Rating: PG 13, at least I hope it makes it all the way to a 13
Spoilers: Sure, if you're one of the six people in the world who haven't read the first book or seen the movie then there are tons of spoilers. Here's one; Edward is a vampire! I know, now I've ruined the whole surprise for you. Basically, I just decided to go along with the first book and most of the second, then I just broke off and took it to a whole different place. So I guess there are teeny tiny spoilers for books one and two… and maybe three and four.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Twilight.
A/N: WARNING! This story contains SLASH, which is two characters of the same sex… together… carnally; in this case it happens to be male/male. I just loved the idea of a vamp and a werewolf getting together so much, I sort of hoped Jacob would imprint on one of the women from the Denali coven, and since I just slash so much it just seemed like a natural choice; Jacob and Edward. Although, I have to admit, the idea only occurred to me after I heard someone say that they'd "rather route for Edward and Jacob than Edward and Bella" and my whole brain lit up.
Also, I do not do first person, I despise it, and I don't do prefaces. So, yeah. And also, also, I'm not particularly caring about the whole imprinting for genetic propagation and all that jazz so I've just decided to discard it entirely. Imprint for fun and profit, kids!
The songs in this fic are as follows Three Days Grace (duh): I Hate Everything About You, and Thriving Ivory: Twilight (I know, fate right)
Three Days Grace
Show me what it looks like
Outside your window at twilight
Show me what it looks like
'It wasn't love', Jacob told himself, repeated again and again as he ran through the forest, running away from them. He remained in his human form, too afraid to phase, afraid he wouldn't be the only one poking around in his head and he needed time. He needed time to sort things out, to figure out what the hell had happened, and how he could change it back. 'It's not love,' Jacob told himself, 'it's just a complete uncontrollable devotion.' Which, yeah, when he put it like that it sounded a lot like love but this was not love.
Branches and twigs from bushes cut into his skin as he sped through the forest, too preoccupied to notice or care, and the cuts healed almost instantaneously. He thought of that face, the bloodsucker's face, he thought of the way it had looked when realization had struck Jacob. He thought of the way it seemed to mirror his own, reflecting Jacob's emotions as they flickered across his own face until Jacob couldn't be sure if he was watching Edward's emotions or if Edward was showing him his own. The fury, anguish, hate, fear, and somewhere beneath all of that the desperate needing, all playing out like a symphony upon Edward's face. Even now, nearly to Canada, Jacob could feel it inside him; the burn in his legs, an itch, a craving, willing him turn and go back the way he'd come. Go back to the Cullen's house, go back to see if he was he was safe, unharmed, if he needed anything. The pull was so strong that Jacob's legs locked up sending him sprawling to the ground.
Rolling and tumbling out the remainder of his momentum, Jacob's skin broke and scraped as he rolled and impacted with rocks and broken, exposed twigs strewn about the ground. Jacob came to a sprawling stop, recognizing that the direction his foot pointed wasn't normal, nor the way his finger was bent, or the sharp pain in his chest. He had been moving faster than he'd thought. Jacob lay still, panting though it had nothing to do with the arduous run or fall he'd just taken. In the back of his mind he registered the pain of it all, his broken ankle, finger, the snapped rib, but it was just a dull throb compared to the fire he felt under his skin. A desire to get up, get moving, get back to see him.
Jacob sat up and twisted his foot around the right way, hissing in pain as he was forced to re-break it, then again with his finger. Once done the forest around him became suddenly silent, too silent, and unbidden Jacob rose to his feet and began sprinting down the path he'd just run. He kept a slow pace, knowing where he was going, unable to stop, and hating that deep down he didn't want to.
He hated wondering what Edward ―he shuddered and tried to push the name out of his mind, willing himself to forget it all together― what the leech was doing. He hated wondering if he needed anything, if he wanted anything, anything at all and Jacob would gladly get it. Unconsciously Jacob picked up his pace, moving just under half speed. The way Edward ―Jacob grimaced inwardly at the name but resigned himself to it― had looked at him earlier kept playing in his head. The whole fiasco replayed in his head. After the incident with the bikes, after the threats had been issued, after Bella's dad had ordered her into the house then kicked Edward out. Edward had stood in the driveway, glaring at Jacob, and Jacob saw him as though for the first time. Hell, it might have been the first time. Every time before all of Jacob's attention had been fixed on Bella, even when she was a peripheral she was still in the forefront of his mind. Suddenly, devoid of Bella, Jacob's vision had cleared and he was able to see Edward, and the ground opened beneath him.
