disclaimer: not mine, you know.

a/n: this little diddy is for pwtf or WhoDatWTF (have you changed your ffnet name?), also known as rachel. GOMG. she won a o/s for FGB and this is the result.

loosely based off the song "A Dustland Fairytale" by The Killers (go to youtube and add this after the dot com to watch the vid: watch?v=-3hyrkzFRss)

thanks be to SereneCaffeine for acting as stand in beta for me in my time of need.

this here, is a huge departure from the norm for me.

He'd wanted her. Ever since she tripped her way into that nauseatingly boring classroom, all sweet and tempting, radiating life and blood and simply delicious. Oh yes, he'd wanted her then.

It was such a strong want, bordering on need, he felt that tentative grasp on his "self control" snap; a brittle and weak twig encased in an iron fist. His monstrous brain was already relaying the push to move, to clench powerful inhuman fingers around soft, thin and fragile skin. To bite. To drink. To sate the unquenchable thirst.

If not for Alice's intervention, Isabella Swan would be dead. As well as the other 24 children in Biology.

"You're stronger than this," she'd said, pulling him out of the building and to his car. "Get a grip."

But he wasn't, really, and he couldn't. So he fled.

He glutted on blood as he drove to Alaska, body bloated with the viscous life source of the petty, cruel humans he encountered on his journey. It still wasn't enough though. So when he ran out of humans, he moved on to animals.

It was disgusting, truly, but if he did not drink he felt he would lose himself completely. If that happened, if he did not get his fill, he had no doubt the car speeding steadily northeast, would turn around and dive straight down to hell, where that bewitching girl's blood would be waiting. For the taking.

Unacceptable, because Carlisle had given him life, been an avenging angel in the face of a rampantly spreading illness. Carlisle had transformed Edward into this, this being that overshadowed mere mortals. He was a vampire. Intelligent beyond reason, strong as no one person should be, beautiful to look at bordering on pain, irresistible and desired from either sex. Immortal and powerful. Everything he was, he owed to Carlisle.

He had to stay away, lest he crush the careful façade his "family" was.

Edward stayed with Tanya and her clan for as long as he could stand; so all of three days, before needing to leave. Their thoughts were muddy pools of water, sludge and bilge dappling the surface of their minds. He had no desire to remain where their thoughts were enough to sully and leave him feeling coated in a film of filth.

"Please, come home." And of course they would have Esme call. Kind, sensitive, vegetarian Esme; the reason Carlisle opted for that life style and consequently had the others trying to as well.

He had nowhere to go, unless he chose solitude. And even a monster desired company. Misery loved it, after all. So Edward drove back to the blessedly rainy and dreary state of Washington, focusing on strengthening his self control by refusing to feed off any sentient beings.

Halfway through the trip, Edward lost the battle, pulling a filthy, disease ridden homeless man into the woods and gulping down mouthfuls of blood that only somewhat tasted off. He imagined the drugs and diseases altered the normal sugary, sweet blood, leaving behind somewhat bitter, yet still infinitely more pleasing and fulfilling than the alternative, aftertaste. He felt no remorse even as thoughts of fear and self loathing entered his brain. Edward could shut that part out of the way if he wanted; focus all his attention on the deep draining pulls of his mouth, lips pressed firm against the geyser of blood at the man's neck. Somehow though, the thoughts of a dying man spurred on a greater blood lust, tinged the feeding with a deep satisfaction as Edward consumed not just blood, but thoughts and impressions that so clearly mirrored his own.

For Edward was a monster, a demon even, and he hated that he loved it.

"We can help you, Edward. It is not impossible. You've abstained before. You can do it again." Alice must have told Carlisle about Edward's slip with the homeless man.

A sigh escaped his lips, unnecessary and so human in its practice, as Edward acknowledged Carlisle's desire to help. He kept to long, winding, abandoned roads as often as possible and shut eyes tight as he bore the unpleasant, almost gritty taste of the blood he took from a herd of deer.


