This is gonna be a short (and most likely unfinished) fic that's basically Twilight, except reverse and a different scenario.

Short Summary: Anastasia Uliari is a 233-year-old ex-member of the Volturi, on a path of self-discovery in a remote town in northern New Hampshire. She's finally escaped what she views as her imprisonment within Volterra, and has founded a new life for herself and her best friend, Cicilia. Little does she know, her life is about to be turned upside down by a very special young man…dun dun dun…. Yeah so anyway here's the first chappie.

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The house still reeked of fresh paint. No matter where I hid inside the cavernous structure, the smell wafted around me like a stench out of hell. It itched my nose and made my head throb, sometimes so badly that I had to stifle a scream.

"Maybe you're allergic," Cicilia had suggested helpfully. She didn't smell anything besides cleanliness and a little bit of that acidic, new-car-smell.

"We should have done one room at a time, like I said!" I complained while clutching my forehead over the morning newspaper. Cici was seated across from me, tweaking her hair while staring vainly into a small handheld mirror. Quick as a flash, I snatched it from her grasp and chucked it at the wall, a small portion of my mind feeling a thrill of approval as I heard the glass shatter against the new coat of white paint.

"You have to buy me a new one," Cici ordered with a sigh. It wasn't the first time I'd broken one of her mirrors. Definitely not the last. Cici tended to be one of the most vain creatures on the planet, and whenever I lost my temper, there was a 70% chance that a mirror would be conveniently within my reach. And the sound they made when they broke was so immensely satisfying…

"You really should learn to control your temper," Cici muttered as she folded her half of the newspaper. There was nothing interesting in it – we mostly read for ceremony, so that we could boast the human-ness of going out every morning to pick it up. Then again, as vampires, there was probably nothing human about it anyway. I'd timed Cici once – took her 4 and a half seconds to sprint to the end of the driveway and back. None of our neighbors had ever noticed. Ah well – c'est la vie.

"What to do today?" my friend murmured as she absentmindedly stuffed the newspaper into a bucket marked Recycling.

"I don't know – I was thinking a nice day out –" I paused and darted to the windowsill, lifting the curtains just a few inches to peek outside. I was met with a bright flash of glaring sunlight. The curtain swung despondently in my wake. "Just kidding," I said with a sigh. "Time for another Monopoly tournament."

Cicilia gave a moan of disapproval and shook her head sadly; her golden angel's curls bouncing against her slender shoulders. "That's eight days! I've missed four tests, a paper and two chemistry labs. If I wasn't failing before, I am now."

My gaze softened as I took in Cici's frustrated frown. I stepped forward and put my marble arm around her shoulder. "Hey, perk up. You've got the rest of eternity to bring it back up to an A!" I joked, trying to coax her out of her mood. Cici smiled weakly.

She was only 12 years old – that is, 29, but 17 of those years were spent as a weak human. She'd never been through high school before, and like 99.99999% of all other teenagers in the world, she was having a difficult time keeping up, especially since we missed school on every sunny day. I'd been through it all before. In fact, I'd been through it so many times that I couldn't count them. On any of my appendages. I couldn't even recall a single human memory, I was so old. Still, I was young, compared to some. Cici – she was barely a toddler in vampire years.
While she traipsed upstairs, no doubt to retrieve a new mirror from her stash under the bathroom sink, I stretched out on the couch in our living room and switched on the TV. I wasn't really watching it though, instead I was recalling the day I had first met Cicilia – the human Cicilia.

She had been a timid 16-year-old schoolgirl, attending the same top-notch private school in Volterra as I did. I was a year older – or rather, I was masquerading as a senior while she was merely a lowly sophomore, albeit old for her grade and stunningly gorgeous, even by vampire standards.

We weren't best friends back then, but once she started hanging out with the 'wrong crowd', I started to get just the tiniest bit interested in her. She seemed like a great kid, and I always tried to be aware of the stars at my school. My reason? So that they wouldn't end up in the clutches of the Volturri, like I had. Gianni was a new recruit of Demetri's – he had the same kind of skill, though not quite as powerful. When I saw him hanging around Cici all day, I started to get suspicious. And then the Volturri started to get suspicious of me.

I'd succeeded twice in my attempts to save kids from Aro and his corrupt brothers. Once with a very young girl, maybe 14 or 15, 30 or 40 years ago, who showed potential as an emotional manipulator. They were closing in when I decided to be the benevolent science teacher (my guise back then) and send her on a full scholarship summer program to Harvard. She never came back – I made sure of that. I haven't heard from her since then, so I don't know if she's still safe, but I felt that I had done something right.

The next one was more of an accident, but it worked out okay. Not much of a story there, except that his name was Lorenzo and he was in love with me. Obviously, I didn't return his affections.

Then along came Cicilia. Beautiful and exceptionally charismatic. Humans toddled after her like ducklings after their mother, boys and girls alike (mostly boys, however). Gianni wanted her for himself, I'm sure of that, but Aro would have let him, and gladly. So I decided to try my hand it once again. It was the last time.

It was a simple plan, but I didn't expect anyone but Gianni to be keeping an eye on her. I made friends, cozied up, played the part of the big sister. She fell for it easier than I thought. By the summer after senior year, we were good enough friends for me to invite her to my family's house in the Caribbean for the summer. Warm water, great food, quality living – who wouldn't want it? But for some reason she was hesitant. Only then did I realize, with my stupid thick brain, that I had been playing right into Gianni's trap. He was going to use me to trap her – and there was nothing I could do.

That's where it got bloody – or, it wasn't really that bloody – there was some blood, Cicilia's, and then there was some – really nasty piles of burning stuff. Gianni, mostly, bits of Rinaldo. Not the most pleasant day of my life. None-the-less, we boarded that plane to the Caribbean. And no less than four days later, I had created my first vampire. I can't really say how I did it, except that I was scared out of my mind and I needed a friend. Since then, I've never tasted human blood in my life. It was part of our pact, Cicilia and me – she'd never touch it, and I'd never talk about it. It was hard for me at first, but after 12 years, I got used to it.

Aro sent me a letter a few years after that, wondering how it had turned out. I sent him a picture of Cicilia and I, a tiny square from one of those photo booths at the mall. And I told him I was never coming back. I haven't heard from him since, and who knows if that's good or bad with that lot.

A sudden loud noise from the TV brought me back to reality. The US Women's soccer team had just scored a goal. They were happy.

My own transition from the land of the living to the world of the immortals wasn't quite as exciting. A pretty mundane, everyday occurrence. Or at least, it was back in 1775, where I lived in northern Italy. It was a big deal - lots of pitchforks and torches. I was on the pitchfork side, just not one of the lucky ones. Our town had flushed out a coven of vampires hiding in a mountain cave. We massed together and went out to attack. How foolish humans are sometimes. The vampires decimated half our number before some thickhead finally realized it wasn't a good idea. I was left bloody and dying in the deserted streets of the town. If I hadn't crawled into some guy's basement and huddled in a corner for three days I'd have been a goner too. That was it though – no epic plane flights, no angry Vampire mafia. I was just Anastasia Uliari, left for dead. Funny how things work out.

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