Author: Me, Delcesca Newby. No duh.

Rating: T for strong, very strong language, and later on maybe some nudity.

Author's Note: This is absolutely nothing like Twilight. Yes, there are still vampires and werewolves, but the plot doesn't follow Twilight. So please do not be expecting the characters to act like they do in the book, or for certain couples to be present. It's a good story, though, so if you're looking for that, please consider to give this story a chance. I'm positive you won't be disappointed.

Well I hope everyone enjoys, and pretty please give me a review. I want to know what you all think. It's what helps make the story better and keeps me buring with the desire to continue on.

I do not own Twilight.

The cool darkness of midnight surrounded me like a thick blanket as I moved with a jaguar's grace from one high stack of boxes to another. I made no noise as I crept along at a careful, steady pace, and the harpy that my eyes were locked on had no idea that I was so close to her; that I could smell the very essence of evil radiating from her body; that I was about to end her wretched existence once and for all. She just continued to feed from the poor man that I had watched her corner outside and kill in an alley almost an hour ago.

The only sounds in the entire warehouse were from the crunching of bones, the gurgle of entrails down the harpy's throat, and the breathing from Tristan, my fairy. He was down on ground level and the only reason that I could hear him—it was actually more like a sixth sense of him than anything else— was because of our bond.

I hopped to the next stack of boxes, my black leather boots silent as they touched cardboard. Were they all that practical for monster slaying? Not in the slightest with their flash and expensiveness, but I loved them nonetheless and had worn them on every single mission I'd been given over the past seven months since I got home.

Bella, Tristan whispered suddenly inside my head. I flinched at the sound of his voice. I never liked it when he communicated with me like that, especially on missions. I realized that it was a vital part of keeping us both alive, but out of all the things that my bond with Tristan brought I wished this one didn't exist.

I think I should be the one to take her down. I'm in the perfect position to—

No! I snapped, barring my teeth down in his general direction; not that he would be able to see. This is my mission, and I'm the slayer. You're just my sidekick.

I am not, Tristan growled. I'm as important as you, if not more. I'm your equal.

Ha! I suppressed a chuckle. Dream on little fairy boy. I don't need you. I could slay every single monster in the world all by myself.

You're a cocky, ungrateful bitch, Tristan hissed.

And don't you forget it, I smiled, almost cruelly. You listen to me and—

My thought was cut short as my boots scraped loudly against the box that I had just stepped on, and my heart almost stopped from shock and anger (at myself for being distracted and at Tristan for distracting me). Instantly the harpy's face snapped around to stare directly at me. Her twisted features were covered with wine red blood and tiny bits of tissue clung to the places around her mouth. She was a disgusting sight, and my stomach would have churned if I hadn't of seen worse things than her in the past four years.

The harpy's eyes, a fiery green color, widened in surprise for a few moments and then squinted with fury. She knew what I was and what I was here to do, and now she was pissed. I swore under my breath and braced myself for her attack; my hand circling around the dagger that I pulled from the sheath strapped to my thigh. I expected her to take off into the air and attack me that way, as was the way most harpies attacked, but she took me totally by surprise by running on her large, scaly legs toward the high stack of boxes on which I was standing. In a matter of seconds her ugly, practically bald head smashed into the bottom box, and I, having no time to brace myself, fell the ten or so feet to the concrete floor below. I landed with a loud thud; my skull bouncing.

"Shit!" I screeched as I felt warmth spread throughout the back of my head. I sat up in rage, ready to do the nasty bitch in, when all of a sudden her bulky form had me pinned on my back. I tried to grab my dagger, which had fallen beside me, but the harpy's greasy and foul-smelling bird torso was difficult to maneuver around, and I couldn't quite reach it.

"Get off," I huffed, pushing against her with all my strength.

"Slayer!" the harpy hissed, her nails plunging deep into my thighs. I howled with pain and shoved her again. "So young and tender, you'll be a sweet treat."

