*[Chapter Thirty-Three]*

*strong language*

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The suns heat bared down on Darcy's heated skin as her foot floored down on the accelerator, the hightailing velocity merging with the breeze fluttering through the wind-downed window, sending inky strands sailing around. The tyres screeched to a halt kicking up a cloud of dust as muttered curses emitted from her lips, seeing the familiar car in the long driveway. Wasting no time, she kicked open the driver's door and marched over to the trunk of the hazard parked car. Elena doesn't have any of her hunting gear in her vehicle, and she's sure Alaric won't mind if she helps herself. Unlatching the trunk, she hauls it up and sped open the black duffel bag with a hasty verve, disclosing several of the teacher's equipment. A thrill swept down her spine as her hand grasped a wooden stake.

Go time.

Darcy dashed through the front door, boots shrieking against the wooden floor as she skidded to cease at the threshold of the lounge. Her gaze widened, watching Damon set down his glass tumbler just as Alaric launched a stake at him. Her heart leapt, and before she knew it, her legs rushed between the pair, her stake-free hand resting on Alaric's torso. She pushed him back and turned, so her back met his front, and her glare locked on Damon. "You just don't know how to stop, do you?"

Damon narrowed his eyes, throwing his hands up. "Don't blame me. He came to me!"

"You killed his wife!" Darcy exclaimed, pointing the stake between their bodies, and before she knew it, she was falling, her body thrown to the side, chest hitting the floor, and the stake ripped from her grasp. She groaned, rubbing off the sting, her clenched palm brushing against her necklace that had slipped from under its disguise of her shirt. Jumping back to her feet, Darcy cursed as Damon stabbed Alaric in the stomach. She watched as he dropped to his knees, groaning in agony.

"What the hell, Damon?" she yelled, whirling around at the angry vampire. She strides forward as he advanced towards the fallen hunter.

"He pushed you!" Damon shouted in return like it was a valid excuse to stab the man.

Darcy glanced over her shoulder as Alaric clambered to his feet, gripping the embedded stake. "Where's Isobel? What have you done to my wife?" he demanded breathlessly.

A smirk adorned Damon's smug lips. "You want me to tell you I killed her? Would that make you happy? Because I think you know what happened," he gloated, slithering his way towards them, stopping two steps away from Darcy, trapping her between them.

"I saw you were feeding on her," Alaric stated, his fierce stare flickering from the smug vampire and the female hunter. He moved closer to the girl, not wanting her to get hurt.

"Yeah. I did, and I wasn't lying. She was delicious. Oh, come on! What do you think happened? Not and inkling? Never considered the possibility," he paused, stare fixed on the wounded man. "I turned her."

Darcy gasped in shock, her back meeting Alaric's chest as she stepped back. "No... Tell me you're lying?"

"Have I ever lied?" Damon asked, his icy eyes meeting hers, sending goosebumps scattering across her skin from his deep stare.

He was telling the truth. He turned Isobel. Her sister's birth mother. How the hell was she supposed to say to her? Her mother is a vampire.

"Why?" Alaric asked,  breaking them from their lockdown.

"She came to me, all pathetic, looking for vampires. There was something about her. Something I liked. There was something special."

"You turned her because you liked her?" the teacher asked incredulously.

"No, I slept with her because I liked her. I turned her because she begged me to. Yeah. But you knew that, too, didn't you? Hmm. I guess she wasn't happy at home, wasn't happy with life in general, wasn't happy with you." the next thing Darcy knew, she was again on the floor, and Damon again latched onto the squirming hunter.

"You know, Damon, you're one sick bastard!" she exclaimed, sick of his crap and leaping back upon her feet. She knew her words affected him by the way his broad shoulders tensed. "You kill his wife, sleep with her, then turn her. And then you have to go one step further and rub it in his face. Has Katherine really messed you that much?"

"Stop," Damon demanded, still gripping Alaric. He turned his glare at the ebony-head. "Stop whatever is about to exit that pretty mouth before I do something that you wouldn't like."

"Or what?" she sauntered closer, only stopping when the outer soles of her boots met his, their gazes clashing. "You gonna kill me too? I dare you."

Damon dropped Alaric to the ground; his interest fled. He lost himself in the swirling pool of Darcy's ocean views. Their chests heaved, short pants expelling, both refused to back down from their intense staredown. The vampire would never admit it. He doesn't think he could ever harm a hair on her body. He may hurt her by his words; even it means pushing her away, out of his life. He would do it. This life isn't for a girl like Darcy, and if she stuck around, she's bound to get hurt. Damon opened his mouth about to say the words that will pierce her soul but clamped it shut upon Stefan's arrival. Their heads whipped around at his voice.

"What happened? What did you do?" Stefan exclaimed, running over to Alaric's still form.

Darcy swore she felt her heart stop beating for a second. During their fight for control, she didn't realise Alaric was dead. Rushing over, she dropped to her knees at his side, two fingers resting against his artery.

