Author: Razzika PM
Edward left Bella alone in a world of monsters, and he will regret the day that he left her at their mercy. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Bella has one of Hells' own on her side. AU after Edward leaves in New Moon, Bella/Emmett pairing. Inspired by the television series 'Supernatural'.Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Romance - Bella & Emmett - Chapters: 15 - Words: 27,918 - Reviews: 108 - Favs: 99 - Follows: 150 - Updated: 08-31-12 - Published: 07-18-12 - id: 8332547
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I am writing this story as a challenge to myself, as I have fallen into a slump with my other stories. It's a little different from the 'norm' for Twilight fics.
Inspired by the television series Supernatural. Strong influences from the show. The main characters might make a brief cameo, but not enough so that this would be classified as a crossover.
AU after Edward leaves in New Moon. Still debating over the pairing. Jasper/Bella or Emmett/Bella. I myself and leaning more towards Emmett, he deserves some more lovin'.
T-rating for now, might go up later. If a wild lemon scene appears, I'll upload all this to DeviantArt or AdultFanFiction. Don't want to cause an uproar with the admins! And yes, there is a possibility of there being one or more 'heavy petting' scenes.
Disclaimer: It's not mine, I make no moneyz.
For TwilightDairies, a fellow Supernatural lover.
Red. That was all I could see. On the walls. In the carpet. Splattered over furniture. I fell to my knees. A sickening squelching sound broke the silence. My weight forced the red to rise from the once cream carpet. There was another sound, panic and fright. Quickened breathes. I was hyperventilating.
Charlie, Dad, Father. He was nowhere, but he was everywhere.
Ripped, torn, shredded. He was on the floor, behind the couch. He was hanging of the ceiling fan, he was thrown over the television.
He was dead.
I woke with a muffed screech. It took me a second to realise that someone was calling my name, quietly, grumpily. Denise.
I looked to her, shame colouring my face. It had been months since a nightmare had caused a scene like this. From the other bed, she sighed, "It's alright, kid." The sheets rustled, and then I was recoiling from the sudden light. While I rubbed at my eyes, she spoke, voice husky from sleep. "How bad was this one?"
My hands stilled, and I let them fall. "My Dad."
There was silence, she knew what nightmare plagued me. Then, she said, "Whiskey or scotch?"
I kicked the covers away, heading for the bathroom. "Neither."
A hand stopped me from going any further, it was calloused and strong. "Bella," Denise spoke, a rarely shown softness in her eyes, "It wasn't your fault."
She had said this many times, ever since I told her the real reason why I fled Forks three years ago. Her voice was a broken record, always repeating, never changing. I never believed it, and she never stopped trying to lift the blame.
I met her eyes, and looked away. I would feel much stronger after a hot shower.
I would feel like myself again.
Showers were magical, I thought. Steam curled around me as I left the small bathroom. This motels rooms were pretty decent, compared to some of the dilapidated wrecks we had stayed.
"Feel better, kid?"
My eyes cut to the left. Denise sat at the table, scribbling on the research I had brought back with me yesterday. "Somewhat. Anything promising?"
The pen tapped on the tabletop several times, "I'm pretty sure we're dealing with a simple ghost, maybe a weak poltergeist. If anything turns up, at any rate."
While her eyes remained fixed on the scattered papers, I dropped the towel and pulled on clean clothes. "It's the perfect place for a haunting. Abandoned house, site of a murder, it even has the creepy Victorian theme they love to use in the movies."
She smirked at the page. "Get everything ready and eat. We leave in twenty."
Denise stood, stretching her tall frame and cracking her joints. The dark ink of her tattoos rippled as she limbered up. There were seven of the designs etched into her pale skin. Each served a purpose. They were wards against possession, black magic, tracking, and also safeguards against the darkness that lurked beneath her skin.
Denise was my friend, but she was also dangerous. She took measures to ensure my safety, inking ancient runes and sigils into her skin to keep the monster that lay in her body locked away. As our friendship had cemented itself, and I showed no signs of leaving, I had gotten three of those designs inked into my own skin.
It was always amusing to look at myself now and laugh at what Edwards' reaction to my new look would have been. Though my hair remained long and curled, I had gotten into the habit of winding it all into one or more tight braids. The tattoos, marking me between my shoulder blades, behind my left ear and on my right ankle, were something he no doubt would have severely disapproved of.
Then, of course, there was the fact that I was no longer a frail waif of a human, but a strong and sure woman that, quite frankly, could kick some serious ass. There were the few scars I had picked up from when my hunting skills were less than stellar, and from that vile, murderous wrench.
The thought of Victoria sent spike of deep rage through me. Three years after she had killed my Dad, two years and seven months since her death...even now I still burned with fury.
I snapped the shotgun barrel back into place angrily, shoving the sawed-off end into the holster strapped to my waist. It was uncomfortable, but worth it to have so close.
Anger like no other made my fingers tingle as I slammed a fresh clip of blessed bullets into my Desert Eagle. While there was always a hot anger in me for Victoria, there was a special place reserved in my heart for a certain Cullen boy. I was indeed angry with the whole clan of Cullens, but Edward in particular...
