MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I am so small, and I have no money. There are tons of quotes pulled directly from the book for dialogue and stuff, but the only way I'm writing a bibliography for this fic is with a gun to my head.

I've had like 70% of this story typed out for a long time, and the first bit is finally okay enough for me to talk myself into publishing it. If you don't like the beginning half (which is mostly canon but in Jake's POV,) just know that I wrote it to better understand Jake's character. Consider the canon portion optional. The second half is where canon is thrown out the window, and it's like porn – you'll know it when ya see it. Plus, I'll probably throw in an author's note. Any feedback whatsoever is greatly appreciated, but please try to be nice. As I said, I am so small, and I have no money. I'm doing this for fun, and for anyone who, like me, was done dirty by smeyer.

I

If I had any brains, I would've kept my big mouth shut

MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I am so small, and I have no money. There are tons of quotes pulled directly from the book for dialogue and stuff, but the only way I'm writing a bibliography for this fic is with a gun to my head.

I've had like 70% of this story typed out for a long time, and the first bit is finally okay enough for me to talk myself into publishing it. If you don't like the beginning half (which is mostly canon but in Jake's POV,) just know that I wrote it to better understand Jake's character. Consider the canon portion optional. The second half is where canon is thrown out the window, and it's like porn – you'll know it when ya see it. Plus, I'll probably throw in an author's note. Any feedback whatsoever is greatly appreciated, but please try to be nice. As I said, I am so small, and I have no money. I'm doing this for fun, and for anyone who, like me, was done dirty by smeyer.

I

The first time I caught sight of Bella Swan was on First Beach when she came down in a group from Forks on the first nice day of the new year. The sun was out, turning the usually stormy gray sea into a light navy blue and glinting off the white caps. The tide line rose from the swells of heaving water and broke off into the rocky shore like a metronome. The familiar, steady beating kept me from following the fireside conversation closely. I was busy daydreaming about being one of the birds floating along the brisk surging of calm, briny wind from the ocean. I imagined flapping my wings until I could touch the bubbling mess of clouds circling the sun.

Rebecca had run off with her Samoan surfer on a day like this three years ago. Rachel had packed up her battered old station wagon with all her things and drove herself away shortly after, waving out the window as she turned the corner. I hadn't seen either of them since. I marveled at how much had changed since then, when both my sisters disappeared and left me alone to care for Billy. I missed them more than I was bitter, though I would have liked to be angry.

One of the guys from Forks announcing the stragglers returning from the tide pools broke me from my reverie. A greasy-haired boy with a face like a slice of pepperoni pizza motioned to two girls, introducing the second one with the last name "Swan."

That's what caught my attention initially.

Charlie Swan was family, in a way. Billy had given him the rusty old Chevy – or, as I liked to call it, "the fossil on wheels" – for less than he had paid for it in the seventies. The girl must have been his daughter, so we sort of knew each other.

She was vaguely familiar, yet I couldn't place where I had seen her before. She looked nothing like Charlie; she had a heart-shaped face, eyes large and widely spaced, with a thin nose and prominent cheekbones. Her lips were too big to fit her slim jawline, and her dark eyebrows were straighter than arched. Yet something about her reminded me of Forks' Chief of Police.

The more I watched her, the more I realized it wasn't her physical appearance reminding me of him but rather her mannerisms that made them so similar. She sat quietly, gazing into the fire with dark chocolate brown eyes, eyebrows creating a small crease above her nose, just like Charlie when he watched an engrossing sports game. When she smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkled like I remembered my Dad's best friend, the kind that lit up their whole face and made them look like younger versions of themselves.

Her smile brought back a vague memory, dulled by time and the fog of youth, somehow strong enough to stick around in my subconscious. Bella Swan was playing in the living room with my sisters, smiling politely, but the girls were too shy to become good friends with the strangely pale girl from Arizona. I was their little brother and therefore obligated to be as annoying as possible, but Bella never seemed to mind. When I popped my head over the couch and asked if I could play with the Ken doll, the same smile lit up the young girl's face as she laughed and tossed it to me.

She sat next to another girl, both looking uncomfortable with eyes settled on them. A boy I recognized as Mike Newton, whose parents owned a sporting goods store in town, offered them food as they rested next to the fire. He had a halo of golden brown hair settled over sky-blue eyes, with perfectly straight, white teeth. His eyes hovered over Charlie's daughter possessively, and my heart sank.

