Title: With a Side of Vengeance
Rating/Disclaimer: R!! THIS FIC IS VIOLENT. Not intended for children. You've been warned.
A/N: My take on the characters as portrayed in the movies.
Dedication: For Kate and Diane. You know why.
Night slipped quietly around the Swan household, unnoticed by the sole occupant. Bella remained where she'd sat for the past three hours – staring resolutely into the fire, eyes unwavering. The tea she clutched in her small pale fingers had long since gone cold. One corner of the blanket she'd pulled over her shaking shoulders had slipped down, revealing a bluish splotch on her bare shoulder.
These abnormal discolorations were nothing new for her. Some girls' boyfriends gave them jewelry or flowers. Hers gave her bruises. The tears that had so recently spilt down her ghost skin left behind furrows of deep red that raked down her cheeks, but no more fell. She simply had none left. Sadness - which had wrapped itself around her entire body and squeezed until she couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't even think – also disappeared, faded into a barbed numbness that fogged her brain. Any trace of her usual emotions that were usually so prevalent had disappeared into the flickering fire before her. She sat now, an empty shell of a girl who had long since forgotten how to smile.
Wind cut an icy blast across the exposed swatch of her skin, but Bella didn't move to remedy the situation. She simply turned her head to see who had opened her window. Through her stringy bangs, much in need of a wash, she saw the dark outline of a boy, slipping through the open window. His feet made a loud thump on the wood floor. His large hands, calloused and rough and large enough to swallow hers, made quick work of shutting the window before he crossed her living room in a flash and knelt down beside her chair.
"Bella." He whispered. "Are you all right? I got your message, I…"
Words tumbled from his lips, fast and shaking like the hand he reached up to touch her face. The fingers that pressed ever so lightly against her cheek burned hot against her skin, but she didn't pull away. Instead, her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into them for a moment and remembered once again what heat felt like.
He fell silent as the faintest hint of a smile shaped her thin lips.
"Jacob." She whispered out his name, and the smile grew fractionally.
Jacob took in the bruise, the death in her eyes, the cold tea mug and the fire that was smoldering to embers simultaneously. What he wanted to do – wanted and couldn't do, both because of her frail condition and because of the circumstances of their friendship – was gather her up in his arms and hold her tight, tighter, until every trace of ice and fear dissipated and she was left only with the heat of his heart that blazed for her.
Instead, he moved his hand back to the arm of the chair, and gripped it so hard his nails punctured holes in the soft fabric, and tufts of white began to poke through. He'd apologize to Charlie later.
"He hurt you again, didn't he?" Jacob kept his voice low and even, though it took every ounce of control not to scream, howl, curse at the night. She nodded, and forward slightly in the chair. The blanket fell away from her shoulder, leaving her naked chest exposed to the cold night. He winced as that familiar stab of desire stuck into his stomach. Now was definitely not the time. She lifted a hand and gathered her hair up over one shoulder, revealing the pale canvas of her back and the splattering of bruises that blossomed there.
He thought he was going to be sick.
He saw red.
He was about to rip the arm right off this goddamn chair.
"Will you help me?"
Her words came out so clear, so strong that his gaze speared up to her face, and the expression he found there almost frightened him.
And then she was moving. Her tiny arms and tiny legs flailed for a moment and she scrambled to a kneeling position on the chair, and she was towering over him, her small breasts jutting out, nearly brushing against his face, and then she was kissing him.
Those trembling hands, so cold and frail just a moment ago, now gripped his face with a ferocity he didn't know she had as she dragged his mouth against hers. God, she tasted just as good as he'd imagined – better even. His fingers pushed into her greasy hair as his tongue swept into her mouth and tangled with hers. If Heaven had a taste, it would be Bella.
It wasn't until his fingers traced the bare skin of her back and she hissed in pain did he regain his senses. He eased her back gently, though it physically hurt him to relinquish the sweetness of her, and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could she grabbed his shoulders and dug in deep.
"You have to help me, Jacob." There was a madness to her pleaded that leaked into her eyes and planted a seed of fear in his stomach. "He's going to kill me!"
"Edward won't lay another hand on you." It was his turn to take her face in his, and his gaze burned into hers with a ferocity that made her smile inwardly. There was the passion she was looking for, the devotion.
