Disclaimer: For the whole fanfic (I don't like writing these every time) I own nothing, but the plot, and my original characters, and a Twilight t-shirt! hehe...
A/N:Characters may be a little ooc, forewarned...
Prologue
Centuries. I have been running for centuries. Four centuries to be exact. After so long I'm tired. Bone weary; that's how I feel, that's all I feel now. It's an odd sensation to feel so tired, and look so young. It makes me long for something new, and I want something new.
Driving through the pacific north-west my senses are assaulted by all the greenery. It's so different from the desert that I lived in as of late. Though I admit, I can only live in an area for so long before I have to leave. It breaks my heart every time; I don't think that there will ever be a time where I find my self wishing that I didn't have to leave, but in retrospect I haven't found any place that I truly can call home.
I'll miss the desert, that much is certain. I don't know how long it will be before I can see the wide blue open sky with its searing heat and dry brown landscape. One of the places in this world where life can barely be sustained and it has such a unique beauty all its own that seems to grow more every day. One beauty that can never be mistaken for another place, the southwestern desert is completely its own realm.
Now I've entered the vast northwestern forest, another land completely its own. Magic rings in small undisturbed areas beckoning travelers into its open arms. Its wonder an evanescence feeling of years past, of stories and people long forgotten; it reminds me of my homeland. A land like this: cloaked in mystery and magic; a land that I loved and left by the force of another.
Forks…what an odd name for a town? Driving through I can see that it's a quaint little town that seems to be under constant cloud coverage. Forks… 'I live in Forks.' What a cute little quirk! I've lived in many place, but non I think have been named after kitchen utensils. I think I'll settle here for a bit.
Now the hard part that usually comes with moving for me, picking an age; as a shape-shifter that was usually the biggest problem. Shape-shifting is very convenient for when I want to stay in a place for a longer period of time than usual, but the choices that it presented was overwhelming at times, especially when I had time to agonize over all the possibilities. Seeing a decision through was not the problem, but the process to making the decision was the difficulty. Now what age to be…? 'Forks High School, Home of the Spartans'…well then that just about settles it, I'll be a teenager. Though that's not exactly my preferred age, what with the hormones and all the constant changing of people and their moods, but it will help me settle in a bit. In the end if I like it here I can stay for a longer period of time, than before. If not then I can leave sooner with the excuse of college and no one will think too much of the notion of my leaving town for good.
Age…I want to experience this place so I think that staying for two years will be okay, so seventeen sounds good, that will make me a junior and that's two years of high school for me to go through, not too bad. Now name. I'll go with my real name, its easier to remember, and I haven't been called by it in years so it should be safe to use; Isabella. Now what to use for a last name? I racked my brain for a name that I hadn't used or hadn't used lately. Driving for so long had made my mind a little hazy and me, a bit tired, so I thought back to the last movie I saw, Pirates of the Caribbean. It was what was on TV before I left. I decided to use the leading lady's last name. Swann though I'll drop the extra 'n'. Isabella Swan. Great my initials spell 'IS'! Well there's something to laugh at my self for.
Now that that's settled I'll need a place to stay, preferably my own home. Passing through the small town I browsed around trying to find a realtors office. I didn't seem to have much luck, I did, however, find the outdoor supply store, the grocery store, the pharmacy, main entrance to the hospital, and a little, but no realtors'.
Giving into the growls and protests of my stomach I pulled into the diner and decided to step in for in an early dinner. I see that I'm not the only one who appreciates an early dinner. I headed towards a booth in the back and sat my self down to wait for the waitress who had greeted me when I walked in. When she arrived at my table to take my order; hot tea and a bowl lentil soup with bread, nostalgia hit making me smirk.
She came back with the tea in hand, "So you're new to these parts, no? What brings you to Forks?" and apparently she also came with nerve to ask the questions that had been flitting through the minds of the patrons in the diner since I stepped foot in. She set the tea down in front of me and stood to the side expectantly.
