And, last but not least, the epilogue. :) I finally get to post this. I've had it roughly written since the fourth or fifth chapter, and I'm excited to see what you think. It's different from every other chapter in this fanfiction, and you will immediately see why. I hope this answers some of your unaswered questions, and the rest of those questions will be answered in the sequel. I'll be posting the information regarding the sequel in a few days, so look out for it. I'm excited to start the next adventure with everyone.

Thanks to everyone!

-TG

P.S. Ah Grammatical errors... please excuse once again.

Oh, and P.P.S. I guess I haven't been on the ball about the disclaimers, but if you didn't know already, I don't own Stephenie Meyer's Characters. Stephenie Meyer does.

Epilogue- Two Years Later

Bella POV

I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure I was dreaming.

The reasons I was certain were that, first, I was standing in a bright shaft of sunlight. (New Moon Page 1). Secondly, I was looking into the brilliantly beautiful eyes of the young woman I knew to be my sister, Alice, whom I knew was dead. She had been dead for two years, and nothing had magically changed that, no matter how many times I wished it had.

As impossible as this was, I was so happy to see her. Maybe I should have been a bit frightened at the fact that I was looking into the face of my dead sister. But I wasn't afraid at all. She certainly didn't look like a zombie... On the contrary, she looked better than I'd ever seen her before. Her pale face shown as if it was glowing, her hair was a darker color that suited her better than her previously dark brown locks, and her eyes weren't warm, chocolaty brown anymore, but a golden-amber color... no that didn't fit. Her eyes were too beautiful to simply be golden. They were like shining gems trapped in her face- like little melted pools of topaz. Yes, that was fitting: Liquid Topaz.

I didn't know where the bright shaft of light was radiating from, but as it reached the pale, perfect surface of Alice's face, her skin glittered. It sparkled as if a thousand diamonds were embedded in her skin, each refracting the light into a million tiny rainbows that shown from her every surface. I couldn't avert my gaze from the iridescent surface of her face.

She looked down at me like an angel. Though it had been two years since I had seen her, and I was probably just as tall as, if not taller than, she was now, this was how I remembered looking at her: Looking up. She wore a long, white dress that flowed around her, making her look even more angelic. Overwhelmed with how much I missed her, I prepared myself to launch at her with an enormous hug. I needed to have her in my arms, to know without a doubt that she was substantial material and not just a ghost or a figment of my imagination. Despite my longing to grasp her, I found that I couldn't move.

She didn't move either. She simply smiled at me, looking like this wasn't a surprise to her. She looked positively happy yet seemed like appearing in front of me was nothing new at all. Of course, other than her new, magnificent appearance, this wasn't new for me either. But it was so gloriously familiar that I figured it was inevitably too good to be true. Oh, but I yearned with all my being for it to be true.

"Alice...?" I asked hesitantly. She looked like my Alice... well sort of. This Alice looked so happy and so full of life and beauty, while before she had always had a sort of shadow following her in her life; it had always seemed like there was a part of her that was missing. When she was living in the high-class, rich world, surrounded by everything she asked for and all the friends and boyfriends you could imagine (Albeit, shallow friends with hidden agendas), she appeared happy to the eye, but I knew that underneath the perfect surface she had always felt incomplete. Seeing her this way was... surreal. And despite how much I missed her and I much I longed for to come back to me, if this was her, for I didn't know if this was really her, than I was content. If she was this happy now, then I was okay with her not being with me now. I was happy that she was happy, even if her absence in my life had caused my life to be meaningless. This fortune she had left our family did nothing for me, as it had done for her. I was complete when she was with me, and now that she was gone, the meaningless void that was my life only seemed to be getting emptier with time.

Finishing my previous question, I continued, "Is it really you, Alice?" She seemed to ponder the question for a long minute, which made me ultimately suspicious. Was that such a hard question? It either was her, or it wasn't… right? Still, when she nodded, my smile grew until my cheeks began to hurt. I forgot my suspicion immediately, allowing myself to just bask in her presence. "Oh, Alice! I've missed you so much!" I wanted to hug her so much that it physically hurt me to be unable to have my arms around her. I just gleamed at her, studying every inch of her face as though it would dissolve into thin air before my eyes. As I watched her, I briefly saw a flash of red across her eyes. The change was almost too quick to see, but the transformation was there- infinitesimal in time, but still that brief flash of crimson that shone across her eyes frightened me. Alice frowned in confusion, and looked at me with an almost apologetic face. She shook her head slowly, shutting her eyes as if in pain. Her eyes popped open again, and suddenly the red in her irises took over. Her red eyes pierced into me now, not at all like the sister I had once loved. Now it seemed like- if I didn't know better- like she was about to attack me or something. She looked absolutely terrifying, like a monster trapped in my sister's body.