"But he will," she continued, not breaking face for a single moment. "He'll never stop. Never. He'll be with me until I'm dead. He said so."
"So we'll run," he told her, swiping a hand down her hair. "You and me. We'll get in that ugly truck of yours and we'll just drive and drive until he can't find us."
"There's nowhere we can go that he can't find us, Jake." Her lip trembled with the force of tears that threatened to erupt. She was half way to hysterical now, and his soothing touches seemed to have no effect. Her gripping fingers now clawed at his bare shoulders, raked down his dusky chest and left trails of red in their wake. "He's rich, and he's got connections everywhere. He won't ever let me go. Not until I'm dead."
"Or he's dead." He muttered as he pulled her into his arms. It was an off-handed comment tossed out in the heat of the moment, but it was exactly what she wanted to hear. She buried her face in his neck to hide the smile that blossomed.
Somewhere between the hard crack of Edward's fist landing hard across her shoulder, knocking her to the ground for the 45th time, and Jacob stepping through her window like her own personal hero, Bella had figured out the answer to her conundrum.
Edward had to die.
She couldn't do it herself, of course. She wasn't nearly strong enough, and she didn't dare pit herself against the wrath of the Cullen family. But Jacob… Jacob had the strength and the ability to take on Edward, and had his pack to back him up in a pinch. He was fully capable of eliminating that horror from her life. She made sure to smother the smile as she pulled back and pushed hope into her eyes.
"That's it," she breathed out, awe dripping in her words. Jacob looked confused for a moment.
"What's it?" he asked.
"We have to kill Edward."
Jacob should have said no. He knew it was a bad idea from the moment she spoke the words, and now as he trudged through the thick fog of night he felt even worse about it. Killing Edward would not only be incredibly difficult, it would be breaking a treaty that had been put in place for generations. When he broke it, his pack would fight with him until the bitter end – that he was sure of. They would be pissed, of course, and he would most likely get his ass kicked, but they would stick by him no matter what.
But whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the desperation that had become like a mask for Bella, the fear and the uncertainty that held her prisoner. He couldn't go through another day of watching her crawl into her bedroom, wincing as she pulled the covers over her bruised body. He couldn't listen to her cry herself to sleep for even one more night. So he went. He'd managed to calm her down enough to carry her up to bed and tuck her in, stayed with her and held her hand until she drifted into sleep. Then, when he was sure she wouldn't wake up, he slipped quietly out her bedroom window and plunged into the darkness of night once more.
Now he was tearing wildly through the forests surrounding Forks, doing his best to formulate a rational plan, even though his gut begged him to go in, claws flying, and react solely on instinct. Even as he was getting around to convincing himself that a calculated plan of attack was the best, that waiting until his head was cool and his mind was sharp was the best plan, he found himself at the base of the Cullen's magnificent house. It was all windows and wood – a beauty and elegance he'd never known in his humble life on the reservation. He would be lying if he thought the fact that Edward was rich had nothing to do with why he hated him. It didn't help that the man who was dating the woman he loved also lived the lifestyle he'd always dreamed about.
None of the lights in the whole place were on, which meant they were asleep. Jacob hadn't really thought out what he would do if the entire Cullen family decided to come to the aid of their kinsman, but Bella had said the family, save for Edward, was in Alaska visiting with relatives, and the lack of lights confirmed her theory.
"EDWARD!!" Jacob's voice, hoarse from the savage screams he'd released when he was finally far enough away from Bella to show anger, ripped his enemy's name through the night, loud enough to scare the sleeping ravens from their pine tree homes. One second passed, two, three, then ten, as Jacob's chest heaved with anger and the silence crept slowly back into the forest. Then he appeared. There was no casual strolling onto the deck for Edward. One minute it was empty, and the next he stood on the edge of it, staring down at Jacob like one would an insignificant bug.
"What do you want?" he asked with a tone dripping with so much superiority, Jacob was sure he may whip out a solid gold chair at any moment to rest his pompous ass. From day one, Edward saw Jacob as a leech on the time of his girlfriend, someone who could be flicked off and disposed of, if it weren't for the treaty. He never suspected in a million years that Jacob would have the balls to break the treaty, even for the sake of his beloved, which is why he didn't suspect a damn thing when Jacob lashed out.
