Summary: Jasper never meets Alice in the 50s, instead he travels alone feeding from humans. When a tragic accident leaves him with the responsibility of caring for a human child he begins to question his fate and hers. How much power does the past hold over the future? Will he ever find the Cullens? Rated M for violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jasper. I only wish I did. (I don't own any of the other characters either)

Warning: Prepare yourself. I'm opening with a character death.


"Are you the kind that sees signs, that sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky?

Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences?" ~ Signs (2002)


~ Prologue ~

She never saw it coming.

I never saw it coming.

There were only the headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating stretches of empty desert, while the rain splattered maliciously against the windshield.

Renee was driving.

I closed my eyes and listened. The rain striking the glass, fat drops that plunked out of sync with the ridiculous tune on the radio. Her heartbeat, thudding steadily in her chest. The heartbeat beneath hers, lighter and faster, a hummingbird's wings…

Renee. Human. I wondered how, after years of drenching my hands in the blood of her species, that the closest thing I'd find to family would be a human. And the life, growing inside her womb was just another reminder. She was human. I was not.

With my senses being what they were, I should have seen it coming.

But I didn't.

The coyote materialized out of the darkness.

Renee slammed on the brakes.

She had time to let out one scream before the car flipped into a ditch.

When the car shuddered to a standstill, Renee wasn't moving.

Her chest was uneven; her sternum had broken and her breath was irregular. One of her lungs had stopped working. I could hear blood pooling in the one that remained. Her heart was stuttering; it signaled a curtain call I wasn't prepared for.

Humans were so fragile. This, I knew. But this human had become my reason for existing. Without her, there was nothing. I was nothing.

I begged her not to leave me; but she left anyway.

Her last words were the only thing that kept me sane.

"My baby."

I had to save it because it was hers.

I sunk my teeth into her swollen stomach. It was so easy to ignore the warm blood of my beloved's remains, there was no frenzy to feed, only the drive to see a part of her live on.

I was desperate.

But I was too late.

I heard a strangled cry and understood that it was my own.

I lay the infant, a female, beside her dead mother.

I curled up in the mud as the rain pounded relentlessly down.

There was pain; worse than that of my transformation. Knives jabbed around the inside of my skull. Bamboo shards separating my nails from my flesh. My soul became soaked in acid. My unbeating heart began to incinerate inside my chest.

I would not survive this. No one could.

My body shook violently with each sob that escaped my throat.

Where was death when you needed it? When you wanted it?

As I lay there, praying for the end to claim me as well, I heard something unexpected.

A cry in the night.

It wasn't mine.

But it was the only thing that could force me to open my eyes.

I dragged my head, as heavy as it felt, up.

The baby cried as the cold rain struck her vulnerable, impossibly alive, body.

A spark of hope shined through the suffocating black of night.