A/N: Not gonna lie, this was born because my IRL long-term relationship recently crashed and burned, but rather than be bitter about it, I decided to at least try to pretend I still believe in love. Like with all my works, updates are sporadic.

Not SMeyer. Please don't sue, I have a dog to support.

I believe that you wanted to love
And you hope that the love is enough
I believe that you wanted to run
With the light of the fire, the sound of the gun

"Sail Away" – Ben Hazlewood

I never expected to run into a vampire again, especially not five years after Edward and his clan dropped me like a bad habit. Their coven – no, family – was unusual for its size, because of that, their territory was larger than that of others, more so because they had maintained a permanent residence. Ever since they pulled up stakes the fall after my eighteenth birthday, there'd been nary a whisper of anyone with their description, yellow or red eyes.

I didn't realize he was a vampire at first. In my defense, most vampires aren't "vegetarians" and so by default are less inclined to try to get my attention by making a polite noise somewhere near my feet.

I was burrowed under the engine compartment of a Jetta, settling a rebuilt transmission into its new home. One of the drawbacks in running a garage with your best friend was that when said best friend was on his honeymoon with his imprint slash wife and your faithful office boy and tool rustler was off to college, was I had to stop and start every time the phone rang, or a customer stopped by. It made me irritable, and that wasn't a good look with customers, especially male ones who already were predisposed to dislike me simply for being a mechanic with a vagina.

"Be with you in a sec," I said, biting back a string of curses as I jammed my thumb. The point of a business was to draw in customers, not scare them away with my sailor's mouth as Jacob was oh-so-helpful in reminding me.

Transmission jacks be damned, the only way to get a transmission into an old Jetta is with muscle. Sometimes being a female is useful in my line of work – my hands are smaller so I can get them places where most men can't. However, even weightlifting and karate can't make my frame as strong as a six-foot-six man – something Jacob loved to lord over my maybe five-foot-four self. Usually leverage could compensate but sometimes there's no substitute for muscle, and mine was barely enough to get the job done.

Grunting with effort, I held the transmission where it belonged with my knees and one hand. With the other I slipped the first bolt in and tightened it. I wasn't finished, but the transmission would stay where it was while I dealt with my customer.

Sucking in a deep, calming breath just like my therapist told me to do when presented with things I didn't like, I smiled a wide practice smile before schooling my features into something more professional, but welcoming. Couldn't be too friendly with the male clientele; they either got the wrong idea and A) asked for my number or B) dismissed me altogether and asked to speak to a man.

Rolling out from under the Jetta, I swiped a rag hanging half-off a tool box to wipe off the oil off of my hands, and said, "What can I do for you?" before I got a good enough look at the man to see he was probably a customer – but at least not the sort I was used too.

He was dressed fairly casually with a flannel shirt over a simple tee, although I was certain his jeans alone probably cost more than half my paycheck. The overcast day didn't really warrant mirrored aviators, but they were a good look with his sharp, angular features. A shock of white blonde hair was tied back at the nape of his neck to hang several inches below his collar.

What set my teeth on edge though, was his smell. Even over the scents of gasoline, oil, and antifreeze permeating the garage, was the sharp, distinctive chill smell of vampire.

"I was wondering if you could take a look at a car for a friend o' mine," he said casually, his southern drawl thick as honey.

"Depends," I said warily. "Vee-Dub?"

"Buick."

My eyebrows furrowed as I replied, "I can take a look, but we're not set up for American cars. Don't have the computers. You're probably better off taking it somewhere they know Buicks."

The stranger shoved his hands into his pockets as he shook his head. "She's taken it to three different mechanics, replaced the oxygen sensor, spark plugs, and god only knows what else. Still not workin'. Last guy said it might need a new engine, which o' course he could do for twice what the car's worth. My friend, she doesn't have much money, see, but she needs the car."

I looked him up and down, chewing the inside of my cheek as I tried to decide whether I believed him. There was definitely something off about this whole encounter, and not just because he was a vampire. I didn't disbelieve his friend existed, as there'd been a definite hard edge of anger when he talked about the problems of his friend, but I had the feeling the man in front of me could have gone to anyone else. Our garage was small, but we did good work and had a good reputation here in Port Angeles; but there were other garages. Maybe it was just me being hopeful, the secret wishing that I'd never been able to silence that maybe the supernatural hadn't forgotten about me, but some little part of me that had died in woods five years ago wanted to hope maybe this vampire was looking for me.

Smart Bella knew she should send him on his way. But the curious, seventeen-year-old Bella who'd tripped into the arms of the supernatural – and been subsequently abandoned by said supernatural – has reared her head and I found her very hard to ignore.

Jake was going to kick my ass when he got home.

"I won't charge her for looking, but if I can't fix it, I'll tell her so," I said. "Have her bring it by. If she can leave it for a few days, I'll see if my partner Jake will come by and take a look at it." Jake was due back in two days but if the situation called for it (read: enough dollar signs on the line) he'd come in early. Despite being younger than me, he knew more about cars and what made them run better thana team of Detroit engineers.

