Disclaimer: The Twilight Series and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any other characters, settings etc. are property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary:

As far as Bella is concerned, all vampires are arrogant, egotistical and vile creatures. She loathes them — because the Volturi forced her to become one of them. Will her attitude change when she meets the Cullens? AU OOC E/B

A/N: Every chapter will start with a flashback. Little by little Bella's thoughts will explain how she became a hater of her kind.

Enjoy.

~x~

Note: Italic letters are Bella's thoughts.

Chapter 1:

The light drizzle started just as we walked up the street, and judging by the thunder it would turn into a full-fledged downpour at any second. A gust of chilled air whipped at my face and burned my eyes, sending goose bumps all over my arms. I adjusted the wool red coat I wore, pulling it tightly around my body, and kept walking the very narrow street.

I looked around, admiring the architecture of the ancient city. The buildings were tall, leaning together overhead so that even if it were a sunny day, the light wouldn't be able to touch the pavement. The edifices' stonewalls were dark brown, matching the color of the cobblestones that formed the streets. It gave the city an ancient and macabre look.

That was the point of being there.

I looked at our tour guide. She had introduced herself as Heidi —no last name. She was tall with long mahogany hair and a beautiful smile. She wore big black shades, which were unnecessary considering the lack of sunshine today. The frames covered her eyes so completely, I couldn't tell the color of her eyes or if she directed her gaze at anyone. But what transcended above all was her skin complexion; it was translucent, flawless… like carved on marble. Unnatural

That should have been my first clue.

As Heidi explained the history of Volterra to us, a very attentive group of tourists —especially the males, a little voice inside me began telling me to turn around and go back to the hotel room where my parents were resting. After a very tiring trip from Rome, I had asked them repeatedly to accompany me to this specific tour, but they'd claimed exhaustion and old age, and stayed behind. I should've stayed with them.

That was my first mistake.

We walked around, stopping occasionally to take pictures. Heidi then leisurely guided us toward an ancient medieval castle, located in the middle of the city. The imposing building was tall and dark and, as soon as Heidi led us through a dark stone archway, I felt a shiver down my body. It felt as if Heidi were herding us through a cage door, to trap us and lock us in.

My feet stopped moving in the middle of the archway, itching to turn around once more as the little voice inside me screamed to get out of there. I confused the voice of intuition with cowardice. And I didn't want to be weak.

That was my second mistake.

We walked inside the building, through a long hallway. The walls were painted off-white and the well-worn wood floor creaked as we walked on it. It was warmer here, but the ghoulish atmosphere around us, made no difference; the goose bumps were stubbornly set on my skin.

Heidi kept talking about the architecture of the castle, as she guided us through a wooden door to a huge room, perfectly round, dark and cold. This room gave me the chills; I looked longingly at the door behind us that was still opened. I could just walk back inconspicuously while everyone else was talking loudly, bombarding Heidi with questions, and might be able to take my leave.

I took a step back and froze when I noticed that we —the tourists—were not the only ones in the room; a very large group of people was assembled in conversation. I watched fascinated at their exquisite faces and flawless complexion. I thought they were angels.

That was my last mistake.

The beautiful faces turned toward our party an all talking ceased. I realized I'd lost my last chance of escaping as the door behind me shut with a loud thud and the screech of a bolt sliding in place.

A man, wearing a long robe, with long jet-black hair stepped forward. "Hello! Welcome to Volterra!" He said with apparent delight. "My name is Aro. We have been expecting you."

A low murmur of sweet voices hummed with agreement to Aro's statement.

My eyes were transfixed on this Aro individual. He was as beautiful as the rest of them, but he had an air of antiquity, so …unnatural in his young features. He probably felt my eyes on him because he turned his exquisite face toward me and gracefully made his way in my direction. "What do we have here?" He asked no one in particular.

I took a step back when I saw his eyes. They were red. Alien. He smiled at me. "Don't be afraid my child," he said and reached out to shake my hand.

I was afraid to touch him, but I was also morbidly curious to know what his skin felt like.

I raised my hand and he pressed his odd looking skin against mine. It was cold —freezing cold— and hard. It was so unexpected, that I pulled my hand back in a knee-jerk reaction. But he didn't let me go, his red eyes smiled down at mine with an expression meant to be reassuring. Aro's smile faded and a look of incredulity washed his features.

"Interesting," he said and released my hand. "You'll be a great asset to our family," he told me.

I didn't understand what his words meant, and was not going to ask.

Aro drifted back to his party. "This one," he said pointing a long finger toward me "—is prohibited. Enjoy the rest."

That's when the screams began.

With a sudden gasp, I opened my eyes and willed my breathing to slow down. "Enough walking down memory lane," I murmured to myself, "—for now."

