The Vampire Diaries: Bastard Line of Delgallo

Mystic Falls – The Gilbert House

Vanessa stepped onto the porch of the Gilbert House, her lips curving into a composed smile as the door swung open. She expected to be greeted by Alaric Saltzman, but before he could get a word out, a warm laugh cut through the air.

"Vanessa? Finally, we meet in person!"

Jenna Sommers leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.

Vanessa grinned, stepping inside. "Took us long enough, right?"

Alaric blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Wait, you two know each other?"

Jenna rolled her eyes playfully. "Please, Ric. You think I'd let some random researcher move her project into town without vetting her first?" She turned to Vanessa. "We've been in contact for weeks."

Vanessa nodded, setting her bag down. "I moved the project from Duke to Mystic Falls. A very generous donor from Whitmore College is funding it, so it made sense to relocate somewhere rich with history."

Alaric's brows lifted. "Really? That's… convenient."

Vanessa's smile was effortless, a carefully constructed mask hiding the lie so well even she could believe it. "Isn't it?"

"Then why the job at the school?" he inquired.

"The youth have a more agile mind and I was thinking of ways to kill time and my degree to use in other ways if the project falls through." she explained.

Jenna waved her toward the kitchen. "Come on, let's get you something to drink while we talk. Alaric, you coming?"

Alaric shook his head. "I'll be right there."

Vanessa followed Jenna into the kitchen, the scent of coffee and something faintly floral lingering in the air. Jenna moved easily around the space, pulling out a couple of mugs as she glanced at Vanessa. "So, tell me about this mysterious fiancé of yours. You mentioned him in passing before, but never much detail."

Vanessa's expression softened, playing the role effortlessly. "He's away on business at the moment."

Jenna smirked, pouring coffee. "Mysterious, indeed. Should I be worried he's some kind of international spy?"

Vanessa laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Something like that. He travels a lot for work." Not untrue, just… not the whole truth.

Jenna leaned against the counter, studying her. "And you're fine with that? Him always being gone?"

Vanessa shrugged, swirling her coffee. "We make it work. Besides, it gives me time to focus on my research." She tilted her head. "Which, actually, is why I wanted to talk to you."

Jenna raised a brow. "Oh?"

Vanessa took a measured sip before continuing. "My field is Parapsychology—the study of paranormal phenomena. Telepathy, clairvoyance, psychokinesis. Things that people dismiss but still experience. And I thought, who better to support this than a psychologist with deep roots in Mystic Falls? Someone with credibility—someone people trust."

Jenna blinked, taken aback but intrigued. "That's… definitely different from what I usually deal with."

Vanessa nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Exactly why I need you. This town is perfect for my research. A building in the family name, a well-respected local as part of the team? You'd be giving this project legitimacy."

Jenna exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "That's a lot to think about. You mentioned taking over the clinic, but this…"

Vanessa gave her an easy smile. "No rush. Just think about it. And we don't want the clinic. We'll fix the damages, remodel and rent it from…your family. Consider it a college fund for your niece and nephew."

From the hallway, Alaric watched the exchange with growing unease. His fingers tightened around his phone as he stepped away, pulling it out and dialing a number he never liked calling.

The line rang once. Twice.

Then—

"What do you want, Alaric?"

Alaric let out a slow breath. "How sure are you about your compulsion on Vanessa?"

Damon's tone turned arrogant. "One hundred percent. Why?"

"Because Vanessa Monroe is here, at the house, and she's got a very well-funded project in parapsychology," Alaric said, voice low.

There was silence. Then a slow chuckle. "Oh, so she's following Isobel's work. Figures. Look, trying to stop her would just make Jenna suspicious. And the last thing you need is her wondering why you have more secrets than your 'dead-not-dead wife.'"

Alaric clenched his jaw. "Damon—"

"And let's not forget the real problem," Damon continued smoothly. "It's not just 'Hey, honey, my ex-wife isn't actually dead.' It's 'Oh, and by the way, I'm a vampire slayer that happens to be your doppelganger niece's step-father.'"

