Hi everyone! I had an old account on here with a version of this story from years ago. It's been stuck in my head for years and I wanted to continue it.
Read along for witchy adventures of Claire, impending romance, and a whole lot of drama (it'll get a little dark).

I don't own Twilight, obviously!

Please read and review!


Los Angeles, CA 12:32AM: Claire

"Yep, I just got the last of it out," she said, pinning her phone against her ear and her shoulder as she struggled with her keys against the lock of an old wooden door.

She gave the door a bump with her hip and finally stumbled into her mother's one bedroom apartment. She threw her purse down on the seat of a dining room chair her mother had gotten from an antique market and let out a sigh.

"Quil, gimme a second, okay?" she said before setting her phone and keys down on the kitchen counter.

Her mother and little sister were curled up on opposite ends of the couch, their feet overlapping. Their fat orange tabby, Mango, stared at her with big yellow eyes and gave a soft meow in hello.

Claire unfolded a thick throw blanket hanging off the back of the couch and threw it over the two of them. There was a dish with bound white sage burning slowly on the coffee table in front of them. The table was scattered with different colored crystals, face-up tarot cards, and a half-finished bottle of cheap cabernet. They couldn't have fallen asleep too long ago.

She pushed her mother's thick, chocolate curls aside from her face and tucked a pillow under Tessa's head to catch the slight stream of drool from her parted lips.

Claire scratched Mango behind his ears before scooping up the bottle of wine and Tessa's used glass. She gave herself a hefty pour and headed into the bedroom, tucking her phone back under her ear, "Alright, I am armed with a glass of wine and fully prepared to hear about your date."

She took a large gulp of her wine before sprawling out on her mother's full size bed, a slight smile crossing her lips as Quil's deep voice came through the phone. Absentmindedly, with a small wave of her hand, the scented candles sitting candles sitting atop her mother's dresser lit up into flame. She listened to him talk about his day at the auto body shop and the subsequent date at a bar in town. Flirting had led to plans for a couple drinks with a girl named Chelsea, whose brakes he had changed. Apparently the date ended before midnight and there didn't seem to be a plan for a second one.

"I cannot wait to give the best friend speech at your wedding," Claire chuckled into the phone, "Quil, you know I love you more than anyone, but I gotta sleep so I can drive tomorrow. Can't wait to meet Chelsea. Send her all my love."

After saying goodnight, she pulled off her jeans and threw on an old t-shirt. She got up to crack open the window, letting in the cool ocean breeze.

In the morning, they were leaving behind their years in Los Angeles and heading back to the res in Washington.

At 23, she had gotten a job out of college as a copywriter for a small clothing company. Her bachelor's in English Lit obviously had done wonders. They were letting her continue to freelance even though she was heading back to La Push. She had just finished moving the last of her things out of her three bedroom apartment in east LA, kissing her two quirky roommates goodbye and heading back west towards the ocean.

She, her little sister, and her mother had said goodbye to La Push almost 10 years ago. Her father had found out what they were despite years of carefully kept secrets. After an ugly, drawn-out divorce, they were packing up an old Forerunner with cardboard boxes and leaving the Makah reservation where they lived with her father. They had a quick stint of living in her grandmother's house, but shortly after were heading to California for good.

She remembered standing in her Auntie Emily's yard in Quil's old sweatshirt, sporting a bad haircut and big, teary brown eyes as she said goodbye to everyone. Even though her mother insisted the fresh start for the three of them would be an adventure, La Push had been the only home she'd ever known. Quil's devastated face as they drove away that day had been etched into her memories.

But her grandmother had fallen ill in the recent years. Auntie Emily was struggling to take care of her on her own, so her mother made the rather impulsive decision to move back to Washington after so long. She had insisted Claire and Tessa stay and continue to build their lives. But, despite all the obvious reasons to stay, like her job, her friends, her cute east-side apartment, Claire felt the pull. She couldn't deny that there was something calling her back to La Push.

Claire wrapped herself in the comforter and waved her hand in the general direction of the burning candles sitting atop the dresser. They went out suddenly, embers burning and smoking at the very tip if the wicks. The whole room smelled of melted wax.

Their magic was something they'd kept secret for many years. Claire had seen the countless times it had pushed people away; her father, a handful of her mother's boyfriends who had accidentally stumbled upon she or Tessa casting a spell from their grimoire, the neighbor that inexplicably moved out after seeing the levitating boxes begin to unpack themselves in their very first LA apartment.

Her mother, Molly, had done her best to educate she and Tessa in their craft. On the morning of Claire's thirteenth birthday, they had awoken to Mango lying stiff and cold next to his food bowl. Claire had collapsed to her knees, scooped up his body, and wished with all her might that he would come back. Suddenly the air was cold, Mango was flicking his tail back and forth in annoyance from being squeezed too tightly, and her mother's jaw dropped before exclaiming, "No f*cking way. Your first act of witchcraft was necromancy?!"

That year her birthday present was a large spellbook; her grimoire.

Mango hadn't had any health problems since.

She hadn't seen Quil in years. With school work, and life, they just hadn't been able to find the time. But every day, she missed him. She couldn't remember a time in her life without Quil and was in constant amazement that their friendship had lasted the distance between them. Although she couldn't wait to see him, their FaceTimes and phone calls made it easy to hide the fact that she was getting more and more comfortable with her magic. He could never find out. She didn't even want to think of the aftermath.

The wine she had drank made her fingers feel warm and let sleep creep up on her easily. Claire's eyes felt heavy as she pulled her long, dark waves into a bun and settled in under the thick duvet.

She wasn't sure what returning to her old home would mean. She was a young woman now; a practiced witch. But like her mother always said, it would be yet another adventure for the Young women. They had never been short of those.