Feeling Heartbeat Steals My Lover's Sound

She's picking glass out of her hair, he spits blood, and between the two of them the parking lot's a wreck. Caroline turns her back on him, wincing when she a few locks hang on the shard she's pulling out of her scalp, squelching red and ripping her hair away with it which, Ow.

"Need a little help?"

He's helped enough. Caroline manages to pull it out the whole way and drops it on the ground, fingertips wet.

She shoots him a chilly look, laughter brimming out of his throat, up into his eyes faster than a flame on a trail of gasoline, Enzo looks positively warmed by the carnage he's wrought. She wants to drive the heel of her boots into his eyes. For god's sake, is this how all the guys around her get their rocks off?

Stopping for gas on the way to Atalanta, on a mission of extreme importance - Stefan's life hangs in the balance - and Damon's fangirl Enzo picks a fight with the neighborhood motorcycle gang.

There are five men on the ground, only one heart among them beats. Caroline's stomach turns, he's insane. "What is wrong with you?"

"Oh, it's just a bit of fun," Enzo's mouth softens, the mirth let out of it."Don't get nasty, gorgeous."

It's boiling behind her rib cage, and Caroline pulls her hands into her hair, there's smaller shards still embedded into her skull, and they sting like a bitch.

They're wasting time, and he's killing for the thrill of it. You know what? That's his problem. She can't stop him from doing what he likes on his own time, she doesn't care if he eats children, but right now? With her best friend's life hanging in the balance? Caroline is having none of that. "Not on my watch," Caroline bites, she's had a bear bottle broken on her skull, bruises chewing the insides of her arms, and blood on her favorite shirt, and he's broken every neck in the parking lot."You hear me?"

Enzo's molars grind, he begins. "What makes you think -"

"You don't kill anyone we're not supposed to while you're with me. We've got our mark, his name's Avery," Tom. Tom Avery. Caroline swallows, her words go down her throat like acid. "You'll do as I tell you. You let me handle this. Or I swear to god, you're walking to Atlanta."

That threat's not a bluff. She doesn't even know why he's tagged along with her, either he's the traveler's representative meant to baby-sit her, or he's got something else up his sleeve. What she does know is that Enzo's been in a cell for a century and then some, and Augustine hasn't seen to it to give him driving lessons.

She also knows that he could break her arm if he wanted, but Enzo makes no move to retaliate in any such manner. Unlike what she expected of him, considering all his Damon worship. Damon would've slit her throat and screwed the consequences, it was only one part out of the thousand things that made him such a douchebag, and majorly why all his master plans sucked ass.

Enzo studies the stubbed out cigarettes on the floor, then the night sky with its stars of smashed glass and then her, he scrubs his ear with his knuckles.

"Well?" Caroline doesn't remember ever sounding so much like her mother. She's the Sheriff's daughter, through and through, and she won't budge. "Are we clear?"

Enzo's chin drags down and digs into his chest, his brow a sullen wrinkle. He sounds flat, without any intonation that could suggest him being in defiance of her orders. "Yes."

Not fine, or whatever. But succinct, rather quick acceptance.

A dead-eyed child soldier.

Caroline's mouth almost hangs, she's still breathing hard and fast. She's been cracking heads, and he's been breaking necks. The only heartbeat from the men in the parking lot pounds in her ears, weak and fluttery, Enzo can hear it too. It's sloppy to leave one alive, but Caroline's just as human as he thinks she is. She digs her keys out of her pocket, and makes for their ride, shoulder's back, eyes ahead.