Alaric closed his eyes briefly, suppressing a groan. "I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah, you love me," Damon shot back. "Relax, Ric. Just keep an eye on her. If she's anything like Isobel, she'll dig until she finds something. And if she does?"

Damon's voice dropped, deadly serious.

"We handle it."

Alaric exhaled, glancing back toward the kitchen where Vanessa and Jenna sat, oblivious to the conversation happening just a few feet away.

"No… We can't kill her," he muttered.

"Fine. But remember, you said it."

__________________

Leon watched Alice as she adjusted the strap of her bag, the flickering neon light above them casting sharp shadows across her face. The girl had promise—she was clever, eager, and most importantly, useful.

"You lay low," Leon instructed, his voice smooth but firm. "No theatrics, no unnecessary attention."

Alice nodded quickly. "I understand."

He studied her for a moment before adding, "You're a girl who had a bad breakup and needs a quiet town to put herself back together." His gaze sharpened. "That's your story. Stick to it."

Alice swallowed, then nodded again. "And what about Rose?"

Leon exhaled through his nose. "Avoid her. She's playing house with the Salvatore brothers, and they're a noisy bunch. The last thing I need is them sniffing around you."

Alice's lips pressed together, but she didn't argue. She knew better.

Leon pulled out a small, sealed envelope and handed it to her. "This will get you set up in Mystic Falls. I'll be in touch."

With that, he turned away, stepping into the dimly lit street. He had his own destination to reach.

The Gemini Coven awaits.

____________

Vanessa's First Day – Mystic Falls High

The sound of chairs shifting, whispers exchanging, and books thudding against desks filled the classroom. The students sat, waiting, some with bored expressions, others with mild curiosity.

Then, the door opened.

Vanessa Monroe strode in with measured confidence, her heels clicking against the tiled floor as she made her way to the front of the classroom. She turned, placing her notes on the desk, before facing the students with a composed, knowing smirk.

"Good morning," she began, her voice clear and inviting. "For those of you who haven't heard, my name is Vanessa Monroe, and I'll be your instructor for this course. I hold an undergraduate and graduate degree in Comparative Folklore from Duke University, and today—" her eyes briefly flickered over familiar faces—Matt, Elena, Bonnie, and Stefan—before her smirk deepened.

"—we begin with Fact vs. Folklore."

A few students straightened, while others looked at her warily.

Vanessa reached for a piece of chalk and wrote on the board in fluid, looping script:

"The Devil in Mystic Falls: Folklore and Historical Myth"

She turned back to them, crossing her arms. "Mystic Falls is a town rich in supernatural history, though much of it has been reduced to bedtime stories meant to scare children. But where do stories come from?"

Silence.

Vanessa's lips curled slightly. "They come from truth. And that's what we'll be discussing today—the truth buried inside folklore. Particularly, the ones that have shaped this town."

Bonnie shifted in her seat, brows furrowed. Stefan's expression remained neutral, but his fingers curled slightly against his desk. Elena glanced at him, then back at Vanessa, something unreadable flashing behind her eyes.

Vanessa continued, her voice turning almost playful. "Witch burnings. Demons in the night. Disappearances. This town has quite the literary history. But the question remains—" She leaned against the desk, hands braced against the surface.

"How much of it is fiction… and how much of it is fact?"

The room fell into uneasy silence.

And Vanessa?

She just smiled.

Vanessa's gaze swept across the room, ensuring she had the students' attention. 

"Let's delve into some local history," she began, her voice rich with intrigue. "While the Salem witch trials are infamous, did you know that Virginia had its own encounters with witchcraft hysteria?"

A few students exchanged curious glances.

"Between 1626 and 1730, approximately two dozen witch trials took place right here in Virginia."

 "One of the most notable cases involved Grace Sherwood, known as the 'Witch of Pungo.'" Vanessa paused, letting the name settle in the room. "In 1706, she was accused of witchcraft and subjected to a trial by water in the Lynnhaven River. The belief was that if she floated, it confirmed her guilt." 

