Prologue~ September 13, 1901

Mrs. Swan was crouched down in a squatting position, perspiration dripped down her neck as she concentrated on the only thing that mattered to her at this point, having this child. The midwives coached her through this process, and gave her many herbal teas to numb the pain, not that it took all of it away, but it didn't hurt to try. As her breath became heavier, and the contractions closer together, she knew her little baby boy was on the way.

"It is time to push now Mrs. Swan, push your baby boy out! He is waiting to meet you!" the first midwife encouraged as Mrs. Swan gritted her teeth, determined not to scream or yell, as it would be rather improper. She pushed as hard as she could until she felt as though her body had torn in half, and she heard a soft crying from her child. She breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the bed, feeling blood trickle down her legs. Reaching for her child she was in utter shock at what she saw.

"It's a girl, a healthy baby girl Mrs. Swan." The second midwife smiled as she wiped the birthing fluids from the child. At that moment an electric shock went through the room, and the universe shifted into place.

"She is loosing to much blood!" the first midwife whispered to the second frantically, but it was not heard, for the new mother's eyes were captured in a pair of smaller light brown ones.

"She is beautiful…" she whispered out in a breathy sigh, cuddling her baby to her chest, she felt lightheaded, but that was understandable after birth, wasn't it? "I will call her Isabella, yes, Isabella swan…" she whispered as she faded into unconsciousness. She passed away several minutes later.

Chapter one ~ June, 1918

Isabella Swan held out her arms expectantly, waiting for the bustle of servants to swarm around her, clothing her body in the most exquisite of garments, she was in a hurry today. After she was dressed and powdered, she walked out of the room, in pure elegance, looking every bit as a princess would. That was how she was treated of course, ever since her mother died giving birth to her, she was showered with ravishing gifts, as the lady of the house would.

She attempted not to scoff at the ridiculous outfit, she felt horrid in gowns, and preferred nothing other then boys shorts, and a collared shirt, which was boys wear. She had to visit her father, but she was terrified to see him, to go to the swamped hospital that was filled with dying people, who had succumbed to the Spanish influenza, and now faced life or death.

The sickness had overcome the world, one fifth of it infected, the rest terrified to go outside. Everyday, more and more of her friends fell ill, and then fell dead at her feet. She had lost several servants, and was now quartered in a special wing of the house, away from all sickness with only the healthiest servants waiting on her.

Fighting back tears, Isabella tried not to think about her father, Charles, who was currently laying in the hospital, fevered, and deathly ill. Bitterly, she recalled the words of the servant who denied her the privilege of visiting her father, before his untimely death that was becoming more inevitable every moment.

"It is for the best, you do not want to get this illness, your body won't be able to fight it off, someone has to carry on your family name! I am sorry Bella, but you will not be allowed to visit your father." She had cringed at the use of her childhood nickname, she would always be 'baby Bella' to the servants who cared for her in infancy.

Checking all of the rooms in her wing of the house, Isabella clutched at the many layers of her gown, sweeping them off the floor and making sure no one was around. She snuck into her room, her heartbeat throbbing faster and faster, matching her own frantic footsteps. In her hand was a small bag, and in it was her escape.

Hiding a grin, she ran through the plan once more in her mind, she couldn't recall when she had first thought of this, but she knew it was something that must be done. Isabella then heard footsteps, she tried her best to slow down her breath, and look normal, nothing could disguise her pink tinted cheeks, or her slightly ruffled hair, but the servant paid no mind to her.

Having heard the approaching footsteps beforehand, Isabella had tucked her bag under her skirt, thankful she had given in to buying the eight layer ruffle disaster of a dress, for it did not show the bag while tucked between her legs. She hastily grabbed her bag, and was safe for the remainder of her escape.

Finally outside, she could not believe that her plan had worked. At the beginning she had deemed it foolish, and herself incapable of such a thing, but she had done it. She had not thought this far ahead though, she had no means of transportation. As a spur of the moment idea, she ran to the stables, or at least as fast as you can move in an eight layer dress.

She stared disdainfully at the ghastly side saddle that hung on the wall near her beautiful horse. Isabella flinched at the memory of her last horse ride, she shuddered involuntarily and hid from outside view in an empty stall, changing as fast as she could. She had tucked her hair into a farmers hat, and had altered her appearance altogether. Her makeup had been washed off, and she deemed boys clothes, she felt comfy as she discarded and abandoned her old clothes, glad to be rid of that corset, now tucked under some straw on the wood floor.

