ALL CREDIT GOES TO S. MEYER. Not mine. I just like playing in her sandbox.

PROLOGUE

"If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character, would you slow down? Or speed up?"
Chuck Palahniuk

"Cullen? Edward Cullen?"

I cringed slightly as I threw the pack of spearmint gum I'd been holding down onto the counter, silently cursing my sudden desire for fresh breath. With an inward sigh, I turned towards the voice that had addressed me.

"The one and only."

"Holy shit, man! It's Tyler Crowley! It's been what? Ten years? Fifteen?"

Seven, I thought bitterly. Seven years, four months and sixteen days.

Though it might as well have been a hundred.

I pressed my lips together for the quickest of moments before forcing the edges of my mouth up into something I hoped would resemble a smile. Running my hand through my hair, I took in the boy standing before me. Maybe 'man' would have been a better term given the changes those seven years had made. He was bigger and taller than I remembered and a little more filled out around the middle, though he'd retained the short crop of blonde hair he'd sported throughout high school. I randomly wondered if he still smoked up in the tee-pee tents in the back of his parent's store. I was caught slightly off-guard by the random memory that chose to surface.

"It's been a long time," I agreed, fishing a few coins out of my pocket and placing them down on the counter to pay for my gum. When I glanced back up at him, he looked slightly pained and before he even moved to speak, I knew what was coming.

"Listen, man, I heard about-"

I held up a hand to silence him and shoved the pack of gum into my pocket with the other.

"I'm sorry," he finished lamely, suddenly looking incredibly uncomfortable. He scratched the back of his neck and awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other. "I heard the services were really nice."

I shrugged as I moved past him, towards the door of the convenience store. "I wouldn't really know."

"Oh." His voice was laced with surprise I expected, but I had to give him credit for the speed at which he recomposed himself and switched gears. "It's awesome to see you. If you're going to be in Forks for awhile, we should get together for a beer or a burger at the diner. Maybe get some of the old crew together or something. I'm sure it would be a good time."

"Yeah, sure." I pushed open the glass door and stepped out into the grey, damp weather. "I'll call you."

It didn't matter that I didn't have Tyler's number because I wouldn't have called even if I did. The truth was that I wasn't staying in Forks for awhile. I wasn't staying for ten more minutes. Coming back here had been a mistake and I was leaving. Now.

Somehow, being so easily recognized and thrust back into a world where the Forks' diner and the 'crew' still existed had completely unnerved me. It reminded me how far removed I was from this place, but it also exposed how much closer to the surface the memories I thought I'd buried had risen.

I ducked my head, using my arms to shield me from the perpetual mist that hung in the air of Washington State, and jogged to my car. The interior of the silver Volvo was still warm and I took a moment to soak in the heat before starting the engine. Despite the dampness, there was something else to blame for the chill seated deep within my bones.

When I pulled out of the parking lot, I fully intended to high-tail my ass back to New York. It didn't matter that I'd only grabbed my duffle bag off the luggage claim about an hour ago. I'd eat the wasted cost of the flights happily, knowing full well that my journey had been a complete bust and Forks held none of the answers I'd subconsciously hoped to find. There was finality to that thought that seemed almost comforting. Almost.

I must have been really lost in my thoughts and driven by my desire to get out of Forks' because I didn't see the cop sitting on the dirt service road until I flew past him pushing at least eighty. Even given my seven year absence, I knew the Forks' police loved to sit there under the cover of pine and shadows and catch unsuspecting drivers disregarding the speeding limit. I should have anticipated slowing down, but I'd blown right on by. Almost immediately, the blue and red lights flipped on and the marked car pulled out behind me, obnoxious siren blaring over the sounds of Mozart filtering from the speakers within my car. I slowed down to a stop on the side of the road as my stomach twisted. I glanced into the rearview mirror and immediately recognized that things had gone from bad to infinitely worse. Getting pulled over was enough to shake up anyone, but the weighted dread that flattened me against the leather seat was attributed to more than just the fear of a speeding ticket. For a split, desperate second, I contemplated flooring it and continuing with my previous plan of getting the hell out of Forks as fast as I could, but the thought was quickly dismissed. The cop slowly approaching my door had enough reason to want me dead, the last thing I needed was to give him any inkling of just cause to carry out the deed himself.

With a shakey arm, I reached over and flipped open my dashboard, retrieving the registration information I knew I'd be asked for assuming I wasn't shot on sight. I heard a knock against my window, and even though I'd been expecting it, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Gritting my teeth together, I pressed a sweaty finger against the automatic window lever and watched the barrier slide down into the door from the corner of my eye.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, son?"

My lips tilted up bitterly as I turned my head, finding irony in the moniker. Charlie Swan had just called me son. The way his mustache twitched and his jaw ticked when my face came into full view told me he wouldn't be finding the humor.

"Yes, sir," I answered, a ghostly familiar tone of defiance automatically tuning my words. "I was speeding."

I thought I'd wanted to revisit the place of my childhood in the hopes of laying some of the pain and the baggage I'd been carrying with me to rest. It was supposed to be cathartic to psychologically purge myself of the demons that kept me tied to this place. At least, that's what the self-help section of Barnes and Nobles had suggested. It had been impulsive and stupid and the moment I'd arrived, all I'd wanted to do was leave and never, ever look back again. But life, as I knew all too well, sometimes had other plans.

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