Smiling to my self I thought back on all the times and different ways I've heard those questions being asked. Small towns and their people never change their ways. Where ever you go, when ever. It's still the same basic principle of homogeneity 'either from here or you're not' in layman's terms. It's that that mentality that makes small towns a little tricky to move into. The people of the town tend to be naturally weary of outsiders, even if they do put up a nice little front of not being weary.
"Change of scenery brings me to Forks," my smile still tugging softly at my lips.
"Oh really, where are you from?" again more probing questions from behind the mask of simple curiosity and hospitality.
"Oh everywhere and anywhere, but lately Arizona." Maybe I'm being too cynical.
"The desert huh? Well that certainly is a change of scenery for you then."
"Yes it was. The drive up was amazing, long and not something that I'd want to repeat soon, but amazing none the less. The change is so completely different that if you don't pay attention the desert just kind of disappears on; you almost get whiplash trying to figure out where it went." A soft chuckle emitted from my waitress at the image.
"Say, what's your name stranger?"
"Isabella Swan,"
"Pleasure to meet you Ms. Swan, I'm Clara Beauregard."
"Pleasure, is all mine, Ms. Beauregard."
"So Miss Isabella, are you planning to stay a while or are you just passing through?"
"I'm planning on staying a while. Clara do you know where I can find someone to talk to about buying a house?"
"Sure I do, I guess I'll take that as you planning to stay a while." A laugh bubbled up my throat and passed my lips. It seemed that my laughter took her by surprise. Shaking her head she replied
"Down the street, here when you're down I'll take you there my self."
"Why thank you. That's very kind of you to offer."
"No problem hon, glad to help. Call me over when you are ready." I nodded and started to sweeten my tea.
Not long after my soup arrived I started to dig around in my bag looking for my note pad. I thought that maybe jotting down ideas, thoughts for the new house would help me narrow down the search. Features that I would love to have, things that had to be there, and things that I didn't want to be anywhere near my house.
*Wide open spaces
*Wrap around porch
*Two stories
*Windows: tall and plenty
*Light colors-cool tones
*Wood/tile floors
*Carpeting in the bedrooms
Half an hour later I had finished my soup, gone through two cups of tea (and working through my third), and I had a few pages of notes jotted down. The scenery here had affected much of what I wanted. The greenery, the ample forest, the mist, rain, clouds. Everything went into consideration and was weighed in to my plans for the house. When Clara came over with the check, I already had the money in hand.
"No change,"
"I'll drop this off and be right back." She walked off and I gathered my things, looking over my notes I made sure that everything was to my liking before I handed them off to become reality.
"All set? Then let's go,"
"Lead the way,"
I followed her out of the diner and observed as she waved to various people as we took the short walk down and across the street. It couldn't have been more than five minutes until we arrived at a little building that looked very much like someone's home, except for the sign in the front lawn that read:
'Home, Sweet Home:
Forks Realtor'
"That's original,"
"That's part of Jennifer's motto. She helps people buy homes, not houses."
"Well then she's just the person that I need to talk to." a small chuckle was my response, and we walked into the small office.
The small space represented the character of the small town; it was noticeable from the first moment when you walked in. Wooden décor, a close homey feel, woven blankets on the back of a chair, and a view of the woods from the back window. It was a little cramped in the office space, but it wasn't uncomfortable, it added to the whole affect of being home. This spoke volumes to me.
"Hey Jen, its Clara," Her voice broke me out of my revere.
"Clara dove, what brings you here?"
"I brought you a customer, Jennifer Dooley meet Isabella Swan. She's looking to buy a house."
"Hello, pleasure to meet you Ms. Swan."
"Pleasure is all mine Ms. Dooley"
"I must say dear that you look a tad young to be buying a house dear; will your parents be joining us?"
"No my parents won't be joining us," that's the problem with picking an age that looks too young. No one takes you all that seriously. "Though I assure you, Ms. Dooley that that won't be a problem, I am quite capable of taking care of business."
"I do have a few questions before we start anything, Ms. Swan. If you don't mind my asking, how old are you exactly?" her posture gave away what her voice did not, her uneasiness and yet her eagerness to be dealing with a challenge.
