Before this begins, I'd like to address some stuff. I sort of lost my muse for writing/continuing Daybreak and its sequel.. kind of. I have reached a point once again where I don't like how I've written it. I feel as if I lacked in giving Renesmee a legitimate personality and story, and I sort of want to rewrite it. That is what this will be. If you like Daybreak as is, you don't need to read this. The first main chapters from BD will be pretty much the same, but with giving our main character a lot more depth. Even with our most perfect characters in TTS, they almost all have some defining quality or trait that sets them apart or is some kind of "imperfection", i.e., Bella's stubbornness, Edward's temper/moods, Rosalie's envy, Jasper's lack of self control, etc. I just feel like it wouldn't be right (or, doable,) to write a sequel to the current Daybreak. If I do end up writing a sequel, it will be to this story. There may also be a story that is just one-shots of sorts. This is also helping me get my muse back, because I, being the occasionally dimwitted thing I am, spent almost five years to create and finish a story. Near the end, I was losing my muse, thus panicking, and rushing the end of the story. I feel so bad about this because Daybreak / Forever Sunrise was like, my biggest passion and pride for those years, and I want to be able to be proud of it again.

If you guys don't like or agree with this, I completely understand. I thank you for your support over the years, regardless.

P.S., most chapters will contain multiple chapters from the original Daybreak.

Chapter 1

I can't breathe! I shouted in my mind, knowing my father could hear me from how he did before. I could hear my mother's screams in pain. Did I cause it this time, again? I heard a loud crack, her spine, but I hadn't moved. All my mind could do was focus on one thing: I can't breathe, I can't breathe. I could hear my mother scream for them to "get him out." I could hear something scratching from above me, like someone scratching their nails against a sheet of metal. I could feel light against my eyelids, cold air against my skin, as two cold hands lifted me up, out of my mother. The unexpected cold sent a shock through me. I could hear her heart faltering as I opened my eyes, gasping for air.

I could see. I could also feel a pull in another direction behind me; a heart, beating faster than momma's had. Then I looked around and saw many different things: my father, windows facing trees, their leaves different shades of green, brown bark, grass, dirt, the sky. So much to take in. My mind almost spun with all of the new sights and information. Then my eyes flashed to my mother as daddy said in a soft, somewhat proud voice, "Renesmee." It wasn't hard to make the connection between this voice and the one I'd heard before now. Until that moment, my mind had connected my existence with the words baby and EJ, the other words that referred to me.

So that was my name; Renesmee. I was not focusing on that now, though. I let my mind focus on her voice, her heart, everything I'd known about my mother, with my eyes focused on daddy's. I saw a slight smile on my father's face.

"Renes... mee... Give her... to me," momma's voice croaked in a hoarse whisper. Daddy handed me to her, her arms very delicately reaching up around me. I snuggled into the warmth instantly, though my father's arms were not too cold for me- I was simply so used to the warmth. I smiled for the first time at her thin, frail face, and she smiled back as best as she could. I could still hear her heart, quickly getting slower and more uneven. My instincts kicked in: I bit her right over her chest. Not out of the slight burning in my throat, but to save her. She gasped in pain as I bit, and I instantly felt bad.

Daddy instantly took me from her arms. "No, Renesmee," he chided. I attempted to apologize out loud, but I could not figure out how to speak. I just apologized in my head. And then I heard it, Momma's heart stopped. Daddy's eyes widened, the already dark gold turning a much darker black, and I heard another gasp from the direction the pull I felt had been coming from.

"Edward, give me the baby," A woman with curly blonde hair insisted from across the room. Her eyes were a much lighter shade of gold. "I'm under control now." Daddy hesitantly handed me over to her, her arms cold as well. I felt oddly comfortable in the chilled embrace. I could hear also; the woman's shoes clicking against the wooden floor, the sound of a television downstairs, and the forced beating of Momma's heart.

"I'm your aunt Rosalie," the woman whose name I now knew as Rosalie said, interrupting my thoughts. I looked at her and smiled, and she reflected a smile back at me. She was very pretty to me, just like momma was, even if she was very sick. I remember hearing her voice not too long ago, but I couldn't make out the words at the time. She carried me into a room with tile on the floor, a large bathtub against the wall, and a sink next to it. It smelled clean. Aunt Rosalie turned a handle and water poured out. She squirted a bit of transparent purple liquid into the water, which was now turning into white bubbles. I could smell lavender and a small hint of vanilla. It reminded me of the scent of my parents. I thought of them as the water rose, worried about momma, until aunt Rosalie spoke again.

