I'd like to draw attention to the 40 minutes of research it took for me to work out what kind of vehicle the Cullens would be using. My thanks to an American moving company who randomly have an article on the history of the moving industry on their website which put me out of my misery. I appreciate y'all, I'm on the wrong continent to use your services, please stop sending me ads.

I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. At least the vehicle is right! (if we trust hireahelper, and y'know what I'm not sure I do)


T/W - Graphic assault and injury, skip from * to ** if you want to skip it


She put it off at first. First she wanted to stay in Ohio until her brother finished school, then it was Claire's wedding, then her mom got sick. She put it off and off over and over, but it didn't matter because everyone knew she would eventually. She was Esme Cullen, and when she decided to do something she would goddamn do it.

Autumn turned to winter and spring came close on the horizon. They were forced to start planning for the possibility that they might have three newborns at once; Esme, Edward and Alice. Jasper looked ill at the prospect. But then one day, after a lovely meal eaten alone and resting by the fire before falling asleep in a house full of people who can't, Esme sighed and said "I suppose I'm ready now. How exactly do we go about this?"

Jasper had been planning for years, decades really. Carlisle quickly 'received a job offer in Canada', in an area Bella didn't think would be too affected by World War 2 so Esme's family wouldn't worry in 20 years time. They wouldn't actually move there, of course. Their family wouldn't be fit to be around humans for at least five years, not until Edward and Alice were fully controlled. The most logical course of action would be to fake their deaths, but by moving away Esme could still write at least. The new address that they gave everyone was actually a post office box they planned to check every couple of weeks. It was too far for Mrs Platt to visit, not so far that they'd be in a country threatened by the Nazis and their mail wouldn't be able to get across the Atlantic.

Mrs Platt wasn't happy about the job offer. She had been hinting about grandchildren for months and now was in the position that if she had them she might not be able to see them. Her daughter living in a remote region of Canada? Insane, ridiculous. But it was happening.


March 25th, 1917. Jasper.

The house was closed up, bags all packed, the Platts and the rest of Columbus Ohio tearfully waved off and the Cullens were off to Canada. Carlisle and Esme rode up front in their state of the art truck, while the three 'younger' ones were slumming it in the back with the luggage.

Bella quickly started getting restless sitting still, her chest a swirling ball of stress and anxiety. Jasper understood the feeling, even if he did feel it was a bit extreme at this point in the journey.

"I might jump out and run instead," Bella finally said. "There's tree cover, I'll just stay by the road."

She jumped out of the wagon before anyone could offer to come with her and disappeared into the trees. Jasper decided to just leave her to it, it wasn't like she couldn't find her way back to them if she wandered off somewhere.

They stopped at an inn a few hours later so Esme could stretch her legs and eat a hot meal. Jasper jumped down and scanned the trees for Bella, but found nothing. He reached out with his gift, but her vibrations that he was usually so attuned to were nowhere to be found. He scented the air, but as expected came up with nothing. She had run off somewhere else.

He liked to think he understood her, even if he didn't always agree with her; but he didn't understand what could possibly be upsetting her this time. There had to be something else, something might be seriously wrong.

He called out to Carlisle, "Bella and I are just going hunting! Back later!"

He ran off before Carlisle could respond, running back the way they came through the tree cover she'd claimed to stick to. Despite not having her scent yet, he just knew she was back in Columbus. He couldn't describe why, just a feeling that she had some unfinished business in that place. Then sure enough, after about 60 miles he caught on to her scent and followed it right back to the woods outside town.

It was just far enough away from the houses that no one would hear any screaming, and Bella was taking full advantage of that fact.

*A man that could barely be recognised as Dr Charles Evenson was writhing on the floor, skin ripped across his arms, teeth gritted and falling out, bruises blossoming all over his flesh. His leg pointed out at the wrong angle, one of his eyes was swollen; when Jasper looked closely he noticed the man's shoulder joint was poking out of his skin.

Bella stood above it all, calm, happy.

Jasper rarely saw her truly at peace, especially recently. Ever since her very intimidating task had reared its ugly head she had been stressed and guilty every moment of every day. It was exhausting just for him to feel it, let alone her. But there, stood above her prey, she was perfectly at peace. Of course, Evenson was the man Bella wanted to kill when they first moved there. The man who abused Esme the first time all this happened. He truly deserved the hell she was giving him.