I rose from my bed and hopped into the shower, letting the warm water run down my body. I poured a generous amount of freesia body wash on my purple sponge and lathered up my body. It was really unnecessary, the cleansing routine, but I was stubbornly clinging to any vestige of humanity I could.

I turned off the water, wrapped a towel around my body, and walked toward my closet. I chose a pair of jeans, a Rolling Stones T-shirt and this time I complimented my outfit with a faded denim jacket. The day looked cold enough to require the extra clothing.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail, slid into my favorite combat boots and looked at myself in the mirror, glancing briefly at the clothing —avoiding setting my eyes on the reflection of my pallid face. Satisfied with the look, I walked down the stairs, grabbed my keys and went out to my truck.

I paused in the driveway and admired my truck, parked imposingly in the middle of the concrete pathway. The ancient vehicle was bright red, with big rounded fenders and a big globular cab. This was not any truck. It was the same truck my father had bought a couple of weeks before we left for that fatal trip to Europe. I clearly remembered when he came home all excited and dragged my mom and me outside to show us the brand new truck he had just bought. I loved the truck then; I loved it even more now.

I sighed at the memory and climbed inside the cab, it was nice and roomy. I started the engine, turned on the windshield wipers since it just had started to rain and drove toward the bar where I'd been working as a bartender for the last eight months.

Fifteen minutes later I drove through the parking lot and parked away from other cars, my big red truck presented a lone hazy structure, barely visible against the overgrown weeds and untended shrubs surrounding the lot.

I stepped out of my car and crossed the lot, practically marching toward the building, purposely making crunching sounds on the gravel, like any human would.

I noticed two of the security lights, stationed near the entrance of the establishment, were not working, leaving many cars cloaked in heavy shadow. I made a mental note to make Pete, the bar owner, aware of this. Humans needed all the light possible to see any danger that lurked in the darkness.

Joe, the bouncer, greeted me with that puppy in love face I disliked so much. "Hello, beautiful," he said and opened the door for me gallantly.

"The name is Bella, Joe. How are you?" I greeted him politely. I always did my best not to be rude to him. It was not his fault he felt attracted to my awful beauty, which was designed to lure and snare unexpected prey.

"Better now that I could treat my eyes with your beauty," he said.

Poor innocent child I pasted a smile on my face and went in.

To my delight, the bar was half-empty. I looked to my right and saw a small group of people dancing. To my left a couple of guys sat on the stools surrounding the bar openly flirting with Chloe, whom I was about to replace in a shift change.

Chloe was a very attractive unnatural blonde, with big, fake breasts —which were always about to spill out of her very opened cleavage. She was taller than I, and had a hyperactive sexual appetite. At the moment she seemed to be enjoying the attention of the patrons surrounding her, so instead of walking toward the bar and release her of her duties, I walked up the stairs to the balcony.

Standing in the shadows, I folded my arms over the steel railing and watched the dancers below. In a way Pete's—that was the name of the bar— was the perfect setting for a night-shift job. The low-key tavern offered drinks, dancing, pinball machines, and billiards… a festive environment. But I wasn't there to enjoy any of the perks. I was there to show society a mask of normalcy. I was a twenty-one year old girl, who went to school, and worked at night. It was the perfect cover; because in reality I was a very old leech trapped in an eighteen year old body, who needed to live in the shadows but was determined to be part of the human society.

I was a very stubborn immortal leech.

I let thirty minutes pass by, took in a big breath of air I didn't need, and immediately regretted it. The smell of beer, smoke, perfume, and sweat all combine in one was unpleasant, but what strongly hit me was the sweet, delicious scent of human blood. The same smell that once, when I was human, was so repugnant, now was a compelling perfume that constantly tormented my thirst.

I closed my eyes and purposely inhaled another gust of the delicious smell, letting my senses absorb it. The second time was always easier to keep the thirst under control. A third inhalation followed, as well as a fourth. There. The monster in me will not control me. As I said before, I was a very stubborn leech.

Calmly, I turned and headed for the bar to start my shift. As soon as I started lifting the counter section of the bar in order to get in, Chloe started bitching. "You are thirty minutes late, Bella. Who do you think you are? If I were Pete I would've fired you long time ago—"

"—But you aren't Pete, are you?" I interrupted her little rant. Chloe was such an ungrateful brat. I noticed how one of the guys who was flirting with her when I originally arrived, was still around, probably waiting for her to go on some sexual escapade, and she was right here bitching about my tardiness.

"Go to hell, Bella," Chloe barked and left in a haste.

"I'm already there," I whispered and busied myself filling the orders she had neglected to finish before leaving.

To my left, sitting in their usual seats were Barry and Tom. They were both in their late sixties, recently retired, and coping with their new life at home; they were not doing a good job adapting, that's why they came to the bar almost every day. Barry was married —35 years— and Tom was a divorcee.