"Let's wash that blood off of you, okay?" she asked me in a cooing voice. I nodded in reply and her honey eyes widened slightly at my answer, "you understood that, honey?" She watched me as I nodded once again. I still couldn't form a reply, not yet, at least. Something in my mind told me to use my hands to talk, but how? I felt confused. "You're very smart, baby," she said, a still slightly shocked expression on her face, but the gentle coo remaining in her tone.

Aunt Rosalie carefully placed me in the water, which was up to my upper stomach. It was warm, but not too warm, and it smelled strongly of the lavender and vanilla. I wrinkled my nose; it smelled almost too strongly of it. Rosalie giggled at my expression a bit. She took a dark purple washcloth and washed the blood off of my me carefully, turning the water a very light shade of transparent pink. I could see the color of my skin now- similar to my father and aunt's, but also to momma's. It was pale, but not too pale; an extra splash of pink that they didn't have. She took a bottle something, the front of the bottle said some strange word in symbols, letters I couldn't make out. She thought for a second, scrunching her brows together, then her eyes widened a bit, like she had a good idea. She then picked up a second bottle of the same thing, popping open the lids on both.

"Okay, Renesmee. Which would you prefer?" she asked as she held both bottles out to me. I leaned in and smelled each one. Both were strong, like the lavender and vanilla, but they were different. The first one she had grabbed; the color of the liquid inside was light pink, and it smelled very lightly of flowers, but I liked these ones. They smelled... slightly deeper than the others. Still strong, but it didn't sting my nose like the other had. I smelled the other one as well; the liquid was an orange color and smelled very citrus-y. I liked it, but I liked the other one better. I reached my arm out to the pink bottle of shampoo and tapped my fingertips to it lightly.

"Roses," she stated softly, laughing softly. What I smelled was roses? I liked them. I smiled back at her, and tried to form the word in my head. Rose, rose, rose, rose, I repeated in my mind.

"W...W..." was all that I could get out. Her face beamed at my attempt. I pouted slightly, I wished I could speak. I almost felt a pulling in my hands, as if my mind was telling me to try to speak with them as I did with my mouth. As aunt Rose, as I now called her, put one fourth of a handful in the curls that went down to my ears, she spoke softly to me.

"Aw, honey, don't be sad. You're actually very intelligent for your age." I smiled happily at her, and did what my first instinct had been telling me to do in response to speaking as she washed my hair: I softly placed my hand against her arm, showing her what I had smelled, the word I was trying to say, "rose." Once again, her eyes widened. She continued washing my hair silently for a moment. I let my eyes wander around the room, taking in the decorations and colors of the tiles.

"Wow," she breathed. "Renesmee, you'll have to show that to your Grandpa Carlisle. I removed my hand from her arm and placed it back into the pink-purple water and nodded at her. She smiled softly at me and rinsed my hair, instructing me to lean my head back so no soap would get into my eyes, and I did. After that, she carefully took me out of the bath, wrapping a light blue towel around me and lifting me up into her arms. I softly placed my hand on the side of her neck, showing her my like for the color of the towel. It felt nicer to speak this way.

"Blue," she said simply. I smiled and nodded, not trying to speak aloud when I could communicate this way. It felt much more natural. She carried me to another room. The walls were a light shade of pale yellow with a white carpet, paintings and decorations on the walls. She sat me gently on a bed in the center of the room. I placed my hand on the blankets, petting them a bit. Soft. I was amazed by everything around me, even the blankets. It's all so new.

Aunt Rosalie walked over and held up two outfits. Well, dresses, really. One was white with a very pale tan pattern on the bottom. The other was a bright red with white swirls on the sleeves. I could smell the different scents of the materials. I pointed at the white dress; I thought it was pretty. She helped me get dressed in it and toweled off my curls, then brushing them out: it felt nice. She wrapped me back up in a pink blanket, in case I got cold, I figured, and lifted me back up, carrying me downstairs into another room.

This one had a small area in the back with fire in it, crackling. I could smell the burning wood, but it wasn't overwhelming. It was calming. I thought it was beautiful. There were two couches, each on opposite sides of the room, and a chair, facing a television, with a coffee table in the center. Then I noticed it again; the burn in my throat. Nothing had triggered the burn this time, but a soft growl in my stomach joined with it. I urgently placed my palm against her throat, and she nodded.

