AN: Vivian is taken from Blood and Chocolate by Annette Curtis Klause. Having read it is not a necessity. People who haven't read the book (and those who have) might find that Blood and Chocolate's main character Vivian can bring something fresh turns and twists and expose new sides of previously existing characters. The plot has already been written and I'm really excited about it!

The "conditions" for werewolves are different in both books, but don't fret, all will be explained in the story, and there are good reasons for those differences.

For those who are familiar with Blood and Chocolate and/or the Twilight series, there has never been an Aiden, Gabriel, or… Bella in this fanfic. They do not exist.

The use of the word "bitch" in this fanfic is strictly non-vulgar. A bitch is a female dog or wolf and therefore applies to Vivian who is in fact a female werewolf.

Disclaimer: I do not own any from the above mentioned novels. However, this chapter contains a few quotes from Blood and Chocolate to create an all round introduction to Vivian and her past.

Chapter 1 – A New Beginning

I knew, I was dreaming. I was sure, I was dreaming. How can I wake up from this? Kill myself on purpose? I'll do anything…

I ran to what I once knew to be my safe haven, but what I since recently identified as my worst nightmare, in the literal sense. The century-old inn was a silhouette fronting hell engulfed in fire. As I neared the smashed front door, to become one with the heat, two figures broke from within. Their night-clothes were smeared with soot, their faces white with terror. I only caught a brief glance at the person who pushed old Aunt Persia out. That person was our pack leader and my father.

I was so shaken to see my father's face again I forgot my initial resolution and helped old Aunt Persia away from the fire. She was the keeper of ancient magics, one could see her as priestess of the moon. She knew of healing powers that could help save some of the charred bodies now moaning on the grass outside of the inn. My father kept pushing more pack out.

Three of the cottages were in flames too, and the barn. Horses screamed in terror as they were chased from the stables by a handful of teenage boys. Somewhere amongst the chaos a woman wailed and wailed.

"They did it on purpose. They burned us out."

A male replied. "Those sneaks! Those cowards!" Somehow the secret that we are loups-garous – or in the common folks mouth 'werewolves' – had been discovered.

"Get her into one of the trucks," a male voice yelled. "I'm bringing the other car around".

I felt a tug on my arm. My mother, Esmé, stood panting beside me. "I put Aunt Persia in my car." I only now noticed she was no longer at my side. "Where's your father?" Now that she stood alone with me her voice rose high in panic.

"He went back in." I answered, my words sounded rough due to smoke and tears.

"Ivan!" Esmé started toward the building… in my memory I stopped her. However, I once again realised I was dreaming, and that my mother was safe. I looked away, knowing how the dream ended and not wanting to see my mother when it did. I looked to the forest that bordered the inn where I saw two pairs of red eyes watching the scene. The vicious fire projected its evil on its surroundings, causing the eyes of onlookers to blaze red. The fire roared its victory; with a crack as if a giant's spine had snapped, a central beam gave way, and the roof collapsed in a peacock tail of sparks and flame. I wanted to do nothing more than to wake up. Thank the moon that I finally did.

I struggled for breath, wiped the sweat and tears from my face with the back of my hand, and disentangled my legs from the sheets. Unfortunately this had become my routine over the past nine months. I used to sleep with my mother in her now half-empty bed, where we were able to console each other more easily during our restless nights. Only since we moved to Forks have I taken up the habit of sleeping – or trying to – in my own room. Nowadays, I forced myself to perceive my mother's bed as half-full instead.

My father had sacrificed his life for our pack, trying to save as many as he could. From all ways to die, dying for the pack surely had to be the most honourable. There was meaning in it, cause. These were some of the thoughts I had tried to reinforce over and over again in order to soothe the pain. My mother, being my father's mate, was queen bitch. After the fire in West Virginia hills, still grieving, she ushered the remaining pack members to Maryland which was reasonably close by. It was not a merry place, nor a merry time in my life.

My mother tried to pull rank in trying to organise the now leaderless disorder. However, being female there was only so much she could do. The cocky remainder of the males broke into fights weekly claiming the position of leader using their teeth and claws, instead of words and understanding like my father had. Mates were eager to participate in the ruckus of snapping and flying fur in order to aid their partners. It had resulted in frequent casualties. To me, it felt like my father's noble death to save those pack members was demeaned.

