Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. First scene with Caius is mostly the dialogue from Queen of the Damned movie. Screenplay by Micheal Petroni and Scott Abbott. Please don't sue this poor college student. All have to my name is my poor sense of humor, 4 packets of ramen noodles (chicken flavored) and one kit-kat that I'm saving for a rainy day.

Summary: Caius is awoken from his long slumber by the pull of the mating bond and finds the world he once left behind to be very different. He wants nothing more than to be with his other half, but a brother turned enemy from his past reemerges with the intention of once more rising to power and killing any who oppose. Caius tries his best to keep his soulmate at a distance for her own protection, but Isabella Swan has a knack for finding trouble and becomes a valuable pawn that two sides of the vampire world want for their own.

Caius

There comes a time for every vampire when the idea of eternity becomes momentarily unbearable.

Living and feeding in the shadows with only your own company rots into a solitary, hollow existence. Immortality may seem like a good idea until you realize you're going to spend it alone.

So I slept, hoping the sounds of the passing eras would fade out and a sort of death might ensue if I were to slumber long enough. But as I lay there, the world didn't feel like the place I had left. There had been a shift. The world was now better.

It became worthwhile to rise again as something new and pure graced this once bleak, sinister realm. There was finally a sun that could end my everlasting night, no longer would I be alone.

I chose to rise again and rejoin the world I secluded myself from so long ago. Unlike before I now have a reason to reside amongst the others.

Whether it was the two centuries of rest or the taste of human flesh and blood once again on my neglected tongue, I felt better than ever. The return of my strength was virtually overwhelming. It counseled me to travel straight to the United States of America where I know the individual who triggered my resurrection resided.

Her soul sang the purest tune that caressed my blackened heart. She was in search of a companion. The viola that I had cradled in my tomb would have to suffice for now. I will make this new world my stage if that's what it took to gain her attention. And when we meet we'll finally finish our grand duet.

But first, there was an affair in Italy that required my attention and a promised visit to an old friend that was centuries overdue.

Bella

I gasped, wrenching upright from my bed.

My sudden awakening caused the headphones I'd been wearing before I dozed off to slip from my ears and fall to my shoulders. The music continued to play, blaring some song that my mind confounded brain couldn't identify.

I had the dream again.

It was the same mental reverie that's haunted me ever since I was a little girl. Not a strange dream, really. Never had I been frightened by it, but I never found much comfort in it either. It did; however, seem to become more vivid as I grew older. Voices became closer and colors flourished, as they took on brighter, more agreeably shades.

I would always be walking alone through a courtyard in these dreams. Thin vines with beautiful red petals and orange buds decorated the old columns, wrapping the cold stones in elegant greenery. The almost mythical garden around me claimed much of my younger self's attention in the beginning of these dreams. It was what every little girl dreamed of when their head was filled with magic and fairies. It wasn't until I was older that I finally learned to look up, and lost my breath at the sight of the stars.

And after years of stargazing in my dream of an everlasting night, I would start to hear the voices of people who I knew always lurked just out of sight. Their subtle accents became pleasant whispers in the background of my recreation. It wasn't 'til the night of my 18th birthday when I finally witnessed another individual in my courtyard of flowers.

A man dressed in old clothing from another time lay in some sort of enteral slumber atop a solid stone slab. The overgrown vines of my garden wrapped around his form as though holding him in place, locking him possessively in their floral embrace. I never got too close to the man. The blank expression on his pale features and the absent rise and fall of his chest led me to think the worst. There was a dead man in my garden. I never understand why I would add such a morbid addition to my orchard. I had wished him away countless times but he wouldn't fade. To my horror he was permanent.

To have a dead man covered in vines that sprouted the most alluring flowers was bewildering. Watching the stars became next to impossible because of his constant presence – or lack of it. Night after night I would glare at him and ask aloud to no one why he was in my enchanted garden. He didn't belong. He was dead, for crying out loud.

I convinced myself of this until my mother passed away. Her side of the family kept their deceased loved ones in a family crypt under a church in her hometown. It was there, standing deep underground amongst the graves of family relatives I never knew, that I realized the horrible actuality of my dream.

My garden wasn't mine at all. It was the dead man's resting place. My garden was his crypt.

The realization nearly caused me to faint at my own mother's funeral service. I dreaded to fall asleep after that, for fear that I would have to face the dead man and accept that my own dream world was never mine at all. Of course, I found myself in the middle of the garden despite my prayers. For nights I would avoid him like a child because I was furious he took away my escape.

But despite how irritated I was with him I never approached his still form or tried to unwrap his body of the constricting vines that tightly encircled his corpse. I would sit on a nearby step and glare at him until one-night curiosity got the best of me and I approached the slab that he lay atop.