"You're just thirsty, Renesmee," she said simply. She carried me into a room with marble counter tops, a hard wood floor, and different cabinets. All of the different scents rushed to me. There was a lot of different things in here. She took a metal bottle out of one of the cabinets and took the lid off the top. She proceeded to grab a bag of red liquid, blood, out of the fridge, pouring it into the bottle. As soon as the smell met my nose, the burn intensified. She placed it into a small box, a microwave, for a few seconds. As it warmed, I grew impatient. The burn in my throat was really beginning to hurt. I patted her arm urgently, glancing at her eyes. "It's almost done, sweetheart," she assured me. She then took it back out, placing the lid back on and carried me to a white couch, facing away from the stairs.

She sat down, holding me in one arm, the bottle in the other, and she handed it to me carefully, keeping her hand on it as I grabbed it, being careful to drink the blood out of it. It very easily soothed the burn in my throat, calming me instantly. I continued drinking the blood out until it made an odd sound, and instead of blood I got air. Aunt Rosalie carefully took it from my hands and placed it on the table. She wiped my lips off, as I listened to the crackling wood behind me. "Don't want to stain your pretty dress," she smiled softly.

I could hear thumps, footsteps coming down the stairs as Rosalie lifted me up into the air a bit. A different scent met my nose. Warm, something different, like nature- trees, plants, earth, along with other warm, calming scents. Honey, cinnamon, brown sugar.

In the few minutes we had been gone though, not much happened: momma was still dying, her heart being forced to beat. I felt... terrible. I felt at fault. She deserves to live. But then I could hear another heartbeat, coming from the direction of the footsteps and the warm scent. It was a heavy, hearty sound, much heavier and faster than momma's had ever beat. I could also feel a pull in that direction, the same I had felt earlier. If I could, I would make myself move in that direction. Aunt Rose paid no attention to it, but I couldn't help it. He walked closer, very quietly and carefully, and leaned into a dangerous looking crouch, anger and hatred burning in his eyes, tears evident on his cheeks and in his eyes.

I looked at him, trying to figure out who he was. Had I heard him before? My mind flashed through all of the voices from before I was born. He was tan, much, much more than anyone I had seen so far. He also appeared to be very tall, and strong, given the muscles he had. His hair was jet black and semi-short. He had dark brown, almost black eyes which were filled with hate. They seemed too pretty to be so angry. I noticed that he was shaking slightly, his whole body convulsing, until I focused on his eyes. His shaking jerked to a stop and he slowly softened out of his crouch, and fell softly to his knees. I could see, and almost feel, something changing. In the air, in who he was, in who I was. I felt as though I needed him here, to protect me, keep me safe, and help me when I needed. And then aunt Rose whispered his name. She said it in a hateful way, through clenched teeth, a tone that I didn't like. I felt the opposite for him.

"Jacob."

Chapter 2

I was already falling asleep, and Aunt Rosalie had noticed. She laid me on the couch as she got up, whispering something to Jacob which was too low for me to hear. All I could hear was them arguing in low, harsh whispers. My name was mentioned, as were things like the words, "hurt," "love," and "not like that." I didn't understand, so I didn't dwell on it. I just wished they wouldn't seem so upset.

As I fell asleep, I dreamed of.. pretty much nothing, for a little. Then my momma's face, her sick, pale face, kept coming to mind, along with her scent. Then, daddy's, then Jacob's, then Rose's, all along with different color's to match how I saw them, shapes, too. I dreamed of flowers, the smell of the soaps from earlier, how everyone else had smelled.

It all slowly faded and my eyes opened to see no sunlight shining through the windows. I was in cold arms, ones I did not recognize. I didn't feel fear, however, but surprise. I felt comfortable in the cold arms, I'm safe here. I thought for a second, taking in their scent and looking up at them; golden eyes, like aunt Rose's and daddy's, but short and slightly spiky brown hair. She had a pixie-shaped face with high cheekbones, and seemed... sweet. She smelled like lilies, lemons, and sugar.

She looked down at me and a bright smile instantly lit up her face.

"Aw, you do have Bella's eyes!" was the first thing to come from her. Her voice was high and cheery, "Oh, and I'm your Aunt Alice, by the way, Renesmee. It's so nice to finally see you," she said, placing a light kiss on my forehead. I placed my palm lightly against her neck, showing her momma's face, and asking if she was alright, showing my worry for her. I'd barely heard my new aunt's voice before, also.