"Hello, gentlemen," I greeted them and refilled their drinks.

"Hello, honey," they both said in unison.

"Someone needs to pull the stick out of that girl's ass," Tom said referring to Chloe.

"That's for sure," Barry agreed.

I smiled at their sweet wrinkled faces. "Has she been treating you bad?" I asked.

"The usual," Tom answered. "If she sees young bucks around, she completely ignores us old fellas."

Yep, that was Chloe. "Well, now I'm here. Young bucks don't hold a candle against old fellas in my book."

They both smiled pleased at my words. It was the truth after all.

"I don't understand young men these days," Barry said. "You are the most beautiful, caring, sweet young lady and they don't do anything to sweep you off your feet."

I snorted at the words sweet and young but didn't reply at his comment.

"They try, Barry," Tom said. "She's the one who doesn't want to do anything with them. Which is fine. They don't deserve her none."

"True, true," Barry agreed raising his drink to his lips and taking a sip of it.

"If I were younger…" Tom said.

"You would fail like the rest of them," Barry added getting a glare from Tom.

"Just because you're stuck with that old—"

"Now, now, gentlemen," I interrupted them. "There is no need to get nasty. I'm the only one allowed to be mean in this bar. Besides, the point is moot. I'm not interested in relationships at the moment. So calm yourselves down."

They glared at each other once more and finished the rest of their drinks. A few minutes later they were talking about sports like the good friends they were. Humans.

That was one of the differences between them and us. Humans were forgiving beings. Vampires were not. We would hold a grudge until the end. But that was expected; humans have always been better.

Two hours later Tom and Barry left sharing a cab like they usually did.

By midnight, the bar was almost empty. It was expected, since it was the middle of the week. I busied myself organizing the shelves of glasses and bottles behind the counter, and cleaning the gantry that was elaborately decorated with woodwork, etched glass, mirrors, and lights.

I didn't need to look up to know he was here. I only had to take a whiff and the smell gave him away. Jacob's blood was different from a human's; his had an animal edge typical of a werewolf that naturally repelled my predatory senses. He didn't smell delicious to me; on the contrary, it was a little…repulsive. I loved it!

"Hey, Bells!" Jacob greeted me claiming a stool at the counter.

"Hello, Jake," I said and grabbed a long neck beer—his favorite—and set it in front of him.

Jacob Black was my friend. One of the few friends I had. We had met six months ago when fate brought him to this bar. I remember that day perfectly. It was one of the few good days of my long boring life.

I was serving some drinks when an alien scent hit my nostrils. It was awful, nothing I'd ever encountered before. I looked for the source of it, and my predatory senses were on full alert.

There he was, standing at the bar entrance, a six feet six inches massive ball of muscles. Goliath! His jeans, wet with the rain, were molded to his legs, which were as thick as tree trunks. He had long black hair, and dark eyes, that were looking straight at me with repulsion and hatred.

Tremors seemed to run through his body and his nostrils flared when he took an intake of air. He closed his eyes and shook more noticeably as he walked toward the first available seat he found. He sat and faced me; he seemed to be fighting for control.

I struck a comfortable, slouching pose, but on the inside, everything was havoc. I was ready for a fight, although I didn't know why. He seemed human enough, but somewhere deep inside me, I knew he was dangerous.

After a silent standoff I went back tending my customers, but never really ignoring my threat. A while later, Goliath left the bar, but I knew better. He would wait for me outside —away from human witnesses, and that was fine by me.

The bar closed at two. I lingered inside, giving the last customers enough time to leave the premises before I went to encounter the unknown threat. Pete and Joe were safely in the office, so I decided to leave the bar.

I still hadn't decided whether to confront this dangerous man or make a run from him. I definitely was not going to leave my truck behind, so summoning up a core of bravado I walked straight into danger.

To my surprise, the huge man that walked into the bar was not there, instead there was a big animal, a giant wolf, waiting by my truck. Waiting for me.

This animal shared the same scent as the man before, although now it was stronger. I looked into his eyes and was surprised when I recognized the intelligence in them. The dark eyes of this animal were the same dark eyes of Goliath. I was perplexed by this.

I've always been a pacifistic being. And I didn't like the unknown. So with a silent apology to my truck I stepped back, ready to sprint into a run when a slurred voice stopped my impulse. I turned around and saw one of the customers walking toward me. Walking toward danger.

I inwardly groaned and with a low voice talked to the beast. "Leave the human alone. It's me you want, and I'm not going anywhere."

In a stupid move, I turned my back to the beast, and walked toward the drunken customer, redirecting him toward the bar, where Joe or Pete would call a taxi for him.

Once the customer was safely inside I turned back to face my foe. Surprisingly the beast was gone and in its place was the impressive man who now was barefoot and wearing only jeans. His upper body was naked, showing off the ample chest of rippling muscle.

