Author's note:

NOTICE OF REWRITE!!!

Hi all, before you start this, the third installment of Summer's Twilight, I have paused this book for a major rewrite. I realised I could intercut between Buffy's planned story arc and Alice's, saving a lot of backtracking in book 4.

Existing chapters will stay close to what they are, but new chapters will be inserted. And I will throw in some more hot gay stuff to make up for it :)

In the meantime, I am wrapping an older work Unravel The Girl. Have a read!

Thanks fam. x

DarKade

ORIGINAL STARTS HERE:

This is book III in Summer's Twilight. Please read Summer's Twilight and Summer's Moon first.

Like the two before it, this fan fiction blends the universes of Twilight and Buffy to tell a tale of a girl struggling with her mental health in a supernatural world.

This time we take a journey with Alice Cullen as the protagonist- a psychic vampire who has no memory of her humanity and whose grasp on linear time is tenuous at best.

Same warnings as before: mental health, horror, sex and a frightening amount of research.

But first we kick off with Buffy. Don't worry, she will be back for the final book in the series- Summer's Dawn.

Comments are always appreciated XXX -DarKade.

Prologue

Beneath the thick, pallid, immortal sky, the small midwestern town of Forks cowers beneath sheets of snow.

Unremarkable, but for its annual rainfall, you would be easily fooled into thinking it utterly unimportant.

Yet, for the monsters that lurk in the shadows of our modern civilization, Forks has become the epicenter, the very axis on which our world will turn or from which it will fall.

I don't know why, but I parked on division street and walked the rest of the way to the cafe. The snow was falling around me, like lace curtains tattered in the juddery gusts, and I was once again grateful for being unaffected by the cold. Being dead will do that for you, even if it is murder on your complexion.

I hadn't bothered with the pretense of a snow jacket, everyone at the meeting knew what I was after all. So instead I settled on style, wearing clothes like the message I bore. A crisp button down and pants that said 'business', and knee high boots that said 'don't even remotely think of fucking with me.' The fact it was all black seemed fitting too. In my short life I have been many things, today, I was the harbinger of doom, the woman who had, in a single instruction, murdered Forks.

The streets were practically empty, of course, only a few souls daring the drive. The morning snow plough and salt had done its work, and you wouldn't find a local who couldn't fit snow chains, but now, in the evening, a black slush was forming and the ice forming was all the more treacherous.

My unnatural strength allowed me to carve my feet through the worst of it as if it were mere confetti- in a way, my passage through the streets felt surreal, like I wasn't really part of the world, just a ghost passing through.

I stopped as I reached the ruins of the old diner. Jessica's mother had been inside the day it had happened. The logging truck had lost control and jackknifed, slicing through the building, killing twenty-two people in all. From my vantage point by the barbed wire fence, I could see the booths split and stained just below neck height. I shuddered at the bloody imagery it conjured, hating myself that it was in delicious delight, instead of horror. But I licked my lips just the same.

I must confess, that I was confused when Jessica announced she was setting up a new cafe just down the road from the ruins of the diner. It was her mother's wish that Jessica take over the family business, a wish she pressed on her daughter to a degree that bordered on abuse. She couldn't see that to Jessica it was a millstone around her neck, the fear of growing old in Forks working the diner crushed Jessica's soul. But Jessica went ahead anyway, and beyond hiring a human to manage it and occasionally signing documents and paychecks, she seemed thoroughly disinterested in it. Duty done, as far as she was concerned. And thus Forks was blessed with a strangely out of place stylish cafe simply called 'Margret's'.

The booth Diana and I had sat at on my last day as a human in Forks was there, the torn red vinyl of the seat flapping in the chill winds. I could picture her face vividly as she hummed, and thumbed through the menu. I remembered the freckled skin of her nose, the cool green eyes behind blonde lashes, and how, despite myself, my eyes flicked to thick weave of bite scars on her neck. And oh, how I hated her for coming to take me away, even though I asked her to.

And oh, how she hated me now, for what I was, and for what I had then done to the one person she loved.

Tragedy had taken us all, one way or another. And it had only started to sharpen its claws on our bones.

Twenty-two dead in the blink of an eye. Forks had known tragedy before my return. You better brace yourself, I thought, and continued on my way.

Jeesh, I am getting so angsty-poet-y in my immortality. Lighten up Buffy, it's only the apocalypse.