Author Note: The Twilight Saga is a franchise owned by one, Stephanie Meyer. This is a fanfiction based on that franchise. I do not own Twilight or any of it's characters. I only own Becca Swan and this story.

Death. Its a cold thing. Smells of cold, frosted glass on a winters morning. It aches that of an old injury that has yet to fade away just before the rain falls. I can feel it creeping into the room. It lingers, its boney toxic fingers crawling across my skin. Reaching into my ears, touching my brain. Plaguing my thoughts with that of depression. I always thought about how I would die. I had more than enough reason in my life to, but would it mean anything to anyone? Has my life ever really touched anyone? Is my existence pointless? I stared, breathing heavy, across the room into the soul less eyes of the hunter as sadism painted its wicked smile across his face. Instinct took me, as I gripped the silver blade hidden up my sleeve. Surely, it was a lovely way to die, to protect those I loved. That was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I did not take the oath of the Vigil lightly. Honorable, it should count for something. I knew that if I never moved to Forks, I would have eventually moved somewhere else. Kagniz, Arizona was running dry in more ways than just the heat. But as fearless as I am, I don't regret my decision. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. And when life gives you vampires, you make wine. The hunter laughed maniacally as he stepped forward, this fight would be the last, whether it was mine or his was yet to be determined.

Rebecca Swan sat in the passenger seat of her mother's 2006 Dodge Neon as she drove her to the airport. It was 87 degrees in Kagniz, Arizona, the sky was a perfect baby blue with the sun shining as bright as can be. Rebecca wore a Johnny Cash cut off tee, faded blue jeans and a black baseball cap turned around. She sighed as she felt the weight of her winter coat in her lap, where she was headed would be cold, rainy and obviously, wet. Rebecca sighed, as she rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. She promised her mother she would quit before she left, one more promise left broken.

Northwest of Washington State, up in the Olympic Peninsula sat the small town of Forks. Constantly under a cover of dreary clouds and heavy rainfall, it was the perfect place for Becca. Her mother dragged her away from there as a child to escape the marriage she clearly couldn't handle, she even sent her back every year until Becca was fourteen. Around then, that's when Becca got caught up in a rough crowd. It was Forks Becca was escaping to now. Arizona was drying up, in more ways than just the heat. Though she couldn't let her mother know that. "Becca," her mother said to her for the umpteenth time before she got out of the car to catch her flight, "You don't have to do this." Becca rolled her eyes and sighed before staring at her wide eyed mother. How could she just up and leave her childish, hairbrained mother and jobless stepfather for a place of quiet serenity away from the chaos? Simple, that's how.

"I want to go." Becca sighed in annoyance. She was always annoyed when no one respected her decisions and tried to sway her otherwise.

"Well, tell Charlie I said 'hi'." Her mom responded, deflated.

"Sure," Becca honestly just wanted to leave. It was four hour flight to Seattle from Kagniz and then another hour drive back down to Forks. Stepping off the plane, Becca inhaled the sweet rainy air. It didn't smell anything like Kagniz when it rained. It didn't smell of wet clay, detoxifying earth. This smelled of life. A new life, and hopefully a normal life. She stared at her father's police cruiser as he stepped out. Charlie was a good father. A little distant at times but he encouraged Becca's independence, he supported her when she grew an interest in both motocross and violin when she was seven. An interest that only grew with age. "Becca!" he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around her. "Look at you, your hair is longer. And is that a tattoo?" Becca hoped that he would see it as just a normal tattoo and not the branding of her flesh in repayment to the Vigil. She had been working as a hunter with then West Coast Vigil since she was fifteen. If she had just stayed in Forks when she was fourteen, maybe things would have been different. The tattoo was something tribal high up on her left arm. Although she knew the air would be cooler, it was the first week of March, she embraced the cold. She was tired of the Arizona heat.

"It was an eighteenth birthday present." Pulling herself from the hug, she hoisted her bags and placed them in the trunk of her father's cruiser before lighting a cigarette. Becca's Dad was Chief Charlie Swan of the Forks Police Department. She took a long drag, exhaling before her father looked at her.

"I see you're still smoking," Becca had mentioned to her dad once or twice when they'd talk over the phone that she had started smoking. He didn't exactly approve but what could he really say. She was eighteen now. It was practically her choice. No one really knew about her secret anyways, but it wasn't exactly stress free for Becca to take life. No matter how you defined the life. "Just try not to get caught on campus." That was it? No lecture? No Becca, you're killing yourself talk? Now this, this she could get used to. Respect. Respect for her own choices.

