A/N: Hate This & I'll Love You is another wonderful Muse song. I'm not including the lyrics because they are only loosely related to the fic, and that's perhaps only inside my Muse-adoring mind ;).

A/N2: Huge THANKS to my two betas. This story has been stuck for about two months because of my obsession with grammar, and it would still be without their help. One of them was cullenite21 (her fic "Not Your Typical Emo Love Story"is the only all-human AU I've ever read. I was completely engrossed with it, and I don't like all-human AUs. Her story-telling is simply enthralling.) I don't know my other beta's name, but I'm grateful all the same.

If you need a beta, go check the Project Team Beta website on google sites. It's awesome, helpful, and there will always be a beta for you.

"Loyalty and devotion lead to bravery. Bravery leads to the spirit of self-sacrifice. The spirit of self-sacrifice creates trust in the power of love."
- Morihei Ueshiba.

I was a weak man. A monster, possibly, by Edward's standards. I had certainly caused him more trouble than he would ever deserve. Him, who'd been patient enough not to throw me out of the house in all these years. I was aware that my weakness irritated my brother Edward more than the rest of my family, due to the unrestricted access he had into my every thought.

I had failed Carlisle, too. My father, who had taken me in without asking any questions, and who had limitless amounts of faith in all his adopted children. Me included, even though I seemed to be unable to fully understand his endeavor in life, his commitment to restraining from taking lives.

I'd always thought it unnatural, this abstinence, this denial of what we were, of our cravings. Yes, I died with my victim every time I killed. I experienced their pain, their terror, and much worse, I saw myself through their eyes, felt their overpowering horror at what I was.

But I was a vampire. I'd lived like a vampire for longer than any of my siblings, never questioning my nature or the morals of my needs. It had always been a matter of simply giving in to my essence, following my instincts, satiating my appetites.

There were times when I wondered if, had I not possessed my gift and all it implied, I would ever have been repelled by my feeding habits in the first place. And if I hadn't, would I ever have met my family? Would I ever have found Alice?

I still wasn't certain why she loved me so greatly and unconditionally. I tried, at least I thought I tried my hardest to live up to her expectations, to not disappoint the unfaltering trust she had in me.

But in these past hours since Bella's awakening, another possibility had been steadily spreading in my mind, suffocating me like a dense mist: that I'd been lying to myself about the unfeasibility of this lifestyle, that I'd been telling myself what I wanted to hear.

Perhaps I hadn't been trying my hardest. Perhaps a part of me refused to resign the pleasure of drinking human blood, resentful of the perpetual pain and burning in my throat. Perhaps I didn't grieve enough for the lives I would be taking.

What kind of a person did that make me? Was Edward right, then? Was I truly the monster he thought we all were? The kind of ruthless, selfish one who would put his own satisfaction first, deliberately ignoring the harm that would come to others, counting lost lives as unfortunate, though affordable, casualties?

Well, at least on one account he was wrong – that definition did not apply to all vampires. Carlisle was spotless, the kindest and most compassionate soul I had ever met. And my brother's newborn wife was apparently capable of turning away from the scent of human blood, on her very first hunt, no less, despite being excruciatingly thirsty and barely a few hours old.

What was I? Was I good enough to share Alice's existence? Maybe I should never have left the world of death where I'd lived for so long, where everyone was like me.

If, as I was beginning to believe, it was actually compassion and horror of killing that made Bella and Carlisle so good at this life, then what did that say of me?

My father and my new sister had both been able to survive on animal blood from the first second of their vampire existence. They had both bypassed the entire newborn madness. My brother Edward had achieved the impossible. He had made love to his wife while she was still human. He hadn't lost control, he hadn't been overruled by his wild nature. He hadn't given in to the calling of her blood, which sang so irresistibly to him. Even my sister Rosalie – selfish, self-centered Rosalie – was as good as Carlisle, for she had never tasted human blood, either.

Was I a soulless murderer? Why couldn't I simply forgo human blood like the rest of my family, without being in constant torture for it?

At that moment, a sound broke through the haze that was smothering my brain – a lithe rhythm of footsteps that could only be Alice's, approaching me from behind. Of course she would keep coming to me. To erase my demons, to save me from my darkest self.

She hefted herself on my back, throwing her silky soft arms around my neck. I caressed her hands with worship.

"Jazz…," she started.

I cut her off, not wanting to hear her reassurances. Not now, not when I doubted their validity, when I suspected I had been allowing myself to rest comfortably in the faith she had in me. Indulging in self-lies, to keep from facing the truth of what I was.

"I'm failing you, Alice. You, Carlisle, all of them. But mostly you."