"Not in this life time," I growled, punching her in the face. The harpy cried out in outrage and hooked her nails into my arm. I tore it away, my shirt and skin getting shredded to pieces in the process. "You mother fucking ass," I clipped out, biting my lip against the agony.

"Quiet, food!" the harpy roared and head butted me. For a moment I saw stars and that gave her time to sink her long talons into the flesh above my hips. The instant pain brought me back to Earth and with all my might I tried to roll her off of me. My actions accomplished nothing but getting the harpy even angrier. She hit me hard across the face with her feathered hand, and then held me down by my throat as she smiled at me with a cruel glint sparking in her eyes.

"Yes, you should be very tasty," she cooed as she slowly bent down to start chewing at the spot where my heart was. "The feisty ones always are," she whispered.

I gurgled out a reply and struggled, but it was no use. She had me. I was going to be harpy chow.

Suddenly the harpy hissed and I watched as something thin and steel-looking shot out of her chest; blood spraying all over my face. She screeched loudly and tumbled off me. I began coughing violently as air rushed back into my windpipe.

"She's dead. Oh shit, Bella!" Tristan yelled as he bent over me.

"Y-your…f-fault," I said, my voice a gravely noise that was barely human.

"I told you that I should have—never mind," Tristan said, shaking his head. His dark brown eyes raked over my body quickly and then settled back on my face. "I'm going to put you out, OK?" he asked.

"How bad am I?"

"Bad enough," Tristan replied as he avoided meeting my gaze. "You need to be unconscious or the shock of my repairs might kill you."

"Just work your magic," I grumbled. Tristan nodded once and then began to mumble something ancient and thick with power under his breath. Instantly I felt the effects of his spell as I began to drift off into nothingness, sweet nothingness.

My eyes opened and I sat up sharply. My sore body protested the jerky movement, and I swore under my breath as pain shot through every single one of my nerves. I gritted my teeth, riding out torture. Soon it faded to a throbbing ache. I moved my head slowly to evaluate my surroundings and found that the sun was shining through the small window on the east side of my room; the room that I've had ever since I was first brought home from the hospital seventeen years ago. And not much has changed about it. It was still the same faded purple color that my mom had painted it all that time ago, though now my bed was a queen-sized mattress instead of a crib and my weapons of choice (all specially crafted for me; each one a symbol of my commitment to my job) hung on the walls with a menacing air, replacing the sweet Mother Goose scenes that used to be there.

I smiled at them and threw my comforter off my body. The cool air of early morning that filled my room stung the exposed flesh of my legs (I was in a thick nightgown that came down to my knees), but I ignored it.

I gingerly pulled myself out of bed, hissing through the agony of my muscles moving.

"I fucked up big time," I said to myself as I searched for my fuzzy black slippers. "God damn it," I growled as I hobbled all over my room.

I found my slippers behind my desk (no clue how they got there) and after I put them on, I started for my bedroom door. I first made my way to the bathroom, did my business, and then headed toward the kitchen. It took me a lot longer on the stairs than I liked, but I had to move slowly. I didn't dare go any faster and risk falling.

About fifteen minutes later I was at the kitchen's doorway. I gazed inside and found Tristan sitting at the small table, a laptop in front of him. He was typing furiously, but stopped and snapped his head up the moment he sensed I was in the room.

"Go back to bed," he ordered sternly.

I ignored him and shuffled my way over to the pantry. I grabbed a box of Lucky Charms, got a bowl and spoon from their personal drawers, and set them on the other side of the table, as far away from Tristan as I could get.

"Bella, you need to get more rest. It'll take you almost a day longer to heal if you don't."

I didn't respond as I opened the fridge and got out a half gallon of milk. That went with everything else.

"Fine. Screw you," Tristan barked and went back to his typing.

I acted like he didn't exist as I poured myself a giant bowl of cereal and then added milk. I sat in the chair with my legs bent into my chest (wincing against the pain) and began to slowly eat my breakfast.