When Edward felt he had worked sufficiently at reigning in his control, and all but bathed in the blood of the local wildlife, he returned to Forks and the high school that served more as prison than educational institution. Alice promised to keep a watchful mental eye on any possible events which led to him decimating the student body. Or more specifically one student body in particular.

Isabella Swan, the siren song that called to him, drove him mad with a thirst that stripped him of all reason, had him yearning in anticipation of a flavor he could only dream about, would not get the best of him. He was stronger than that. He didn't need her blood, didn't fantasize about the sunbursts of flavor exploding against his tongue or the feel of all that liquid life coating his throat as he finally gave in and bit. And drank and drank and drank.

Not at all.

His mouth was practically watering by the time he made it to Biology, just seconds shy of the bell. His plan was to spend as little time as possible in her presence. Last to arrive, first to leave, keep hands and mouth to self. The venom pooled around his tongue, coating his teeth even as he held his breath while sitting down beside the weak girl. Seemed his brain could perfectly recall the scent of her without his nose actually smelling anything. Damn.

Edward said nothing, and neither did she as they slowly worked "together" to identify the stages of mitosis. It took him several minutes, and this he blamed on the mind numbingly boring material, to realize one crucial thing.

He could not hear her thoughts.

All around him, spoken and unspoken words buzzed and annoyed; poked holes and drilled through his mental shields.

She's so hot. I wonder if she'd go out with me.

Wonder where Cullen's been. I bet he didn't even get in trouble for being absent.

She's so lucky she gets to work with him.

He's so lucky she gets to work with her.

Damn students. Can't wait to get home and have a beer, watch the game. Still…at least the view's nice. Hmm, Bella.

Edward's attention snapped to the front of the room where the teacher was staring intently at Bella. He was used to hearing things about him and his family, no matter how long they lived here their odd grouping would always cause a small riot of gossip. He was surprised to find that so many thoughts, including a grown man's, willingly focused on the unimportant, trivial human girl.

"Back to work, Cullen."

"Yes, sir," His first uttered speech in her presence and Edward noticed her head turn to look. The air shifted, brought her scent, tantalizing and curling on invisible wisps, under his nose.

He would not breathe.

And he still could not hear her.

Was she…slow? Dumb? Unintelligent? His mind tried to parse out the appropriate words to describe the silent Swan.

"Hello, I'm Edward Cullen." Perhaps if he spoke to her she'd open herself up to his mental prodding.

"Bella Swan." Nothing, no thoughts.

"I know." And he smiled, small, lips curling over his teeth to keep from frightening her, hoping she'd see and react.

That smile of his. With it, he could get away with murder…

But Bella's head was ducked down, facing the open book she'd felt no need in referencing until now.

"Where were you?" If not for hyper sensitive ears, Edward doubted he'd have heard her question.

"There was a family emergency." It wasn't a lie, per se. And just why that was important, he had no idea. There was an emergency, just so happened she was the cause.

"I hope everything's okay." She sounded sincere. Edward wished he could read her thoughts, her true motivation. And for the first time in almost a century, Edward felt frustration at not hearing someone else's mind.


Weeks passed. Edward assumed his fixation would too. If anything, it grew, festered inside of him as Bella's mind remained stubbornly closed to him. He exchanged soft, innocuous words with her during class. Nothing changed, though. He was left helpless and wondering as to what went on inside that head.

He was surprised at how her body reacted to him, seemed to warm to his very presence. Rosy, pink blushes spread across her cheeks, the blood pounding loud under fragrant skin. Edward found himself clutching the desk in front of him so tightly it cracked and crumbled under his fingers.

It would be too easy to touch, press into that flesh, slice it open and watch it weep slow tears of blood. His tongue laving at the drops of nectar would never be enough. He'd need more. He'd need…

"Mr. Cullen, eyes up front please," sneered, always spoken so rudely. Banner hated him for his superior intelligence. Edward imagined how fun it would be to rip his throat out. That could be plan B – in case he accidentally attacked Bella in class and needed to kill the witnesses. Banner would be the first to go.