Edward would regret the day he left me alone in a world of monsters.
"Be ready for anything, kid." Denise murmured, letting her truck roll to a stop before the house. "Whatever is here doesn't seem violent, but that can change."
I nodded, mentally reciting what little we knew about this place. There was a death eighty years ago, assumed as a bear attack due to the nature of the damage. The owners had disappeared after their names were cleared and the case went cold. The ghost stories started shortly after.
And due to those ghost stories, some drunk teenagers came out here on a dare and tried to spend the night in the house. Something, or someone, scared them enough that they ran back into town and raised a small riot at the police station.
If we hadn't already been passing through I doubt that we would have even considered coming out here. "Look out for piss stains, one of the kids probably wet himself."
A snort came from the other side of the truck. I glanced over and grinned, pulling my sawed-off out. Denise did the same with a small smirk. We both had silver knifes and iron daggers. Blessed silver was useful for almost any kind of supernatural being, iron, though high maintenance, was handy when the salt-pellets ran out as a last line of defence.
I had a belt of spare shells looped over my chest, Denise had ten strapped to her belt.
We looked badass.
With a mental snicker, I stepped from the truck that so often became our home. Our boots made hardly any noise as we stealthy made our way up to the gate. The blackened iron was covered with vines. We hopped over the low brick wall, bypassing the gate entirely.
The faint warmth from the sun disappeared as the shadow of the enormous house was cast over us. Extravagant was an understatement when describing this place. It was three stories tall, and likely had a basement. Gargoyles perched on the roof, snarling down at us. The fact that the windows were boarded up and nature had begun to reclaim the land added to the creepiness factor.
Denise motioned her head at the door, moving to stand as a lookout as I knelt down and picked the lock. Another useful skill learnt, thanks to her. I had the door open in under thirty seconds, and then it swung open with a long and loud creeeeeeeack.
I winced, and pocketed the lock-pick. If there was something in the house, it knew that we were here now.
With guns raised, we went inside.
I immediately sneezed. Dust caked everything in a thick layer, disturbed particles danced in the beams of light that managed to break through the boarded windows. My eyes, trained to spot inconsistencies and things that did not belong, narrowed at the recently disturbed patches. Footprints clearly marked the path the kids had taken the other night, a second set of marks told me that they had been running when they came back down.
My eyes met the equally amused ones of Denise. "Follow them," she said softly, scanning the entry room with a critical eye. Doing as she asked, I trailed the footprints. They led me through a large dining room and up a grand staircase. Denise was a few paces behind me, checking the rooms I bypassed.
Eventually, we came upon a room. It was a study, by the looks of it. One wall was composed entirely of bookshelves, while a massive desk stood proudly before it.
"It looks like this is where the kids set up camp." I said, spying the blankets and beer bottles still sitting in the centre.
"Seems like they were doing more than camping."
I turned, and chuckled when I saw what Denise had found. In her hand, she had a racy bra held up with the tip of her iron dagger. "They're teenagers. Drunk ones." I shrugged, as if that explained everything.
Dropping the bra and sheathing her dagger, Denise came closer and inspected the room. A frown dipped her dark brows down and she growled in annoyance. "I don't detect anything, Billy doesn't either."
"I knew this was a waste of time," I said in a very 'I told you so' kind of voice. Denise sent a look of annoyance my way.
"Better to check it out now, than find out it was a threat later when bodies start turning up."
I accepted the light chastising with a grimace. When lives were at stake, it was always better to be safe rather than sorry. Her hard expression softened as she registered the apology written on my face, "We'll do a final sweep of the house, then take off."
We left the room, splitting up. I went to the bottom floor, while Denise went up to the third floor. I checked every room, mildly interested in some of the objects that had been left behind by the people whom had abandoned the house. Excluding the disturbed dust, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No sudden chills, no moving objects or whispered voices. "The only thing haunting this place is an army of dust-mites." I grumbled, sneezing again.
As I was exiting the last room on my floor, stepping into the footprints left behind by the kids, something familiar entered my nose. A scent, faintly sweet, but somehow masculine and comforting at the same time, filled my nostrils.
My heart's steady pace kick-started as the cold chill of adrenaline raced down my spine, pain lancing through me like a physical force. Franticly, I stared down at the footprints with a new intensity. They were different from the ones I had followed into the study. They were larger, and not left behind by sneakers of converse shoes.
"Idiot. Stupid, foolish, naive idiot!" I cursed, spinning with my gun raised.
Only to stop in place as a figure that was not there before stood in the doorway.
A scream lodged in my throat as the vampire, a shadow cast over his face, remained still. On instinct, my arm moved, lifting the shotgun. It would do little but stun him, but at least it would alert Denise that something was wrong.
He moved, arms raising and I reflexively squeezed the trigger.
For a heartbeat, I felt a dark pleasure at finally being able to hurt one of these creatures, but then I recognized the face that was suddenly illuminated as the vampire reached out and flicked the somehow-still-working light switch on.
I gasped, eyes wide.
I had just shot Carlisle Cullen.
Any questions? Feel free to ask!
Who is Billy? Stay tuned and find out!