No pulse.

"Dude, what? He attacked me," Damon scoffed indifferently while observing as Darcy's face crumble, his gaze fastened onto the chain swinging over Alaric's body.

"You killed him," Darcy whispered. Still kneeling on the floor, she wiped away the strands of hair obscuring her eyes and glared at Damon. "He didn't deserve this. He just wanted to know what happened to his wife."

"All I did was tell him the truth. His wife didn't even want him anymore. It's not my fault he couldn't handle it," Damon defended, throwing his arms out with a frustrated growl.

"What, like how Katherine didn't want you?" she shot back, ignoring the pain flashing in his eyes.

"Darcy," Stefan warned, positioning himself in front of her, cautious of his brother's rigid posture. Ready to intervene. Both are volatile. He wouldn't put it past them to tear each other apart.

"No, Stefan. He needs to hear the truth," she held up a hand, her glare fastened on the immobile vampire. "This what this is all about, isn't it? You're crying over a girl who played you," she continued, swinging back to Stefan and pointed her finger. "You too. You're both still hung up on a girl who couldn't give a shit about you." Stefan opened his mouth to defend himself, but Damon beat him to it.

"Not true. I wasn't compelled. Stefan was. It was all real for me."

Darcy sighed, his pleading stare struck at her heart. Walking over him, she caressed his face, her gaze reflecting her sorrowful eyes. "No, sweetie. She didn't love you. She lured you into her trap and played with your heart. She manipulated you." Damon opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him, placing a delicate finger on his mouth. "That's not love, Damon. Love isn't supposed to hurt and wrench your heart out. Love isn't supposed to tear apart two brothers bond. Nor is it supposed to manipulate one's emotions. Love is about security. The most secure feeling one should feel. Having an equal, you can share your desires with. It's indescribable and scary. Love is about respect and commitment, equality and accepting flaws."

Damon was lost words, her melodious voice sweeping over him like a protective cloak, tempting him to tug her close and never let go. They flowed across his heating skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. His gaze roamed across her beauty, the soft glowing skin caressing her delicate cheekbones to her plush, full crimson lips. He travelled over her long raven hair, twisted in a silken wave. He ceased, rooted, ensnared in the endless swirling pools of her azure eyes. The breath knocked out of him. Reality hit him in the gut with a sledgehammer.

How? How can this measly human girl get him questioning his true self? How can she meddle into his life and alters his desire to cause destruction and bloodshed? Most importantly, how can Darcella Gilbert get his blood pumping and stare at her like it's the first time he's seeing her. Damon shook his head, perplexed and the honesty tracing her tone. How can she stand there knowing he turned her sister's mother into a vampire and not tear him apart? His head spun. He took a step back, breaking the spell.

"How can you stand there and not want to kill me? I killed Isobel," he looked over at Stefan, observing as his brother watched on cautiously like he was a rabid animal and would attack at any moment.

Darcy's hands dropped to her side. "Because she's nothing to me. I couldn't care less if she's dead or alive."

Damon laughed in disbelief. "But what was that at the Grill?" he was referring back to when they were at the Grill when she said they couldn't be friends. His dead heart constricted at the thought; a spike of determination enlightened his veins. He wouldn't allow it. He won't let Darcy walk out of his life. Not when he just got her.

"I wasn't thinking. I was acting irritational, and I took it out on you. For that, I'm sorry. Personally, Elena doesn't deserve Isobel. Not when she gave her up and hadn't once got in touch to see how her daughter is. That's not a mother. Our mother is Miranda and always will be," Darcy said, looking between the brothers. She doesn't care if that makes me her bitch, but Elena has everything she loves right here. Elena has her, Jenna and Jeremy, and the most amazing best friends one could desire. And if Isobel comes to Mystic Falls, she will kill her, herself. No one will tear apart her family. Now she needs to find out who her father is because he can do one too. She'll be doing Elena a favour.

Damon and Stefan glance at each other, both thinking the same thing. Where was this girl a hundred and forty-five years ago?

Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She turned to look at Alaric's lifeless body. "I swear I saw him move," she said, alerting Damon and Stefan. They moved to her side, peering down at the man.

"You are seeing things," Stefan declared.

"No. I saw him move... Look!" she exclaimed when Alaric's hand twitched. She dropped to her knees, resting one hand on his chest and the other gripping his hand, splaying across his stomach.

"What the..." Damon trailed off as Alaric jumped up, bashing his skull against Darcy's.

"Ahh, shit!" she cried, grasping her throbbing head.

"What happened? What's going on?" Alaric questioned, eyeing at their shocked faces.

"I'll tell you what happened... Damon killed you, and then you just magically came back to life! I mean, that's not possible... Unless you're a vampire..." Darcy trailed off, peering up at the brothers. Both were wearing identical faces of bafflement.

"What?" Alaric stared at the girl resting beside him, rubbing her forehead.

"Did Damon turn you?" Stefan asked.