Edward, stop! Alice's thought was a shrill yell in his mind.

He wondered how she expected him to stop when it seemed life itself kept throwing them together. Outside of this one class, he could escape Bella. But for 50 minutes, five days a week, he was subject to her constant presence. Banner took advantage, as every other student seemed frightened to even approach Edward. So Bella became the fall to girl for all projects, field trips, and bullshit busy work thrust under their noses.

God, if he even existed, and for Edward the jury was still out on that subject, was laughing at this sick, painful, oh-so-tempting excuse for a joke.

It was too easy to get close and inhale, practically taste how good she smelled. He could admit to the somewhat masochistic tendency he now had of huffing her scent whenever close enough. It made the monster in him roar to life, body vibrating with excitement at nearing a prey so tasty he'd never be able to savor, just gorge.

One constant, beside the allure of her blood, was her mind. Still silent, still frustrating, but newly appreciated. In the chaos that was 300 plus teenage minds, Edward sought solace in Bella Swan's silence. It was such a novel experience, one he was sure never to tire of. He found it easy to wrap himself around the quiet locked in her head, focus on it; use it as a point of clarification when the noise around him came to be too much. In her head, Edward found welcome comfort.

And maybe, on occasion, he focused on her silence just because. He liked it.

Over months, Edward could admit to enjoying Bella Swan's company. Despite his initial ponderings, she was surprisingly intelligent. For a human. While she displayed common teenage girl tendencies from time to time, she was by far the most rational girl in Fork's High. Besides Alice. But definitely more so than Rosalie.

"Bells, you coming to my party on Friday?" Newton came to sit on their shared desk, back towards Edward, trying to block him from the conversation. Edward could barely stop himself from cringing away, learning Newton had an entirely different connotation to the word coming.

What a vivid imagination.

"Yeah, I think so." She smiled, naïve to his double entendre, and so hugely fake Edward wondered how Newton failed to notice. She went back to "reading" her text book.

"K, well, save a dance for me." It was called out over his shoulder, Edward silently cheering his departure the entire way. No love lost with ripping that throat out either.

"Not likely." She muttered the words.

Edward chuckled, belated realizing the response hadn't meant to be heard. If he were human, it wouldn't have. Now he was left trying to backtrack, turn it into a cough before she started asking uncomfortable questions and he was forced to silence her. With his mouth. On her neck.

That'd be plan C.

"Sorry, that was mean, huh?"

A pretty blush and the smell of her remorse in his nose, Edward decided he actually liked Bella.


A field trip had them walking through a greenhouse, the smell of damp earth and fertilizer clung to Edward like a second skin. He hadn't realized how closely he'd been…hovering…over Bella, anything to smell her instead of that – he'd take the intense burn of his thirst over fecal matter any day – until she stopped suddenly.

Edward, still moving, bumped into her. With his denser than human body pushing against her, the small bump sent Bella practically flying, looking like an odd wingless bird or angel or other nonsense, through the air.

What finally stopped her flight was a compost pile, of all things. Only thing worse would have been the manure.

The entire class erupted in fits of laughter, Edward having to endure cruel, vile, downright hateful thoughts, the glee of watching someone suffer humiliation overwhelming him. He was glad he could not read Bella's embarrassed thoughts, knowing she'd not want anyone privy to such things and that he couldn't stand seeing/hearing her suffer.

Edward respected her; even more so when, despite seeing her discomfort clearly written on the red plains of her face, Bella laughed while pulling off her now dirty sweater.

If he were human, Edward knew he'd be gaping like the boys surrounding him. Clad in a simple white tank top, Bella had never shown so much skin; pale, beautiful, and tempting him as much as her blood.