There was only so much pain my mom and I could take. After seven months, we left Maryland and moved to the other side of the continent to Forks, with the state of mind 'The further away from our old pack, the smaller the temptation to go back once again to fix the shards the unruly pack'. Forks seemed ideal due to its vast forests, cliffs, and lack of population – which was indeed an important factor. The chance of anybody knowing our secret had to be reduced at all costs…

I got up. Today was the first of September. For two months I had looked forward to this day perhaps a little more than I dreaded it. Being alone with Esmé could be a lonely affair in our isolates small house. It was located at the end of a narrow passage, half covered by the flora of the forest obstructing our view of Forks. It was functional for us; easier to sneak in and out of the forest for runs undetected. On the other hand, it gave a physical shape to the emotional barrier we felt between us and humanity. When I did leave the house, I found myself looking longingly at groups of kids laughing together in cars, or at Forks's only bar called Herman's, where my mother worked as a waitress.

Why would I want to make friends with people who would kill me if they knew what I was? What if I gave myself away? However, the yearning continued, a completely new sensation. I always had the pack around me. I never had to reach out for company, company was always there. When I went to school in West Virginia humans usually shied away from us, or maybe we just never granted them entry in our closely knit group. I wondered if I could do it… make friends, more importantly, make human friends. We hadn't found any wolves yet and what else was there? It will have to do, better than an existence in solitude.

I grabbed some underwear, faded jeans, a black T-shirt with a small v-neck and walked to the bathroom to shower. I looked at myself in the mirror. They wouldn't be able to see that I'm loup-garou… would they? I stood in my simple white nightgown and twisted this way and that. The seventeen year old girl looking back at me through the bathroom mirror was leggy like her mother, with full breast, small waist, and slim hips that curved enough to show she was female. Her skin was gently golden and glistened slightly from feverishly endured nightmare from a minute ago. Her hair was tawny, long, and wild.

There was nothing out of the ordinary that I could see, nothing to scare a human away. However, the kids in the bar had always avoided contact with me. The young wolves in Virginia howled for me, however, I got the opposite sensations from humans. I guess today I'd find out. I turned on the taps and got in. A low purr escaped my lips, the hot water felt pleasant as it untangled my strained muscles from last nights battle with fire, terror, and bed sheets.

When I descended the stairs, my mum was already in her waitress uniform, lolling in an easy chair one slim leg thrown over the arm, devouring a granola bar. Without having a husband to take care of, or a pack to direct, Esmé's behavior could be compared to that of a rebellious teenager, stuck in a small town that didn't provide enough means for her to rebel. I knew she was going through a hard time.

She squashed the granola wrapper, threw it in the air. With lightening speed she threw her leg upwards catapulting the wrapper in the kitchen bin eight feet behind her. Being loups-garous, we had more strength and speed than several men combined. The story goes that the Goddess of the Moon gave it to us. According to the myth her mate, the Forest God – the great hunter who took the shape of a wolf – was in mortal peril. The Moon Goddess was confined to her heavenly realms and was unable to help.

Instead she attuned herself to a chosen group of people blessing them with strength, agility, and acute senses to rescue her beloved. Unfortunately the chosen were too late in order to save the Forest God. When he died some essence of the Forest God was transferred to the attuned, allowing them to take his shape. The Moon Goddess was sick with grief; it was the first time she turned away from earth. However, each month she would return to look back longingly, filled with desire to see her mate. Through their attunement, the blessed were filled with an irresistible desire each month to change into their wolf-skin. For me and my pack it is no different, each full moon the desire to change is too strong to deny.

My mother glanced at me with a smirk on her face. "Hey Viv, excited?" I knew she was happy to get me out of the house. She figured that school would provide a positive change in my now dull existence, or at least give me something to do.

"Hmm," I mused. "More like mildly hopeful." We exchanged some small talk while I munched on my cereal. She kissed me on the cheek and left for work. I placed my bowl in the sink and packed my bag. On my way out I grabbed my raincoat not even bothering to check the weather; if it wasn't raining now, it would be within a few hours. Ever since we arrived in Forks two months ago we've had a total of three sunny days. The rain didn't bother me, I was sick of crying over my father and the pack, to me it felt like the heavens were doing the crying for me, easing my pain.

I locked the door and walked to my Spider i.e. my car; a Spider Veloce 2.0. It sounds like speeds incarnate, a girl can dream. In fact it is an old can that I could push faster than its 50 mph, it was built somewhere in the 1980's. At least it gets me from A to B dry. What else is to be expected with a single mother who works as a waitress? All insurance money was spent on our small house.

I ignited the engine ready to face my new beginning.

AN: Please review! All comments are appreciated.