Normally she didn't come here. It was nothing but desperation and the rain that drove her to the small hole in the fence, not far from the main gate which proudly proclaimed the land behind it to be „private property". Not that anyone of proper authority cared enough these days about who came and went to keep the old security cameras - at least those that hadn't been destroyed by natural or less natural causes - running. No, not police or security worried her, neither would ever visit these desolated parts for anything less than a body. What worried her was the lack of them.

Normally, with weather like today's and especially since her jacket had been taken, she would have hidden in one of the shelters scattered around town; her status as both young and female generally finding her a sympathetic ear even if she shouldn't have gotten in officially. Not that being there was much better than being outside. Yes it was relatively safe and even more importantly warm, but the volunteers' smiles were too large and the workers moods too grim. So whenever weather and clothing permitted she did her best to stay away from what she had dubbed the hatchery of insanity. She knew it wasn't fair, that those people simply wished to help, but there was nothing more degrading than to play the role of the failure that was beyond saving - or even worse, who had to be saved – in front of this odd mix of desperate to help and simply desperate. Ironically even begging seemed less humiliating to her – maybe she was more used to it.

Today though neither being female nor lacking in proper clothing had gotten her into the shelters. The weather had been crazy all week and the logical consequence had been very swarmed quarters. Only the sunshine shelter would have taken her, but there was no way that she would stay in one room with them. Not even if it was freezing and storming outside.

So here she was, clumsily making her way into one of the few other dry places in the outer parts of Seattle that her kind could hide in. She couldn't help chuckling despite the less then pleasant situation. Her kind. If anyone asked for a description of her kind than most would speak of an unwashed male, maybe with a few tattoos, several plastic bags in hand and if very lucky even with some form of trolley. His clothing would be described as dirty, old and ripped, his face as unshaven and his dark hair too long.

Obviously she wasn't male even though sometimes she wished she were, it would certainly make some things easier and less dangerous. Her hair was long and greasy, but it was halfway diligently kept thanks to a broken hairbrush that no one else had had any interest in. It could have used a proper trim, but she thought that all in all it wasn't too bad. Her clothing was a bit ripe, but during her stay in her personal luxurious hotel three days ago she had had a chance to get them washed, which made them a great deal cleaner than she could hope for.

However even as a halfway clean female, she would have been easily categorized as one of them, if only she had had some of those telling plastic bags. Those essential pieces of their general uniform however were lacking. Two days ago, given the choice between a knife in her stomach and no bags or no knife in the stomach and also no bags, she had quickly agreed to part with her few „valuable" possessions. Thus her need to enter said private property.

The old brick buildings had been abandoned sometime after the big boom in the seventies and since remained empty. Miraculously surviving the large earthquake in 2001 they were now a hiding place for the most desperate. Why the most desperate?

Because it was gang territory. Despite having lived on the streets of Seattle for a lengthy period of time she had never gotten involved enough in the on goings of said streets to know much about the different gangs. So far simply knowing where not to go, had been plenty of information. Most, especially women, were organized in some way or at least had some connections. She had been careful to never meet anyone frequently, which was surprisingly hard to do despite Seattle's size.

That these buildings were gang territory and as such off limits to simple folk however was well known and those few that ventured anyways were either just as desperate as herself or spoiling for a fight. Not a good place to be as a single, small woman who also happened to be a complete klutz. The only way she would ever hurt an attacker was by accident and chances were that she would rather hurt herself.

None the less she had been on the street long enough to also realize that getting soaked all night long without a chance to warm up afterwards in the middle of winter, was a certain way to end up dead and she had enough spark left to not go down without a fight. She had promised herself long ago that she wouldn't let anyone get her down that low and she intended to keep that promise. So here she was, entering the most forlorn of the four buildings, hoping against hope that she would find a dry, quiet corner and maybe even something that would help her stay warm for a little while. As long as she managed to leave the next morning again halfway untouched though she would have counted it as a success.

The inside of the former warehouse looked about as inviting as the outside had. The walls were smeared with gravity and the old windows that had once covered large parts of the ceiling had been mostly broken, creating a thick layer of glass on the floor. From her rare visits before today she remembered that there were several niches though, which had once served as additional small storage rooms since the buildings had been built at a time, when even warehouses had to seem appealing.