He'd wanted her before, the call of her blood undeniable. Now, a new want made itself known, unfurled tentative wings and took flight in his gut, giving new insight into the imagery of butterflies in one's stomach.

So foreign, he had no idea what to do with this new knowledge of a desire for flesh, not to consume but be consumed by.


Technically Newton had invited everyone in the grade to his party, even if he'd not personally extended it to Edward. Still, Friday night found him crouching outside a large bay window, leaving Edward feeling like the worst type of creeper.

It was just easier this way, being on the outside looking in. A metaphor for his existence, really. Eternally seventeen, a beautiful creature, not even human, never knowing or experiencing what it truly meant to grow up and old. Still, longing to join at least with the object of his newfound affection – a thought both frightening and exhilarating – had him feeling a long, lost dormant human side emerge.

Bella, stunning and literally the Belle of the Ball, stole all his attention and unnecessary breath. She wore a yellow dress, the reference to the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast not lost on him. The color provided a delicious contrast to the pale skin. Those thin, blue veins drawing in his eyes and taunting him, a visual pop of color as they seemed to undulate with every sway of her body to a rhythm all her own.

He wanted to be her Beast.

Could he though? He knew he could be a beast, but tamed? By her, for her…with her? Without lashing out and destroying such a beautiful being?

Because he still didn't know what he wanted more. Her body or her blood.

Both, I want both shuddered through his system.

An impossibility, hopelessly depressing.

Watching her still, his hands came up, as if to hold her, lead her in a slow waltz. One more fitting to the era he grew up in, despite glass and distance separating them. His body swayed in time with hers, falling into step easily with her, like he imagined it could be to love.


Another impossibility. He could never have love with her. Was he even capable of the emotion? Edward would never be able to share with her his true identity. He would never be able to be really open with her, the one person he now thought of more than anyone else. If she knew, she'd not survive. The Volturi frowned upon exposure, eliminating all those who threatened their delicate coexistence with the human population. Also, seeing disgust at the knowledge of what he did simply to survive would tear him apart, eat at his insides and ruin him. She could not know

The dim lights did nothing to detract from what he saw, his eyes compensating for the difference. Each small step, each sway of hip and lift of arm moved her dress, made it sway back and forth. The curls in her hair bounced every time she stepped, the glow of candles high lighting the auburn streaked in it. A light sheen of perspiration gave the appearance of glowing. That blush. That damnable blush suffused her skin, down her neck and disappeared beneath the cut of her dress.

She was too much to take in. His longing was an almost tangible thing, as fingers reached and clenched at the air he wished her body was currently occupying. He had to have her. He'd find a way. If he didn't, he'd go mad with the possibilities.

Stalking up to her was not his intent. It was a skill inherent in all vampires, one Edward was always grateful for. Even now, because it afforded him a moment of Bella's unguarded reactions.

"Edward," a gasp, a sigh, so lovely and he wanted to hear her say his name like that always. Maybe even when he lapped at her. "What are you doing here? I didn't think…are you a vampire?"

For one shattering moment, Edward foolishly thought she'd guessed his secret. Then he looked down at himself. Alice had the most disturbing sense of humor.

"Looks like it." He pulled the cape tightly around his body in what he knew was Old Hollywood's version of a vampire.

She bit her lip, drawing attention to the skin that would take so little effort to break. He had only to lean and brush against her with his teeth, a passing graze really, and he'd taste delight in his mouth.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Yes." Anything to get closer to the warmth and life and everything he wanted but knew he'd never have.

When their hands clasped, she inhaled sharply, but said nothing. Gratitude flooded his senses, worry for her revulsion slowly eking out to be replaced by a sense of anticipation that startled him to his marrow. Or whatever the vampire equivalent was.

