With One Look

Author: Peggy McDaniel McCombs

Pairing; Caius/Bella/Carlisle

Beta: Aunt Bran. Pre-reader: Silverfires

Rating: M.

Genre: Romance, Friendship and Angus

Summary: This story is about what happens when Bella is turned by the same vampire that turned Carlisle. How she survives before and after her stay with Caius and the Volturi, and in the end, how she finally finds her true mate in Carlisle Cullen, and the circumstances during and after that happens.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

Chapter 1

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, and I was born in the year of our Lord 1678, on the 13 day of September in a town called Salem, Massachusetts. I was the only child of Charlie and Renée Swan. My father worked as a simple farmer to take care of our small family. He was a proud man and worked very hard to provide for us.

As my father plowed our land, my mother worked the stand at the town market that sold what little bit of vegetables we had left after canning . We didn't have much, but we made do.

When I was old enough I helped my father in the fields. My parents tried to bear a son to help my father but the time never came. After four miscarriages that almost killed my mother, they finally gave up, which left only me to help my father.

On top of helping my father as well as my mother, I still had chores to do at home. My mother complained at times to my father, about how it wasn't right for me to be working the fields. She would tell him, I would never find a beau as long as I worked my fingers to the nub with calluses. No matter how many times I scrubbed my hands, the stains from the mud wouldn't leave.

But there was nothing that could be done. My father needed the help, and I was the only one left to do the chores, without him hiring a man. There just weren't the funds to do such a thing.

I remember when things starting getting bad around the town. I had few friends, but there was one girl, Marcy Flannigan. I had talked to her on occasion; she wasn't my friend, but more of an acquaintance. I learned that this girl was very promiscuous.

She liked this boy in town who never showed her any affection, and as hard as she tried, he just wouldn't take notice of her. I could see the hatred brewing in her eyes every time he paid special attention to one of the girls in town known as Abigail Williams. I knew Marcy well enough to see that she was plotting something, but as much as I tried to get her to talk to me she wouldn't tell me what she was planning.

There were a few girls that she spent most of her time with, and when they were around Marcy I made myself scarce for they were just as devious as she was. I worried about what she had in mind; for every time she brought one of her schemes into play it usually ended badly for the person who was the object of her anger.

Gossip flew around the town about a witch hunt going on in London, England. I never really thought anything of it, because who would have believed in such a thing happening? It just couldn't be real. My father was irate at hearing such trash, drummed up by someone trying to cause more trouble among the villagers. "Gossip is like fire, once it starts it takes hold and spreads fast and becomes hard to extinguish," he would say.

We were in church one Sunday and I saw Marcy sitting with her usual group of girls, and they were whispering softly to one another. She turned, looking around the congregation, and once she found me and our eyes connected she gave me an evil smile. I didn't know what she was planning on doing, but that smile alone gave me a chill that ran up my spine, and I knew it wasn't going to be good.

It wasn't long before she stood up, followed by the other girls, and they began to scream and shake and throw themselves onto the floor. They were screaming things like-get them off of me it burns- or they would just scream to the parishioners for help. I don't have to tell you how that turned out, especially with all the talk of witches and such.

After the parishioners took them to the parsonage and calmed them down, they questioned them to find out what was happening to the girls. It was Marcy, my so called friend, who said that Abigail Williams had put a spell on them. She claimed that a boy that Abigail liked paid attention to her and became jealous, and due to her jealousy she placed a spell on them, naming her as a witch.

With all the gossip coming from England about witches and such, it set the town in a whirlwind. The governor sent for one of his Magistrates to oversee what was going on in our village, and was told to take care of things as he saw fit. And so it began.

My father saw red, and it took everything my mother had to stop him from going off on the town council. Once we arrived home he ranted and raved for hours over what was happening in our village.

"This is how it all starts - with gossip and spoiled children raving over petty jealousy, and then to make it worse those stupid naïve imbeciles who run the village, who by the way should know better, start to believe in all the gossip they've heard putting the village in an uproar, and it won't stop there," he explained angrily. "It will lead to worse things, things that with a single thought would make the strongest of men's blood run cold."

After things started to get worse my father was glad my mother had stepped in and stopped him from saying anything to the town council. He saw that if he had said anything at the time, or even now, that he as well as his family would likely be tried as witches.

