Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Vampire Easter by Rosaleah

The loud thud of the unhinged door filled the salon as the cracked linoleum stared back at them.

Suddenly, anger filled the blond vampire's mind, cursing the young man that was the cause of the tense atmosphere in the room and the hurt that grazed his wife's face.

His son.

8 years ago, when he changed the dying 17 year old, no one gave him some basic instruction papers or "raising a vampire newborn for dummies" book that would prepare him for the chaos that Edward Masen would bring in his life.

"Selfish, ungrateful, spoiled, heartless…" the sheer fury of his thoughts shocked even him. Usually he would just sit back and wait for the boy's emotions to die down, but even someone as collected as Carlisle could lose his patience.

He stopped as he felt several cracks under his foot, the fragile but solid texture feeling like a plastic golfball. He lifted his right leg and picked up a fissured red egg off the floor, trying to hide his disappointment at the ruined decor.

And that's what he was, a boy, because an actual adult wouldn't be so selfish to not realise how his anger issues affected his loved ones or how lucky he was for still having air in his lungs instead of just rotting in the dirt like the rest of the flu victims.

And then sadness and guilt overwhelmed him, as he realised that is what Edward will ever be, a 17 year old, not able to age or mature,only gaining some little experience at best, but still, just a teenager. He will be forever stuck in this loop where bad experiences don't change him for the better, they just bring pain and suffering. And Carlisle Cullen was the only one to be blamed for that.

He stood back and watched as his wife effortlessly picked up the door off of the destroyed linoleum, the caramel curls of her intricate hairdo falling over her shoulders.

And as he took in his wife's body, from the dark plump high heeled shoes that circled her ankle sensually to the soft flow of her long purple dress, the anger came back.

Esme loved her family. She loved any opportunity to spend quality time with her loved ones, so she loved holidays and planning them. Think of anything from the smell of oranges that filled warm kitchens on Christmas mornings to the colorful fireworks that would paint the black sky on 4 of July, Esme tried it all. Both Edward and Carlisle saw the twinkle in her eyes when she would try a new pie or cake recipe, even when she would sadly never be able to taste them. The results were decent at best, the kitchen always ending up a mess, but it always brought some colour to their gradually somber existence, and that was the most important thing.

"To know how much work and heart she put in this night and still act like a spoiled brat" Carlisle thought, trying to find some alternative that could still save the night and take away the venom that his son has paralised the salon with.

The young blond vampire put his head against the thin window, listening to the Church Easter Service. The streets were filled with humans celebrating, going in and out of the small eerily lit church. Carlisle grasped the small wood cross hanging off his marble neck, a small reminder of a different life and a different Carlisle, of the reason he was doomed to this existence in the first place.

"But if it wasn't for that you wouldn't have known your family" he chastised himself.

Then he looked at Esme again, sitting on the long forest green couch, her golden eyes meeting his and remembering that it was all worth it.


He somberly walked the dimly lit streets listening to the ringing bells.

He thought of how the day started, how the subtle melancholy became full blown anger.

"A coven of vampires celebrating Easter, how beautiful!" Edward thought with acid.

The house was so tidy, so warm, so human. Esme planned the Easter Saturday to every little detail and for God knows what reason he couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't stand loving Esme so much that he would bend oceans at her command or admire Carlisle so strongly that he put him on a godlike pedestal.

"But what about your actual mother?" the nagging voice would say. The same voice that would sometimes be creating ville comments about his now adoptive vampire parents and his new amazing vampire life.

"You never wanted this. You admire and praise the man that took your soul away." Thoughts about how this existence was nothing more than a parody, that despite the strength, beauty, money and all other kinds of privilege it still felt like a glass house. So beautiful and enticing but also so fragile. How they are all nothing more than frauds. Because Carlisle was probably not as wise as Edward deemed him to be, maybe he was just a 23 year old that had a kind heart just like hundreds of other young people who were still naive enough to see the good in the world. Cruel thoughts about how Esme was just a forever in her mid twenties woman who, in time, would lose her love and attention for her "family" and "son". "She is just playing house" the voice would whisper bitterly, "trying to put Carlisle in the role of the perfect husband and use you as nothing more than damaged goods for replacing her dead child to heal her own trauma".