With one powerful blow, he smashed one of the beams supporting the deck, and sent chunks of wood flying clear across the yard. Missing a key part of it's being, the deck lurched dangerously to one side, and all the deck furniture tumbled down around Jacob. One of those tumbling objects happened to be Edward. In any other situation, his vampire reflexes would have allowed him to jump clear of the falling debris and land with a ridiculous, cat-like grace on the ground, ready to do battle with his foe. In this case, however, he was expecting screamed insults and a lot of huffing and puffing from Jacob, and he was thrown off balance.
If Jacob had decided to fight this fairly, face off with Edward like men and duel it out, he would have waited until the man was off the ground, and had brushed the debris from his button down shirt before he attacked. But this was no fair fight. He knew if they were going to fight fair, he may well lose, and he had no intention of losing. Not when Bella's life could be at stake.
Before Edward, with his amazing speed and agility, could even think about getting up, Jacob had him pinned to his back, sank his fangs into his jugular, and ripped. Hard. The scent of blood, even blood of the undead, put him in a frenzy. He felt himself slip seamlessly into his wolf form, felt the power of generations of his ancestors well up within him, lending him strength. He would need it now more than ever.
Edward screamed out his rage, but no sound passed his lips, just a gurgling as more blood spurted out from his open neck wound. It would soon close, Jacob knew, and he would have to work quickly if he was going to finish this. It was a tough choice he made, deciding what limb to take next. On the one hand, Edward may well be able to rip him in half if Jacob let him keep both his arms. On the other hand, he would definitely be slower if he gnawed off a leg.
The leg it is, Jacob thought to himself with a little wolf-y smirk as he set his teeth right below Edward's pelvic bone, and sank his teeth into the man's muscular thigh. Vampire flesh tasted absolutely disgusting. Human flesh, the rare occasion he had to taste it, tasted rather like chicken but more fatty. Vampires, on the other hand, tasted like tar paper wrapped around wet socks that had been buried under four feet of sand for about 25 years. Still, he got a rather sick satisfaction over hearing the man's femur crunch into splinters. Muscle, skin and bone all separated as Jacob gave a hard yank of his head, and tossed the dismembered leg to the far side of the yard to join the pile of deck debris.
Dulled only slightly by the searing pain exploding out from his stump of a leg, Edward grabbed the wolf by the scruff and tossed him hard against a pine tree. The force of the impact caused the tree to splinter, but its roots were strong so it held. Jacob yelped at the blow. Getting thrown head-long into a tree was not a pleasant experience, especially given the strength with which he was thrown. As he wobbled to his feet, tail between his legs, he saw Edward hoping towards his abandoned leg. If he managed to reattach it, Jacob would be in serious trouble.
He shoot ? off the pain, and bolted at the vampire. Silently he leapt, hoping Edward would be too focused on his leg to notice – which he was – then clamped his jaw onto the vampire's arm, and tore it off as he descended. Any humanity that would have disagreed with this vicious attack on another sentient creature had long since boxed itself up in favor of the primal beast that now had full control. He had exactly two thoughts occupying his mind: Save Bella and Kill. Everything else could wait until after the battle.
Edward had never had two limbs removed before. Hell, he had never had one limb removed before. He thought it would hurt, and it did – it hurt like hell had wrapped itself around his body. But the most interesting thing, he thought as he landed face first on top of an ant hill, was that it threw off his balance considerably. He found that even when he stood, it took him a moment to adjust to the new weight, and it was costing him precious seconds in his battle against the mongrel. As he pushed up on his good arm, and attempted to shove his good leg underneath him to prop himself up, Jacob was already on top of him again, this time sinking his fangs into Edward's beautiful white face.
Two thoughts went through the vampire's head simultaneously.
#2) My beautiful face!
Jacob could guess clear enough at what number two was, and it made him enjoy the screams of Edward that much more. His jugular had healed by that point, but now the one eye he had left in his head lolled around disjointedly, and half his mouth was torn away. The mouth that so many times had kissed the woman he loved, and screamed insults at her, had spewed abuse until she was nothing but a weeping ball on the floor. Jacob lowered his head once more, and fastened his teeth around Edward's ear, ripping it off, as well as a great portion of the skin on the side of his face.