"Thanks, sugar. You're doin' me a big favor." I bit the inside of my cheek to refrain from saying exactly what I thought about his casual nickname. "I've got to head out, but here's my card."

He reached in his back pocket to fish out a battered black wallet, and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my hand and giving it a firm shake before turning on his heel and striding back outside. I looked at the card; it was simple, made of quality card stock and had the name Peter Whitlock printed in simple typeface, with a single string of numbers beneath it, presumably his phone number. I flipped it over, but it was blank. Once I was sure he was gone, I peeled apart the roll of money he'd also slipped me, my eyes nearly falling out of my head as I counted out a handful of hundreds.

The clicking of claws on concrete pulled me from my stunned silence and I looked down at the coydog who nosed at my dangling hand. I obeyed her quiet demand for pets, calming slightly at the feeling of her rough fur under my hand. I'd found Sadie injured on the side of the highway when Jake and I had taken a road trip to Phoenix two years ago. She was a pretty thing even all roughed up as she'd been, athletic and strong, bordering on the better side of large with well-defined muscles, triangular, upright ears, a bushy tail, and a long well-defined muzzle. Her sable-colored double coat was shaggy, a pretty backdrop to her rich, dark eyes that held more intelligence than I would have expected from an animal, balanced out by an equal amount of wildness.

The vet had recommended we put her down, but there was just something about her that I couldn't bring myself to give up on her.

It was touch and go for months, but eventually she was up and about and much more independent than I thought a dog would be. She was happy to share space with me, but she didn't demand to be in my lap or to drown me in drool. Quill joked that she was running cat software on dog hardware, but whatever the case may be, Sadie suited me just fine.

Once she took her leave of me to go back to lounging in her bed in the corner of the shop with the best view of the door, I went back to working on the transmission. For once, it cooperated, as cars were seldom wont to do, so it took less time than I'd expected. I finished putting the car back together and after glancing at the clock and seeing the lot was empty, I closed the garage early and went home.

My ride was the very same truck Charlie had given me when I'd first arrived in Forks. I was more than a little attached to 'The Beast' as Paul had affectionately nicknamed it, and I was loathe to give it up. I'd spent the better part of three and a half years doing a full rebuild, going so far as to stubbornly stick to the original parts. Some of them had been an absolute bitch to come by, and I probably didn't need to go through the trouble, but I loved the damn thing, and it was worth every bit of blood, sweat, and tears shed.

I'd finally finished it a couple of months ago; more than one car enthusiast had offered me cash on the spot for it as soon as they laid eyes on the fire engine red paint job and chrome bumper and paneling. It looked just like it'd rolled off the lot like it had back in '63 but I wasn't giving it up for anything.

Being a Volkswagen mechanic wasn't something I'd ever expected to end up being, but I found it suited me fine. After the Cullen's had left, I'd been a zombie, just barely coasting through life. I barely ate, I slept even less, but somehow my schoolwork didn't suffer; if anything, my grades improved because I had nothing else to focus on.

The darkness that shrouded my life didn't start to lift until one day Jake swooped in and kidnapped me for the day, insisting on having me help rebuild the two motorcycles he'd rescued from the junkyard. It was during that time I learned I was good with my hands, and found I enjoyed the mechanical, technical side of things. I'd forgone college and instead went to trade school as soon as I could after graduation, and Charlie, seeing that I was finally doing something besides surviving, gave me access to my college fund on the stipulation I don't go blowing it on wild parties.

I was proud of myself for not having touched it once, and I knew he was too. Jake and I rented a tiny, cramped studio together in the beginning, but he soon moved out when he met his imprint. By that point I could afford the place on my own, but I found I didn't want to keep the little space that held so many memories, even if they were good ones. I ended up getting a little place about ten minutes from the garage; a single-wide trailer older than I was right in the middle of a couple of fenced acres. It's not glamorous, but most importantly, it's definitely not a place the Cullen's would ever think to look for me.

I didn't think about them as much as I'd used too. Three years of intensive therapy had helped me work through a lot of issues and baggage I hadn't even known I'd had, and I'd come to terms with the fact that the relationship Edward and I had had was toxic as best and abusive at the worst. I'd had to leave out some of the details – such as the vampirism, and his thirst for my blood – but Dr. Johnson (or Layla as she preferred to be called) had been instrumental in my ability to become a functioning human again.

Now, it didn't hurt to think about them, the strange, beautiful, otherworldly family of vampires who were so adamant in their respect for life that they shunned their instinctual food source to live among humans. Looking back, I could see that their lives were lonely ones, forever set apart from the people they tried to emulate and protect. It made me a little sad to think of them now, and sometimes I wondered if maybe it might have been better for them to live a life that was more natural to them, rather than try so hard to pretend at being human.

I parked and unlocked my door, letting Sadie slip in first. She waited patiently for me in the tiny kitchen as I toed off my shoes before filling her food dish. I yanked open my fridge and frowned at the meager contents. Having been pulling longer hours than normal meant I'd had less time for grocery shopping and the results of that showed in the distinct lack of groceries in my fridge.

"I thought I told you to remind me to stop at the store yesterday," I said to Sadie as I pulled out the mostly empty carton of eggs and half a stick of butter. "We're both going to starve if one of us doesn't remember the important shit before Jake gets back."