He watched enraptured as she slowly bent down to her victim, stroked his face like a lover, pinched his ear like she was teasing and ripped it off like an animal. She threw it into the trees to the side of them, where two large wolves she had managed to chain up ripped it apart. Evenson's screams almost drowned out the sounds of his ear being eaten and the wolves whining for more.

Bella wasn't phased. She crouched down, stroked his injured shoulder, smirked at his whimper. She tossed her head to the side and inspected the hole where his ear once was. She shivered, a black ripple of bloodlust shone through her colours and she licked the stream of blood flowing down the man's neck.

Evenson started to cry, Jasper started to grin.

Bella drew a nail down Evenson's sternum and then licked up the blood that welled there. The black bloodlust in her colours grew, she shut her eyes and held it back but it wasn't enough. She sat crouched beside him, unmoving, just long enough for hope to start dripping into Evenson's fear. Then she pounced.

Teeth in neck, traditional. She had the presence of mind to go slow, Evenson had enough time to know what was happening. And then Jasper's girl, his clever clever girl, sat up and took her teeth off the man. She gave him just enough to see her, blooded mouth and eyes, and just enough time for her venom to kick in.

Evenson started screaming in a new kind of agony. His good arm came up to scratch at his sides as if he could get the venom out. Bella watched him, a satisfied smirk on her lips. Then she licked up the trail of blood she had left, picked up the man, and gave him to the wolves.

He had enough life left in him to cry as the animals ripped him to shreds.

**Bella stood there, posture relaxed but body tense, her chest heaving with unnecessary breaths. The bloodlust within her still raged, but was overcome with a distinct flavour of satisfaction. She turned around so Jasper could see her face. Her eyes shone like rubies, hands and clothes covered in blood. Her arms trembled but she was too controlled to lick them clean like she once might have done. Her hair had been pulled out of its pins and was gloriously wild, stray drops of blood matted at the ends.

She was the girl he had always feared, yet always wanted. The first time he saw her he had imagined this sweet sunny eyed girl covered in the blood of her victims and gleaming with satisfaction. He had wanted to see her innocence wrecked, then couldn't help but be heartbroken when it was. But still sometimes, just sometimes, her darkness was the most beautiful thing about her. This girl was his. She was created through their time together, she became like this because of him. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was unimportant - what was important is that it was him. Not Carlisle, or Edward, or Esme, or Alice, or even his own future self. This aspect of her wasn't caused by some future family so completely unconnected to him. It was forged with him and him alone.

He took an involuntary burning inhale and her eyes snapped to him. They stood facing each other for a few moments, neither sure of how the other would react - until Jasper saw the bloom of lust within her and couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Fuck, you're so perfect."

He barely finished his gasped out statement before she was on him, fingers wrenched through hair and legs wrapped around waist. Their mouths pressed together in a flurry of lust, teeth and blood. He gripped her ass and pulled it in, gained some composure and slammed her into the sturdiest tree so he could lean into her. Her lips tasted like copper and heaven. He thrusted up and she growled, the rumbles passing through her chest and into his. He bit her bottom lip and his fingers couldn't help but scrabble up her ripped stockings. He reached her garters and her legs squeezed him in closer.

He gasped into her mouth. This was the farthest they had ever gone in 31 years; 31 years of stolen kisses and passionate comfort, of yearning and taking what they could but never what they wanted. He had dreamed of this, wondered if it would never happen. He had worried that he would never feel her against him again.

He was a fool.

He stopped and pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes. She gazed back up at him, blood smeared across her face, chest heaving. Her colours swirled in black, red and gold, then heavy, dark guilt permeated from within. Her eyes widened and she slid from his hold, running away and leaving him half slumped against a tree, listening to wolves rip a man apart.

She left him cold.


Peter.

Esme was allowed to choose her own house and the joy it gave her was goddamn delightful. She practically squealed as Carlisle slowed to a stop and let her slide off his back. It was a cute house, sure enough. A little wooden thing that used to be a hunters' lodge, set back far enough into the frozen wilderness that no humans worth living would wander into the vicinity. They couldn't get a single horse up here, let alone a wagon or a motorcar; the last ten miles had to be done on foot.

They'd had to reign Mrs Cullen in on decorating though. She'd been cataloguing all their furniture - which was mainly antiques through sheer laziness - trying to figure out what should go where and how to have the rooms 'flow' right. Carlisle had stopped her, she'd destroy anything she created. Their Michigan residence was full to bursting with stored furniture, just waiting for her to have enough control for interior design.

