Chapter 1: Forks
"Fiction prepares you for disappointment. But nobody warned me that living in it would require decent boots and a tolerance for rain."
The sky over Phoenix was cloudless, blue, and utterly indifferent to my existential crisis.
"Call me when you land," Renee said for the third time, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet like she was the one about to board a plane.
"I will," I promised, shifting the strap of my carry-on and trying not to look as out of place as I felt. Which was hard, considering I had just transmigrated into the body of one Isabella Swan. Full on Twilight Canon Bella with plot knowledge included and no opt-out feature.
Beside her, Phil stood awkwardly with his hands in his back pockets, already wearing his travel team polo and a half-apologetic smile. I didn't blame him being married to Renee probably required that expression on a loop.
"Sorry I can't stay, Bells," he said. "Season's just starting."
"It's okay." I gave him a shrug and a polite smile. "Chase the dream."
Renee looked misty-eyed like I was heading off to war, not to my dad's rainy hometown. Then she pulled me into a sudden hug that almost broke a rib and was slightly damp from her tears.
"You're sure you'll be okay?" she whispered into my shoulder.
Was I sure? No, I wasn't. But this was a supernatural YA universe and I had read enough fanfiction to know indecision got you killed by chapter five.
With a shrug hiding my inner turmoil I said, "Yeah, Mom. I'll be okay."
She kissed my forehead, and Phil handed me a protein bar like that counted as parenting. I waved at them turned, and walked into the terminal like I wasn't stepping into the set of a slow-burn vampire drama with a moody musical score. Which I was, que eye roll here.
'Let's do this, Forks.' I thought.
The flight was fine. If you've been on one plane, you've been on them all it's nothing but recycled air, screaming toddlers, and the vague sense you're in a flying sardine can held together by hope and duct tape.
However, landing in Port Angeles? That was different. It was like walking out of color and into grayscale. The air was damp, the trees were tall, and everything smelled like pine and the ghosts of wet dogs.
I walked into baggage claim and immediately spotted him.
Charlie Swan stood in his usual brown police jacket, with his mustache trimmed and holding a laminated sign that read:
"BELLA"
I snorted.
"Nice sign, Dad."
He looked up, grinned a little and said. "Figured it'd be faster than describing you to security."
I dropped my duffel and hugged him. Really hugged him it was a full on arms wrapped around his neck, cheek pressed to his shoulder kind of hug. He stiffened for half a second before his arms wrapped around me, tight and secure Like maybe he needed it, too.
"Hey, Bells."
"Hey, Dad."
With the awkward yet heart felt greeting out of the way we headed for his cruiser.
The cruiser was still the same as canon Bella's memories. It smelt like the same pine-scented air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror and it still had the same faint coffee stain on the passenger seat. Charlie didn't talk much, but that was okay. The silence wasn't awkward it was just quiet.
It was even kinda peaceful.
"Still listen to classic rock?" he asked after ten minutes.
"Please, I can't believe you had to even ask if you would've put on country I would have filed for emancipation."
That earned me a grunt and a smile before he said. "I guess that mean you still got good taste, then."
I didn't reply but I did pick through the glove box and found his battered Springsteen cassette, slotting it into the tape deck.
We passed forests, logging trucks, that I made Charlie drive next to not behind, [Cause if you know, you know.] and the occasional roadhouse with questionable parking lots. It was like driving through a postcard that someone spilled water on.
"That's where the Thrifty's used to be," Charlie said, pointing at a vape shop.
"Forks, keeping it rustic and rebellious," I muttered.
He chuckled low in his throat before he asked, "You still remember the diner?"
"Where I spilled ketchup on your pants when I was six? Yep, that was Iconic."
He actually smiled at that. It was a smile that made his whole face soften. I liked that smile.
The house was exactly like I remembered it from the books and canon Bella's memories. It was two stories with blue-gray in color and had a front porch that creaked when you stepped on the second board. It was the kind of place that didn't change unless it was forced to.
It smelled like coffee, old flannel, and floor polish. It practically screamed at me that Charlie Swan lived here.
"Your room's already set up," Charlie said, scratching the back of his neck like the house might eat me. "It's still got that desk you used for puzzles."
I carried my bag upstairs and turned in a slow circle. It still had the same faded curtains, the same floorboard that creaked near the closet, but the bed spread was new. It was a dark purple with black swirls on it that I was kinda here for.
The room itself though was familiar in the way old photos were. Like it knew me, even if I didn't know myself yet.
I dropped my bag with a satisfying thud, stretched my arms, and called down, "This place could use a lava lamp!"
Charlie snorted from the kitchen and yelled. "Only if you want to sleep with a fire hazard."