Aunt Alice simply nodded at me, and I smiled at her, so happy that she was alive and well. She also told me that she wasn't around much before I was born because it "made her head hurt." It didn't as much now, she assured me. I kept my hand there, showing her daddy, my Jacob, and Rose, asking where they were.

"Well, sweetie, they're out hunting, Rosalie and Edward are. You have no idea how hard it was to get Edward to go hunting, but he'll be back in a few minutes, I believe. Jacob is in the kitchen, eating," she giggled a bit at the end. I smiled at her and nodded again. I was about to ask her if she could take me to see Jacob, but someone walked in. He seemed a bit older than everyone I had seen so far. He had short, blonde hair and golden eyes, as I noticed most people had, aside from Momma and my Jacob. He looked aged, but young in his face. His scent was clean, fresh air,along with melon. I looked back at Aunt Alice, letting her see my confusion as to who he was.

She looked up at him, and then spoke softly to me, "That's your grandpa Carlisle, Renesmee." I smiled to him and reached my arms out for him. I'd built up the courage to try calling out my grandpa's name, but all that still came were mumbles and odd sounds. I decided, in my frustration, to stick to my current favorite way of communication for good. It was much easier, and felt much more natural.

He chuckled lightly, "Renesmee, it's alright. You're only a day old, nobody really expects you to speak with perfect english yet. It's okay." He picked me up from Aunt Alice's arms and spoke softly to me. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to take some measurements of you. I had taken some while you were asleep, but it's necessary to, until your growth slows down a bit, to do this twice, maybe three times a day."

I simply nodded at him, smiling a bit. Smiling was easy, and I enjoyed doing it. However, I didn't know what he meant by 'measuring'. Grandpa carried me upstairs and into a new room. There was a desk, countless shelves of books; there had to be hundreds of books, and papers, pens, complex, yet intriguing looking things. He, very carefully and gently, sat me on a desk, which already had a soft blanket on it, and was cleared of papers and pens. I had wanted to see what they were- they seemed so strange. I reached a hand out towards a pen, just out of my reach, and made a grabbing motion with that hand. He chuckled quietly, handing the pen to me. I turned it around in my hands as he measured me, amazed when it clicked in my hand.

I watched with interest as Grandpa then got a tape measure and nothing else; he must have had a perfect memory, and wrapped it around one of my arms, one of my legs, my waist, and my head. He smiled a bit at me as I fumbled with the small writing utensil, "Renesmee, do you think you could stand up, or should I help you up?" I thought for a second, and, when I thought about it, I hadn't even been given the chance to try yet. I nodded once, not being able to tell him which I'd like to do, and reached one hand out for him to at least help me onto my feet. I kept my new toy tightly grasped in my free hand.

He gave me his hand and I could only grab a few fingers, but managed to, unbalanced, stand up, wobbling very slightly, because of my age, I guess. I reached one hand out to the wall next to me, letting my pen drop and clatter against the deck, and as I placed my other hand there, let go of Grandpa's. He somewhat stared at me, and I knew he was shocked. This wasn't normal, I knew. I should be growing slowly. I shouldn't be standing on my own.

Grandpa put the tape measure on the desk right next to my feet and pulled it up to my head, and I saw the many numbers and lines on it. He looked at it for a few long seconds before slowly letting the thin measure snap back in, and placing it on a shelf near his books. He sighed a bit, "Renesmee, I'm sure you'd like to know how much you've grown," I thought about it, then nodded once, "well, you've grown three and a half inches in your sleep, height-wise." I didn't necessarily know how much that was, but I guess that it was a lot. I could feel my legs wobbling under me. I simply nodded at him, and, to get him to understand what I wanted, reached both of my arms out, no longer leaning on the wall, for him to lift me up. I didn't want to fall.

I noticed that I was still having trouble balancing, putting my weight evenly on both feet. He looked surprised, but less than before as he lifted me up. I placed my palm to his cheek, showing him Jacob's face, asking where he was, and where my Daddy and Momma were.

"Jacob is in the kitchen, and yes I'll take you to him," he said softly, and a bit awkwardly, "Edward is upstairs with your mother, as she is changing into a vampire as we speak. Also, she is doing exceptionally well. A bit quiet, but very well." I felt much better after hearing that.