She was already spoken for.

Sam introduced the rest of us, and I thought I saw her eyes flash to me when he said my name, but it was probably wishful thinking. She ate silently, though not awkwardly; she seemed to think very hard about something; her mind was obviously elsewhere.

As we ate, the clouds marched across the sky, blocking out the sun now and then, their long shadows turning the waves inky black. Overhead, birds cawed at each other, preparing for the impending rain.

The group thinned as people broke off in twos and threes. Soon, the beach was sprawling with activity. Couples walked down the shoreline to put their toes in the sand and throw stones into the choppy water. Embry went with them to show how many times he could make his rock skip before it finally plopped to the ocean floor. Quil wanted to return to the tide pools, but the water would be too high to see anything cool, so I stayed. Mike ditched the group to visit the village's tourist trap gift shop, followed by a tiny girl whose height was mainly made up of a bad perm. I'd noticed her following him around all day like a neglected puppy. Some of the local kids went with them, probably heading home. The only people I knew left were Sam and Jared, neither of whom was very interesting to me at the time.

Bella sat alone after Mike and his stalker left.

Maybe she wasn't already spoken for.

She must have seen me psyching myself to sit beside her because her eyes sized me up apprehensively. I wondered if she was comparing me to Mike, who was older, and seemed the popular type – not a fair comparison, in my opinion.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

"Bella," she sighed, looking disappointed.

"I'm Jacob Black," I said, reaching my hand out for her to shake. "You bought my dad's truck."

Her eyes lit up in recognition, and a relieved smile stretched across her face. "Oh," she replied, shaking my hand. Her fingers were cool and smooth against mine. "You're Billy's son. I probably should remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family – you would remember my older sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. Her eyes scanned the girls at the ocean's edge. "Are they here?"

"No," I chuckled at the idea of hanging out with my sisters, shaking my head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer – she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." Her voice was stunned, her mouth hanging open.

That was when I realized Bella Swan could never lie – her thoughts were practically written on her face, changing from moment to moment, as ever-turning as the tide. She was an open book, pages flipping in the wind, and I was surprised by how much I liked reading the emotions as they flicked across her features.

"So, how do you like the truck?" I winced. I had not made my distaste for that rusted pile of junk a secret, and now I felt sort of guilty for giving it to this unsuspecting girl with such open, honest eyes.

To my surprise, her smile brightened. "I love it. It runs great."

"Yeah," I laughed, fighting against the urge to roll my eyes. "But it's really slow. I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a 'perfectly good' vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," she objected, her chin jutting out stubbornly.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," she admitted, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"Good. Don't," I warned, grinning.

She grinned back easily, the same smile that crinkled her eyes and made dimples on her cheeks. "It does great in a collision," she offered in the truck's defense.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," I agreed with another laugh.

"So you build cars?" She asked, looking impressed.

"When I have free time and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" I added jokingly, on the very off chance that she would know what that was.

"Sorry," she laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you."

I flashed her a smile, eyes appraising. She was pretty, but not overtly. It was a quiet, modest beauty, the kind your eyes could slide over and not notice if you weren't looking close enough. Now that I was very close, I saw her eyes flash intuitively under my gaze as if she recognized something there.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Someone asked from across the fire.

I saw a blonde girl from Forks sitting next to a dark-skinned boy, watching us with jealous eyes. The girl was probably pretty, but her face was so puckered with a sourness that it was hard to tell. The boy beside her watched Bella with Mike's same possessive stare. I sensed a pissing contest in the works.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," I laughed, smiling at Bella again when the guy's eyes narrowed.

"How nice," the girl said in an icy tone. Her light blue eyes, practically translucent in the light from the fire, narrowed slightly.

"Bella," she called again, her voice deceptively innocent, "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her voice rose two octaves by the end, a knowing smile twitching her lips.

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" Sam asked before anyone else could respond, much to the girl's irritation.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward him but not meeting his gaze.

"The Cullens don't come here," he replied in a tone that closed the subject.

The boy tried to win back the girl's attention by asking her opinion on a CD he held. She turned back to him, thoroughly sidetracked, and began talking too fast for me to understand.