He hated the voice. Maybe it was the guilt it brought, maybe it was the slight possibility that the voice was speaking the truth, putting him in front of a mirror that he just wanted to shatter, then bury the remaining sharp glass in a grave where they would never come out to cut him.

It all felt so static, so frozen. While he liked the stability of his coven and wasn't inclined to a traditional nomadic vampire lifestyle, he started to feel more and more suffocated. Every year was the same, every day, every night. It felt as if he was waiting for something, for someone. Maybe for a stranger to be knocking on the door and bring a different dynamic. Maybe to be laying down one night on the forest floor and suddenly find some explicit map on the starry sky, the planets and clouds showing him the way and telling him why things were the way they were.

The so familiar tightening in his chest made its appearance, the closest thing he had to a warm beating heart, as it always did when thinking about the eternity in front of him, panicking about whether he is always going to feel so trapped.

"Well, if there really is a God, he definitely has a wicked sense of humor", Edward would often think. He would debate Carlisle all the time on this topic.

"Maybe it gives him a feeling of direction", that was the only explanation Edward had for Carlisle's strong faith. Maybe it was his anchor in this ocean storm.

Despite Edward's slight dislike for religion, he admired his adoptive father's stoic faith. The man was doomed to this dark life because of his belief. One of many nights, a young pastor named Carlisle was trying to cleanse evil and sin by hunting vampires. Little did the naive and fragile human know that he would become exactly what he hated.

And despite everything that happened to him, Carlisle was still a religious man. He still wears that modest wood cross made by his father more than 300 hundred years ago. He was mainly the reason why they still celebrated religious holidays.

Easter had a special place in Carlisle's heart. "It's the most important festival" he would say."The ruination of the power of sin and death forever. It is the opening of Heaven with the gift of eternal life to everyone."

"Don't you see the irony in that?" the younger vampire would always joke.

"And what a gift it is!" Edward thought bitterly, as he longingly watched the celebrating humans walking out of churches, friends' houses and bars.


For God knows what reason, he stopped at the church.

With fast steps he crossed the street and entered the dimly lit building, holding his breath as he brushed shoulders with warm humans, trying to not let their sweet blood make him do something he would later regret.

So he lit a candle for the one person he knew would be accepted in this kind of place. If he had to live without a soul, feeling like a parasite in the world, at least he could be assured that Elizabeth still had a place, a spot in heaven or any divine good place that Edward could only dream of having access to. He said a prayer, the first one in 8 years.

He stopped for a moment, looked around at all the people, assessed their common thoughts.

And realised that if so many of these humans were deserving of God's love, why wouldn't someone as kind as Carlisle and as compassionate as Esme deserve it too?

So on his way out, he whispered a prayer for the two damned creatures that he loved so much. Because despite their monstrous nature, they still deserved a spot in that good place. They still had a soul, and a damn good one too. Even though Edward would never admit


O death, where is thy sting?

O Hell, where is thy victory?


"Well dear, you are just in time for deciding a new design for the floor!" Carlisle said in a sarcastic tone, but the grin on his face letting Edward know that he wasn't too angry, but still having the caution that silently lurks in the aftermath of fighting with people you care about.

"Maybe we should just not use doors at all, but I'm afraid he would then replace them with the fine china", Esme replied with a raised eyebrow, as she stared pointedly at Edward.

The boy shyly looked at the destroyed floor, whispering apologies.

"Now sweetheart, I do believe there is a reason for having closed doors in this household", Carlisle told his wife while massaging her knee.

The sound of a broken window shocked the couple into silence for the second time that night.

"You sure have a way with words, my love." Esme told the smirking vampire, getting up and standing by the window, letting the early morning rays uncover the diamond-like quality of her skin.

"Happy Easter!" she whispered, letting the dress's right shoulder down, showing a sliver of rose glimmer.

Author's Note: " O death, where is thy sting?/O Hell, where is thy victory?" is excerpted from The Easter sermon of John Chrysostom (circa 400 AD)