"I am seventeen." I watched in amusement as her brow furrowed and she seemed to think that this challenge was over before it began. How little she thought of me.
"Seventeen? Ms. Swan how do you expect to take care of the legalities and the monetary aspects of buying a house? You're not even of age to be considered a legal adult." Her body language spoke volumes on what she did not say herself. She thought me a spoiled child, wanting to spend my parents' money. I think that she would find me a worthy opponent to spar with.
"Ms. Dooley, I understand your hesitancy at selling a home to a seventeen year old, but I assure you that all legalities will be dealt with by my family's lawyers. Who will be signing all papers in my stead, and when I turn eighteen in September they will make sure that everything gets signed over to me. Also money is not an issue; I am financially capable of buying a home."
The magic words had been said, Ms. Jennifer Dooley was once again on the hunt. For my part I sat back and tried to keep a triumphant smirk off my face. It never ceased to amaze me how if you anticipated someone's worries and cut them off before they had time to fester in the mind then you could witness a complete change in a person. Their body language, facial expressions, their voice, their choice of words; everything in regard to you changed.
"Now what can I help you with?" her voice was warm and welcoming.
"I'm looking for something to fit along these lines," I handed her my note pad. She perused some of the pages mainly skimming, but double checking things as if she were making a mental check list. Comparing and crossing off properties in her head.
"Some of these a bit specific, would you call them requirements, or guidelines?"
"Guidelines on the whole, the only real requirement that I can think of is plenty of land surrounding the house. I like my privacy and gardening."
"Well that shouldn't be a problem out here there are quite a few houses available and there are plenty with a bit of land. Ms. Swan you do understand that I meant no offense, earlier, by what I said…"
"Ms. Dooley, I do understand. No offense was taken." I cut her off before she could finish. I didn't think that she needed to make an apology to me. She had an obligation and I did understand that.
"Please, call me Jennifer."
"Very well, but only if you call me Bella,"
We then spent the better part of two hours looking through property listing that she had at her disposal. Most of the listings had pictures attached and they were charming little descriptions, but they weren't what I had in mind. They were small, too close to town, not enough surrounding space, and the ones that did look like they had potential were missing that ever important feeling of 'welcome home!' The poor houses just didn't have any spirit, character that called to me.
I started flipping through one of the older books, absentmindedly, when an old tin-type photo fell out onto the floor. Carefully I picked it up, and glanced at the house as I put it back. A shallow gasp escaped my lips at the beauty of the house in the picture.
A wooden house painted white, standing in all its timeless glory. It had a comfortable looking wrap around porch with a spiral staircase at one end leading to the balcony on the second floor. It was magnificent; plenty of newly planted trees were visible in the photo along with a sprawling lawn. The trees would surely be a lot bigger by now. There were six straight steps leading to the porch, the wide railings seeming to open their arms out me in a welcoming gesture. Plenty of tall windows could be seen on both stories. The photo sang the praises of the old house's charisma, and spirit.
I flipped the photo over, written in elegant and decidedly masculine hand was the year and the name of the house.
Rosewood Manor 1858
"It's perfect,"
"What is dear?"
I carefully handed the photograph over to Jennifer. Clara had long gone back to the diner once we had gotten into the flow of things.
"Rosewood, My god I'd forgotten all about it. It certainly would be a perfect fit to your notes, but after being abandoned for so many years I fear that it may be more trouble than its worth. To say that it would need remodeling is an understatement…"
"It's perfect," An old house for an old girl, we'd be perfect together. If I had to refurbish and remodel then that would give me the perfect opportunity to introduce myself to the house.
"Well then I can see that nothing will dissuade you. We can go up in the morning to see the house," she looked out the window for a moment with a critical look "or we could actually go now. We won't have the best light, but at least you'll get to see it. What do you say?"
"That would be wonderful thank you, and do you have a flashlight?"
"Yes dear. There is one in my car, now let me hunt down that map and key and we'll be on our way!" she packed up and closed for the night, leading the way out.
