Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer and I will not magically turn into Stephanie Meyer during the course of this story. All credit belongs to her. This disclaimer applies to all four chapters of this fanfiction.
A/N: Hello! Sorry, I know that you want to get on with the story, but hear me out real quick. This was originally a songfic. I was listening to 'Start of Something Good' by Chris Daughtry and I realized that it fit well with the different POVs. The first verse and chorus was Jasper, the second verse and chorus was Emmett, the little bridge thing was Carlisle, and the rest was Edward. I had the lyrics in there, but a helpful reviewer pointed out that apparently it's against fanfiction rules to post lyrics in your work. I did not know this, but now it is fixed. If you want to get the full impact of this story (if you're even still reading this author's note, which has gone on longer then I intended, but whatever) go google the lyrics.
Enjoy!
Jasper POV:
I shouldn't be doing this. I really shouldn't be doing this. The tiny portion of my brain that still remembered the fear – the horror – that I caused every time I took another life was screaming at me. Somehow, I couldn't quite make the other 95% or so care. I stood staring blankly at the cheerful sign in front of me – "Welcome to Philadelphia! Population 2,071,605." Welcome. The thought would have been laughable in a happier time. I was very sure that the good citizens of Philadelphia would not be welcoming if they knew what I was craving at that very moment. The ghost of a smirk flitted its bitter way across my face, disappearing almost as quickly as it had come – less than a tenth of a second. Or had I just imagined it? It didn't matter. Nothing did. Nothing except the flames, ripping and clawing at the back of my throat, begging to be doused, constantly tormenting me with their whiny, nagging little voices. Feed me Jasper, feed me! Give me blood Jasper! We're not going to shut up Jasper!
Okay, seriously Whitlock? Voices from your throat? GET A GRIP MAJOR! This is the reason you left Peter and Charlotte, so that you could get a handle on this sort of thing! Can vampires go insane?
I grasped at that thought, trying desperately to hold on to the one reasonable thing that had passed through my head for the past….I couldn't even remember. Well, it was half-reasonable anyway. I'd take it. Could vampires go mad? I thought that I might.
Might? You already have, major. You're a mess.
Great. Now I was lecturing myself. I must be hungrier than I'd thought. I needed to hunt.
Instantly, the burn in my throat turned from uncomfortable simmer to blazing inferno. Every muscle strained towards the bustling town just ahead of me. It was so close! Just a few steps away! I could feed again, my throat would be silenced, I wouldn't be taunted by the memory of the sweet, pulsing blood, pulling me towards it, tempting me with its sweet, self-imposed taboo with every breath I took.
NO!
I blinked in surprise; without even thinking about it I had moved towards the city. I was close enough now that I could touch the outermost buildings if I were of mind to.
NO YOU IDIOT! NO HUNTING! DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE LAST TIME!?
I was screaming at myself, trying to pull myself back, trying to pound some reason into my own thick skull.
This will kill you, Whitlock. Maybe not physically, but you will die on the inside with every mouthful. You think you can handle that?! The fear? The horror – horror at what you are, what you're doing? The desperation – desperation to get away, to get home, to get to their families? The panic – sheer panic at the fact that they'll never be able to?
What about the acceptance?
Whatabout the fact that they know that they are dying?
Because of you
Because of me.
Always because of me.
I felt like retching. I wanted to back off, before I done the unforgivable and added one more body to the missing persons list, to one more family waiting for someone who would never come back home. I wanted to make my legs move, to make them run in the opposite direction. I wanted to find somewhere safe, to find somewhere far, far past the reaches of human civilization.
But I couldn't.
I needed to feed.
I shoved the reasonable part of me – my conscience, you might say – back into the farthest possible reaches of my mind as I slowly felt the soldier in me step up to the plate. The monster in me rejoiced. Instantly, I straightened up, adjusting my coat to hide the worst of the tears and stains. Stepping confidently onto the street - confidence was the key to lying after all - I let my gaze wander over the various people surrounding me. Which one would be the least likely to be missed? Even as I shuddered at the thought of choosing a life that I deemed least important, the larger part of my consciousness was scanning out escape routes on the off chance that I would fail - that I would be noticed.
