Disclaimer: Alice Hoffman is the sole owner of all things Practical Magic.

Stephenie Meyers is the sole owner of all things Twilight.

No copyright infringement intended.

All that's mine is a silly idea to add a touch of magic to Twilight, so I'll stake claim for Sandalwood & Juniper.

~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~


Introduction: I love the movie Practical Magic, so talking on Twitter one day I sent out a request that someone should write a fanfic about it. A few agreed but no takers, so someone mentioned the Practical Magic book & 22blue and I decided to buy it & read it. I loved it, as much - but differently, than I did the movie. So I decided to tray and make it into Twilight fanfic. I'm not going to say if the storyline will follow the book or the movies, PM or Twi. You'll have to read it to find out. I will say that I have the movie script for PM saved and you will see some things directly from the PM book & movie, w/maybe a Twilight quote thrown in too. I don't own them, not am I claiming to.

Some of the spells & herbs are researched, some I made up. Please don't try any of them.

The title, Sandalwood & Juniper, comes straight from the Swan's sister's spell book. Burning equal parts of crushed sandalwood and juniper for seven straight nights will break a curse. Plus, I've read a few times that a certain guy by the initials of E.C. smells like sandalwood?

This will probably beshort, like 10-15 chapters complete.


~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~

~Bella Swan, Age 12

It was mid-September and the early nights were still warm and comfortable. Rosie and I sat on the rooftop outside my window and waited for the twinkling of the first star.

"I hate school, Rosie. All the kids are so mean," I sighed.

We'd only been back in school for three weeks, and I'd thought that maybe this year would be better – different, but I was wrong.

Our classmates avoided us and if we crossed their path, they'd hold up their fingers in the shape of a cross, as if that would give them some sort of protection.

No one would sit in a chair after we'd vacated it and every day we had a table in the cafeteria all to ourselves. We were always the last one picked for teams in P.E.. and we were never asked to join anything fun, like Girl Scouts, chorus, or art club.

"Bella, you've really got to stand up for yourself," Rosie stated as she shifted to rest on her elbows. "Why don't you use some of your special voodoo on them? Giv'em a little scare." She raised her hands in the air and shook her fingers. Her loud laughter echoed through the thick night air.

"That's just ...wrong. We're not supposed to use magic like that. You know what the Aunts say."

I didn't like to abuse the craft, especially against another person, and most importantly NEVER, ever in front of others!

"What? To be careful what you cast because it'll come back to you threefold? Blah, blah, blah. That's hogwash! Look at what they do every night Bella, and nothing ever comes back on them. Nothing." Rosie laid back down and folded her arms behind her head.

"But what if...?"

What if? It must be so nice to be as carefree as Rosie. To never let the little things bother or upset you. To never worry about the consequences of your actions.

Like just today when some of the boys were throwing small rocks at us on the way home from school, Rosie spun around and shouted "Boo" at them. They took off running, but not before we noticed that two of them had peed their pants. Of course, we were never injured or anything. The stones always missed us, even when they were thrown by boys who had the best aim for miles.

"So what, Bella. I'll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow." Rosie shrugged and then pointed to the black sky. "Look! A falling star! Make a wish!"

"Rosie," I sighed, "shooting stars are just burnt-out rocks heating a trail as they fall through the earth's atmosphere. That's all."

"You can think whatever you want, but I think I'll make a wish and who knows, it just might come true."

Then Rosie closed her eyes and smiled. I watched her lips barely moving as she whispered her wish so softly I couldn't hear it. I swear I think she wished to be more beautiful because it was like she grew prettier in the dim moonlight, right there before my eyes.


~Rosie Swan, Age 11

Bella and I sat on the roof every evening. I'd never told her before, but it was my favorite part of the day.

When we sat on the roof together, the rest of the world melted away and it was just us two. That always felt right to me.

Bella could actually feel the onset of darkness. The beginning of the twilight hour gave her goosebumps and caused a shiver to start its upward path at her ankles instead of trickling down from her neck. Every time I saw her shiver, I looked to the sky.