She gave me one of her frowns, and I didn't need to check to know she was more upset by my self-criticism than by my faults. But her mood outburst was just a display of the kittenish fury I had grown so used to. To humans she may look – and certainly was – dangerous. But next to me, next to Emmett, next to the many vampires I had met in my years of existence, she was so petite, so frail. She was precious to me.

And it annoyed me endlessly that she was more.

"You do so like to speak nonsense…," she chastised me, and I could pick out some of Esme's motherly tones in her reprimand.

"You were the first person who ever believed in me, Alice. In my goodness. In my aptitude for becoming a decent man. In my strength to restrain from taking lives. And yet, decades afterwards, I'm still as bad as I was while I lived with Maria.

"I would tell myself it was so hard because Carlisle's lifestyle is so unnatural for our kind. And here is Bella, hours old, and she's already managing altogether perfectly. Unnatural, indeed. I am the only one in this family who can't get over his bloodthirst."

I elaborated, trying to convey my frustration to her so she would understand, so she would see me in the new light I was seeing myself.

But she didn't do any of the things I expected – and feared – she would do. She didn't assent. She didn't agree with me. She didn't speak any of the words I dreaded to hear. She didn't say that she was disappointed in me, that she realized now that all my attempts at self-restraint had been half-hearted. That it was obvious after so long that I wasn't going to change, that I would be a monster forever, and she couldn't put up with me any longer.

Instead, she took my hand in hers, cradling it as if it was invaluable. As if I was as precious to her as she was to me.

"My brave, overly-sensitive soldier," she whispered, smiling the words. "Jazz, no one's judging you. No one's expecting you to be more than Bella or any other stupid thing like that." I gave her an incredulous look from the corner of my eye, and she huffed. "Seriously, Jasper, do you think anyone's got time to worry about you right now? Bella's probably making a fresh attempt at chewing Jacob's head off while we speak, and that's bound to keep them all busy for a spell, you know."

I chuckled darkly, but her smile only widened, turning into an impish grin.

"That's not likely," I retorted, adopting her humorous teasing. "She's probably got too much self-control for that."

"Perhaps," she shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I wouldn't know, in reality, since I'm aggravatingly blind as of late."

This time, I laughed out loud. She glared contemptuously at me. But her frustration was so amusing after so many years of enduring her omniscience and her smugness when time eventually proved her right and the rest of us wrong. Plus, it also felt immensely good and light to laugh after all the previous tension and remorse.

"I'll make you a deal," I proposed, playfully, turning to face her. "If you stop brooding and complaining about your lack of sight, I'll be good and try to get over my frustration with myself."

She was silent for a second, then let out a dejected sigh. I could feel her giving in, regardless.

"We've got a deal, then," she accepted.

And she looked so adorable, so earnest, the mock pout on her lips was so endearing, the emotions coursing through her so pure, so intense, so generous and staggering, that I scooped her up and kissed her with all the passion I felt. She clung to me and laughed her bell-like laughter, the most marvelous sound in the world, the one that filled me so entirely I didn't need anything else to feel satisfied.

Hearing Alice's laughter seemed to unleash something very powerful inside me. The fog that shrouded my thoughts suddenly lifted, and an as-of-yet unrevealed understanding of my predicament dawned in my mind: intolerably alluring as it was, human blood couldn't compare to this – to the emotions Alice and I shared, to the priceless gift of having Alice love me and being able to experience for myself the extent of her devotion, her acceptance, her confidence.

I saw that, for over a century and a half, I had been conferring too much preponderance to the thirst, to the enticement of human blood. Maybe it wasn't compulsorily the dominant feature of our vampire nature.

Alice flashed me a smile, her trustful golden eyes sparkling with joy, and held her hand out to me. I took it unhesitatingly, rendering myself to her unconditionally and absolutely.

For Alice, I would work harder, pushing myself to the very best of my potential. I would embrace my latest theory, and act on consequence. I would teach myself compassion, and think of human lives and souls as invaluable – without exceptions. I would support Edward's belief that our vampire nature was monstrous, yet not uncontrollable.

I would humble myself and learn from Bella. That was bound to please Alice for more than one reason. At least I had on my side the advantage of being able to share my new sister-in-law's emotions, and that could be a privileged help. I would engrave her horror of killing in my mind and heart, and learn whatever it had to teach me.

I would not let Alice down, and instead make myself deserving of her loyalty. I knew I was fortunate to still have her hand in mine after all these years, throughout all my struggling and after every one of my lapses.

I would honor my soulmate. I would have whatever courage and strength it took to overcome any trial the universe decided to present me with.