"Don't ever do that again," I suddenly said into the tension filled silence that had fallen between the two of us. Tristan looked up at me and scowled, his fair features twisting grotesquely.

"What? Save your life?"

"It wouldn't have to have been saved if you wouldn't talk on damn missions. You distract me all the fucking time," I said, my voice as cold as ice.

"Things would've worked out if your ego wasn't so big," Tristan snapped back.

"Next time just keep your big mouth shut."

"You're welcome, Bella," Tristan said sarcastically, the words clipping out of his mouth. "I know how much it means to you that I patched you up so that you wouldn't bleed to death."

I didn't respond as I deposited another spoonful of cereal into my mouth and chewed it purposefully.

Tristan rolled his eyes.

We were quiet for almost ten minutes, me taking my sweet time eating (just to annoy the hell out of him) and Tristan back to work on his laptop. This was how a lot of mornings went between the two of us, especially after a mission. Not on every single one did he have to heal me, but every mission Tristan helped out in some way. And I never thanked him, never told him how much I appreciated what he did. A deeply buried part of my conscience wanted to, knew that I should because Tristan had saved my life more times than I could count, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. A twisted part of my brain believed that saying 'thank you' was admitting that I wasn't strong enough to take care of myself, and I was too stubborn to feel that way again.

"Curious to what I'm doing?" Tristan mumbled, breaking his silent streak. It was almost always him that cracked first.

"Nope," I said, slurping some milk from my spoon.

"Headquarters contacted me first thing this morning," Tristan pressed on like I'd answered him differently.

"So?"

"You've been assigned a new mission, and since you're apparently all better from the disaster last night you can get a head start on it."

"What?" I hissed. "They've never given me two missions in two days. Don't they know that I need time to recover in case something happened? What the fucking hell?"

"Calm down before you blow a blood vessel," Tristan almost laughed, looking very pleased with the reaction he got out of me. He loved pissing me off, just as I did him. We had a weird relationship that was always toeing the line between hate and love; hate most days.

"My blood vessels are fucking fine," I snapped, causing a giggle to escape Tristan lips. "Explain this nonsense right now," I demanded, glaring wildly.

"This mission isn't like others that you've had," Tristan said after he got himself under control. "It's not a stalk, corner, and kill operation. You'll actually be observing a coven of vampires and reporting your findings back to Headquarters."

"Why? What's the point? Aren't they all the same?"

"No, the coven you'll be observing contains a few interesting members that Headquarters is curious about," Tristan explained.

"Like?" I pressed, already making up my mind that I despised this assignment. I wasn't trained to be a researcher. I wasn't a fairy. I was a killer, and killing monsters thrilled me to my core. It was my job to get rid of the filth that lurched in the shadows, just waiting to pounce on innocents (humans). I was one of the few that kept humans safe and ignorantly blissful. And I loved it. Being forced to do anything other than my job pissed me off and turned me into a total, raving bitch other than the sarcastic bitch I was most days.

"One can control emotions, another can read minds, and a third has visions of what's to come," Tristan said, his voice taking on the school teacher-ish tone that he got when he was explaining something.

"That's all?" I said, hardly impressed. "I've encountered demons that can melt a mountain with a passing thought. These vampires are nothing; not worth my time."

"Individually they may not be, but together they pose a very serious threat, especially since they've been a coven for almost five years."

"You think they've formed a bond?" I asked, slightly curious. If two or more vampires remained in a coven for five years then a bond formed between them, pooling their strengths together and making them a deadly, dangerous force. A coven bond was one of the most feared things in the slayer world and Headquarters did everything in their power to keep one from happening.

"That's what Headquarters believes," Tristan said

"So why would they be observed? Shouldn't I be killing them off?"

"Headquarters is curious as to the bond that has formed or is forming between this coven. You know that most vampires with abilities tend to be loners, so three in a coven is like finding a five-eyed fish."

