I own nothing. I wish I did… Oh, and Matthew can't read Bella's mind. I'm getting to Peter and Bryan's gift in this chapter. Bella's will take a few chapter's to develop.

I gasped. Bryan looked alarmed.

"You're not going to start crying again, are you? He asked warily. I laughed.

"No!"

"Is that I a 'no', you won't join us, or a 'no' you won't start crying?" Matthew asked, a twinkle in his eye.

My head shook up and down as I gasped the single word, "Yes!" I was instantly hugged from all sides. It felt wonderful.

"Welcome to the O'Callaghan Coven!" Bryan fairly shouted in my ear.

Then, an errant thought entered my mind. "Matthew…" I slowly began. The hug stopped, and he answered, "Yes?"

"What did you do to my truck? How did you fake my death?" He smiled without mirth. "I threw your truck, which by the way, was a clunker. Where did you get it?"

"From a friend." I said, feeling dead inside again.

He flinched, the n continued, "I threw it against a tree, I made it look like a really fiery car crash. I left the license plate intact, though." He paused. "I thought that was what you wanted…" he trailed off as he eyed what I expected was a morose expression on my face.

"No, it was." I assured him, "I just wish I didn't have to lie to everyone. Particularly my father. I put him through too much these last few months. I just wish-"

"I know." Matthew whispered in my ear.

"Shall we go home?" Peter asked.

"Yes, I replied. "I want to hear your stories." I glanced at each of them. "Every single one. How did you all come to be vampires? How old are you? Where did you all meet? What-"

They all were laughing. "What? You made me curious." I shrugged.

"Let us go home. We need to hammer out the details of your life, and give you the stories of ours!" Peter smiled warmly. Matthew and Bryan each wrapped an arm around me.

"Wait!" They all stopped. "Don't laugh," I warned. "What state are we in?" I asked warily, not wanting to be laughed at again. They laughed anyway, loudly, for a few moments before Matthew choked out the phrase, "We live in Northern Canada."

* * *

"Now," began Peter, "I will begin with my story. After, we show you the house, an you pick a temporary room."

"Temporary?" I asked, confused.

"Well, we'll have to move now, it doesn't help if a girl with red eyes shows up out of nowhere."

"Oh my goodness. I didn't even think about that. I- I'm sorry, I can leave for a while."

"Pssh." Matthew scoffed.

"Not a chance," Bryan agreed.

"No. We've been here almost too long already. Five years, almost."

"Oh." I said, subdued.

"Shall we?" Matthew asked, offering me his arm courteously. Bryan rolled his eyes.

"We shall, kind sir," taking it. He smiled and I knew we would have a very good relationship. (A/N – this is not a romance sort of relationship, purely Brother/Sister) This house was huge. Nearly as big as another I had thought I had a future in once. My eyes cast downward at this thought, and then bounced up again, not wanting to bring pessimism to this happy family. They showed me rooms with purely entertainment value, filled with televisions, video games, computers, and arcade games. There were rooms positively stuffed with music. Shelves and shelves of C.D.s, with radios and stereo systems, rooms with hundreds, maybe thousands of D.V.D.s, at one of these rooms, Bryan had leaned over to stage-whisper in my ear, "We have literally everything. If you want it we got it. Foreign, action, mystery, adventure, fantasy, romance-" At this word I caught my breath in a painful moment. He looked at me, and then immediately apologized.

"No… it's ok. You can't help it if I'm mental. Don't feel bad." I smiled, and he nodded. The tour continued to show me other rooms filled with treasures. There was eleven – eleven – rooms with too many shelves to count at first glance (even for a vampire) that were simply loaded with books. I gasped.

"Do you have any idea of how long I will be shut up in these rooms?" I whimpered. "This is so perfect."

Bryan smiled. "The same goes for books as it did for movies. If we don't have it, we either get it, or it's not printed. There is some stuff in here that should be in museums."

"Ha, I love you guys." I said in all seriousness.

They all laughed, and continued. The tour ended in the garage. I whistled. Even I could appreciate the perhaps million spent in this garage. There was expensive looking cars I didn't even want to touch, and some cars that I would happily drive, they reminded me of my truck. Then, over in the corner, there were shiny, black, silver, red, and blue motorcycles. I walked over to them, and whispered, "Can I have one of these for Christmas?" They chuckled, then pulled me away and led me to a plush, overstuffed sofa in the living room to begin their stories.

"I was born in Ireland in approximately 1554. At least, I think that's when it was." I perversely held my tongue and refused to ask my questions until it was over. He smiled and then continued. "I was changed when I was 36." His eyes took on a faraway look as he told me he was at one time married, and had a son. "His name was Callan. He was very handsome. Strong too. He was his mother's pride and joy. She passed away about ten years after he was born, and I 'died' a few years later. I heard he married eventually, so perhaps I have great- to however many degrees- grandchildren somewhere. Isn't that incredible?" I nodded, then he shook himself out of his reverie and continued. "I traveled all over at first. I went to England, and France. I cam e to America two hundred years ago, and found this one-" he nudged Matthew, watching his cabin burn down."

"My wife was inside. My wife and my week old daughter." He said quietly. I reached over and laid my hand on his knee, then reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"It was a long time ago." He shrugged it off casually. "I'll tell you later."

Peter looked at Bryan. "Then I found this man dying after being attacked by a few thieves in the forest."

"I was holding my own, until that guy pulled out a gun, anyway."

Peter arched a perfect eyebrow. "May I continue?" He asked.

Bryan sighed. "I suppose so." He looked at me and winked.

"Thank you." Peter said sarcastically. "He was shot, and begged me to help him, so I bit him, and a hundred some years later, here we are, and I have a daughter I always wanted." He smiled at me again, a lock of light red hair falling into his eyes.