Bella stared at Sam. Her eyes were focused, calculating, and working on a problem. I should have known she would see right through his dismissive tone to the implication behind it.

Sam was looking into the dark forest behind us, his hands trembling.

I tried to distract her from his odd behavior. "So, is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement," she replied, a grimace twisting up her nose.

I grinned in understanding, happy that my diversion had worked. I was about to ask her another question when her ears perked up, and I saw an idea click into place like two puzzle pieces coming together.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" She asked, looking up at me from underneath her eyelashes. Her eyes were wide, innocent, and so easy to read. I was drawn in and eager to learn more about her, so I jumped at the opportunity to talk with her alone.

We walked north, across the multihued stones, toward the driftwood seawall. The clouds swirled to a close above us, like a door sealing us from the sky. The sea turned its usual dark cobalt, churning in the harsh, biting wind. Walking away from the low fire, the bottom finally fell out on the atmospheric pressure, almost like the rain introducing itself before dancing down from the clouds. The beach and its accommodations dropped away, leaving only the shore battered by the sea, seagulls circling overhead, pelicans calling out to each other, and the caw of a hawk—life was in full view around us, transitioning from the sunny morning into a stormy afternoon.

"So you're, what, sixteen?" She asked, eyelids fluttering up to me and then quickly looking down in embarrassment. A blush, red and vibrant in contrast to the wet sky, bloomed on her cheek.

"I just turned fifteen," I admitted, feeling very smug.

"Really?" She gasped, eyes widening in shock. "I would have thought you were older," she admitted.

"I'm tall for my age." I had just started a growth spurt, and the growing pains were finally starting to seem worth something.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" She asked pointedly, arching her eyebrows up at me.

"Not too much," I said before I could help it. Frowning, I added, "But when I get my car finished, I can go up as much as I want – after I get my license," I tacked that part on at the end, hoping she would ignore it.

"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to?" She asked, changing the subject. "He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us."

"That's Sam — he's nineteen," I told her, beaming from ear to ear at her casual use of the inclusive plural.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" She inquired, stuffing her hands further into her pockets.

"The Cullens?" Of course, she had probably noticed them and wondered what their deal was. I had been curious, too, before I asked Billy and got the whole spiel. "Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." I looked away, out toward James Island, the burial place of my ancestors, reluctant.

"Why not?"

I glanced back at her, biting my lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone; I'm just curious." Her smile was alluring, and the pressure bearing down on us from the clouds made me feel like we had crossed over to a world with no one else in it, no expectations or rules – a world where she might want me, too.

"Do you like scary stories?" I asked, trying to make my voice sound ominous. Billy was a gifted storyteller, and I had spent years listening to him, so I knew the basics, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to pull her in the same way he managed to suck someone down into his narration as if you were living it in real-time.

"I love them," she enthused, eyes wide and sincere.

I lumbered to a nearby driftwood tree lodged in the sand with its roots sticking out like lightning strikes across the sky. I sat on one of the twisted roots, motioning for her to sit on the exposed body of the tree. I stared at the rocks, encouraged by her enthusiasm, trying to remember precisely how Billy did it. The inflection in his voice, the haunting rumble of his throat, the magic he worked on his listeners; I could mimic his strategy.

"Do you know any of our old stories about where we came from – the Quileutes, I mean?" I began, trying not to smirk.

This was gonna be good.

"Not really," she confessed, eyelashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she glanced down.

"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood – supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." I smiled. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves – and that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them."

My voice dropped lower, taking on a sinister edge. "Then there are the stories about the cold ones."

"The cold ones?" She asked, genuine intrigue dripping from her tongue.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." I rolled my eyes in an effort to distance myself from all the superstitious mumbo-jumbo.

"Your great-grandfather?" She pressed, urging me to continue.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf – well, not the wolf, really, the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

She stared at me, eyes sober and impatient, begging me to continue.

"So you see," I continued, my words driven faster by her sudden seriousness, "the cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did – they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." I winked, eyeing her ivory skin.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" She trailed off, looking confused. From the look on her face, she was taking this story really seriously. I was momentarily impressed with myself.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." I deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into my tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead." I answered nonchalantly. This wasn't the good part of the story.

"So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your great-grandfather met?"