"I don't think I can do this mission," I said. "I'll end up killing them the first second I lay my eyes on them. That's too many threats in one area. I wouldn't be able to resist."

"If you turn this mission down then you'll never have a chance at running your own team," Tristan said, throwing out bait that he knew I wouldn't be able to resist. My biggest dream was to be leader of my own team of slayers.

"Is that what Laura Hindersmith said?" She was the one who ran the slayer business. In fact, it had been her great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather that started it in the first place. His youngest daughter had been kidnapped and killed by a werewolf, and Jonathan Hindersmith had vowed that he'd hunt down every werewolf until they were wiped clean from Earth. Shortly afterward he'd found out that there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of monsters beside werewolves and he'd made it his duty to get rid of every single one. At first it was just him and his two sons that were hunting monsters, but soon others had joined him—ones that had suffered like the Hindersmith family—and the business grew from there.

Slayers were everywhere now, but there still weren't enough of us to make a dent in the monster population. But because of us most monsters cowered in the dark, leaving the majority of humans alone. That was something at least.

"No, but you know it's true," Tristan said.

"God, I hate it when you throw that shit into the pot," I hissed, sitting back in my chair. I rubbed my temples with my fingertips; all the while feeling Tristan's eyes on me as he waited for my answer. After a minute or so, I made up my mind and nodded my head.

"Fine I'll do it," I muttered.

"Good, then you should get packing," Tristan announced, making me snap up straight in my chair.

"Excuse me?"

"The vampires aren't in Phoenix, not even in Arizona. They're in Forks, Washington."

"I have to go to another state?" I practically yelled. "Can't they get a slayer from Washington or maybe Oregon? I strictly work in Arizona. Headquarters knows that."

"No, they can't get another slayer."

"And why's that?"

"Because they're all too old," Tristan said. I raised an eyebrow. "The vampires are masquerading themselves as high school students and you're the only slayer in this part of the country that's young enough to go to high school."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I barked. "I don't do school and people. I thought Headquarters figured that out when they tried to put me in that setting when I was training."

"I think they got the message when you hospitalized every girl on your floor," Tristan said.

"So why would they force me into a situation that causes me to be violent?"

"Almost everything makes you violent," Tristan chuckled, earning himself a hot glare. "Answer me this, Bella," Tristan said when his laughter had died away. "Would you ever hit a human just because you were uncomfortable?"

"No," I told him through gritted teeth.

"Exactly. So Headquarters assumes that you'll be perfectly fine in a normal high school setting."

"I won't know how to act," I said, my mind trying to fish for good excuses. I came up short. "I've been homeschooled my entire life."

"Do you honestly think Headquarters cares?" Tristan asked.

"I don't want to go to fucking Washington," I pouted, shoving the bowl in front of me away from me forcefully. It slid down the table and tipped threateningly to one side, but didn't topple over.

"So you're not going to do the mission?"

"No, I'll do the stupid ass mission," I growled. "Mother fucking bastards," I added under my breath.

"We have to be in Forks by Tuesday of next week," Tristan said.

"Shit! Tuesday," I muttered darkly and rose from my seat. "I have to tell my mom. Where is she?"

"Outside somewhere," Tristan said, lowering his gaze back to his computer; probably telling Headquarters that I was psyched for the job.

I stomped toward the back door that was in the kitchen, flung it open, and made my way outside. The backyard was spacious and humble. My mother didn't like flashy things and the garden that she's had ever since I can remember was pretty but not obnoxious like some of our neighbors.

The garden was where I found my mother. She was hunched over her early-blooming things (I wasn't very good with plants. That was one of Tristan's fields of expertise) and was humming what sounded like a country song to her plants. She always believed that talking or singing to her garden made it grow and look better. I wasn't sure if she was right, but her garden was nice and full every year, so she was doing something right.

I cleared my throat loudly to get my mother's attention and she turned around. Her lovely features turned up in a smile and her brown eyes lit up with adoration as she gazed at me. She loved me fiercely and I her. And she was so proud that I was a slayer, even if the reasons why I had become one made her weep when she thought of them, and she was always terrified that one night I wouldn't come home.