Her kind, warm expression was lost. It looked like her body had been taken over by some demonic force, and- even though it appeared that she wanted to attack me- I was so worried for her. She looked like she was about to lunge for me when, suddenly, fire rose up around us, the tongues of flame lashing out, whipping at her face and approaching figure. As the fire touched her face, I screamed. Alice was brought back to her senses, the gold shining back through the red in her eyes. She looked around, trying to find an escape through the wall of fire. She looked scared, and I cried out her name, begging the fire to disappear.

From somewhere, a fire alarm was sounding. I could here it pulsing in my ears, a constant ringing that I could feel throbbing in my chest. Despite the alarm, no one was coming to save us. Alice was being engulfed by the flames.

I screamed out to her, "Alice, No! Don't go, don't leave me again!" The fire alarm continued, and I tried desperately to move, but I still couldn't budge from where I was standing. If I couldn't move, I was going to die here, engulfed by the flames as I watched my best friend and sister burned alive in front of me. I closed my eyes, weeping uncontrollably.

And that's when I woke up, I suppose. I wasn't quite sure, because the fire alarm was still going off. I looked over to my nightstand, identifying the source of the alarm as my bothersome alarm clock. I hit the snooze button.

I glanced at it and did a double take. It was 7:10. Class started in 10 minutes and I was going to be late for my first day of Sophomore year. I ran to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and brushing my hair until the natural waves looked suitable. I threw a headband on it, holding back the long bangs I had been growing out. I ran into my room searching through my clean clothes, which was very limited.

I hadn't remembered to wash my clothes last night. For once, I cursed myself for wanting to be completely independent from the high-class lifestyle my parents fawned over. I had liked our simple, family life-style from before, which had completely disappeared when my parents had discovered gardeners, workers, butlers, maids, and any other assortment of people who could do your work for you, including wash your clothes so you didn't have to get your perfectly manicured fingers at all wrinkly or dirty. That wasn't me. I had been refusing to subject myself to this lifestyle for over a year, which included washing my own clothes. I had completely refused to let the maids clean my room or wash my clothes.

After frantically searching through the bottom of my closet, I found a pair of dark skinny jeans I didn't recognize, but I threw them on for lack of something else to wear. I found a never-used lacy button up shirt. Lastly, I put on my brown leather boots.

I rushed out of my bedroom, passing Alice's room on the way. Though I always tried not to notice the closed door, I never succeeded in doing so. I was constantly aware of this the personal items in her room had been packed away in boxes, which always stood in a daunting pile in the corner of her enormous room. Her door was always locked, and the key was probably long lost by my mother. The lock was easy to pick, which I had often done after Alice had disappeared. I hadn't slept in Alice's room in over a year, though, finally trying to accept that she wasn't coming back. I slipped passed the door without looking at it today, not wanting to be reminded of Alice as I continuously was.

I quickly grabbed a granola bar and tossed my car keys into my bag. I ran through the kitchen, out the servants' quarters, and into the garage. I was the only person, other than the family chauffeur, to ever step foot in the vast room that was our garage. It held our family limo, which my parents were constantly driven around in, followed by my father's Corvette, my mother's Ferrari, my red, Cadillac Escalade truck, and lastly, in the far corner of the garage was Alice's Porsche, Charlotte. I sighed, as I did every time I saw the poor thing. Once loved almost to the point of deterioration, it now sat neglected in the corner of the garage. It hadn't been driven since we had gotten it back from the police station. Like the memory of Alice, Charlotte seemed to be petrified in time. Like Alice herself, it almost seemed forgotten by everyone except me. My parent's hadn't mentioned the car once, and- also like Alice's memory -they referred to the "out of sight, out of mind" tactic. Anything that could remind them of their daughter was put to the side in boxes or kept in rooms that they never entered anymore- including me. Maybe I looked like her now that I was older, but- for whatever reason -family dinners or outings were a thing of the past. I was a reminder of Alice, and that pain was something they would rather not have to endure. So, since Alice's death, they gave me whatever I asked for to keep me occupied and saw me only when they had to. I practically had to make an appointment to see my father, and my mother had taken up anything she could, whether it was gardening club, yoga, book readings, or aristocratic societies, to be too busy to see me anymore. I was a stranger in my own home now, as I had been for the last two years.

I made my way to my truck, and as I sat in the leather seats, I finally recognized the unfamiliar jeans I had put on. I sucked in my breath in an attempt not to cry. How many times did I need to be reminded of Alice this morning? I thought to myself. These were the jeans my sister left for me. I had found them on that sad day two years ago, in the trunk of that long forgotten Porsche as if nothing changed except Alice had forgotten to bring the bags in the house again. But- at the time- it meant that everything had changed. The Police had given up searching for her- or at that point, her body -and declared her a lost cause. My sister would never be found, because she was probably dead. I'd always hoped and felt deep down that Alice couldn't be dead. As I played with the hem of the shirt she had bought for me on that fateful day, I realized I had officially given up hope. Though, deep down it still felt as if she were alive, I figured that it was just her memory. But even my memory, my dream, of my sister now seemed to be dead.