She was surprised though, when she noticed a tarp over one of them that hadn't been there last time. A tarp was a bad sign. It didn't come to be where it was on its own and as such had to have been placed there by someone, especially since it seemed to be rather professionally secured over the entrance of the niche. Not the work of another homeless, trying to create a more permanent shelter for themselves, which meant that there most likely wasn't anyone hiding in there right now. If said someone had any intention of coming back though, she was doomed. Before she could reconsider her stay though, the storm broke out in earnest and the decision was taken from her. Figuring that if whoever had placed the tarp there came back today, as unlikely as it was in this weather, she would be doomed anyways she decided to at least make use of the nicely sectioned off space and try to keep halfway dry. The large plastic bag that she had pulled over her clothing to keep dry wouldn't protect her from the weather much longer. Moving the stones that held the tarp fastened to the ground, she crawled underneath only to stop abruptly.

She didn't know the buildings well enough to be able to claim that there hadn't been a trap door anywhere in the storehouse during her last stay, she knew enough however that it would certainly not be free of the dust and grime that resided everywhere else in the building. Whether here originally or placed at a later time the door in the ground had been opened recently. Slowly beginning to freak out and cursing her – as always - terrible luck, she considered her options, which weren't many.

She could sit on the mysterious door, praying all night that it wouldn't suddenly open to reveal some serial killer or another, she could run screaming and catch her death in the storm outside or she could take a look. Just a really quick one mind. Just to make sure that no monsters were lurking under her chosen bed of the night.

Some might have defined the choices slightly differently or set their priority a bit more traditionally, but she had been on the street long enough to realize that tradition was overrated and choices were just an excuse to try to escape the inescapable. So, pressing her ear to the small metal door, she tried to hear if anyone was below her. She couldn't make out a sound, but between the metal door and the rain outside that was less then surprising. The door was unsurprisingly heavy and it took her some time to open it quietly. Just as she had finished flipping it open an especially strong strike of lightning gave her barely enough light through the cracks in the wall and the tarp to recognize a small room below her. By it's shape and it's seemingly rather old design - really who used brick stones anymore to build anything underground - she figured that the room had most likely been constructed together with the rest of the building. Perhaps an old coal storage room? One of the kind underground so that the coal could simply be poured into it when it was delivered? Or maybe not. She honestly had no idea.

The next lightning gave her another rather rough outline of the room and the sight of something that should decidedly not be there. Legs. Two human, unmoving legs. Two human, unmoving legs that seemed to be chained to the floor.

Deciding that this had gotten strange and dangerous enough to warrant the use of her treasured small flashlight she gently plucked it out of her pocket. Generally she tried to safe the one set of batteries that was available to her as much as possible so that she would have a light in case of emergencies, but she figured that if this wasn't an emergency then nothing was. She placed the light between her teeth and dropped into the small room. It was barely high enough for her to have to jump: When standing straight, all of her head reached out of the trap door, making a quick escape from the room easily possible.

The light of her flashlight did indeed reveal a human body in very thick chains. Every part of his - for it was most certainly a man – body was fixed to the ground he lay on. He was so pale and had yet to open his eyes, that she was almost convinced that she had found a dead body. Just to confirm her conclusion she touched his leg gently. The jeans he must have worn at some point had been shredded, barely keeping his private parts hidden. However in the moment she had decided that this man most certainly was dead because of his utterly freezing skin, two black orbs were slowly focused on her.

Gasping the young woman quickly moved away from the strange being she had found. For quite a while neither seemed to be able to form a coherent word, instead opting to simply stare at each other. Finally the woman spoke with a surprisingly steady voice:

"I know what you are."

Hi and welcome to my second fan fiction on .

For all those of you who aren't reading Jasmine: I love characters and character development as well as a good plot line. Sadly I suck at humor. Logical consequence: My stories are rather serious and the romance often slow paced. I will try to move a bit faster than in Jasmine, when it comes to romance, but well... it won't be fast. Also I will give you the same warning I have given at the beginning of Jasmine. I can't and don't want to write lemon. So if you came here for some hot action between the sheets, you know how to exit the page :).

For all of those who are reading Jasmine: Don't freak out. Jasmine will take priority, when it comes to updates so don't worry.

Now in general: This little plotbunny has been chasing me and won't let go. The consequence? I just had to write it out. Whether this becomes just a short story or a proper one is heavily depending on what all of you think :). I'll be honest enough to admit that I was never a large fan of Twilight. In fact I enjoy the fanfiction often a lot more than the original. Too many holes for my taste... . So far I have never written anything that didn't come from a universe I absolutely adored, so this will be interesting writing. None the less I will do my utmost to keep everything as close to the original as one possibly can in an AU. If I ever do anything really OOC or break some Vampire rule, feel free to point it out to me. I will do my best to fix it.

Well that's it from my part for now. I look forward to hearing from all of you.

Greetings Yorushike

P.S.: I have been playing around with the summary a bit, sorry about that; hope it didn't lead to too much confusion...