"I always do. It keeps life spicy."
Dinner was frozen pizza and root beer. The dinner of champions.
We sat at the kitchen table while the rain started up again outside, tapping the windows like nature's own version of an ASMR video. Charlie ate in silence, occasionally watching me out of the corner of his eye like I might disappear if he blinked.
"School starts Monday," he said. "You nervous?"
"About a high school full of hormonal teenagers and secret vampires? Not at all."
He blinked.
I grinned. "Kidding, I'm kidding, just… regular teenage terror."
"You'll be fine." He hesitated for a second then continued. "You've grown up a lot."
"You noticed that, huh?"
He scratched his mustache, then looked down at his plate and said. "I missed some stuff. I'm not proud of that."
"You were doing your best." I shrugged. "Renee wasn't exactly the homecoming queen of parenting either."
His eyes snapped up to meet mine, surprised but maybe a little relieved too. I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
"You're a good dad, Dad."
He looked like he didn't know what to do with that. But I could tell he needed to hear me say it.
By eight, a pair of headlights lit up the living room.
"That'll be Billy and Jake," Charlie said, already heading for the door.
I followed him out and watched as the battered red pickup chugged into the driveway like a war vet. Jacob jumped out of the passenger seat, all limbs and unshakable optimism. I can almost see his tail wag. I thought.
"Bella!" he shouted, racing toward me.
"Hey, Jake." I smiled it was a genuine smile, this time. He was familiar in the way your favorite hoodie is familiar.
Billy Black gave me a wide, warm grin as Charlie helped him down from the driver's seat.
"We brought her," Billy said, pointing proudly.
There she was in all her canon plot line glory.
Cherry red, slightly rusted and beautiful.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "She's perfect."
Jacob beamed like he built her from scratch. "She's old but She still runs great. I tuned the engine myself."
I placed a hand on the hood like it was a sacred object. "She's got personality. I'm naming her Clementine."
Billy barked a laugh and said. "She's yours now, kiddo."
"Do I have to sign a pact in oil and rust?" I asked.
Jacob nodded solemnly and said. "That's the tradition."
Charlie stood beside me, watching us with a puzzled expression. "You like it that much?"
"I love it." I looked at him, full of warm fuzzies. "And I love you. Don't make it weird."
He flushed and coughed into his fist. "I'm not used to you being so… talkative."
"You'll adjust." because what else could I say.
After the Blacks left, I took a long shower, changed into one of Charlie's old flannel shirts, and crawled into bed. The rain outside slowed to a drizzle, and my eyelids started to droop.
It was strange, falling asleep in a life that wasn't originally mine. But the bed was soft, the house was quiet and for the first time since waking up in this storybook nightmare, I felt something close to peace.
The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep came fast it was nothing like a slow drift or mental chatter. Just a quiet snap.
Before... I wasn't in Forks anymore.
The sun was warm, that was the first thing I noticed. The second was the faint scent of magnolias in the air.
I stood on a grassy knoll overlooking a wide plantation field. In the distance, boys in grey uniforms ran drills. The blue sky stretched endlessly above and in front someone was walking toward me.
He had dark hair, a sharp jawline and a smirk that hadn't yet turned jaded.
He looked young, maybe seventeen.
"Afternoon, ma'am," he said with a slight Southern lilt as he tipped his hat.
I stared because holly shit balls he was Damon Salvatore.
"Damon?" I breathed out because honestly I was in shock.
He paused. "Do I know you?"
"No, not yet anyway."
He tilted his head, he looked curious rather than alarmed. "Are you from one of the Carolina families?"
I didn't answer because what could I tell him? I couldn't exactly tell him the truth.
Not to mention my heart was still trying to play catch up with my brain.
Here he was Damon Salvatore, before the blood, before the pain, before the centuries of snark and cynicism.
Here he was just a boy, on the edge of war.
"You looked lost," he said gently.
"I was... I am, but maybe I'm not anymore."
He smiled and it was a soft smile, not seductive, or guarded, it was just… a kind smile.
"Then walk with me a spell. You've got the look of someone who needs a place to be."
And so I did. It's not like I had anywhere else to be anyway. This was a dream after all, right?
We walked under the trees, as the leaves were whispering above our heads. He told me about joining the army to make his father proud, about his annoying younger brother as well as him wanting more out of his life than honor and bloodshed.
I didn't say much.
I couldn't, not when I knew what was coming for him.
But as the sun dipped below the tree line, and the world began to blur, I whispered the one truth I had hoped would come true.
"I'll see you again, Damon."
He looked back with a half-smile, as his eyes caught the gold of the sunset.
"I hope so, ghost girl."