I rubbed the dark denim material on my legs, realizing that the last person to hold these jeans may have been my sister. I'd never worn them before, and they were probably way too short for me, but my boots covered up the bottoms. I sighed and pulled out of the drive way. It was too late for me to change now.

I pulled into my parking space at Bayer High School. It was my very first year at this high school, and I was going to be late. After the last horrifying year at Spring Oaks High, I had demanded to change schools. I couldn't be known forever by every living soul as "Alice Brandon's Little Sister." That title came with expectations I just couldn't meet.

I was opening the door to the truck before I'd even stopped, simultaneously pulling into my parking space, pulling the emergency break, gathering my bag and keys, and exiting the vehicle. I ran into the school, tripping twice, and the halls were abandoned.

I looked quickly at my schedule that I had luckily acquired earlier at orientation and ran to my first class: U.S. History. I ran in just as the bell rang, and- as if by clock work- I heard my history teacher call out "Cynthia Brandon" for attendance.

This was what I hated about being late; everyone stares at you. Any klutz would agree with me that being in the spotlight is definitely not a good thing. And, boy, did I get some stares. The girls seemed to completely ignore me, but the boys seemed curious. I could already tell this would be bad. I was the new girl; instantly a mystery, so instantly intriguing. I suppose I was decent looking. While I may not be as hot as my sister was, I was a Brandon girl. We were well known for our looks unfortunately. I didn't see what everyone's hype was about. I was plain. Everything about me was plain; my brown, un-highlighted hair, my short, un-manicured nails, and my dark un-contact lensed eyes. I didn't care if I was plain. I relished in being ordinary, because that meant no one would look at me—except for today that is.

"Cynthia Brandon?" The teacher asked my way.

I nodded, and spoke "Yes, but please call me Bella." He nodded, jotting something down in his book. I hated that every teacher or adult still insisted in calling me that name, even though I'd demanded that my parent change my official name to my middle name, Isabella, the previous summer. My teacher pointed to a seat at the back.

Now this was probably the one perk of getting here late; I got to sit in the back, away from eyes of other people.

Still, people physically turned around to get a better look at me. How embarrassing for them. Despite how ridiculous they looked, I couldn't help the red flush that crept up my neck and cheeks. The class passed slowly, and I didn't pay attention. Instead I doodled in my notebook and tried to ignore the stares of those who were close enough to look at me without it being so ostentatious, glaring at those few guileless students who continued to flamboyantly stare at me.

My first few classes after that passed quickly, thank God. Soon enough I was walking to lunch. I looked around for any familiar faces from any of my classes, but I was interrupted when I felt a hand rudely hit my back side.

As I turned around, my face flushed again. I was trying to look as ticked off as I really was, but my cheeks always betrayed me.

"Hey, Baby, do you have a mirror in your back pocket? 'Cause I can see myself in your pants." The boy said boldly. I laughed. It was absurd how corny that pick up line was, but this was the only thing I liked about people thinking I was good looking. I got to do this:

I smiled my best flirtatious smile and swayed over to him slowly, backing him against the wall. He smiled confidently and smugly as I pressed my body closer to him.

"What's your name?" I said as seductively as I could.

"Mike Newton, and you must be Isabella Brandon." His hands moved to my back, sliding down slowly.

"That I am, Mike. That I am. So, now Mike: I kind of have this little ritual with my guys. You know, I usually try to play hard to get. But in your case..." He smiled as I trailed off. I pressed my whole body as close to his as possible. I could tell the whole cafeteria was watching us eagerly, as if I was about to make out with him- or worse -right here. Hahaha. I laughed internally. They're going to get something much juicier.

"In your case, I think I'll just require a little begging." I said with authority. He looked at me, confused. His incredulous expression only made me happier that I was about to do this.

"Huh?" He said, using his best dumb jock voice.

"No? You don't know how to beg? Let me help you a little... First; you get on your knees." As I said the last word, I jammed my right knee up and hit him where it hurt. I heard a round of "Oh!'s" coming from our audience. The breath was knocked out of him. He sank to his knees slowly. I grinned in satisfaction. He might not be able to have children after that one.

"Then, a little groveling never hurt." I said as I circled my way around him. I kicked him in the butt, which sent him flying forward on his hands and knees.

I laughed at his position, and face, which was scrunched up in a mask of pain. "Well... it never hurt me anyway. That's a little better, Mike. Now you're getting the hang of it. But- still -I don't think it's enough..." I circled back around to his front and squatted in front of him. A circle of people were surrounding us.

