[Edit: 22 November 2017]

[Somehow, a momentary spur of hoping-for-happy-endings ended up in this mammoth mess. Granted, it's one of my proudest accomplishments merely because I never intended it to be this long. Anyway, thank you for reading this, I hope you find some enjoyment in it.]

WARNINGS: slow burn (no seriously – like they only meet after the 15th chapter), character death, disfiguration, unrequited love, suicidal thoughts, stupid vampires, stupid werewolves/shifters, irregular chapter lengths, and dog jokes

PAIRINGS: Leah/Klaus, Caroline/Tyler, Elena/Damian, Elena/Stephan (implied), canon typical relationships for Twilight characters, Leah/Matt (implied)

The electric fan whirs, more mixing stale air than introducing anything even remotely close to a cold breeze. I rub a hand over my forehead, sighing. There's acceptance in the knowledge that I've confined myself to this. Stubborn, so stubborn, but heartbroken and for that reason I refused to head down to the beach. The beach, which no doubt would be cooler, if not in wind then in water, would also have Sam there.

My eyes close and I lean closer to the fan. I'd spent a good wad of cash on the device, strapped it to Billy's truck, put it together with Jacob's tools. The effort was proving useless. It held little to no effect on the beading sweat on my forehead, even less on the clammy hollows of my elbows and knees.

I'd laugh at the absurdity of Forks being labelled as 'hot' if I wasn't currently wallowing in a humid hell. I grew up in this down right dreary place and never before had I expected I would want it to rain.

"Global warming," I tell the fan earnestly. It whup-whups back in response.

The clock against the wall continues to tick, it's almost two o' clock. Heat of the day should be over soon. Hopefully. And Seth will be back home, bringing with him the cool of the evening.

Seth, the thought leads my chest to tighten, he's with them, logically he's in the safest place he could possibly be, nothing can happen to him – nothing that isn't borne of stupidity, at least. Granted, that gives me ample worry material, anyone who has met that pack of heathens would know how stupid they could be in any given situation. He takes my worrying as a personal affront though, teenage complaints of independence and 'I'm just living, Le' shrouded and watered down with the knowledge that he's not a normal kid. Hasn't been for much too long.

Too many times he has told me that I'm not his mother, which, while true, was the worst defence against an older sister's worrying when said biological mother was somewhat absent. Time and it's tremulous attachments seemed to have stopped mattering quite a while ago.

It might have been only yesterday, last week, last month, when the Volturi attacked the Cullens. It feels like yesterday, or last night. A nightmare? The echoed fear of death through several minds all at once, the possibility of pain, loss, Seth, Sam. A chill runs down my spine, more effective that the fan.

That child… Just the thought of that half-breed creature was enough to make me tremble with disgust. If it weren't for those vampires everything would have been fine. Yet Bella had to fall in love, the wolves had to emerge to protect the humans. Why? Couldn't we just leave them alone? Grated some of it made sense, but the transformation was more than bodily. The effects of being a shapeshifter far outweighed what I was willing to pay.

Take it back, I beg the ancestors on long evenings with the pack, dozing and snipping in front of the fire.

Sam's name is a whisper of loathing and loneliness now. A bitter reminder of when the world was better.

Those blood-sucking fools caused me to lose the man I love. If Sam had never become a wolf, surely he wouldn't have imprinted. No, I know he wouldn't have. We could have married, had children. My dad would have been there on the day of my wedding.

My hands curl into fists and with heavy breaths I force them to uncurl from their place on the desk.

Everything is wrong. Acidic. The fringes of the world eroding in disgusting clumps of mutated reality.

"Leah, I'm back,"

I blink and force air through my lungs. Relax, don't let him see you like this.

While Seth complains bitterly about my worrying habits, he fails to comment on his own. I unfurl myself from the chair and stand up. Pause in the process of calming myself to pick up the fan and aim it at the back of my neck for a few seconds.

Heavenly – or as close as I'll get.

A clatter comes from the kitchen and there's a murmur that I try to ignore.

"Hey! Did you make this?"

So he's found lunch. I smirk, if there is anything Seth loves more than adventure it has got to be food. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter; food is important and necessary in being a shapeshifter. Thing is, Seth had the exact same appetite before he turned.

"Pig," I mutter with all the fondness I can muster. I wrestle as much hair atop my head as is possible and tie it in place with an elastic. If he starts to eat without me again, I'll make him pay.

I spent all morning – read: a good half-hour of this forsaken heat – on the food and only because it was the first day he wasn't eating lunch with the other wolves. Plus I had the day off of work, the joy of small business. Since our first phase I haven't been able to have a meal alone with him, every day was a mess of testosterone and wolf snarls. It makes today special.

"Seth..." I begin and freeze in the doorway.

Standing in the kitchen - which I had scrubbed near-perfect to look like a vampire's sparkling butt – is my reality.

Never alone. A wave of irritation crawls across my skin.

XXX

[I really wanted to add some words from Quileute, just so Leah isn't using too much modern Americanised language, but unfortunately the Quileute language died out in 1999. The online resources for it are sparse and don't give access to comprehensive vocabulary lists. And, okay, I tried to look at the Quileute sister tribes (those gracing the Olympic Peninsula, like the Makah) and I'm about to pull my hair out because the web has nothing to offer in the way of reliable and helpful vocabulary lists. As a linguist, I'm crying.]