"Nope." Damon scoffed, glaring at his brother.

Alaric shook his head. "No. I went for him, and then he stabbed me."

"He's telling the truth," Darcy admitted, gazing up at the younger Salvatore.

Stefan shook his head, face clouding with doubt. "No. You must have vampire blood in your system. Somebody slipped it in you."

Alaric sighed, pulling himself to his feet with the aid of Darcy's hand. "No. It's... It's something else."

"What do you mean?" Darcy asked, observing Alaric as his fingers brushed across the familiar ring adorning his hand. She sucked in a breath, recalling back to when she first saw him wearing the piece of jewellery back when he asked Jeremy to do the History assignment.

"Isobel," Alaric whispered his face a picture of shock.

"What do you mean, Isobel?" Darcy questioned, taking his hand in hers, her nimble fingers brushing the black band. She ignored the three men's burning gazes.

"She gave me this ring. Said it would protect me."

Darcy dropped his hand, reaching for the chain clasped around her neck. "That can't be right. That is a Gilbert family heirloom. There's only two: my father and my Uncle John have them. Isobel is not a Gilbert. Nowhere near it."

"What do you mean?" Damon asked, observing her blank face. His stare dropped to the necklace between her fingers. He squinted to get a better look when he caught a flash of a ruby pendant and another, but in white gold, encrusted with gilded initial. He couldn't see any that bore a resemblance to Alaric's. "Do you have one?"

Darcy shook her head. "No. Technically I'm not a Gilbert. I wasn't born in the family. Only the men have them. Grayson's would go to Jeremy," she glanced back down at the chain resting in her hand and opened her palm. Her pinkie finger caressing the gilded M on the white gold pendant. It was similar to the Salvatore and Gildert rings; only hers was a flat back pendant.

"So what I want to know is...How did Isobel get hold of this, and why did she give it to you?"

"Isobel said it would protect me. I didn't take it quite literally."

"And bring you back to life," Damon commented, crossing his arms.

"That's impossible," Stefan mumbled, with vacant eyes, hands cupping his deep in thought.

"What are those?" Damon asked, his gaze fixated on the crimson pendant swinging in lazy circles. He's not seen them on her person before. He's seen the black threaded chain but never what was concealed under her clothing. "Can they bring you back to life, too?" he scoffed at the thought.

Darcy snorted, opening her palm, exposing the necklace in its full glory. Hooked on a blacked threaded chain was two pendants. She rubbed the gold, flat pendant over the gilded initial. "As far as I remember, I've always had them since I was a baby. I only started wearing them after my birth parents went to jail. I was hellbent on refusing to wear them until Grayson imbued them in my mind, saying I should remember how far I've come since their abusive torment. And whenever I doubted myself, that I am no longer that weak and defenceless child. I am strong. I am fearless. I shall not let them beat me down. I will stand on my feet and rise as Darcy Gilbert."

She didn't say she stopped wearing them after Grayson and Miranda died, that she felt as if she was that weak and defenceless child again. It wasn't until every time she refilled her anklet with vervain the ruby pendant would glare at her, begging her to slip the necklace on and be her again. Without them, Darcy felt naked and not in her own skin, but as soon as the smooth metal brushed against her skin, a shiver of comfort and protection drifts through her veins, making her appear invisible to potential dangers. Since the night Damon got attacked by Lexi's boyfriend, she's felt compelled to wear it again.

"What does M mean?" Stefan asked curiously, feeling as if he recognises the crest.

Darcy shrugged, snapping out of her reminiscence, slipping the necklace under her shirt. "Not a clue," she stared at her feet, deep in thought. "I don't remember my birth parents wearing them, though." She turned around to look at Alaric and frowned, no longer seeing his presence. "Where'd he go?"

"Your grand speech scared him away," Damon said, taunting his graceful lips. "Oww!" he yelped, rubbing his chest. "You're strong for a little human."

"Yeah, there'll be more where that comes from if you don't shut your pretty mouth."

"Uh-uh," Damon hummed, walking over to his bourbon collection and pouring himself a glass. Taking a healthy mouthful, he spun around, eyeing Darcy, attempting to sneak out undetected. He placed down the tumbler and flashed over to the huntress. He smirked at her groaning form. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Now the shows over with. I'm gonna go home and make out with my pillow. Is that a crime?"

Stefan snort sounded behind, earning a finger salute.

"You make out with your pillow?" Damon asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Can I join?" He folded over, groaning, hand rubbing his stomach.

"No, you perv. Go make out with your own. Better yet, find one of your orgy playmates."

Damon chuckled as he heard the door slam. "I love her spunk." He straightened up, glancing at his brother's unimpressed face. He walked over, tapping his cheek. "No need to be jelly, Brother."

"I'm not," Stefan mumbled, pushing his hand away and stalking off.

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Two reveals. Can you guess what they are yet?

Phew! The struggle was real with this chapter 😥

Any questions?