[Location: The Cross Residence – Driveway] [Time: 4:00 PM – Three Days Later]
The humidity had finally broken, leaving behind a crisp, breezy afternoon that felt falsely optimistic.
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror of my Jeep. I looked harmless. I was wearing a faded band t-shirt (Led Zeppelin, carefully chosen to appeal to Jeremy's grunge aesthetic) and jeans. In the passenger seat sat a cardboard box filled with "props"—a few Civil War-era rusty horseshoes and a bayonet I had bought off eBay months ago for this exact moment.
"Showtime," I muttered.
I wasn't just visiting a classmate. I was invading the nexus of the show. The Gilbert House was Ground Zero. Every vampire, werewolf, and hybrid would eventually cross that threshold.
I put the car in reverse.
[Location: The Gilbert Residence – 2104 Maple Street] [Time: 4:15 PM]
The house looked exactly like it did on TV. The white siding, the wrap-around porch, the swing moving gently in the wind.
But standing in front of it, I felt a heavy, somber weight. This house was a mausoleum. The parents had just died in the car crash on Wickery Bridge four months ago. The grief inside was fresh.
I walked up the steps, carrying my box of "artifacts." I rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door swung open.
It wasn't Jeremy. It was Jenna Sommers.
She looked frazzled. Her hair was up in a messy clip, and she was holding a stack of mail like it was a weapon. She was young, overwhelmed, and trying desperately to be a guardian to two teenagers who were spiraling.
"Hi?" she asked, blinking at me.
"Hey," I smiled—my 'polite neighbor' smile. "I'm Adrian. I just moved in down the street. Is Jeremy around?"
Jenna's shoulders dropped about an inch. She was relieved I wasn't a social worker or a cop.
"Oh, you're the new kid," she said, opening the door wider. "Jeremy mentioned you. Sort of. He grunted something about 'history stuff.'"
"That's me," I laughed. "I brought over some Civil War junk to show him. He said he might want to sketch it."
"Civil War junk," Jenna sighed, rolling her eyes affectionately. "Just what this house needs. More old dusty things. Come on in. He's upstairs. First door on the left."
"Thanks, Ms. Sommers."
"Jenna," she corrected immediately. "Please. 'Ms. Sommers' makes me feel like I should be grading papers."
"Jenna," I nodded.
I stepped across the threshold.
Invited.
The air inside smelled of vanilla candles and stale tension. I walked up the stairs, the wood creaking under my feet.
I knocked on Jeremy's door.
"Yeah?" A muffled voice.
I opened it. The room was dark, the blinds drawn. It smelled faintly of weed and body spray—the universal scent of teenage depression. Jeremy was sitting on his bed, headphones around his neck, sketchpad on his knees.
He looked up, surprised to actually see me. "Oh. You actually came."
"I told you," I said, setting the box down on his desk. "I don't flake."
I pulled out the rusted bayonet. "Check this out. 1864. Authentic."
Jeremy's eyes lit up. For a kid drowning in grief, historical violence was a fascinating escape. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. "This is sick. Look at the oxidation."
"Right?" I sat on the rolling chair, spinning it around to face him. "My dad has boxes of this stuff. But he said the Gilberts have the real treasure trove. Diaries? Inventions?"
Jeremy snorted. "Yeah. My ancestor, Jonathan Gilbert. He was a nutjob. Wrote all these journals about 'demons' in the woods. My dad kept all his stuff in the closet."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Demons?" I asked, feigning skepticism. "Like... ghosts?"
"No, like monsters," Jeremy said. He stood up and walked over to the closet. He pulled down a dusty cardboard box labeled J.G. - ARCHIVES.
He dropped it on the floor. Dust motes danced in the dim light.
"It's mostly junk," Jeremy said, kicking the box open. "Broken compasses. Weird rings."
I leaned forward.
There, sitting on top of a pile of yellowed papers, was a pocket watch. It was silver, tarnished with age, with a cracked glass face.
The Gilbert Device.
In the show, this wasn't just a watch. It was a dark magic detector enchanted by Emily Bennett. It pointed to vampires like a compass points North.
"Can I see that?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.
Jeremy shrugged. "Knock yourself out."
I picked it up. The metal was cold. I flipped the lid open. The needle spun lazily, settling in a random direction. It wasn't reacting because there were no vampires in the house.