The hour seemed to pass by as they pulled up to the small two bedroom, one bathroom home. It looked the same. Grey and white and not the boring stucco homes she had bleakly become accustom to staring at. Endless flat dusty plains that lead to the promise of mountains that only seemed to grow farther away the closer you tried to get. "It will be nice to have a forest in the backyard again." She remarked, picking up her bags from the trunk and hoisting them upstairs. Setting her bags down in her room she glances around. The sage walls brings comfort, a full size bed pressed up against the wall closest to the window that view the backyard and the forest. "The sales woman helped picked out the bedding. You like purple and grey right?"

"It's great, Dad." Glancing at the bathroom, she smirks at the vintage cast iron bathtub and shower combo. Classic not modern and sleek. Not modern and bland. Not modern and boring. Charlie heads down stairs, leaving Becca to unpack her belongings. Closing her door, she turns to the large carboard box sitting in the mouth of the closet. She was smart to send it USPS instead of trying to take it all on the flight with her. She smiled, realizing that the box was still completely sealed shut. Privacy too? This was definitely starting to feel more like home. Sliding a pair of scissors across the tape, Becca opens the flaps; pulling her favorite fictional books and wrapping tissue from the top. Underneath was her hidden world. Four pairs of silver throwing daggers, two pairs of sterilizing knives and one velvet pouch containing twenty-two vials of gold and red liquid. Her ability vials. She had them mailed two weeks prior to her flight and was more than grateful they arrived undamaged. She put them back in the box, pushing them to the back of the closet. One of the best things about her Dad? He doesn't hover. It made her secret of living a double life that much easier.

After two and a half hours of unpacking, Becca turns to her window. She pulls a cigarette from her back pocket. She planned on opening the window and lighting it. That's when she notices a Black Chevrolet pickup circa era 1963 drive towards her house. From the angle of her window, it seemed as if the truck pulled into their driveway. Placing the cigarette between her lips, Becca walks down stairs and out the front door. She can see her dad standing with two other people. She takes a quick second, lighting her smoke. "Becca, you remember Billy Black?" her Dad asks, gesturing to the old Native American in a wheelchair.

"How could I forget the Legend!" Serious sarcasm oozing from her lips as she speaks behind the cancer stick, "You look good."

"Well, I'm still dancing." he smiles up at her father. Secrets up his sleeve, "Glad you're finally here. Charlie hasn't shut up about it since he found out you wanted to move back."

"Is that so?" she asks, eyeballing her dad.

"Alright," her dad grunts, turning to Billy, "Keep talking and I'll roll you into the mud."

"Not before I ram you in the ankle." Billy rolls back, play fighting with Charlie.

Becca rolls her eyes as a sixteen year old kid steps forward and smiles at her. He's tall, maybe six inches taller than her. Putting him at about six feet even. "Hey, I'm Jacob. We used to make dirt castles together."

"Seriously?" she smirked at him, "It's only been four years and I think you mean I made you eat dirt castles." chuckling, Becca looks over at their Dads, "Are they always like this?"

"It's getting worse with old age." Jacob has longer hair than she remembers. It's almost like a curtain fall of night. It almost reminds her of her own hair. Becca had had dark chocolate almost black hair since she was a baby. It definitely came from her father. As if on que with her thoughts, Charlie steps forward, tapping the bumper of the truck.

"So what do you think?"

"Of what?" she asks, pleasantly caught off guard.

"Your homecoming present."

"This?" she gestures to the truck. Taking a drag off her cigarette, "It's rad as hell."

"I totally rebuilt the engine for you." Jacob remarks, smiling.

"Wow, this is awesome." Becca pulls her Dad into a hug, flicking her cigarette over his shoulder into a puddle. She was finished with it anyways. Getting in the truck, she sits comfortably in the dark leather of the seat. Looking up, she sees Jacob looking in her passenger side window. "Do you want a ride to school in the morning?"

"Totally wish I could, I go to school on the reservation."

"Shit, would have been nice to know one person." and that wasn't sarcasm. It would have been genuinely nice to know one person in a new place. Not quite new but more so reacquainted.