We watched as good people were hanged, people we knew couldn't have done the things they were accused of. We saw people accusing others, even their own family, to save their own necks from the noose.

The homeless woman I saw hanging around the market, begging for food and shelter, became a victim of the witch hunt. People were dying left and right. My father began to worry, and went so far as to talk to one of his good friends who lived in the next town. When he came back, we secretly packed and waited for our time to leave this godforsaken place. All of this started over a jealous young girl using gossip that came from another country to start this debauchery. It sickened me.

It was the night Giles Corey refused to enter a plea when he came to trial in September, that the judges applied an archaic form of punishment called peine forte et dure, in which stones were piled on a door that was laid on his chest until he could no longer breathe. After two days of this torture, Corey died without entering a plea. That was when we left. We waited until just before dawn before setting out, taking only what we could carry.

My father had been saving money for months, since all this began, just in case we would have to flee for our lives. He decided if all this killing settled down he would just use the money he had saved to buy seeds for the spring planting, but if not…well, let's just say that it didn't.

There was a ship captain who hated the witch hunt across the country even more than my father. He offered to take a few of us, meaning those who thought the same as we did, to England. There were at least ten families that boarded that morning as we set sail for our new home.

It was dangerous for us to leave the Americas with all the witch hunts going on. If we were caught, we too would be tried for being witches, and for trying to flee from our destiny, which was death. .

Even when we arrived in England, we had to be careful, so the Captain docked in a small village not far from London, and leaving us with his best wishes he set sail again, hoping not to bring suspicion upon us.

It was bad enough that we were ten families, trying to find lodgings without arousing suspicion. So after leaving the ship we spread out, some walking to different villages and some going into London; we stayed here in this small town.

We stayed in an old abandoned shack at the end of town, hiding mostly until my father could find us a more permanent place to live. After a couple of days he found and paid for a little farm not too far from where we were hiding.

While in town my father had mentioned at the pub that he was looking to buy a small farm, but he didn't have a lot of money. One of the gentleman there sat down next to my father and told him he knew of a place, but it needed a lot of work. He thought he could get it for hardly anything , that the owner just wanted to be rid of it.

My father jumped at the chance and was introduced to the man. The man took a liking to my father and sold him the farm, for even less that he was told. My father was elated. He even saved enough to buy seeds to plant for the next season, which wouldn't be for a while yet. The man offered him a job on his farm until my father could plant his own crops.

We even had dinner at the man's house a few times. They were an older couple that never had any children. The woman fussed over me constantly, buying me clothes and things that she thought a young girl should have, but we couldn't afford.

My father complained, telling them they shouldn't spend their money so frivolously on me. The man, however, said not to fret, he had plenty, and at his age in this life he would never spend it all before he passed on to the next world. He insisted on letting his wife spoil me.

My father agreed, but told them not to overdo it, that spoiling a child could hurt more than help. They agreed, but still made sure I wanted for nothing. I wasn't the kind to want much anyway, so pleasantries wouldn't change me.

Years passed, as we let the past drift away into memories. My family became friendly with a lot of other families in this small town. The threat of the witch hunts had apparently ended. Some people still believed, not just in witches but in other supernatural creatures. I thought this was nothing, just something that sprang up from the tales of witches. But the gossip still hung in the air.

The pastor of the parsonage on the far side of town believed in such things, and everyone pretty much stayed away from him. Oh there was a few who believed in such things and stood at his side, but not many. I had heard that he had a son. I was also told he was very pleasing to the eye, but was warned to stay clear of him for he was as dangerous as his father.

I thought this was ridiculous, but my father still told me to stay clear of him - not only because he didn't want me or our family involved in that sort of mess again, but he didn't want my reputation spoiled. I think he still hoped I would marry well someday.

I agreed of course, for I didn't want to be around that kind of belief either. It scared the heck out of me when it happened in Salem, and I sure didn't want to go through that again.

It was early spring when news came that a spring fling was being planned. All the women in the town made their best dishes and the musician tuned their instruments getting ready for the dance that was about to happen at the community hall. The women sewed new dresses and curled their hair and bought new dancing shoes. The joyous day caused excitement in town.

The older woman, Grandma Jean, always bought everything I needed for all the occasions. My father scowled at buying new things for the dance, but allowed it when my mother convinced him. I didn't like it any more than he did, but I didn't have a dress that wasn't tattered and worn, and my shoes needed to be re-soled.