I reached under the counter for a pan and dropped a pat of butter in it as I turned the knob on the stove and waited for it to heat. Once it was ready, I cracked the eggs directly into the pan and seasoned appropriately, before scrambling them with the spatula. I didn't bother moving the eggs to another plate and after I grabbed a fork, I ate standing up straight out of the pan, too tired to even consider dirtying an unnecessary dish. I cleaned up my mess, chucked the empty egg carton in the trash, and fell into the welcoming embrace of my beat-up leather couch. Sadie yawned and jumped up on the cushion beside me, turning in a circle before curling up in a tight ball on my feet.

I reached for my well-worn copy of Wuthering Heights I'd left on the side table but fell asleep before I reached the end of the third page.

The next day was Saturday. I didn't typically work most Saturday's when Jake was there, but he wasn't, and so my ass was in the garage before the sun was on the rise. I worked until about noon, stalling as long as I could before I finally had to bite the bullet and call the nice young couple, newlyweds barely out of high school, to tell them their well-loved clunker was doomed for the boneyard. I could replace the engine, but it'd cost them more than the car was worth, and more than I suspected they could afford. I was almost as depressed as they were when I hung up the phone, giving bad news was the second worst part of my job. The first firmly being the men who thought they knew better than me because I was female.

After staring at the pile of paperwork that was starting to scare me for a hot minute, I decided to call it a day. I scrubbed up as best I could in the shop's shower, working to get as much of the gunk out from under my nails, and decided to call it quits until Monday. Jake would be back by then and I was owed a couple of days off after working a two week stretch.

I changed into my last clean pair of jeans and an old t-shirt I'd stolen from Paul at some point, grabbed my jacket and headed to the grocery store to finally fill up my fridge.

I called Charlie while I shopped, making small talk and filling him in on the mundane goings on of my life. We'd never been close but that had changed after Edward had dumped me. I'd nearly had a breakdown after my first therapy session when I'd went to drop off Charlie's clean laundry in his room and found parenting books on his night stand, dog-eared, highlighted, and clearly well read. My father was a man of few words, but I finally learned to listen by watching. Putting snow chains on my tires was I love you, cleaning, scaling, and cooking the fish I'd caught all by myself when just the two of us went fishing was an I'm proud of you. Neither of us were good in the words department, but I did my best to be a good daughter, trying to make up for seventeen years as fast as I could. But Charlie didn't ask anything of me, except that I call at least once a week, and try to make it back to Forks for dinner with him and Sue once a month or so. I was behind on the latter with Jake being gone but I made plans to make it up to them next week.

Renee called while I was on the phone with Charlie, but I didn't call her back until I was home and even then only after I put the groceries away and crawled into my rattiest lounge pants and biggest, holiest t-shirt. It wasn't that I didn't like talking to my mother, it's just… Well, our lives had changed the moment I decided to point my nose Forks and she went off with Phil.

She tried to convince me to come down to Jacksonville for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but I weaseled my way out of both invitations. I loved my beautiful, harebrained, scattered, eccentric mother, but she was starting over and didn't want to admit there was no room left for me anymore. A year after I'd graduated from high school, she called to tell me the news that she and Phil were expecting. Six months later, I had a beautiful baby sister named Eleanor, but everyone just called her Ellie.

Layla was helping me work through my feelings on all of that. I'd had to grow up so fast and be the adult Renee couldn't or maybe just wouldn't be. Phil balanced out her eccentric self with his own soft-spoken, no-nonsense sort of manner – not unlike Charlie, I thought with some irritation, but that's where the similarities ended. He was younger than Renee, and freer than Charlie than ever was, and I think that was the appeal for her. My father was a steady man who preferred to have deep roots, while my mother was as wild as a leaf in the wind, content to go wherever it took her.

Ever since Ellie had been born, my mother had changed. For the better, honestly. She was still the vivacious and cheerfully flaky woman I remembered, but she was putting more effort in being a good parent to her second child than she ever had for me, and a larger part of me than I liked to admit was resentful of that. I still loved her, and I even liked Phil, but I kept a distance between myself and Ellie. I wasn't ready to be around her, and didn't want to be until I was sure I'd worked through more of my issues. They were mine to deal with and I refused to dump them on a toddler whose only crime was being born.

I visit every other year so they don't invade my home and make sure it's not a holiday when I do, staying for a long weekend at most, but no more. They were important to me, but I loved them better at a distance.

My mood was even worse by the time I hung up and no amount of reading, cleaning the house, or playing with Sadie was enough to shake me out of it. Her dark eyes seemed to bore right through me as I did my best to wear a hole through the living room rug with my pacing.

I'd finally resolved myself to go put myself in timeout for a nap when Sadie sat bolt upright, the fur around her neck and down her spine stood straight up in a long line. I felt more than heard her low, warning growl as she stood up and pressed herself against my legs, her dark eyes fixed firmly on the locked window behind the curtains.

Before I could try to speak to calm her down, the low, unmistakable animalistic growl of a vampire answered Sadie's challenge.