This final phase of the day, before the night seized the lingering shadows of the sun, was when we were shoo'd to our room because a towns lady had come to the house for the Aunts' help.

We never complained about having to go to our bed early or argue that we weren't tired yet. Even in the late winter when twilight descended only hours after we'd come home from school.

Little did our Aunts know, we'd run to our room only to change into our nightgowns, tiptoe over to the attic steps, and quietly prop open the thick door. If we positioned ourselves just right, we had a direct view of the Aunts and their company.

When it came to dealing with outsiders, the Aunts had unspoken rules that were to be followed. Rules that had been passed through the town's female residents like the recipe for putting starter yeast for friendship bread in sealed Ziploc baggies.

Everyone who visited after sunset knew to always knock on the side door that led straight into the herb room right off the kitchen, or their presence would be ignored.

It was forbidden to enter any other room of the house without permission, and it was also rare to be invited to stay as a guest.

You were to keep your requests to yourself for at least forty-eight hours after you'd left or Rot Weed would grow at your front door and your luck would be soured for the rest of your days. It wasn't that the spells were secrets, it was more a test of your loyalty.

But what was most important to the Aunts, what they could express simply from the black depth of their eyes, was that every single woman who set foot inside their door had to be honest. They expected complete honesty. No matter the ugliness of the truth, or the consequences of what may be, the Aunts had to know everything. Only then would they attempt to make your deepest desires come true.

The Aunts had an uncanny way of smelling desperation for miles. When a woman overtaken with despair rushed up the cobblestone path, the aunts clucked like hens in heat shouting "Go, go, go," as they hurried us up the stairs. Bella and I would flap our arms and giggle all the way to our room.

No one ever asked what the Aunts could do for them, or how limited the Aunts' power was. They could see deep-down into your mystical dreams or your wildest imagination. Even into your darkest nightmares.

But love was Aunt Esme and Aunt Renee's specialty.

Sure they had cures for stomachaches and headaches. Oolong tea to calm your nerves and bugleweed to quell your worries. They often sold hopsflower or anise to end nightmares, and blue flag and cedar for riches they weren't earned.

Yet love, it was grand and magical in its own way.

Women would give over treasured heirlooms to guarantee that the love of their life would stay devoted; a woman wronged would give even more. The ones who were in love with a man who didn't return the sentiment were the most desperate. Regardless, if he was a husband or a father, a bachelor or a widower, there was no price too steep to pay. Those women would do anything for love.

Night after night as Bella and I watched, we learned things that I was sure most people didn't know.

Like how if you wanted to bind a man to your side, it was necessary to collect a few things. For instance, maybe a dozen or so stray hairs or his fingernail clippings.

We knew if you wanted a controlling mate, you sprinkled saffflower petal dust into his coffee.

Or if you desired a man with money, you must carry jezebel root deep in your pockets.

Sure many of the local townspeople were scared to come to our home. Ravens were known to perch in the large trees that surrounded the house, and it was said they'd attack you if you squinted when you looked up at them. Fog lingered around the base of the house longer than it should have and the grass was always the most vibrant color green and never needed to be cut. "Death," gossiping mouths would say. "The buried bodies under the house fertilize that grass to make it perfect - unnatural even."

When it came to the affairs of the heart, somehow those haunting rumors about the eerie house on Forks Lane no longer mattered. For nothing could keep away the desperate. Aunt Esme said that desire had a way of making a person oddly bold and courageous.

We also learned that sometimes with love, there was sorrow. Like when a woman was carrying a baby that didn't belong to her husband and she wanted to accidentally-on-purpose lose it to salvage her marriage.

We saw sadness in the women whose eyelids were raw and bleeding from crying over a man who'd cheated and broke her heart.

We saw revenge and determination from the ones who were ready to finally defend themselves against a man whose anger was way too big for his body.

