He smelled them before he saw them. He'd woke with a start, at 2 am, and gone for a run while it was still dark. The air was still damp from the rain during the night and a fog hung low in the trees. He wasn't sure how, but he found himself mindlessly running the old border trails along the water next to the Cullen property the pack rarely patrolled anymore.

Sam caught wind of their scent though and realized instinct had driven him that way. The Cullen house had been shuttered for nearly eight years, Renesmee's drastic growth too hard to explain to the community. Jacob had gone with them to Alaska and the house was usually dark, in the shelter of the woods. A single light shone now, as the sun was beginning to rise, from the living room. Alice's pixie cut was recognizable. She looked directly through a window at him though he was still hidden in the dense foliage, and he shuddered but started moving toward the house. Dread rose in his stomach and he didn't understand why; but seeing Alice felt like something was locking in place and he didn't like where it was heading.

She met him at the door with Jasper. Despite being the friendliest of the Cullen coven, he had always avoided her most. There was something disturbing about her, in the way she studied him. Sometimes, what he could only explain as her spirit, would brush against his and he flinched and shrank away. Alice didn't smile brightly now as she held the door for him. "Hello, Sam."

He nodded and stepped in giving the space a quick once over. As much as he'd grown to respect the Cullens, there was something very sterile about their world. His childhood home was small, but it was warm with photos and blankets and food in the cupboards and a woodstove. The Cullens had most of these things, but it was for show; blankets draped over the back of the couch went unruffled and glasses on display on kitchen shelves were as pristine as the day they were bought.

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly, turning to face them.

Alice glanced at Jasper. "I've been having visions."

"Of what?"

"The confrontation with the Volturi."

For a moment, Sam said nothing, but then whispered, "You need to leave Forks."

"We aren't the cause, Sam. Some things…they can't be stopped."

"Why are you having visions of a past event? That never came to pass?"

"Sometimes…there is a warning." Alice stepped forward. "Sam, something is coming."

Sam stepped away. "I'm sorry, I just…" he waved his hand in front of his face. "The smell."

Alice quirked an eyebrow at him. "What do we smell like?"

"You smell…" he shifted uncomfortably.

"Dead?"

"No. Humans smell dead actually. Or…dying. Even newborns begin to have a light scent of decay. You smell…" he searched the word. "Stale."

Jasper cleared his throat. "I'm not sure how I feel about you knowing how my wife smells."

"You all smell like that. But you also have other scents that set you apart from each other."

Jasper and Alice exchanged looks. "Such as?"

"You smell like gunpowder and horses." Sam gestured to Alice. "And you smell like perfume. It's faint, but there."

Alice quietly walked to her purse and pulled a bottle from it. It was vintage and as soon as she held it out, he nodded, picking up the light scent. "That's it."

She smiled, wistfully. "It's Coty. Jasmine. It was my favorite. I keep the bottle as a reminder."

"Of what?"

"That not everything was terrible." Alice set the bottle between them on the counter. "What you're smelling is a memory. It's residual. The other wolves don't have this and it's not because you're an alpha. But you already know this, because you've seen things your entire life."

Sam made a face.

'You've always seen things."

He swallowed and shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then how did you know what I was talking about with the Volturi? A confrontation that never came to pass? I never told anyone." She smiled sympathetically when he winced. "It's not a terrible thing. It can be a heavy thing, but not terrible."

"It's not a gift?"

She smiled thinly. "Not for those that bear it. You should learn to use it, though. Hone it. Be responsible for it. Any child you have will likely have it as well. Your father did."

Sam flinched at the mention of children but straightened. "You knew my dad?"

Alice played with the ends of her scarf. "I met him once when I was passing through Forks. Just back from Vietnam."

"What was he like?" Sam didn't mean to sound desperate, but he wanted to know this version of his father. He never knew any version of him really, but this one had to be better than the one who abandoned his family.

"He wasn't a wolf, but he knew what I was. I never forget a face, and you have his. He was sad, getting drinks."

Sam immediately remembered his father's inability to deal with anything. "Of course," he muttered bitterly.

"Having the Sight makes you feel things you wouldn't otherwise. I'm not making excuses for your father, but maybe he was doing the best he could sometimes." Alice flinched as bad memories floated up. "I was in worse shape than Josh Uley."

Jasper clasped her hand.

Sam wasn't going to argue. "Look, I still really don't know why you're here. Honestly, I don't want to know. Just…stay away."