He looked at me curiously. "Why, do I ask myself, would a blood-sucker care if I hurt a human or not?"

So he knew what I was. I smiled at the offensive term he used. "You shouldn't stop to ask yourself silly questions, Wolf, when you and I both know leeches are the lowest scum to ever walk this earth."

A smile made his dark eyes twinkle. "And what do you think you are?" he asked.

"To my misery, I'm a fucking blood-sucker leech. And believe me; I truly understand your need to eradicate one more piece of scum that taints the air around you. But as the selfish monster that I am, I can't let you do it. You understand, don't you?"

His smile became a full grin. "Don't tempt me, blood-sucker. Just answer one question: How did a vampire become a hater of her own kind?"

Enemy of my enemy is my friend… I guess the saying is true. Jake and I became friends.

After getting to know each other, he told me everything about werewolves and I told him about vampires. We were supposed to be enemies, but somehow we transcended our instincts and forged an uncommon friendship. I was glad about that.

Seth Clearwater came into the bar with a big smile on his face. He was a young werewolf, who had just graduated from High School, and had moved to Seattle to begin his university studies. He was now Jake's roommate and protégée. I liked Seth.

Seth was a sweet kid. Trusting. He had long sandy hair, a beautiful —almost angelical—face, and dark eyes. He was tall, although not as tall as Jake, and he was a little gangly. Still, he looked older than he was. That's why he never had a problem getting into establishments meant for adults.

The little Wolf claimed the seat next to the older one. "Hi, Bella!" he greeted me.

"Hello, Seth. How are you?"

"Good." He turned to Jake. "Hey, Jake."

"Hey."

Smiling, Seth looked at me with pleading eyes. "Can I have what Jake is having?"

It was hard to say no to that beautiful face. But I was not into corrupting minors. "Sorry Seth. You are not twenty-one."

"Come on, Bella. Alcohol doesn't affect—" he lowered his voice, "—werewolves, like it does humans."

I shook my head negating his request.

Seth groaned loudly and turned to Jake. "Jacob. Tell her!"

Jacob chuckled. "It won't matter what I say. Bella is a very stubborn woman."

"Leech," I corrected him and set a glass filled with coke in front of Seth.

Jake shook his head ignoring me. "Why don't you go and play some billiards," he suggested to Seth.

Seth tried to glare at me, not quite managing it, took his soda and headed toward the pool tables. "I'll come back when Chloe is working. She doesn't think I'm a kid," he murmured far from where I was standing, but aware that I could hear him clearly.

"That bitch!" I said. "I'm going to have to smack her one of these days." I don't know why, but Seth always brought out some type of protective feelings in me. They couldn't be maternal. Blood-sucking parasites did not love, but we were essentially selfish creatures. We were very possessive. Seth was my friend; my friend.

Jacob sighed. "Let it go, Bella. You are not going to smack Chloe, unless you want to kill her. Besides, Seth is right. Beer to us is like spiked punch; it gives you a tiny buzz that only last a moment."

"Then why do you drink?"

Jacob smiled. "Appearances."

Just then Chloe came in the bar, reeking of sex and walked straight to Seth. It seemed like guy number one didn't satisfy her. "That's it!" I said throwing the white rag I held and started toward them.

"Don't!" Jacob hissed.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at Jake. He shook his head softly. "Seth will smell it too. He is not stupid. But even if he decides to have…a tumble with her, that's his business."

My mouth hung open in incredulity. "What!"

Jake sat uncomfortably on his seat. "Seth is a teenager. A very hormonal teenager." He gave me a knowing look. He meant horny. "I don't think he'll go for it. But I wouldn't be surprised if he did; guys his age tend to think with their other…"

Head, I mentally completed Jakes' sentence.

I picked the rag back and started cleaning vigorously the counter's surface while keeping an eye on Chloe and Seth.

I would not get involved. It was not my place, really. Jake was right, Seth's personal life was his alone. But I couldn't contain a smile, when Seth refused Chloe's provocative insinuations, making her mad in the process. She turned around, leaving the establishment —alone— in haste.

Good boy

Jake laughed at my proud expression. "How many units are you taking this semester?" he asked changing the subject to school.

"Fifteen."

"You should've taken Hydraulic Science with me. It's a really fun class."

"I'll leave the Hydraulic Engineering classes to you. Mine is arts."

School didn't bring me the joy it used to. Tomorrow would be the first day of the semester at the University of Washington. I wasn't really looking forward to it. But I had the feeling that somehow, this time it'd be different.

I hated surprises.

Thanks to Marijee

A/N: As I explained, Bella's transformation, life as a newborn, struggles and battles will be related gradually at the beginning of each chapter. I hope it's not too confusing. :)