His arm was around her waist, feeling the slow thrum of her blood pulse through her body, needing to draw her closer so their chests could press against each other and he could feel the breath of life slowly rise and fall against him. A trembling hand lifted to his neck, barely touching the exposed skin. When Bella's fingers made slow brushes of sweetness against the hair at the nape, he was quite certain he would purr with contentment. Never had he been touched like this, like something desired and wanted, with a feel of please stay with me, like Bella's soft brown eyes were communicating with him.

Had she longed for this to happen? For how long? She had all but plastered herself along his front, ducking her head low to fit under his chin and oh God, her scent was everywhere, filling his nose and clouding his brain.

If he didn't do something, break the spell her existence cast over him, he'd take her right there in front of everyone.

"I vant to suck your blood." A whisper in her ear, left vague on purpose. Let her figure out his intention.

She pulled back, question in her eyes. This time, when he smiled, he bore his teeth. It was okay to frighten her tonight. Just a little. Maybe she liked it.

Bella's laugh was all breathy twinkles of pleasure. He watched as her body fairly shook with mirth, head thrown back and exposing her throat and oh if she didn't stop he'd mess everything up because he was so close and they were not in school. He could drag her outside and away and no one would know.

A vibration from his pocket told him all he needed to know. Alice was calling, watching Future Edward's control crumble and fade away like so much dust in the wind.

"Excuse me."

He stepped away to answer, even though he could predict the conversation. So he thought.

"I've seen her." The words rushed out and sounded years away through the phone receiver.

His world fell away as the implications set in. Alice had seen Bella in the future. Somehow, someway he'd do the right thing, keep her alive and she'd survive to…what, exactly?

"As your mate."

Something primal and urgent sped through his system, the animalistic nature of his makeup desperately needing to find, claim and protect. And when he saw Newton, hands grabbing, pulling, trying to take what was not his, Edward snapped.

He was across the room and back at Bella's side so quickly he was nothing but a breeze to those mulling about.

"No thanks, Mike."

"But you said you'd dance with me."

"You're drunk. Leave me alone."

"Come on!" A whine, a tug, a tear and Bella's sleeve dangled from her shoulder.

"Let her go." He shoved Newton, too hard; there'd be a mark on the wall from where his head made contact. With feral eyes he scanned the room, daring anyone to challenge.

Soft snuffles and exhalations broke him out of a strange blood lust he was still getting used to.

"Do you want to leave?"

She nodded and gripped onto Edward's arm like he was her lifesaver amidst a sea of insanity.

He helped her into his car, mindful of the now damaged dress. Such a pity, yellow looked so good on her.

"Can you take me home?"


But do I have to? Let me take you away. Anywhere away from here. Where it's just you, me, and the promise of dangerous things to come.

Her arms looked so thin, so breakable as they wrapped herself, a hug for one, leaving Edward feeling alone in the car despite her very visceral presence to his right.

For a night that started off so promising, it had sure gone to hell now. Still, with a hope for future attempts at securing his mate, Edward was out his door and around to the passenger's side in a literal blink of an eye.

"How'd you…" She stared in wonderment as he offered his hand and lifted her out. Such a weightless thing, negligible to his power.

"May I walk you to your door?" His era was showing, consummate gentleman, like his mother had raised him to be. Too bad she was no doubt rolling in her grave at what he'd become.

"Of course." She took a proffered arm, scooted closer despite the chill in the air and that which radiated off his body.

It warmed him.

No lights were left on and she was forced to stumble in the dark for a hidden key. And who hides their key outside? Anyone could find it, enter, and kill.

"Is your father not home?" He tried telling himself he asked solely for her safety. Not because a part of him that he could not trample down reveled in the idea of her helpless. He didn't need a key to enter and to…kill.

"He must've been called into work." The door opened with a tiny snick.

Edward decided he'd stay nearby, perhaps just behind the tree coverage that butted up to the land Bella's house was on. He could stay until her dad came back. Just in case. For safety. Or something else.

"You wanna…do you wanna come in?"

That had not been what he expected to hear. Not at all. A quick goodnight, made awkward with the knowledge that he'd be playing the part of creeper yet again, and a wave goodbye – because could he really be lucky enough to hold her twice in one evening?