I don't know how I'd missed it before with all the glowering I'd aimed at him, but upon closer inspection underneath all the vines, clutched firmly with both of his ashen hands was an old viola.

After that, I no longer saw him as a neglected corpse but as a fallen musician. And the novelty of learning his story and hearing him play replaced the resentment I once held for him. He became my silent spectator as I sung softly to his deaf ears, hoping the melody would ease his soul and the musician I knew he was once proud to be.

"Bella?"

There were a few soft knocks on my bedroom door after, pulling me out of my quiet reverie. I managed to properly sit up again and untangled the headphones from my shoulders to set them neatly on my bedside.

"Come in," I called out.

The door creaked open and Angela peeked her head in. Her eyes scanned the room briefly before she smiled and opened the door to step inside. Angela was a great friend and even greater roommate. She respected privacy and moved around our apartment as quiet as a house mouse. A few times her sudden appearance at my side startled the life out of me, but she always insisted she didn't do it on purpose. She was just naturally light-footed.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked apologetically.

I'd been awake for quite some time but I figured my tangled mess of brown curls probably made me look more disordered than usual. I reached up to try and smooth the strands out but stopped when my fingers kept getting caught in the knots.

"No," I insisted, "I've been up for a while now." I scooted to the edge of my bed. I glanced at the clock on my side table and saw that it half past twelve. I way overslept.

Angela grinned and I knew that she was thinking the same thing that was. It wasn't like me to oversleep on a weekday. I practically knew what she was going to ask next.

"Stay up late studying again?"

"No." That was a blatant lie. The stack of books scattered at the foot of my bed gave me away. Angela only smiled wider.

"It's okay, Bella. I was up late last night too - trying to memorize my new ecology textbook. I passed out midway through chapter five and used the pages as a makeshift pillow in my sleep. I'm lucky I'm not the type of person who drools in their sleep or else those would be pages I'd never get back."

"It could be worse," I said, "You could a sleep talk."

She rolled her eyes. "Bella, how many times do I have to tell you that you're not loud? You've never woken me up and that says something since I'm a light sleeper."

I wanted to believe her – truly I do, but I was so convinced that I was loud. My mom used to say I would have full, boisterous debates with myself when I was younger and she'd hear me all the way from her bedroom. Sleepovers as a kid were a nightmare and the fear of being picked on by others girls resulted in me turning them down so often that eventually they just stopped inviting.

"Trust me, if we were in the same room you wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. My mom said I'd have full conversations with myself." I grinned at the memory of my mom telling me that. She always thought it was adorable but also couldn't help but laugh a little at it too.

"Intelligible ones?" Angela asked.

"Well, not for the most part. She said I had a knack for never staying on topic."

I got off my bed and ignored the soreness of my legs as I walked towards my closet. I couldn't stay in my pajamas all day. I didn't plan on going anywhere today but staying in a single set of clothes for more than twenty-four hours just made me uncomfortable. I still needed to shower, too. That, embarrassingly, was something I hadn't done in two days. When I sit down to study something new it becomes my main priority and if it weren't for Angela then I'm sure I would've forgotten to eat too.

"I wonder if we would be able to have a comprehensible conversation if I tried talking to you one night." She commented from the other side of my small room, having moved to sit at my desk. She was glancing at the textbooks I had piled there, which were about culture anthropology.

"Please don't try," I said as I pulled a dark red sweater from the top rack. I really needed to start pulling my autumn weather down and swapping it with my summer clothes. The east coast seemed to get cooler earlier in the year than it did in the west. I had a feeling I wasn't going to enjoy the cold winters that came with living in New York.

"I might end up confessing something really embarrassing and not even know it."

"Bella I doubt there's anything that could be so bad," Angela laughed. "People like us don't have anything to hide."

"People like us?" I grinned.

"You know," she smiled and shrugged. "Bookworms. We spend more of our free time at the library instead of out partying like everyone else our age."

I shook my head as I grabbed a clean pair of jeans and underwear from my dresser. She had no idea how right she was. I went to one house party when I was in high school and that'd also been the last one I ever went to. It just wasn't my scene and I think my friends there could tell I wasn't enjoying myself either.

"Hey, you don't know what I was like in high school, Jess." I acted affronted. She didn't look like she bought it. "I could've been a total party animal."

"You? Come on, Bella."

"Yeah, why not? Maybe I was the one who threw them."

"Isn't your dad a deputy in your hometown?"

I couldn't help but slip and laugh. The thought of Charlie on the job and getting a noise complete from a neighbor then arriving on the scene to find out it's coming from his own house would've been hysterical. I would've been grounded for life, of course, but the expression on his face might've been worth it.