Edward became a beacon of light, overshadowing everything else, and just like that nothing else mattered. Not his dad, his sisters, his pack, Bella, the fact that Edward was a man, the fact that Edward was a vampire, nothing mattered except Jacob's devotion to him. For a moment Jacob had wanted to cross the drive, pull Edward into his arms and hold him for as long as he could. For a moment he thought he saw Edward's legs twitch, jump, spasm as though he was fighting the same urge. But Jacob remembered what Bella told him; Edward could read his thoughts. Jacob had watched as his own emotions played across Edward's perfect face, the way they played inside of him. Fear, anger, horror, anger, passion, lust, anger, desire, anger, anger, anger, revulsion, longing, so much longing, an endless ocean of longing and desire; desire for Edward. The desire to be anything and everything to Edward Cullen, for Edward Cullen.
Jacob didn't hesitate as he hit the invisible border between La Push and Forks, couldn't remember when he'd begun running flat out, and before long he was outside of Bella's house, the place where Edward's scent was still the strongest. Jacob tried to blend into the forest, into the trees, but he knew it was pointless, Edward would know. Edward probably already did know that he was there. Jacob crouched down, leaning forward to peer through the trees up at Bella's window. His senses perked, not in danger, as was usual, but in an odd sensation of peculiar alertness. The longing flared unbearably.
"What are you doing here?" He asked. His voice was like fracturing crystal; horrifyingly melodious and disturbingly beautiful. Jacob didn't rise, didn't turn to face Edward, didn't trust himself enough to even glance at him. "Don't you think you've done enough?" Edward continued. Edward's voice was like razorblades wrapped in silk, reverberating in Jacob's head, slicing deep into his brain.
"I didn't come here to cause trouble," Jacob chocked out. He was angry at how small his voice sounded. 'I just had to see you. To know that you were okay, to see if―'
"You should go," Edward growled. Jacob wondered idly how much of his thoughts Edward was listening to, or if he'd just decided to ignore the majority of it. If he was just choosing to ignore the fact that Jacob would do whatever he wanted. "I want you to leave," Edward said.
'Listening to every word,' Jacob thought smugly. He allowed himself a small, pleased grin.
"I want you to leave," Edward repeated slowly, "now."
Jacob's heart sank. He had been desperate to be near Edward again, more so than he'd even realized, and now the idea of leaving him again actually caused him physical pain. His heart wretched at the thought, burning, pounding, a hollow ache thrumming deep in his chest, threatening to pull him inside out. It hurt so much, the thought of leaving Edward, that it surprised him when he began to move away. Edward had hissed, a low fervent sound, and Jacob had taken off, like a runner who'd heard the starting gun. He moved for the reservation, understanding meaning in Edward's inarticulate noise, a small command; Go away, but don't go far.
So Jacob went home, a place he was not looking forward to being because sooner or later he would have to phase into his animal form and everyone would know. All of the pack would be able to peer into his head and see how messed up he'd become. Something this big he could never hope to hide. He'd seen some try, Quil when he'd imprinted on little Claire, but it never stayed buried. An imprint was too huge, too monumental. It took up all the free space in your mind, freed up more space to occupy, left too big of a mark. They'd know, they all knew immediately, it was like trying to hide a forest fire under a match stick.
"Imprinting SUCKS!" Jacob yelled when he felt he was a safe enough distance from Edward's heightened hearing. There had to be at least five hundred eligible women in the area, why couldn't he have imprinted on any of them? Why not Bella? If it had had to be a guy why not any guy but Edward Cullen? Off the top of his head Jacob could think of a few guys he could stand to be imprinted to. Guys who were nice (not dead), guys who were cool (not a vampire), guys who wouldn't take advantage of the fact that Jacob would have to do whatever they wanted him to do (not Edward Cullen), who weren't his mortal enemy (not Edward Cullen), who weren't in love with his best friend (not Edward, not Edward, not Edward!).
There was no need for imprinting, Jacob decided, in this day and age. No need for old world rituals to dictate the people you could be interested in, no need for the past to intrude on the present, to determine who Jacob was allowed to think of. There had to be a way to change things, to turn back time and make everything normal again. This couldn't be the way things were meant to turn out. What purpose did making Jacob a slave to Edward's will serve the pack, their people, or Jacob's future? How was this going to make Jacob stronger?
Jacob bound up his front steps in one long leap, threw open the door easily, and froze in terror. They were already there, the whole pack, sitting in his living room. Had he phased unnoticed? Had he become a wolf, even for a moment, or let his mind slip? Had they evolved to the ability to read his human mind now too? As Jacob panicked he noticed, they weren't angry, they weren't glaring at him, although they each slunk into defensive posses when he came in. Jacob shut the door cautiously behind him, fire awash in his veins, racking his brain to figure out how they knew… so soon. They seemed to gather around Paul, almost protectively, while Paul stared at the wall, an oddly serene look of his face.