"Would you like to ride with me or follow in your car?"
"I'll follow in mine; it'll help me get my bearings."
"Alright then I'll see you at the house," she walked towards her car and I got in mine.
We drove towards the edge of town; houses were fewer and farther apart, till there was nothing but forest. Winding and curving through the woods, the sun was starting set and was fighting to get its last little bit of light through the clouds and trees.
After about half an hour or so of driving the woods cleared and there was Rosewood. Standing there in its timeless beauty, a true testament to times gone by; in the fading twilight there stood my home. It was breathtaking.
I walked up to the steps and vaguely saw that the front porch was falling down in a few places, and the spiral staircase to the upper level looked like it was barely holding up its own weight let alone hold up the weight of another. Walking to the front door I looked into the front windows, and I saw stationary shadows all inside.
Wordlessly Jennifer handed me the key. Neither of us saying a word for fear that speaking may just upset the balance of magic that lingered in this forgotten place. Opening the heavy door with much effort we stepped in. The house had a musty smell, a blend of the stale air and the rooting wood. Still for a house that was falling apart it was lovely.
We walked around the ground floor for bit, not daring to venture up due to little light that the flashlight provided and we didn't know how bad the structure upstairs may be. I smiled as we walked into the kitchen. It was big and open. The back door led to the porch. This side was not as wide as the front was. Above us we could see a balcony jutting out, probably from one of the bedrooms. Both the kitchen and the back porch had the same view: a large meadow and a trickling little stream that cut through on one side.
Looking at the time we both knew that it was time to go; it was getting to dark to see, even with the poor bit of light that the flashlight could provide. We got to the cars and agreed to meet at the diner. Jennifer wanted to eat and get a head start on the business of tomorrow, so she went of ahead of me. I was in no real hurry so I turned and gave one last look at what would be my house, my home, Rosewood
Driving back to town I went into automatic mode. I thought about all the things that needed to be done to the house before it was safe enough to live in, then once that was done all the things that I would need to buy for the house. The list was steadily growing in my mind. I was thinking woods, and paints, and textiles; I was so lost to my little world of design that I almost didn't see the silver Volvo that was pulling out of a hidden driveway.
Slamming on the brakes I stopped a breath's width from the side of the Volvo. Breathing deeply I backed up the car from what would have been a potentially bad situation. Explaining how you walked away from a metal pretzel was not the best way to start a quiet life in a new town.
Still trying to calm my mind and my breathing I barely had time to register that there was someone getting out of the Volvo and walking towards me. When he got close enough I rolled down the window, and then I felt it.
This person's, mans', aura. It was not of this world, not of that of the living. The closer he got the more I could feel. He was clam, yet there was a storm of confliction in him. I could see him now, he was tall with pale skin, and he had a scent that came of him that alluring. It seemed to draw me in. His eyes were dark, like molten amber; very deep and they were getting darker. I knew from his eyes alone that he would be different from others that I had met in the past.
"Are you alright?" his voice was tight, tense; though that did nothing to make it sound any less beautiful. If anything it added to his beauty.
"Yes, I'm fine thank you. I'm sorry I almost didn't see you. My thought carried away with me."
"You should be more careful, but I should be the one apologizing. I was the one who didn't turn on the headlights." His voice was still low, but was gruff with a pain. His aura leaned toward hunger, thirst. I knew that this wasn't a safe situation to be in.
"I guess since we're both alright, and nothing serious happened that we should be on our separate ways. Have a nice evening." I was getting anxious to be gone from there. He nodded and stepped back from the window. His step back though lacked the grace that his walk had. I looked like he was being jerked back away from the car, forcing himself to move from me. My anxiousness to be away didn't let me wait for him to be stop. I threw the car into drive and sped away from him.
It seemed that I wasn't the only one who took a liking to this small and rainy town. I didn't know who he was, or why he was here, but I could be certain of a few things.
First he was a vampire.
Second he wasn't alone. There were others of his kind with him, so I was out numbered.
And third he thirsted for my blood.