"No." I paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

Her face contorted with fear, shocked and honest, and I smiled. It would be impossible for a seasoned performer to mock such horror, and Bella was no actress. I was willing to bet she wouldn't be able to lie if her life depended on it.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time, they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." I was fighting a smile, enjoying how into the story she was. Maybe this was the way to get white girls.

"And what are they?" She finally asked, straining her voice. "What are the cold ones?"

I smiled darkly. "Blood drinkers," I replied, watching her shiver from my voice. "Your people call them vampires."

For a moment, there was a flash of something I didn't understand in her eyes – but then she turned away, staring out at the tide as it lapped against the stony beach.

I felt terrible for a second, wondering if I had laid it on too thick. After all, the Cullens were real people, and they probably wouldn't like the local gossip.

"You have goosebumps," I laughed delightedly, trying to diffuse the tense atmosphere.

"You're a good storyteller," she said distantly, staring into the water like it was trying to drag her in.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it?" I continued, trying to bring her back to the beach. I sensed she was elsewhere, turning something over in her head. "No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

"Don't worry; I won't give you away."

She was still staring at the sea, cutting me off from whatever reaction she was having.

Was it that bad?

"I guess I just violated the treaty," I laughed nervously.

"I'll take it to the grave," she promised, then shivered.

I was beginning to regret saying anything. I looked to James Island again, wondering if my ancestors were watching me from there and screaming at me to shut my mouth. I'd been told to guard these secrets with my life, yet here I was, handing them out to a girl I knew only by association. If my dad were here, he would've run me over in his chair by now.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

"I won't, of course not."

"So, do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" I tried to keep my tone playful, but there was an underlying edge of worry. She still hadn't looked away from the water.

She turned her head and smiled at me gratefully, but her eyes were hard and guarded – hiding something. "No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goosebumps, see?" She held up her arm to show me the raised skin.

I smiled. "Cool."

Then the sound of rocks clattering underneath expensive boots announced the arrival of Mike Newton and his shadow. They were fifty yards away, walking over to us. Mike looked determined and worried. The girl following him looked angry, her nose twisted up in disdain.

"There you are, Bella," he called in relief, waving his arm like a teacher's pet with the answer to a question.

"Is that your boyfriend?" I asked, trying to disguise the jealousy in my voice.

"No, definitely not," she whispered, leaning in closer to me. She carefully turned away from Mike and winked at me.

I couldn't help but beam down at her, eyes half-closed in admiration. Now that I was paying attention, it seemed like her beauty wasn't so subtle. It glowed on her face with a pink blush, giving color to her pale skin. Her eyes glittered beneath a frame of long lashes; lips twisted in a conspiratorial smirk. Now I understood the possessiveness of Mike and Tyler, coveting her expressive eyes for themselves.

"So, when I get my license…." I trailed off, stopping myself from reaching out to take her hand.

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." She smiled again, seeming happy about spending more time with me.

Mike—and the girl who looked like a poodle who kept getting hit with a rolled-up newspaper—had made it over to us. He sized me up with a quick once-over and looked back to Bella, satisfied with my frustrated expression.

"Where have you been?" he asked, addressing her as if I wasn't standing right there staring daggers at him.

"Jacob was just telling me some local stories," Bella explained. "It was really interesting."

She smiled warmly at me, and I grinned back, pleased by her apparent preference.

"Well," Mike paused, running his eyes over me again. I recognized the jealousy in his voice. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain soon."

The white kids had just picked up on the changing weather. I heaved a sigh. Bella had come with the sun, and now she was leaving with it. I stared out at the black, surging sea with a frustrated sense of longing.

"Okay," she chirped, jumping up from the ground unsteadily. "I'm coming," she quickly assured us, catching her balance on one of the gnarled roots of the driftwood tree.

"It was nice to see you again," I taunted Mike.

"It really was," she sighed, smiling up at me with reverent eyes. "Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," she promised.

My grin felt like it went all the way across my face. "That would be cool," I replied, trying to sound casual as if that wasn't the understatement of the century.

"And thanks," she added earnestly, shooting me a meaningful look before pulling up her hood.

We hiked across the rocks toward the parking lot. The skies were bursting at the seams, allowing a few raindrops here and there to spill over. Her group was loading their stuff into the back of a big white Suburban. I watched Bella crawl into the backseat while I returned to Sam, lost in a new daydream.