Grandpa carried me into the kitchen, where my Jacob sat at the table, a fork in his hand, eating something that smelled... odd, to say the least. I instantly reached both hands out for him, not noticing anything else. As soon as he saw me, he sat his fork on the plate of what he was eating, and came to me, Grandpa handing me to him. I embraced the warmth he gave off, though I didn't dislike the cold in the slightest. I hugged my Jacob around the neck, the first person for me to do that to, and I saw him smile. Then I pulled away, letting him hold me as I looked around.

I had been in this room before, and I noticed it was full of shiny things. I instantly loved them. I adored how the light sparkled off of them, glimmering a beautiful pure white, with rainbows shooting off of it. I wanted to show Jacob, so I did, putting my hand to his cheek and pushing the images of the light into his head. He chuckled lightly, nodding.

"Yes, it's beautiful." he said to me in an adoring voice. Then I noticed Grandpa standing next to a woman who looked rather motherly, with a warm face. She had long, dark brown hair, a bit of auburn on the parts that were in the sunlight. I looked at them both, then just at her, asking my Jacob who she was. I sniffed the air, taking in her different scent, much sweeter, like wild flowers and fresh fruit.

"What's she saying?" I heard Grandpa ask. Jacob told him, "she wants to know who Esme is." I smiled brightly and nodded. The woman named Esme walked over to us, reaching her arms to Jacob and I.

"May I?" she asked, softly and gingerly as Jacob hesitatedly handed me over to her. She cradled me in her arms, very lovingly. She spoke softly to me, "Renesmee, I'm your Grandma. You can call me anything you'd like, but my name is Esme." I placed my hand to her cheek, Grandma, I repeated to her, smiling happily. Her scent was very soothing.

She smiled happily and rather proudly at me, "Your gift is a reverse of your father's, I see." I was confused. Gift? She nodded, answering my question.

"Yes, honey. Your father can read minds, your Aunt Alice can see the future, and your Uncle Jasper, whom I know you have yet to meet, can feel and alter others' emotions," she explained to me. So, that was how daddy had known what I was thinking.

I felt the burn in my throat returning again, and showed grandma Esme what I felt. She nodded and whispered something to Grandpa, something about formula, whatever that was. I watched as Grandpa prepared something white, and put it in the same metal bottle that aunt Rose had used. He brought it over to where I was at in Grandma's arms.

"Renesmee, my darling, we need you to try this. It's called formula. We simply need to know if you can ingest this, along with other human food, as opposed to only blood," he explained carefully to me. I liked how he treated me as an equal, to some extent, and not a baby. Letting me know what was going on, telling me things I needed to know. However, I wanted my blood. I momentarily considered simply refusing to even try the formula, but didn't. The burn in my throat was getting stronger, and I wanted to soothe it above my food preferences.

I nodded at Grandpa, and he carefully brought the bottle close to me. I sniffed the end of it, trying to get a sense of what I was trying, and it smelled.. well, absolutely repulsive, to be brutally honest. I didn't want it anywhere near me, so I shook my head a few times, now noticing my curls were an inch or two longer, a bit more below my jawline. I tried to shove myself away from the disgusting liquid, but was unable to, held securely.

He sighed, not impatiently, but I couldn't tell how. "Please, honey? We just need to know." I deliberated it for a second, weighing the gross scent and my hunger, and then lifted my hands up, holding the bottle as he continued to help hold it for me, as well. I took the end of it in my mouth and sucked a bit. The "formula" tasted... Oh my goodness, it tasted terrible. I couldn't help but make a face and spit it out. I shook my head quickly. No, no, no, no, no. I don't like it. I pushed the bottle away gently, not wanting to be rude. I touched grandma Esme's neck, the closest skin I could reach, demanding something. Anything, just none of that.

Grandpa sighed and took the bottle to the sink, emptying it and rinsing it out, and filling it with a bag of blood. The scent reached my nose and both intensified and soothed the burning- it wasn't unbearable, just uncomfortable. I smiled at him, silently thanking him, though I then remembered he couldn't hear my thoughts. Grandpa brought it to me and I smiled at him, nodding, thanking him again. I drank it quickly and let go of the bottle as I finished it- the burn/ache fully gone.

Grandma Esme carried me into the living room, with the couches and good-smelling fireplace, my Jacob coming with the both of us. I felt a bit tired again, and placed my palm to Grandma's cheek, showing her. She smiled warmly at me and nodded.

"You can take a little nap, dear. It's alright," she said to me. I smiled softly and said my thank you to her, letting myself drift off to sleep to the smell of the crackling fire and the sound of my Jacob's heartbeat only a few feet away.