"Okay." He could never say no. Not when she was beautiful and tired and tempting and maybe she'd let down her defenses around him even more.

Time seemed to move at vampiric speed, him walking through the door and following her toward a sparsely decorated living room so fast he had no idea how he'd come to be sitting on a sofa, coils and springs digging into his back and behind from his denser body pressing into it, he'd never know. He was just there and trying to soak everything in.

Acting human in a human house with a very, very human girl.

"Are you thirsty?"

"Yes." He hadn't meant to answer aloud. He was always thirsty in her presence and nothing she'd offer up would do. Unless, she were to be so kind as to willingly give him her vein.

"Let me get you some water."

Edward watched her walk away, eyes glued to her slim form as she padded into the kitchen. She came back, glass in hand. When she handed it to him, her wrist was exposed to his eyes, and he had to beat down his illogical desire to take that as an offering. Creamy, smooth skin, it'd be like silk against his lips and satin rushing into his mouth.

"Thanks for earlier." She sat down next to him, knees almost brushing against his. On purpose or not, he couldn't decide. But the searing heat of it made him shiver. What would it be like to feel all of her hot flesh against him?

"It was nothing." Because he had no idea what she could be thanking him for. If she knew what he thought about, she'd never express gratitude.

"I mean, Mike is an okay guy, I guess. But I don't like him. Not like that. Not like…you."

He was rendered dumb by her admission, if he understood her correctly. She liked him. She liked him? And was it a like more than friends? For someone who tried to live a human life, he knew his knowledge of such concepts as like were not up to par. Humans could and frequently did assign different definitions to the same word or phrase.

"You do?" Just to be sure.


"Why?" Really, why? He may be beautiful, but he was cold, in so many more ways than the literal sense.

A nervous giggle and a blush had him leaning towards her without thought. Body and blood, calling to him at the same time. Did she have any idea what she did to him?

"I can't believe you even have to ask." Her eyes grew serious, determined. "Edward."

He meant to respond but couldn't, as her face was right there, leaning up and pressing lips against his slack mouth. To her it was a brief glide of lips, to him it was everything. That minute contact left an impression of skin and warmth and taste that would never be forgotten.


"I'm sorry."

She wasn't, not yet. But maybe later.

He fought the urge to lunge and take and crush her to his body, just barely succeeding at keeping his body in check. His answering kiss was too fierce, taking her by surprise. She gasped against his mouth and he was flooded with her breath, pleasant aroma that he wanted to taste. He had no idea what to do, had no recollection of ever kissing another except for in chaste, familial ways.

Their lips mashed together and her hands were in his hair, carding through each strand, reverently and such a soft presence against his scalp. His hands clenched at his sides, afraid to touch, bruise, break. He wanted to feel but would be content with the whispers of her fingertips against his skin.

"Oh Bella," he spoke against her lips, still moving to kiss him back. So enthusiastic, the quiet, beautiful human.

The feel of something wet and warm in his mouth surprised him;, caused him to jerk back. Her tongue. In his mouth? Oh but that was sweet torture, having her taste him when he wanted to taste her. He wanted to press his tongue against hers, lick and savor and drown himself in the sensation. She groaned, tried to pull away. Edward lifted a hand to hold her in place. He would taste her, in this small way. He deserved it.

A tip of tongue against her, he licked a slow trail, intending to push into her mouth. But when he made contact, he tasted more than he hoped for.

Blood, just the smallest amount but no less potent in its flavor. Now he was the one pulling back, shocked stone still.

"Sorry, I think I cut my tongue somehow."

He wasn't listening. Blood, her blood, in his mouth. A roll of his tongue to try and keep the taste in his mouth and it was so good. Didn't matter that it was just a sample, it raced through his body, heady and strong. Buzzing now, his quest for humanity was lost. Blood, her blood, in his mouth and all was lost.