"Aren't you up early?" she called to me, straightening up. "Tristan told me that you wouldn't wake until noon at the earliest."

"Well he was wrong," I said, walking over to her.

"You don't look happy," my mother commented, frowning slightly. "What's wrong?"

"I have a new mission," I told her bitterly.

"So soon? Why?"

"It's not one of the typical missions I've been getting," I said. "I have to observe a coven of vampires."

"Is there a coven bond?" my mother asked, looking worried.

"Probably."

"Oh dear," my mother said. "Are you doing this by yourself?"

"With whatever help Tristan will offer," I said.

"This is wrong," my mother muttered. "Laura should know better than to send in a young slayer to deal with vampires, especially when there might be a bond. I need to go talk to her."

"Mom, please don't," I said, thinking of how horribly embarrassed I'd be if my mother picked up the phone and began lecturing my boss.

"Bella, you can't do this by yourself," my mother told me sternly.

"You're too late," I said. "I've already accepted. Tristan already told Headquarters."

"Then take it back. You're too young."

"Mom, if I don't do this then I'll never run my own team," I said, looking at my mother meaningfully. "And you know how that's been my biggest goal for the past three years."

"This is a steep price to pay for that goal," my mother grumbled.

"I know but I'm willing," I said, a note of pleading in my voice. "I have to do this."

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all," my mother mumbled, shaking her head. I continued to give her the 'look' and after a minute she caved. "Well once you're done I'm going to have a long chit-chat with that woman," my mother finally huffed, forcefully wiping dirt from her jeans.

"Fine," I sighed, knowing my mother would do as she vowed. She was a woman of her word.

"So when does this mission start?" my mother asked, picking up her gardening tools.

"Tuesday."

"That's a little late. Why not have it start tomorrow, or at least on Sunday?"

"Mom, we have to move," I said, angry and upset. I didn't want to leave my home, especially since I had only gotten home from my training a little less than a year ago. I loved Phoenix. It was part of who I was. It was me and I was it, but in the slaying world it was unwise to get attached to something. You might have to leave it or it could be ripped away from you.

"Why?" my mother asked.

"Because I'm perfect for the situation and they have no one else to do this mission, apparently."

"Where do we have to move to?"

"Some little rinky-dink town by the name of Forks," I bit out.

"Oh dear," my mother said, standing up. "That doesn't give them much time to find us a house, car, and wire us money. What about packing? What about Danni? It's really not fair to uproot her from her home. This is going to devastate her."

"I know, Mom." I gave a frustrated sigh. "She's probably going to feel ten times worse than I do. Laura's a fucking bitch, but whatever. Why don't I break the news to Danni and you can talk to Tristan about the whole setup?"

"You sure?" my mother asked. I nodded. "All right, sweetie. I would really appreciate it. Oh, and please try not to cuss when you tell Danni. I don't want her to pick up on it."

"Mom," I muttered, vaguely smiling and rolling my eyes. My mother laughed a little before starting for the house. I followed her inside. When we reached the kitchen she walked over to where Tristan was still sitting and started to talk to him. I gazed at them for a moment before going to the stairs. I went up them, not as slowly as earlier (I hardly noticed the pain now), and turned at the top. There I began heading for my sister's room, which was at the end of the hallway. I knocked on her closed door a couple of times and entered when I heard her little voice call out to me.

I found my four-going-on-five-year-old sister sitting at the end of her bed with two Barbie dolls. Danni's sweet little face beamed up at me as she finished dressing one of her dolls in a hideous satiny pick dress.

"Hi, Bella," Danni said warmly. "Wanna play? You can have Barbie's twin sister Sammy."

"No, that's okay," I said, folding myself down next to her on her bed. Danni leaned back against me and I absentmindedly started to stroke her soft, brown curls. Focusing on her hair helped me to calm down a smidge so that I wouldn't say the wrong thing. I didn't want her swearing any more than my mother did.

