Highway To Hell ━ elena gilbert [1] ✔

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑛

[ Chapter Ten ]

Every Character Needs  A Tragic Backstory To Tell

She spent the rest of the day and night, just relistening to the recording over and over again. But it all seemed normal.

All Preston could get from it was the fact that the vampires were doing something, blood banks, hunters and campers missing, it was all to do with vampires. Or at least, that's what she had gathered.

She dug through the fridge, trying to find something. Since she was practically living there, the Salvatore brothers decided to get more food.

She settled on mac and cheese, and once it was done, she was halfway done eating it when Damon texted her a location of where he wanted her to be.

Preston grunted, as she ate the rest of her supper, then walked out the door. She slid her phone in her hoodie pocket as she approached Damon, Alaric and some random guy that she never met.

"I see you called in help." The mysterious man observed Preston.

She reached into the hoodie pocket for her knife, when the man started speaking to her, "Oh, you won't be needing the knife." She looked at him, somewhat surprised, but at the same time she knew how he could tell it was a knife.

"You're John Gilbert. Elena's uncle, right? Guessing you're a hunter..." She stood her ground.

"Are you here to kill me or are you gonna let Mr. Saltzman? Or how about Preston Winchester." John sighed, looking at the teenager, "You are a lot like Dean, or at least that's what you show."

"Can I stab him?" Preston asked, referring to John Gilbert. Alaric sighed, "Not in public."

"My knowledge of this town goes beyond anything that you, or you two, or the council knows. So, if you were planning on some clever high-speed-snatch-ring-vamp-kill move... know that if I die, everything I know goes to the council. Including a fascinating little tale of the original Salvatore brothers and their present day return to Mystic Falls..." John explained.

"And of course, we can't forget one of the Winchester kids. The tragic backstory, can't forget the dad who was barely there and practically hated you. Preston Winchester, who many people know of more than the others, a hunter who has killed and hunted-"

"Yeah, well it's in the name to hunt, jackass."

The man walked away.

And it might have been a good thing that Damon held Preston back, because she might have done a lot more than just kill the guy.

—---

"Preston... Mind explaining what the hell Gilbert was talking about?" Damon questioned as Preston sat down on her bed.

"Look, Preston, just tell me-" Damon's voice rose, making Preston flinch ever so slightly. He noticed that, making him look at her carefully.

"What did your dad do?" He asked, "Why do you care?" Preston eyed him.

"What did he d-"

Preston pinched the bridge of her nose, "He told me I was useless, worthless, and that I could've done better. On the rare occasion he would be there, he'd throw a bourbon glass in my direction." She paused, not bothering to look up and see Damon's reaction.

"John Eric Winchester doesn't give a flying rat's ass 'bout people. Not after my mom got killed by a yellow eyed demon."

Part of her never wanted to outright say those words, but the other part felt so much better voicing it.

Preston just wanted to eat her mac and cheese.

This act is just, sadness, tragic backstory, lesbian disaster (reasonable), and confusion.

Okay, bye!