"Chief," I corrected, and then Angela burst out laughing, nearly spilling her mug of tea.

"Ok, now I know you're lying! Who…" she was having a hard time catching her breath. I couldn't blame her. Watching her laugh only made it worse for me to hold my amusement back.

She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "Who would go to a party at the chief's house?" Still, a giggle slipped past her lip.

I grinned while shaking my head because she had a point. "Did I also mention I never had any friends over, either?"

"My parents were so strict that I wasn't even allowed to have friends over unless it was for a study date, so you're not alone on that one," Angela replied will a roll of the eye. The lines around her mouth that resulted from her laughing were still present.

"Oh no, my dad would always ask about my friends and why I never invited anyone over. If it weren't for Jake then I'm sure he would've thought I didn't have any."

"Hmm, speaking of Jacob," Angela scooted back in my wooden chair and crossed her legs comfortably under her. I eyed her suspiciously out of the corner of my eye. "Why hasn't he visited you if you're as close as you say you two are? Where does he go to college?"

I sighed. There was no way I could see Jacob leaving the pack and the reservation. It was his responsibility to protect the town of Forks from the 'cold ones' and uphold their traditions. Plus, bringing a temperamental wolf into one of the country's largest cities wasn't such a good idea. The skyscrapers and never-ending roads of cement and metal would drive his natural instincts insane.

"He's still in high school," I said, which was true and a solid excuse. "And his dad is a handicap and Jake doesn't like leaving him alone even though Billy can get around fine on his own. They're very close."

"He sounds like a good kid."

"He's eighteen, actually." It slipped from my lips before I could even stop to think why I was so quick to correct her.

Both her dark eyebrows shot up as her lips made a puckered O shape. I swiftly turned around to act like I was looking for something on my dresser so she couldn't see my eyes. I absently picked up and placed down a few random items several times to busy my empty left hand.

"Oh," I could hear the smile on her lips as she said it. "He sounds like a good adult then."

A few empty seconds of silence between us, then.

"Is he single?"

"Oh my god," I exclaimed and spun around to find her smirking to herself against the rim of her tea mug.

"I'm asking for a friend," she insisted, bemusement dancing in her brown eyes.

"I know what you're doing, Angela, and I'm not playing this game." I knew my cheeks were turning red and that was only encouraging her.

Jacob Black and I were just friends. Sure, we might've shared a few innocent kisses in our teenage years but that was it. We never did anything more, despite Jake confessing he wanted to take things a step further. He wanted a relationship but when I told him I was moving across the country for college we both agreed long distance would be a terrible idea. He couldn't leave Forks and I was more than willing to escape that little rainy town and do things on my own. He was such a sweet guy but my feelings for him never passed that of just friends. I told him that much because he needed to know the truth and not stand around waiting for me like I was coming back.

"What! I said I was asking for a friend!"

I raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Who just happens to be my beautiful, smart roommate who-"

My cheeks burned as I marched past her, leaving my own bedroom instead of kicking her out. I heard her as she burst into another round of laughter as I made my way down the hall and forced my way into the bathroom. The door didn't slam as loudly as I wanted it too but I assumed the message got across.

I know she was just teasing me, but I was surprised how affected I was by her jesting. Jacob and I were just friends, I was positive of that. I didn't feel anything romantic towards him but for some reason the thought of him still made me blush and feel like I was still in high school when we were at our closest. I suppose it's the childish innocence in him that brought it out in me. He was always going to be my best friend and nothing more. I was sure of that.

I jumped in the shower and relaxed under the hammering of the warm water on my skin. I let all thoughts of my old friend back in Forks drift from my mind and focused on my day ahead. I really shouldn't have overslept. I still had more research to do on Scandinavian lore that I promised my mentor I would brush up on. There was a paranormal case in Minnesota that requested my organizations' service.

I enjoyed studying and documenting the paranormal as my secret profession, truly it was amazing to be apart of an organization that I wasn't even aware existed until late in high school. And the position I applied to study under was perfect for someone like me.

Ancient books and scrolls in a library that was as old as the country itself surrounded me. I was more than fine doing historical research – it just came easily to read and remember important facts, especially some as fascinating in the supernatural genre.

The Trinity Order has an old code that they followed for centuries. 'Observe and persevere, but never contribute'.

In other words, I was safe in my position.

There was a gap between the Trinity Order and the supernatural that made us invisible and virtually untouchable to them.

Or so we thought.

Note: Should I keep this in first person point of view or change it to third? Anyway, thanks for reading and please review and tell me what you think so far. Can't wait to share this new story with you all. Cheers.