All of a sudden the clouds that had been hovering all day broke, sending a torrential downpour sweeping through the streets of Philadelphia.
Great. Just what I needed. Note the sarcasm.
I sighed as the puny humans surrounding me started darting for cover in various restaurants, businesses, and shops around us. I could just stay outside - I didn't mind the rain, I actually enjoyed it - but that would be too conspicuous. I glanced around for the nearest building with the least amount of people in it. My eyes were dark; this was a mixed blessing. They were dark enough that I could pass undetected through the humans, but it also meant that I was thirsty. Very thirsty.
Well, you already knew that, didn't you?
I spotted a dilapidated diner on my right that seemed like it would be the best place. It was the middle of the afternoon, so I would have missed the afternoon rush. Besides, how many people would want to hang around in that place for any longer than necessary? It looked like the slightest breeze would knock it over.
Holding my breath, I stepped into the diner. Crap, there's more people than I'd thought. A family sat in a booth directly to my left, the mother arguing with her son over the nutritional value of a milkshake. A rowdy group of teenagers was at the pub table by the window laughing over some shared experience. A busboy chatted with a waitress, complaining about the chef cleaning the friers in the kitchen.
And sitting by herself at the bar, holding a completely unnecessary mug of coffee, was the loveliest vampire I had set eyes on in my entire life.
She was short, I could tell even though she was sitting down, with short hair sticking out of her hair in chaotically controlled spikes. Her clothes were stylish, to the best of my knowledge. I didn't really pay attention to women's fashion - as soon as I'd figure out what was in style, it would change - but the clothes she wore suited her, somehow.
Seriously, Whitlock? Women's fashion? SHE IS A VAMPIRE. VAMPIRES KILL OTHER VAMPIRES IN THEIR TERRITORIES! Didn't ANY of your time with Maria leave ANY of an impression on you?! GET OUT OF HERE NOW BEFORE SHE ATTACKS AND YOU HAVE TO KILL HER TOO!
But the emotions coming off of her pounded into my being.
Excitement.
Joy.
Security.
Love.
Radiating off of her in waves, stronger than I had ever felt before in any of the one hundred and four years of existence.
In the tenth of a second it had taken me to process all of this, she had set a few bills on the counter, pulled her purse onto her arm, and swung around to face me. Hopping off the stool, she danced gracefully towards me as I stood in indecision. To leave or to stay? Then she spoke:
"You've kept me waiting a long time."
I felt shame. I had kept this lovely creature waiting? (I didn't remember ever meeting this lovely creature, nor did I have any clue who this lovely creature was, but that was irrelevant.) My Ma would be scandalized if she were alive to see this. As it was, she was probably turning in her grave.
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
It had been so long since I had even attempted chivalry that the words, rusty from years of going unused, surprised me as they left my mouth.
Her laughter floated up to my ears, pealing like a thousand little bells, as she looked up at me (she really was very short) and held out her hand.
I gazed at her smiling face and absorbed her wave of her excitement as her happiness spiked. I glanced down in surprise. Oh, look; I had taken her hand.
ARE YOU CRAZY! WHAT ABOUT MARIA? WHAT ABOUT ALL THE NEWBORNS? WHAT ABOUT THE DEPRESSION THE DEATH? WHAT ABOUT THE SCARS?
As she tugged me out the door, an almost foreign emotion welled up within me until none of the rest mattered anymore.
Hope.
A/N: Hi again. So, this was origianally a oneshot because I had the lyrics in it and I didn't want to split it up, even though it kinda felt too long. Now that I took the lyrics out (see the A/N at the top), it was bothering me. So now it's split into the different POVs.
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