. "It's nothing." Another wry half-smile and then, "I'm Abel by the way."

I shook his hand and introduced myself with a half-hearted threat about using my full name. I hated it, but somehow I knew I'd hate it less if he were the one saying it. God, 15 years as a monster of the night and I'm still a 16 year old girl, aren't I?

Aware he must be curious about Orin and his gang, I quickly blew off any real details about my pursuers. The less he knew the better. The faster he'd get out of here and out of danger. If Walker was starting to bring people outside his group into this, Garet and I would have to get the hell out of Dodge too.

God, what about Abigail? The thought about my fragile friend made me realize just how long I'd been gone; I left the apartment early this morning and the dim light of an overcast day was starting to darken noticeably. I would have to get home soon.

"Walk with me?" He stared down at me, looking a little stunned, and I amended my request. "We can go to my place."

Ok, let's pause.

Think about how he probably took that for a moment.

Boy meets girl. Boy saves girl. Girl asks boy back to her place. Cue hilarious cartoon stick figures and weird continuous boinks.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

And then let's die of mortification.

"I mean, I have a place around here where we could go. You know, get out of the rather murderous public eye for a bit. Walker's bound to have more than those idiots running around after me." I said it quickly, even as a stray thought - Not that I would mind you taking that the wrong way if you'll agree... - crossed my mind.

Jesus fucking Christ, I was a damn teenager again! He didn't help matters at all by sweeping me an elegant half bow and saying in a slightly deeper voice, "Lead the way, madam! I shall follow wherever you wish."

I laughed like a fool and said something inane, grabbing his arm and pulling him in the direction of my apartment. It wouldn't take us too long to get there, maybe 20 minutes.

Next stop my bedroom. Oh, I knew he didn't mean it that way, but I could dream right? I mean, I almost got killed. Yes, that's my excuse. I almost got killed. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's completely gorgeous. Nothing at all to do with the fact that his almost-but-not-quite-long-enough-to-be-called-shaggy white hair was a strange turn on or the few scars littering his face made him weirdly more attractive or his body - mental time out to fan myself, which I think says it all.

Ok, sue me. He's hot.

And I'm taking him home.

Even if it's not exactly to my bedroom.

Yeah, I'm disappointed too.

A/N 2: Aww, Gwennie's got the hots for Abel. Bwhahaha. I actually got the inspiration for Abel's looks from the Prophecies version of the male Necromancer. My husband plays a white haired necro, and I gotta say a young guy with white hair is kind of sexy.