"Edward?" She reared back, taking in his change, witnessing as he went from boy to monster, eyes burned black and lips peeled wide.

"I'm so sorry Bella. I tried." His voice was rough, filled with need, and he was in her face again. At her mouth. His tongue swept over her closed lips, pressing and pushing against the seam, until she had no choice but to open to him.

She seemed to lose herself to the kiss, forgetting she was scared, as he coaxed her tongue into his mouth. The small wound had stopped bleeding, but he could fix that. A nick of his tooth and the taste filled his mouth again. He swallowed, and then sucked on her tongue, lapping like he had only dreamed of doing.

Her moans were a quiet soundtrack to his fantasy realized.

To her, this was sexual. To him, it was instinctual, a feeding frenzy, as he worked on her tongue, opened the wound more.

He shoved her down on her back, their mouths still sealed together. He knew she needed to breathe. He also needed more, a better source. So he withdrew, hovered over her for a minute then attacked.

Bella's body jackknifed off the couch as he sucked at her neck. His hands were steel traps around her wrists as he bit through the delicate skin and made contact with her artery. Her moans had turned to screams, but he was too far gone to even care that she was in pain.

Blood, he needed her blood. In his mouth, down his throat, filling him up and giving him the added vitality he missed when he stuck to simply animals.

That first mouthful, gulped down hastily, was nirvana. He was the one moaning now, strong pulls and swallows and not a drop spilled. How could he let any of it go to waste?

Her body was trembling with fear under him. He could not hear her thoughts, and for that he was grateful, but he could taste the terror, a spicy flavor that only made her taste so fucking good.

Footsteps, too fast for a human, were approaching. He knew who it would be. Alice had seen, too late it was a spur of the moment type thing, not planned, and warned the entire clan. He could hear them in his mind, screaming, pleading, promising whatever it took to make him stop.

There's still time. Change her, then you can have her. Don't kill her.

But it really was too late. There was no way for him to stop, not when she was made for him, her blood the closest he would get to experiencing heaven, on earth or in any type of afterlife he had coming to him. To ask him to stop would be to ask a human not to breathe. That is how much he needed her blood inside him.

The more he drank the more alive he felt, his body humming with a multitude of pleasures and sensations he'd never felt before. He hardened, stiffened, and rutted against her as he drank, sick enjoyment at a truly base response, dual gratification at finally having her. Bones broke under him, her body stilled and her mouth gurgled with the last breaths of her young, unfortunate life.


The shock of his name on her dying lips had him pulling back, too late though, as her eyes rolled back and her body went slack. He licked the blood from his lips, even that small amount causing him to revert to the monster he had been.

But when the taste had all washed down, the reality of what he had done sank in. He killed her. Bella, the one that had captivated him, the one he should've had as a mate, was gone. By his doing.

He sank to his knees, hating himself more than he ever had before.

They entered the house, grouped around the carnage, and just…stood there. A heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Edward." Carlisle, even seeing this was sympathetic, understanding, and there for him.

"We were going to be such good friends too." Alice was the first to break from the circle, walking over to Bella's body, hand ghosting over the gash at her neck. "She does smell good though, even now. It's no wonder you wanted her."

"We'll clean this up for you." Jasper sent a wave of comfort and calm to Edward, knowing what it was like. To lose control. Especially when trying so hard not to.

"Thank you." Edward rose quickly, not sparing a backwards glance to a something that could never be now.

He was a monster. One that did not deserve to be in the company of those trying to be better than that. His family would do damage control and they would run to a new city, a new state, a new lie. Until one of them slipped up again.

It wouldn't be him though. He'd make sure of it.

So he fled. Again. Only this time, he had no need to kill and drink along the way. He was just too, blissfully, for the first time in so long, full.


eternally grateful to rach for helping stretch my writing "skills" by prompting this, and for the chance to write, not just AU but DARK AU. it was fun, in a very twisted way.