"Sam…"

"I mean it, Alice."

0000000000

It was dawn by the time he was running on old paths again toward the house. He was so lost in thought; he didn't notice Leah come up from behind. "For an alpha, you're not very aware of your surroundings."

He grinned, not allowing her to see how much she startled him. "What are you doing up so early? I've never seen you up before ten on a Saturday."

She grinned back.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I parked at your house." She nodded towards the cliffs. "Figured I would go to see dad."

Sam nodded, sobering. "Tell Harry I said hello."

"You should tell him yourself."

Sam's jaw tightened. He'd just buried his mother. He wasn't sure how he could face a fresh grave, dirt not yet settled. "It gets easier," Leah said quietly at his side.

She'd been stoic in the months following Harry's death. She lashed out in many ways, but she never shed a tear, never uttered his name, never objected when her mother began seeing Charlie Swan. She'd endured and she'd moved on. Only once after she phased did she show vulnerability in her grief; Sam stood at her side at his burial and could feel she was unraveling. He'd imperceptibly reached over and linked his pinky with hers. He didn't dare more given the chilly reception at Harry's viewing, but after a moment she squeezed back and then let go, tucking her now short hair behind her ears and moved to join her mother and brother.

Without a word, Sam followed her when the trail split, up the rocky path to where recent generations of their tribe lay in eternal rest, overlooking their land with the tall pines standing sentinel. They caught their breath once there, and Leah patted her dad's stone affectionately. Sam kept his back to his mother's, fresh grief threatening to spill, but Leah brushed past him and knelt. "Hey Allie," she whispered. "I think she would have picked this spot for herself," she said to Sam.

He shrugged.

"It's strange, but I find it comforting to see their names," Leah said, tracing the letters on the stone. "It means they were here." She stood and looked at him when he was silent. "And what do you want? Something more traditional? A carved-out canoe?"

Sam shrugged again. "Bury me among my enemies. My bones will guard their tombs."

She could tell he was half joking by his tone, but it sent a shiver down her spine. "Don't say things like that."

He smiled. "I don't give a shit where I'm buried, Leah. I just don't want to be forgotten."

"I don't think you need to worry about that." She squinted up at the sky and started back down the path. "Come on, it's going to rain again. Wasn't there something you wanted to show me?"

0000000000

"What is this?"

"The Harry Clearwater Park. It isn't much, not yet. But we want a ballfield over there next to the pavilion."

Leah's gaze lingered on the playhouse, with the tire swing attached and steps leading up to monkey bars, and when she looked back at Sam her eyes were soft in a way that stirred something inside him. "My dad would've loved this."

"He meant a lot to us," Sam murmured. "All us boys with no one to look up to. He kept me out of trouble. Maybe that is what this park can do now that he's gone."

She nodded, wiping away tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Can you take me home now?" she whispered.

The walk back to Allison's was quiet, just the gravel beneath their feet and the hellos to familiar faces driving past. They sat in silence for a moment once back on the porch sitting on the steps until Leah reached over and grasped Sam's hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For remembering him." Her grip tightened. "For finding me in the woods all those years ago and not letting go. For taking care of Seth." She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. "You've done so much for us."

For them? Sam shook his head. "Leah, I don't think you understand how much" – I loved you? – "your family means to me. I wouldn't be who I am today."

"You don't give yourself enough credit." She touched his cheek and he found himself leaning into it, whatever was passing between them. Eyes closed, he caught her waist, lips in her hair. How could she still smell like she did ten years ago?

Leah leaned her head back and their lips brushed, and they paused before leaning into each other again. Sam's hand slid up to her neck, thumb running along her jaw before tangling in her hair and pulling her body flush to his, her body suddenly straddling his lap. Her hands slid under his shirt and ran familiar paths up his back. "Come inside with me," Sam murmured.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in response and he lifted her in his arms, cupping her thighs. He was about to tell her to grab the screen door when a phone dinged. It broke the spell and they blinked at each other owlishly. Leah flushed and reached in her back pocket. She wouldn't look at him as he let her slip gently to the ground. "It's Paul," she whispered. Her hand still rested on his chest as if she was committing the way he felt to memory, as if she was still deciding. She stepped away, not letting her hand drop until he was out of reach. "I need to go."

"Leah…"

"We're fine. I just…I have to go." She skipped down the steps and hurried to her car without looking at him.