Goodbye, he thought and smirked once more, face that has haunted Bella's dreams. The muscles of Edward's jaw rippled as he screamed, but Jacob wasted no time in watching, though the sight fascinated him. Instead, he took advantage of his opponent's weak state, and morphed back into his human form. Fur, matted with blood, became skin smeared with it. His fangs became regular teeth, though he could still taste metal in his mouth, and spit once on the ground to try and remove it. He ran fast as he could over to the gas can that sat next to the lawn mower, huddled against a door to the house. Even the Cullen's had to do chores, he grinned. It was light, there wasn't much gasoline left, but there would be enough.
He walked over to where his fallen opponent lay, frantically trying to piece his face back together. The twist-off cap was yanked in one pull, and Jacob proceeded to dump the contents of the gasoline container on top of the squirming Edward.
There was a moment – a single, beautiful moment – where Edward realized exactly what was about to happen. His one good eye rolled wildly around in its socket, panicked and full of fear. His remaining arm reached out a hand in a plea, and the parts of his lips that remained moved to form words, but Jacob couldn't hear them.
All he heard was the click of his lighter as it ignited, and the whoosh of fire as Edward ignited.
Tear him up and burn the pieces, that's what Bella had said would kill a vampire. Guess she was right. Edward's screams issued loud in the night, but were silenced soon enough. Jacob stayed until he was little more than a pile of charred bones on the grass, then morphed into a dog and urinated on the remains. Nothing like a final fuck you, he thought, as he turned and disappeared back into the black.
He gave her the courtesy of knocking on her bedroom window, something Edward had never done. She was caught up in a dream, so he patiently waited, knocking again, until she lifted her head. Jacob gave her a friendly wave, but the friendly smile faltered as she shoved the covers off her body. She'd managed to put on a loose tank top, probably because anything tighter hurt her bruises, but she was still only in underwear. The remaining stirrings of primal desire left over by the carnage he'd just caused flared up at the sight of her pale skin. She smile on her face made him forget the blood smeared across his chest, and the bruises that broke hers. It was him, her, and nothing else.
She pushed open the window with a questioning look.
"It's done," he told her with a grin. "He's dead. He'll never hurt you again, Bella, I promise. Never."
She grabbed his hand, pulled him into the room. As his legs unfolded under him and his bare feet touched the soft carpet, he couldn't help but smile. He'd been in her room before, but somehow this felt different.
Bella turned back to him, his hand still in hers, and looked up at him, brown eyes almost melting with gratitude and emotion.
"Thank you, Jake," she whispered, and reached up to wipe a bit of blood from his cheek. "You saved me."
Edward was right, he realized in that moment. Bella was a drug. One he never wanted to be rid of. As she stood up on her toes and kissed him, slower than before, softer, but with a heat that threatened to unravel him, he knew he was gone. Her fingers moved down her body, gripped the ends of her tank top, and pulled it up over her head, wincing only a little at the bruises. As her shirt fell away, he gathered her small frame up in his arms, completely unaware of the blood that had started to smear on her pale skin as she pressed herself against him.
She backed them up against the bed, and he caught her as they tumbled down, so that she wouldn't land on the bruises and be in any more pain.
Tonight, they would make love, softly, beautifully, in that tender first- time way Jacob expected.
Tonight, she could give to him, as a reward for his job well done.
As he buried his face in her neck, ground himself against her and groaned, she clung to his back as any enraptured lover would do. When she smiled up at her ceiling, though, it was a smile of triumph, of victory, not of passion. Finally, she'd beaten Edward Cullen. She wormed out from beneath his grasp, and found a way to destroy him.
Tomorrow, she would give to herself. Jacob would be in it, she knew. With whatever bit of a heart Edward had left her with, she used it to love Jacob. It wouldn't be easy, but she would try. He would protect her from the inevitable Cullen onslaught, and she would give him the love his werewolf heart so craved.
Nothing in her life would ever be as beautiful as the knowledge that her tormenter was dead, she knew.
Jacob's lips moved from her neck to her mouth once more, drinking her in, reigning in his control as much as possible, and she thanked him in turn by wrapping her legs around him, thrusting, moaning.
Nothing would ever be as sweet.