Mike didn't make a move to get up since he was clearly still in pain.

"And you know, if all else fails..." I whispered to him, just loud enough for the inner part of the crowd to hear. A few people had camera phones out. I got up slowly.

"Well, if all else fails, you can serenade me. I'm a sucker for music." I told the crouching figure. On the last word, I lifted my boot a few feet off the ground and lowered it quickly on Mike's hand, the heel of the shoe making great contact with the back of is hand.

He cried out in pain and toppled over, holding his hand and…well, the other area I had battered.

"And that's how you beg properly." I said triumphantly. A few girls clapped in the circle. I looked over the circle menacingly at the guys.

"Remember this if any of you ever tries to use my ass as a squeeze toy again." They all took a step back, clearly afraid of me. I decided I wasn't hungry today, and I forced myself out of the thick circle and into the girls' bathroom.

I quickly looked myself over in the mirror. Oh great, I thought. I actually did look decent today. Leave it to Alice to force fashion on me even in the after life. I shook my head. I never wore things like these clothes. I could have blended in and looked perfectly plain if I'd thought about it. I know I sounded crazy, but this was like a curse. Every day, I wished I could be born into some low-class family that would love me but not have enough money to force designer clothes on me. Alice used to love this life, but I never liked any of it. I was the first person to get attention and the last person to ever want it.

I put my hands in my pockets sullenly. As my right hand went to the bottom of the pocket, I felt a crinkly material touch my fingers. Normally, I would have thought this would be a receipt or an extra dollar I'd left in my jean pocket, but I'd never worn these pants before, so I couldn't have left anything there. I pulled out a piece of paper, which had been folded into a tiny square.

After I unfolded it, I realized it was a tiny envelope with a pretty script written on the front that read "Bella." It looked similar to Alice's hand writing, except it was so neatly written it could have been calligraphy. Alice had always had pretty handwriting, but it was never this neat.

I opened the envelope quickly, unfolding the piece of paper hesitantly. I read it slowly, savoring every word. I could practically hear my sister's voice as I read it.

My Bella,

I want you to know that I love you so much, and I always will. For all of eternity, I'll never forget you. You are my sister and my best friend. That will never change, even when we're apart.

You should know that I am alive and happy and in love with the best man in the world- in the universe. Now I know what you're thinking: And- No -I didn't run off and get married in Vegas like some small-town girl. (And I'm not pregnant either) This is so much more than that... I can't even explain it. This is just where I'm meant to be.

What's happened to me I can't say, but I know I'd never want this for you. I'd never want to hurt you like this, and I promise that I never will. I'm looking at my curse as a blessing as much as I can, but I regret every day that I can never see you again. And that's just it- I can never see you again. I know this is hard, because it's killing me to write this. You can never come looking for me, no matter how much you want to see me or I want to see you.

Speaking of me "seeing you", you should know that my "gift" is stronger than ever. I will know if you try to find me, so don't. I'm watching you and looking out for you. Since it's the best I can do, I'll be your guardian angel. I will never let anything happen to you, if I can help it. (And I can)

I've left this note along with the outfit that I got for you so long ago. I hope you knock 'em dead! You are so beautiful that I don't think anyone will be able to resist you.

Your best friend and sister for life,,

Alice

P.S. Take care of Charlotte for me. I miss her too, but not a fraction of how much I miss you.

I cried as I read it, but I held the paper away from me so I wouldn't splatter the ink, ruining the last piece of Alice I had left. I read the letter over and over until I had memorized it. Then I read it again. My Alice was alive, and I was just standing here.

I didn't care if she told me not to, I was going to find her. I would find her if my life depended on it. Which- in a way -it did. Alice was my best friend, my family, and everything to me. Without her, my life had been meaningless. When I thought she was dead, I knew I would never see her. But now that I knew she was alive- I couldn't stand knowing that she was somewhere out there, and I wasn't with her.

She said she wouldn't let anything happen to me, but she did. She left me, and she left an incurable wound in her place. She hurt me, when she promised that she never would. She didn't keep her promise to watch over me, so I didn't have to keep her promise to not go after her.

I read over the last line of her letter again; "Please take care of Charlotte for me." I thought back to the forgotten, neglected car in the corner of the garage this morning. I thought of the way it had been forgotten as Alice had been until now. Now, Alice was alive, and I wouldn't be neglecting her or that car anymore. Oh, I'm going to take care of Charlotte alright. I though deviously. And, in return, Charlotte's going to take me straight to you, Alice.


So, what did you think? Finally, a look into Bella's thoughts, huh? I know she's a bit out of character, but you have to remember (like Alice in the beginning of this fanfiction) that she lives in a completely different environment than we see her in the books. This means that the sequel will definitely be different than the books, but I will stay as in canon as possible.

Tell me what you thought in a review!

-TG