"You didn't read to me last night," Danni said, wagging the Barbie she had dubbed Sammy around; making swooshing noises as if she was flying.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, but I had to go out last night," I told her, feeling a pang of guilt deep in my stomach. I tried to read to her every night. It was our alone time together, and I hated to miss it even more than my sister did.

"Your job?" Danni asked, tipping her head back so that she could stare at me with eyes that were almost identical to mine.

"Yeah, my job," I sighed.

"Why don't you quit? You don't seem to like it."

"I love my job," I disagreed.

"But you always look so sad," Danni said, her voice holding a sympathy that four-year-olds shouldn't know. "You need to quit."

"I can't," I snapped, closing off the subject quickly. I didn't want to discuss too much with Danni what it was that I did. In fact, I never wanted her to find out about slayers and the dark side of life that no one other than monsters, slayers, and a few normal humans were aware of. It wasn't the type of life that should be an option for her. I wouldn't let it be. "But how about I read that book to you tonight?" I suggested, making my voice gentler.

"What about your job?"

"I'm free tonight."

"Yay!" Danni cried happily, dropping her Barbie dolls and crawling into my lap. I hugged her close, marveling at how big she was getting. It seemed like only yesterday I was holding her in the hospital, right after she'd been born. "I love you, Bella," she whispered, before kissing me on the cheek.

"I love you, too," I replied, squeezing her.

We sat together for what felt like forever and I didn't mind. If I had to choose between spending every day with Danni and slaying, I would choose her in less time than it takes a heart to beat. She was my entire world. In more than one way I was a slayer because of her. And I didn't mind. I would give my last breath if it meant Danni would be safe from the true horrors of the world.

"I need to ask you something," I murmured, hating to break the comfortable silence, but needing to.

"What?"

"How would you feel about moving?"

"I like it here," Danni said, letting go of me and staring at me with wide eyes. Some part of her knew why I had asked that question.

"But what if you had to?"

"Why?" she asked. "We're moving aren't we? And it's because of your stupid job."

"It'll be only for a little while, I promise," I said as I tried to wrap her in my arms to calm her down, but Danni hopped from her bed and ran over to the other side of her room, as far from me as she could get in the small space.

Her rejection was a knife in my side.

"I don't want to leave. This is my home," she cried, stomping her foot.

"Danni, please just—"

"I hate your job!" she screamed.

"Danni, it won't be forever," I said, feeling like the worst person on the planet. It wasn't right of me to ask her to leave everything that she loved. But I had no choice. I couldn't pass myself off in Forks as a high school student if I had no parent, and Danni couldn't stay in Phoenix by herself. It was unthinkable.

"I don't care. I hate your job," she repeated just before giant tears fell down her bright pink cheeks.

"I'm sorry, honey, but we have no choice—"

"There are always choices," Danni yelled, cutting me off once more.

"What's going on?" my mother's anxious voice asked as she jogged into the room.

"Mommy, don't make me go," Danni sobbed, running to my mother. She wrapped her arms around her legs and clung to her. "Please, Mommy, don't."

"Why don't we talk about this after breakfast?" my mother suggested in a sweet, soothing voice. "I'll make waffles and you can put some sprinkles on them, okay?"

"Okay," Danni whispered and held her arms up toward my mother. My mother bent over and lifted Danni up easily. She put her on her hip and Danni burrowed her head against my mother's shoulder, sniffling loudly.

"It's all set," my mother mouthed to me before leaving Danni's room.

"Alright," I muttered sadly. Danni being mad at me was one of the worst things in the world. My leg severed would be more fun than having my sister scream and cry because I was upsetting her.

I sat for a few seconds before getting up to head back to my room so that I could pack. I wasn't going to go downstairs. If I did that would only make matters worse. In a few days Danni would be better and then I could apologize, but until then I was going to be deeply depressed. I always was whenever something like this happened.