She was still happy though, still excited. She was one of those people that Peter just wanted to see happy, nothing else. Rare in this world. Rare and special.

The house was small and barren, but he and Jaz had run up there the day before the slower truck would arrive to dust and bring in some rudimentary furniture: some chairs to sit on, a table to eat at, a mirror and dresser for those unwilling to store their clothes on the floor, dozens of curtains and blankets to keep her human self warm, plus a large soft bed for the Mrs Cullen to turn on. That was tricky as hell to get through the trees. All worth it though to just shake his brother from the weird funk he'd shown up in. No one had dared ask about it, just like how no-one mentioned that Bella's eyes were orange instead of yellow.

There was some tension in the air when they all walked in and Esme saw the place for the first time. As cozy as it was, the difference between it and their previous colonial house was stark and it was obvious why.

Esme wandered about, straightening fabrics and opening drapes to let the sunlight in. She seemed so happy, but that tension was still there. Jasper looked damn constipated trying to either fix it or just deal with it. Peter sighed.

"It sure is cold, I'll light a fire," he said, and made his way to the hearth, grabbing a set of matches from the bags.

This seemed to shake the others from their awkwardness and they sprang into action, unpacking the things that still needed doing and ushering Esme to sit down as if she had walked through the wilderness herself.

Esme remarked on it being cold and was steered into a chair by the fire, a blanket wrapped around her and a hastily warmed up bowl of soup placed into her hands before she could say another word. Her mouth twisted in humour before she tucked in. The rest of them settled around her, Jasper, Peter and Carlisle claimed the other chairs while Bella curled up on the floor by her knees.

"So…" she said after the family had finally calmed. "How do we do this?"

No one answered. Peter guessed none of them had really thought about it.

"Well you're pretty lucky actually," he said when no one else spoke. "You have a choice that not many people have, you get to pick who turns you. Could have one of the Denalis or anything. World's your oyster!"

"Oh… You know I'm not sure." She looked down at Bella. "Who turned me originally?"

"Carlisle," Bella rested her head back. "You were nearly dead, same as the rest of us."

Esme frowned thoughtfully and had another spoonful of soup. "So it's not necessarily a parental relationship? Being a sire?"

Bella snorted. "That would make Jas and Peter's relationship pretty damn weird!"

Peter held in a cackle as his sire groaned at the old joke. "Don't give him an excuse to call me Papa again."

Peter wiggled his eyebrows. "Too late, Daddy."

"Oh my God!" Bella wheezed. "That's so much worse!"

Jasper obnoxiously interrupted their fun. "What do you think, Carlisle?"

"Oh yeah!" Peter gasped through his giggling. "This is all moot. You're not gonna be willing to let someone else put their scent on your mate, surely! It's like letting someone else mark her!"

"…Mark me?" Esme interjected. "What's that?"

"It's like a vampire wedding ring," Peter responded.

"Not quite like a vampire wedding ring," Carlisle sighed. "When we bite each other we leave a bit of our scent. We can tell who turned who because we can smell it, Peter has Jasper's scent ingrained in his and Bella has mine. Bites received in fights leave scent too, but not as much. When we mark someone we feed from them for a long time, it permanently puts our scent on them so whenever they come across another vampire it's clear who is aligned with who. Some coven leaders used to insist on marking all of their members, but most just use it to mark the person they love romantically."

"So like a vampire wedding ring," Peter repeated. "Which is why I'm surprised that Carlisle would be comfortable with someone else turning you."

"Well…" Carlisle paused and frowned in thought. "I really don't think I mind. My experience of being a sire has always been as a father, and I must confess I've been dreading putting someone I love in pain."

"Well then you don't have to turn me!" Esme said. "Perhaps… Jasper or Peter would be willing to do it?"

Jasper startled. "Wait, really?" At her nod, he frowned. "You realise that every other vamp you meet would be able to smell that one of us sired you - for the rest of your life."

She shrugged. "What's wrong with that? You're my family. I love you."

"I…" Jasper stopped and shook his head. His fingers moved over his sleeves in a way that only Peter would recognise. He sometimes traced his own scars when he thought about the good people willing to call damaged monsters like them kin.

