Disclaimer: I own noting but my plot and OCs.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello Readers. If your a regular fan of mine (thanks if you are) I apologize that my other Teen Wolf stories have not been updated. I have to do some re-writing, but have no fear for this one. I promise to have a steady flow of updates for this one. :)

WARNINGS:

-Okay, so I've never ever EVER seen TVD. I just never got into it:/ But Damon is maximum-sexiness and I love Stephan+Allison so, yeah:) Just saying it's very LOOSELY based off of TVD, so bear with me?

- A lot of this is Slightly AU.

PLOT EXTENSION:

Would you like one?

The year was 1492. The Santa Maria was meant to set sail at high noon. Christopher Columbus and his crewmen boarded their fleet of three ships, desire and enthusiasm guiding their voyage to wealth and fame. The surety of success was so prognostic that Columbus banished the doubt in his crew to oblivion, promising mass glory and riches beyond their wildest imaginations. The mood was set. The time was right. Only the future knew what lie in wait for the eager Spanish and Englishmen.

Understand that this is all that history allows you to see. No one ever speaks about the dirty deeds that go on beyond the rusty pages of history books. Nothing is mentioned about the secrets that plague the good name of historical adventure. You never see the black sheep of the family. It's always there, haunting corners and willing to be seen, but nevertheless, hidden.

The fourth ship was never mentioned in this story.

The voyagers upon the Santa Maria fleet consisted of men who knew the sea and diplomats. These men were, of course, ready to trade and give aid to any and all of the foreign tradesmen they came across in order to get the best of what they wanted. Simplicity at it's best. However, the foundation of that simplicity had false boards beneath it.

The Spanish monarchy was far from foolish. They understood that brutality behind diplomacy always promised them their gold. And so, the Spanish monarchy rounded thirty-five Spanish and English prisoners into a ship called Alejandro of Milan, captained by a prison guard turned seamen named Liam Cortez III. He was inexperienced but knew how to use a compass and accepted the terms the Queen offered. Along with a few crewman, they set sail a day after Columbus' fleet. Their job was simple. The pay was good, and the prisoners remained in chains. Nothing would go wrong. Alejandro of Milan sailed for three days before Cortez began to see land. Excited and full of pride, he assured his men that the trip was nearly over, and that they'd be in the ports of Indochina before the next two days were out.

Cortez spoke too soon.

Among his normal crew on their normal voyage, was a vampire by the name of Alasdair. He'd lurked in the shadows of the palace, awaiting a plan for a voyage like this one. Alasdair knew of a land that Europe had never known existed; a home he so desperately needed to get

to. He compelled his way onto the ship and awaited the inevitable misdirection and loss of path so that he could take the reigns of the ship and go home, food in toe. Alasdair did not expect the captain to have such a keen sense of direction, and did not think he'd have to do what he did because of this turn of events. In a haste to get his plan back on track, he compelled the Captain to turn his ship around.

Confused, the crew tried making since of why Cortez had set them off course so suddenly after their voyage had been near it's close. Their confusion was only heightened when the captain met their words with glazed over eyes. As if he was in a trance. Suspicion rose as to why Cortez would not listen to reason, even when the crewmen threatened him. Even more so, a few of the prisoners were disappearing. And there was no way they could break their chains or escape through the underbelly so why?

Whispers of witches and ghosts spread around the ship like sickness. And fast. The whispers became screams of accusation as fear began infecting the crewmen. Their voyage had reached day seven, and by then, men were being cast off the boat. Alasdair knew he could not compel the entire company, but he could not allow them to destroy each-other; they were necessary for this voyage and the fate of his home. Alasdair didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing that came to mind, and killed the crew. It was reckless and messy but he couldn't afford being found out. He couldn't afford coming so close and then being ripped away from another opportunity.

He was created from the crimson red of fire and the deep blackness of earth. His mother is thirst and his father is rage. Alasdair was one of the first vampires. Forget what you know about Dracula. Dracula is fantasy. He's what the humans created to minimize the real fear. The real monster. Vampires are the consequence of sin's wickedness. They are sin-bred and fear to the core. The top of the food chain.

Created in 10th century Scotland from a dog bite, Alasdair was cast out of town like a leper. His fellow townspeople's fear was deadly and they tried with all their might to end his menacing existence. They tried everything, but Alasdair could not be killed. Realizing this, they shut up their doors to him. Once Alasdair's blood lust had subsided, a bottomless void of loneliness opened up in him. For decades he drifted, awaiting a place to call home; a family to reclaim. There were whispers among the imperishable about a place on the Western Hemisphere that housed things like them. Castaways. The unwanted. Monsters. Alasdair was sick of what being a monster meant; which was alone. Desperate, he put aside discrediting accusations of this place being pure fantasy and chased after the dream of being somewhere he'd belong.

Twelve days had past since their departure from the Spanish coast. Down ten prisoners, and crewless, he made it. The rumors were true. Once his feet touched the sand of the foreign land, he knew it. He felt it. Alasdair was home.

Next Chapter Up by Friday at the latest.:) Suscribe&Review (sorry, overestimated my time, there)