We saw hopelessness and misery when a woman would stumble into the room and vomit into the garbage, razor markings on her arms and stomach bearing her secret crush's initials.

Bella would grab my hand and sometimes hide her eyes. The ladies often loosely carried around their burden of heartbreak and released it into our home, and the feelings lingered for days and weighed heavy on our own hearts.

"Do you forgive our mother?" Bella asked me one night after a woman left who'd been begging for mercy. Her husband was dying and she couldn't handle the suffering anymore: her's or his.

"Most of the time," I answered. "Maybe it wasn't her fault, you know? Maybe it wasn't even the curse. Maybe mother really did love him so much that she couldn't live without him."

"Yeah," Bella said as she tightened her grip on my hand, "Maybe."

Our knees would knock together as we held onto each other. I sometimes smiled with curiosity while Bella trembled with unease.

Bella leaned over and her eyes were hidden against my shoulder, "I hope I never fall in love, I hope I never fall in love, I hope I never fall in love." She chanted over the wailing of the librarian who'd just made her third trip in so many months to see the Aunts.

"I can't wait to fall in love," I whispered as soon as the book lady pierced the dove's heart with the bear claw and cried her love's name into the dark night.

I jumped when the wooden door locked behind the librarian as she dried her tears and left the house.

Then I couldn't help but shiver when I heard what Aunt Esme said. "You know, sister, what these females need to learn is that sometimes the most dangerous part of all matters of love is to be granted the desire of your heart."

"You are so right. Always be cautious what you wish for sister; you never know when you just might get it," Aunt Renee sighed.

~ . . . * * * s a n d a l w o o d * a n d * j u n i p e r * * * . . . ~

The next morning I was awakened by the clanging of pots downstairs.

Bella must be cooking. I hope it's waffles! I thought as I jumped out of the bed.

Instead, I found her in the herb room.

"Where are the Aunts?" I asked as I watched her circle the room, reading the labels on various jars.

"It's Saturday, they're at the Farmer's Market." She opened a jar and took a pinch of its ingredients, adding them to her bowl.

"What are you doing?" I peeked into the bowl and saw a mess.

"It's an Amas Veritas," she said without looking away.

"You're summoning a true love spell?" I tried not to laugh.

Bella just slowly nodded as she picked some jasmine and added it.

"But I thought you never wanted to fall in love?"

She stopped mixing the ingredients and looked at me, hope twinkled in her eyes.

"That's the point. I know the guy I'm dreaming of doesn't exist. And if he doesn't exist, I'll never die of a broken heart like our mother, and love will never, ever break me."

I followed her out through the garden and over to the top of the hill. The wind picked up and she raised her wooden bowl over her head.

It was almost a song as the words rolled off her tongue in perfect rhythm, "He will hear my call from a mile away, and hum my favorite song. His skin will smell like sandalwood and cinnamon. He'll be marvelously kind and the most handsome man I've ever seen. His favorite shape will be a star and he too, will befriend the moon. He'll have one green eye and one blue, and his hair will be the color of gold. He'll be able to know my mind and read my thoughts without me even saying a word."

Then she tipped her bowl, the herbs, petals, and stems swirling above us and dancing in the wind before being carried out to the sky.

"I hope I never fall in love," she said one more time before sitting down on the ground, the hope of never falling in love making her smile.


"Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes... just be an illusion." ~Javan


kellyjaxn made the awesome banner linked on my profile! She's made a banner for every fic I've ever wrote. That's special!

22bluefic pre reads and chats with me.

wytchwmn75 is all sorts of special. Not only does she pre read, she's giving me an inside scoop into the world of magic. *wink*

amieforshort pre reads. This gal actually liked me enough to pay money in the FGB Auction to pre read my fics. Nuff said!

Lulu1709 pre reads, she squee'd a little when she heard that I was writing this, so yeah, I needed a cheerleader.

And IG is betaing for me. She corrects my crap like a billion times and scolds me for my misuse of the apostrophe. Oops.

Me? I'm found lurking on twitter as Mrs_Robward.