"Okay…" he finally said. "I s'pose I can't argue with that."

It wasn't really much of a question after that. Peter wasn't the siring type, not one for eternal responsibility or anything like that. Jasper though, he was the responsible one. He would never let harm come to Esme, not for anything.

He showed up the next morning with red eyes and no-one mentioned a thing. In fact, for the first time ever Carlisle seemed grateful to him for killing. Esme was more important than any other human, that was something they could all agree on.

Esme certainly noticed the red eyes, but everyone was so tense and nervous that she probably worried about saying something. Bella was weirdly the only one not freaking out in some way, she calmly talked Esme through how the scarring works and showed her the difference in ones done in different ways. Esme decided on one bite, right on the join of her elbow where the scar would be easily obscured. Usually you'd would bite more than once to make the transition quicker, but staying in one place for longer was just as effective - if more difficult.

Bella didn't seem to give that a second thought, but there was no way it was because she didn't think of it. She just had that much faith in Jasper's control. It was impressive. The world's biggest compliment that he would probably get really smug about if he wasn't having a crisis.

Carlisle wanted to be in the room, but his distress was obvious and in the end Esme made him leave. "I have enough people to comfort me! You can come back when it's over!" Bella took position holding her hand; while Peter stood guard by Jasper's head, just in case he lost control.

He didn't, his control was perfect. Bella was, as always, totally correct in her trust in him.

Esme hissed in pain as his teeth slid through her skin, but stayed valiantly still to keep the scar as small as possible. He fed slowly for a full 30 seconds, pumping as much venom in as possible so the turn wouldn't take so long. Peter was impressed, that shit was really difficult and he wouldn't have been surprised if Jaz had gone out and practiced on his prey before killing them.

He could tell when the venom kicked in, when Esme's attempts to stay still stopped working and her arms and legs started to thrash around the covers. Jasper released and backed off as Esme started to whimper, lip clenched between her teeth so hard it began to bleed.

"It's okay," Bella soothed, holding her cold hand on the bite mark that was surely burning like hell. "You're safe, we're with you. I know it hurts, it's okay to scream. Don't hurt yourself more trying not to make noise. This will pass, I promise. We won't leave you alone. We love you."

Esme gave a great heaving gasp as Bella gave her permission to, poor thing must have been trying not to show how bad it hurt. They all knew exactly what it felt like.

Her gasps quickly turned to screams and Carlisle rushed in, practically shoulder barging Peter and Jasper out the way to kneel at her bedside and stroke her hair out of her face.

This was going to be a long three days.


Esme.

Words could not describe the feeling of fire burning through your veins. Esme blanked it out and focused only on the voices around her.

Her family never left her alone, not even once. She kept her awareness solely on the cold hands on hers, the soft voices telling her stories, the rustles and dips in her side when someone sat on the bed next to her. Carlisle laid by her for a while, she couldn't acknowledge him (screaming and crying as she was) but she could feel his strong presence beside her and his cold body soothing the side of her burning one.

Every so often, someone would tell her how long was to go and how far she'd come. She was grateful for that, it kept her centred in the real world. She was still real, she was still her. This would end, she would get through this and wake up as something different.

When someone told her she was on her last day, she realised it wasn't just them she was hearing.

She had been listening to a conversation between Peter and Bella, about what animals were available around here. They were planning her first hunting trips and she had assumed they were in the room with her, but they weren't. She could hear from other rooms, her ears were getting as good as the others.

Encouraged by her newfound skill, and a reminder of what exactly she was suffering for, she listened hard to the rest of the house. She listened out for every sound, every word muttered, snooped on every conversation, just to keep her sanity.

A while later she realised the sheets under her fingers felt different. What had felt silky before was rougher, she could feel every strand of fibre within them, count the lines of thread. She did this over and over until she realised that her fingertips didn't burn anymore, neither did her toes. She paid attention to the burning she had been trying so hard to shut out as it retracted from her feet and hands, the cool numbness it left in it's wake travelled up her legs and arms, soothing her belly and head until they met in the middle of her chest. Her heart screamed in burning pain and she must have screamed along with it.

"This is it!"

"Carlisle you need to step back! Peter, roll your sleeves down!"

"Esme you're almost there!"

She gritted her teeth through her heart's last beats of agony, then all at once it stopped. The burning, the pain, her heartbeat. She slowly opened her eyes, and saw the world anew.