After several minutes of attempting to saddle her horse, and get positioned correctly on it, she felt like she had finally got it right. She looked almost like she could have been a boy. She was proud of herself, and took off at full gallop to the hospital, where her dying father could have already taken his last breath.

A long ride later…

She tried her best to smear some dirt on her clothes, and make them look worn out and used, not soft and well kept which was just what they were. They were quite big on her, and looked far too luxurious to belong to the farmers boy she pretended to be, not that one would notice at a glance.

The hospital was so much worse than Isabella had imagined it. It was so crowded, there wasn't an open spot on the floor, let alone a chair, there were babies and women crying, and the smell of death was hung thickly in the air. Tingles ran through her spine as she imitated walking as a boy and tried not to step on people as she plowed through the masses.

"Excuse me, where could I find Charles Swan's room?" she asked a worker that appeared to be in charge. The man scoffed in her face, "Boy," he said, looking Isabella up and down, "I have the lives of hundreds in here, you think I have time for one person?" and with that he strolled away, leaving Isabella stunned.

The rooms were open, and nearly five were to a room, the nurses trying the best, but knowing they either recovered, or died. Isabella tried to ignore the fact that more the half of the occupants in the hospital will be dead in a months time, maybe less.

After a long search she found her father, he was nearly unrecognizable, and so obviously ill that it pained her to look at him. She could almost feel the fact that his time was limited. It was as though a fist was clenched around her heart, squeezing it as she slowly suffocated.

"Bella…" came the hoarse cry, so weak and pitiful that she barely heard it over the moaning and screams of the dying. Her father coughed violently into his hand, and she felt faint when she noticed he had coughed up blood. She saw that he father had barely opened his eyes, an obvious struggle for him. "Father!" she kneeled down at his bed, not wanting to get to close. "Bella, you need to leave, I…I want you to be safe. I love you." And with that, she saw her only remaining parent pass away.

She stifled a sob and ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, her new shoes enabling her more agility then before. Having not paid attention to her location, Isabella's knees finally buckled under her and she collapsed into a heap of despair.

That was when she heard the creek. That soft noise that would have been unnoticed in other circumstances, slowly, her eyes traced the noise back to the source. There was a young, handsome doctor, wheeling a patient in a hospital bed, nothing strange about that. Except for the fact that they were nearly a mile away from the hospital, and with a breeze, they both disappeared.

Shocked, Bella couldn't find them anywhere. She believed at first that it had been a trick of the wind, but no, that doctor was so beautiful, so majestic, she couldn't place her finger on it. With wobbly legs, she walked back to where she had seen them, by the oak tree. She kneeled down to the grass, and smiled when she realized that, as fast as they had been moving, they had upset the grass, into a small trail she could follow.

It would have been unfathomable a few months ago, that she would take the time to follow someone back to their house, but everything had changed, she had to know who these people were. Who was that ill boy in the stretcher, and why wasn't he at the hospital?

The trail ended outside a fairly large mansion, one of the most exquisite of the time, and with the latest technology available. Isabella felt quite like a peeping tom as she peered into the windows, crouched out of sight. The boy was laying on the bed, a stretcher more like, across a table. The handsome doctor was in the corner pacing back and forth as if deciding something.

Isabella blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she bit back a gasp, he had his neck attached to the boys throat! She fell back onto the grass in shock, she had heard of legends of blood suckers, and, she gulped, vampires. Never had she considered that it could be real. She had to get out of here, now, she must have moved a little to loudly but she didn't think he had hear.

"Well well well…what do we have here?" Isabella gasped as she turned to the voice, he had heard, oh yes he had, and she found herself face to face with blood red eyes…

Author's note: Well hello everyone! I am Rachel and I am the author of this story, let me explain further into it. I have done a great deal of research for this, getting Bella's birthday right, not the year obviously. I have also looked up everything about the Spanish influenza, symptoms including, extreme fevers, and bleeding from ears, nose, and mouth. The style back then was to have a corset on, and many layered dress, many women died in childbirth, and did not give birth in hospitals, but in their own homes with wet nurses and midwives. The theory of squatting while giving birth was to let pressure off of the mother as she tried to deliver.

p.s. I also felt the need that with the time change, that a more formal version of their names was called for, instead of Bella, I chose Isabella, instead of Charlie, I chose Charles, instead of Renee I chose Mrs. Swan.

Anyways please critique this and send in your thoughts in a review, and I will update soon!

Hugs and kisses

Rachel