Yet.
"Does it work?" I asked.
"Nope. Broken for years," Jeremy said, sitting back on the bed and picking up his sketchpad. "I tried to fix it once, but the gears are all weird. Like they don't fit."
I ran my thumb over the casing. I needed this. But I couldn't just steal it. That would break the trust I was building.
"It's cool aesthetic, though," I said. "Steampunk vibe."
I looked at Jeremy. He was sketching the bayonet I brought. He looked... calm. For the first time, he wasn't looking at me with suspicion.
"Hey," I said. "I'll trade you."
Jeremy looked up. "What?"
"The bayonet," I pointed to the weapon in his hand. "For the broken watch. I think I can take the gears out and use them for a project. And you seem to like the knife."
Jeremy looked at the bayonet. It was heavy, sharp, and real. To a teenage boy, a weapon is infinitely cooler than a broken watch.
"You serious?" Jeremy asked. "This thing is worth way more than a broken watch."
"My dad has three more," I lied. "And honestly? My mom hates it. She thinks it brings 'bad energy' into the house. You'd be doing me a favor taking it off my hands."
Jeremy smirked. "Deal."
I pocketed the watch.
Objective Complete.
The transfer was made. No theft. No suspicion. Just two guys trading junk.
"Adrian!" Jenna's voice floated up the stairs. "Elena's home! And she brought pizza!"
Jeremy's face fell. The mention of his sister always seemed to remind him of the accident.
"You hungry?" Jeremy asked, though he looked like he wanted to stay in his cave.
"I could eat," I said standing up. "Come on. Pizza is the universal cure for... whatever this is."
I gestured to the dark room.
Jeremy actually chuckled. He stood up. "Fine."
We walked downstairs.
[Location: The Kitchen] [Time: 5:30 PM]
Elena was unpacking a pizza box on the island. She looked up as we entered, her face brightening when she saw Jeremy out of his room.
"Hey, Jer," she said softy. Then she looked at me. "Oh, Adrian. Hi."
"I crashed the party," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "Hope that's okay. I brought ancient weaponry."
"He traded me a bayonet," Jeremy said, grabbing a slice of pepperoni. He sounded almost normal.
Elena looked at me, and I saw genuine gratitude in her eyes. I had done the impossible: I had engaged her brother.
"That's... great," Elena smiled. "Help yourself. There's plenty."
I reached for a slice.
Suddenly, the pocket watch in my jeans pocket grew warm.
Not hot. Just warm. A subtle vibration against my thigh.
I froze.
I looked at the window above the sink. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the yard.
The watch was reacting.
Vampire.
My eyes darted to the front door. It was closed. I looked at the back door. Closed.
Then I looked out the kitchen window, past Elena's shoulder.
Standing on the sidewalk across the street, half-hidden by a tree, was a figure.
He was wearing a grey hoodie. He was staring intently at the house. At Elena.
Stefan Salvatore.
He was stalking her. This was the "Pre-Pilot" phase where Stefan was obsessively watching her to see if she was Katherine.
The watch buzzed again in my pocket. It worked.
I took a bite of the pizza, forcing my heart rate to stay steady.
"This is good place," I said, looking at Elena. "You guys have a nice view."
I stared right through the window at Stefan.
He didn't see me. He was focused entirely on Elena.
"Thanks," Elena said, oblivious to the monster standing fifty yards away. "It's home."
I chewed slowly.
I had the watch. I had the invitation. I had the gratitude of the protagonist.
But as I looked at Stefan lurking in the shadows, a realization hit me.
I wasn't just a player in the game anymore. I was standing in the crossfire. If Stefan decided to come to the door right now, I was the only person in this room who knew what he was.
And I had nothing but a pocket knife and a stomach full of half-digested vervain.
"I should get going," I said, wiping my hands on a napkin. "My mom wants me back before dark. New town rules."
"See you at school?" Elena asked.
"Count on it," I said.
I fist-bumped Jeremy. "Don't stab yourself with that bayonet."
"No promises," he grinned.
I walked out the front door.
I walked down the porch steps.
I didn't look at the tree across the street. I walked straight to my Jeep, got in, and locked the doors.
As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror.
The space under the tree was empty.
He's fast, I thought, gripping the steering wheel.
I drove home, the watch ticking in my pocket like a bomb.