A hand shot up. "What happened to her?"

"Grace floated, was deemed guilty, and spent several years in jail. Today, she's remembered as a symbol of injustice, with a statue in Virginia Beach commemorating her ordeal."

Vanessa leaned against her desk, adopting a more conversational tone. "These events raise an important question: How do we distinguish fact from folklore? Stories evolve over time, often blending truth with imagination. As students of history and literature, it's our job to sift through these narratives."

She gestured towards the chalkboard, where she had written two columns: 'Fact' and 'Folklore.'

"Let's consider another example," she continued. "The legend of the 'Devil's Tramping Ground' in North Carolina—a barren circle where nothing grows, and objects left overnight disappear. Some say it's where the devil paces in contemplation."

A murmur of interest rippled through the class.

"While it's a captivating tale, scientific investigations suggest the soil's infertility is due to natural causes, such as high salt content. Here, folklore offers a supernatural explanation for a natural phenomenon."

Vanessa's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "I challenge each of you to research a local legend or myth. Dig into its origins, separate the facts from the embellishments, and present your findings. This exercise will hone your critical thinking and analytical skills."

The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. As students gathered their belongings, Vanessa called out, "Remember, the line between fact and folklore is often blurred. It's up to you to uncover the truth."

As the classroom emptied, Vanessa couldn't help but smile, eager to see what her students would discover.

The last student slipped out, but Elena lingered, her arms crossed, eyes sharp with concern. Vanessa, still seated at her desk, arched a brow, sensing the conversation was just beginning.

"I hear you're the new literature teacher," Elena started, casual but cautious. "Alaric mentioned it."

Vanessa smirked. "That's right. And here I thought I was still the mystery woman in town."

Elena's lips pressed into a thin line. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but I'm going to give you some advice—stay away from Jenna."

Vanessa's amusement faded. "Stay away?" she repeated, folding her hands together. "And why would I do that?"

Elena stepped forward. "She doesn't need to be dragged into… any of this. She has no idea what really goes on here, and she's better off that way."

Vanessa exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Ah. That old song and dance." She gestured to an empty chair. "Sit down, Elena."

Elena hesitated, but Vanessa's tone wasn't one of request—it was a challenge. Reluctantly, she sat.

Vanessa reached into her bag and pulled out a few neatly stacked academic papers, flipping to highlighted sections before placing them in front of Elena. "Tell me something," she said coolly. "Do you know who Jenna really is?"

Elena frowned at the papers before her. Titles in bold ink stood out immediately:

The Psychology of Death and Mourning – Jenna Sommers, Ph.D. Candidate

Supernatural & Religious Beliefs: The Psychological Effect on Coping and Personality Development

Elena's brow furrowed as she skimmed over the texts.

"Jenna didn't just fall into psychology," Vanessa continued. "She has a gift—an analytical mind and an instinct for understanding trauma. These aren't just random essays, Elena. They are the product of a sharp and capable woman."

Elena glanced up. "Why are you showing me this?"

Vanessa leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Because ignorance in Mystic Falls doesn't protect people. It gets them killed."

Elena swallowed, shifting uncomfortably.

Vanessa tapped one of the papers. "Look at the timeline. Jenna's real potential emerged after your mother and father died." Her voice softened, but her words didn't lose their weight. "She was forced to grow, to adapt, to become someone stronger. And yet, instead of encouraging her to fulfill that potential, you'd rather keep her in the dark?"

Elena looked away, jaw tightening. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" Vanessa countered. "Tell me, Elena—what gives you the right to halt her opportunities based on your childish understanding of protection?"

Elena's eyes snapped back to hers, but Vanessa didn't flinch.

"This isn't some high school forever romance. Life isn't a game," Vanessa said, her voice firm but calm. "Real people do real work. Jenna and I have years of experience ahead of you, and yet, you think you know what's best for her?" She shook her head, leaning back. "You don't."

The weight of her words settled between them.

Elena pushed the papers aside and stood up. There was nothing left to say. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the classroom, her mind spinning.

Conflicted.