The evening of the dance I dressed and curled my hair, with my mother's help. I have to say I looked very pretty. I wasn't used to seeing myself in this state of dress. I actually felt like the woman I was. After helping my father tend to the fixing of the house, as well as working the farm, I looked more like a man than a woman at times.

My mother and father weren't going to the dance; they wanted time to themselves for a while, something they very seldom got. So I headed into town, to the dance at the community center. I could hear the music from a mile away, and it made me smile.

The building was bigger than most of the structures in town. It had marble pillars that held up the upper overhang of the roof, that matched the color of the building as the white stucco looked freshly painted. The molding around the many windows in the front was stylish, like something out of a French novel, very provincial.

I walked into the building and made my way through the barrage of people, finding a place I could stand and listen to the music as the band played. I danced in place, not moving my feet but swinging my hips to the beat of the music and enjoying myself immensely. I saw a few people I knew, but they were busy dancing and laughing with their beaus. I didn't want to be a third wheel so I just stood and watched, completely comfortable with my position.

Sure I've had many men come up to talk to me in the last few years, but my father would chase them off. It really didn't bother me much, because I hadn't really run into anyone I liked well enough to settle down with, and besides, I was happy helping out on the farm. Some would call me an old maid, I was twenty years old and had never been kissed, but it didn't bother me any.

I stood and clapped my hands together with the music as I looked around the room taking in all its splendor. The ceiling was high with a dome of glass in the center, where you could see the brightly shining stars that sparkled in the clear sky.

The room looked festive with banners, balloons, and streamers that crisscrossed each other. It was also painted in the same whitewash as the outside, and it looked like it belonged in the biggest town known to man. I was in awe of my surroundings.

I was watching the crowd as they enjoyed themselves, and it was then that I saw him. He sat at one of the tables across the dance floor watching the people as I was. He wore the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on a man. His hair was pulled back and tied at his neck as his long blond hair hung down his back. I don't think I've ever seen hair that color of blond in my life, but it took my breath away..

While I was looking at him he turned his head and stared directly into my eyes. I smiled and lowered my head. When I looked up at him again he was still watching me. When he gazed at me with his icy blue eyes it was almost as if he was looking straight into my soul. He was heartbreakingly handsome; I have never seen anyone like him before.

We both kept looking away from one another and when we caught each other staring we'd smile and look away again. I wondered who this man was.

After a while of staring at one another he rose from his seat, and I thought he might come over and talk to me, but instead he walked out the front door. I felt as though my heart was breaking in two when he left. I tried to enjoy the music and the fun people were having, but I just couldn't. So I decided to leave as well, and just return home.

As I shuffled through the couples I finally made it to the door and walked out. I stood on the wooden planks of the porch with my head down. I turned to begin my trek home when something caught my vision. I looked up and I saw the blond man standing in the road looking across at the wooded area beyond. His back was to me and I froze where I stood, waiting to see what he would do next.

He turned and began to walk down the street in the opposite direction that I was going in. He didn't go far before he turned and looked back, seeing me standing on the porch of the community center. He smiled and bowed his head. I waved at him as he smiled again and once again turned and kept walking.

I knew I shouldn't do it, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to follow him. I kept to the shadows and stayed far enough away so he wouldn't see me if he turned around.

I followed him to the other side of town where he passed a church and stopped right in front of a cottage that sat next door to it.

He looked down the road, and for a minute I thought he might have caught sight of me, but he sighed and his beautiful smile turn to a frown as he walked into the small cottage.

I made my way closer to the house hiding by the church in case he looked out the window and saw me. It was then I heard the yelling coming from the house. I ducked almost like it was meant for me and I was trying to get out of harm's way .

I realized that this was the house of the minister I had heard about, and this man I had been flirting with all evening was the boy I was told about that was pleasing to the eye. Well, they got that part right anyway, I thought to myself. He surely was beautiful.

It seemed it was the preacher doing all the yelling. He was yelling about how he wanted someone to go out and hunt and kill demons, and in hearing this I realized, these were the ones my family was told about. The ones I was supposed to stay away from because of their belief in other supernatural creatures. They were telling the truth. He did believe in demons, and he was yelling at who I presumed was the preacher's son wanting him to catch and kill demons.