Leah sniggered as Jacob took a tentative step into the room, immediately sending all of his senses into high gear. They didn't know about Edward (yet) but something was definitely going on and it wasn't good. Something they expected him to freak out about. Everyone looked on edge, everyone except Paul who sat ominously still and stared serenely at the wall. Sam cleared his throat, nudged Paul in an attempt to get his attention (a failed attempt), and folded his arms commandingly over his chest.
"There will be no fighting," Sam said then added as an afterthought, "in the house." Jacob grimaced further, fixed his eyes to glare at Paul who chose that moment to snap out of his reverie, and braced for the worst. "Jacob, Paul has imprinted."
Jacob cringed inwardly at the mention of the word, Paul had imprinted Sam said. So casual, no big, just bound to one person for the rest of your life. Jacob seethed with rage. His body shook with it. Knowing that Paul had imprinted, the whole pack knew, they were happy for him. Jacob could never tell the pack he'd imprinted on a vampire, they'd kill Edward in a heart's beat and Jacob was sure, if he hadn't found a way to break the imprinting, he would die with him. He glared at Paul, jealous of the ease at which he lived, thinking about jumping the room and ripping his throat out.
"Give 'im a chance to explain," Quil said. "You haven't imprinted, you don't know how it feels, the need, this pull. He didn't know it'd happen with your sister―"
"My what?" Jacob asked. In a flash all of the anger drained from Jacob and he stood, completely motionless, dumbfounded.
"Your sister," Sam repeated, "Mary, Paul imprinted on her."
Jacob blinked, staring open-mouthed at Paul. Paul had imprinted and on his sister, if he wasn't just the luckiest so-and-so. Jacob thought glumly that even his own sister would have been a better person to imprint on than Edward Cullen. The others were waiting for his reaction, for his fury, his indignation, for him to attack Paul, but he was just frozen. In truth he was envious. Envious at how easy Paul had it; he'd imprinted, the pack knew, and they were all happy for him, Jacob was happy for him, Mary was a fantastic girl. Why couldn't Jacob have that? Why did he get stuck with Edward Cullen?
As soon as the thought entered his mind Jacob had regretted it, due in no small part to the pain that ripped through his chest. A wave of sorrow and misery rolled through him and, before Jacob even registered that he should move, he had turned and sprinted from the house.
"Just let him go," he heard Sam say. "He's got a lot to think through."
Jacob stopped, turned, and rushed back to poke his head into the house. "It's fine," he said, "I'm happy for you, Paul. You better treat me sister right or I'll kill you."
Before Jacob could leave Paul was in his face, a hand on his arm keeping him from moving. "You what?"
"If you hurt my sister," Jacob repeated, "I will kill you."
"You're fine with this?" Paul asked skeptically.
An urge tugged at Jacob's senses, the same urge that had made Jacob want to leave the house in the first place, the need to escape into the woods. He didn't know why he needed to get to the woods, or even to where he would go, but he could feel the need. It was deep and urgent and desperate and Jacob was compelled to obey it. The more it urged the more clear his desire became; he needed to go to the bluffs, just past the old Highmark store. The need so clear he could almost see where he needed to be even though he'd never been there before. His every thought centered on the small clearing near the bluff. Jacob nodded at Paul and tried to shake free of his grasp but Paul wouldn't let go.
"Bullshit," Paul hissed, "you're furious."
"Paul," Jacob sighed, "man, at this moment I could only care more. I have got to go."
"Where?" Quil asked curious.
Jacob opened his mouth to respond but the firm tug on Jacob's senses peaked, clenching tightly around his heart and pulling it uncomfortably towards the door. Out of Jacob's mouth flowed a small, quivering whimper, quiet but horrifyingly audible in the tense room. Jacob wanted to be appalled, to be horrified by the desperate need that came through in that one wounded sound but couldn't feel anything but anxious to leave. Paul gaped at him, his mouth falling open, and relaxed his grip on Jacob's arm. Jacob took advantage of his slip and stole from the house as quickly as he could. He leapt from the porch, phasing as he did (his clothes obliterating), and rushed into the darkened woods. He could run faster in his wolf form and time was of the essence. Something was there, something was wrong on that small bluff by the lake, and Jacob had to get there to help.
Jacob ran faster, pushing himself nearly to his limit and past, the forest blurring around him. He reached the trees' edge of the bluff and jumped through the last row of trees, right over the edge of the cliff towards the sharp rocks and beating, swirling water below.