I immediately felt sorry for this man. To live with someone so set on a belief to force his loved one to do his bidding, no matter the consequence, was ludicrous.

What he believed in might not be true, but he truly believed in this debauchery, and if he believed in it he was sending his son to his probable death-not caring if he lived or died. My heart broke for this poor man.

I heard the son tell his father that this was insane, that the only demons he knew of walked in Hell, not on this earth. He asked him why he would send him out to do such a ridiculous thing, that if he wanted him to go and talk to the sinners he would be honored, but to go roaming in the woods looking for demons was silly. He told him there were only bears and wolves in the woods, not demons.

I then heard his father tell him to do as he asked or leave his house for good. After saying this the house became silent, and the next thing I heard was the door opening and closing and the beautiful guy I flirted with earlier ran off into the woods. I watched him go and wondered if I should follow.

I realized if I did and someone saw me my reputation would be done for, but my curiosity wore heavy on my heart. I looked around and saw no one in sight, as I inched slowly across the road and walked up to the tree line.

I looked between the trees, spying to see what I could in the darkness, which was pretty much nothing. The moon was bright enough that I could make out the image of the guy who just ran into the woods, and I wished I knew his name.

He began to walk and I followed, trying to stay as quiet as I could and stay far enough away not to raise his suspicion . He walked for a while and then stopped, looking off deeper into the woods.

"Are you following me?" he asked as he turned, and I froze to my spot. I was caught. I blushed, probably brighter than I had ever done in my life, and lowered my head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I just wanted to talk to you," I told him, as I began to walk slowly toward him.

"You shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous…there are a lot of wild animals," he explained.

"Yeah, you're probably right, I'm sorry I bothered you," I said regretfully and turned to leave, but I stopped when I heard his voice again.

"You're not bothering me, I just don't want to see you hurt, and I'm sure if your father found out you were out here with me he'd probably shoot me and lock you in your room until you were forty," he said with that beautiful smile. I smiled back, nodding my head.

"You're probably right," I said, as I lowered my head again. It was quiet between us for a minute, and I continued. "I'd better go," I said, and as I started to turn around again he stopped me by asking me another question.

"What's your name?" he asked as I turned to face him once again.

"Isabella, but I liked to be called Bella."

"Well, Isabella, who likes to be called Bella," is all he got out before he looked over my shoulder. His eyes became round as saucers, and he started running toward me as he began to yell.

"Run, Bella, run!" he screamed as I turned to see…something. I didn't know what it was, but the beautiful man ran to me and grabbed my arm and began running with me. We hadn't gotten far when he was ripped from my side and was thrown from my sight, causing me to fall to the ground.

As I rolled over I saw what had chased us that short distance. This thing was tall, with pale skin, his eyes were blood red and he growled, pulling his lips back over his teeth. He grabbed me, pulling me to him as he laughed evilly and bent down and bit me on the neck. I screamed. It was then I heard the younger man yell, "NO!" and the demon dropped me.

I looked over at the demon as he was hovering over the beautiful man. I wondered how this thing, this monster could have moved so fast. For one second he was on me and the next he hovered over the beautiful man who tried everything he could to save me. I whimpered knowing there was nothing I could do.

I crawled to the top of a hill that wasn't far away and rolled down the other side, becoming completely covered in the wet leaves. That's when the burning began. It felt as though someone was pouring hot coals under my skin. I gritted my teeth together trying to be quiet, so the demon wouldn't find me.

I don't know how long I lay there; it seemed like forever as my body burned as if I were in the deepest pit of Hell. I continued gritting my teeth trying to stay quiet, and I couldn't understand why I wasn't a pile of ash, for the flames should have consumed me by now.

Then I wondered if I were dead and indeed in the pits of Hell. I wondered if I was being punished for following after the beautiful man and slipping into the dark woods after my father had forbidden me to do so on many occasions. My only reward was the feeling of the damp leaves that covered me, bringing me some, but little, relief.

A/N: I can't thank Aunt Bran enough for all the hard work she put into this story as my Beta. You are a miracle worker hon and I appreciate all your hard work it took you to make this story readable to share with all those who wish to read it.

I"d also like to thank my pre reader Silverfires for suggesting and asking Aunt Bran to take on this endeavor and for all the hard work you to put into it as well as my pre reader...thanks you hon. You both are great friends...huggs to the both of you.