So this is no longer strictly a oneshot - but you probably know that by now. To reiterate: this started differently, but now this is Bella/Victoria/Alice. This wasn't the intent originally, but now it is, etc, etc. Enjoy!
Do I own Twilight and the characters involved? Nope, but I think you already knew that.

Chapter One - Rage and Pleasure

It had been four and a half months since the departure of the Cullens. Four and half months since the world that I had built for myself, the world I had come to love, collapsed in on itself. My newly found family, parents, sisters and brothers, walked out without saying a single word. And I was fucking furious.

I admit, the first two months, it was rough. I found myself in a semi-catatonic state. I could barely interact with other people, I didn't eat all that frequently. I didn't sleep properly. I was like a pathetic, lost little lamb. My friends were confused, not understanding why was so intensely depressed; it wasn't as though I could explain the depth and true nature of my relationship with Edward, I couldn't say that I had deluded myself into thinking we would spend an eternity together. I just had to give them half truths, and half answers. Eventually, they realized this, and they stopped trying to interact with me. It was painful, but I was expecting it

This was my life. Empty and anguished. That is, until one day near Thanksgiving, when in an emotional fit, I kicked a floorboard, and saw the presents from my birthday that Edward had told me he had taken. His idea was we have a clean break, that he make it like they had never existed - so he took my possessions, and hid them from me. When I first saw them, especially the pictures, I cried. I cried, harder than I had in months. I looked at us, our stupid look of affection, me and my friends - and then I became angry, I became seriously angry, because I realized why he had left. Why he had done this.

In Phoenix, Edward had tried to get me to move, to get me away from him, for my own safety - it was a remarkably stupid, if well-intentioned, attempt at self sacrifice. I begged him to stay, and he agreed, for "As long as it was safe for me." And when I saw those gifts, I immediately realized that was why he left me. Why he had left. After the incident at the birthday party which I didn't want, he likely became convinced he was endangering my life, so he forced his family to leave. He thought it wasn't safe for me. And it pissed me off. He took away my choice in the matter - I admit, in the days leading up to his departure, I was getting a bit aggravated by his constant presence, and his possessiveness. His decision to ensure we had every single class together in particular was infuriating. But that didn't mean I wanted him to leave. He made a major life decision for me, and chose to remove people cared about from my life.

I admit, the rage was sudden, but it was a welcome change from the moping - I appreciated feeling something powerful, something strong. I felt rage at Edward, for deciding he could run my life. I felt angry at Carlisle, for catering to his son's every whim. I was less angry and still mostly just felt pain for Esme, a woman who said she viewed me as her daughter, and woman who I viewed as the mother mine never was. Somehow, despite this, she was able to leave without another word. I was angry at my "brothers" as well, goofy Emmett with his wild energy and his insistence on calling me his baby sister at every turn, and calm, stoic Jasper, who rarely spoke but made sure to let me know he viewed me as a sister. He always said once I was turned, we'd be closer, and I was stupid enough to believe him, I was even angry at Rosalie - we never exactly got along, but I enjoyed her presence and her beauty. I spent a lot of time when she was around, staring at her elegant features, beautiful even when scowling. I sometimes dwelled on the shape of her lips or the shimmer of her hair int he sunlight. I didn't understand my fixation with her, but I still desperately wanted her to like me.

But more than anyone else, I was angry at Alice. My supposed best friend, my sister, the psychic - she had to have seen what the sudden departure had done to me. She had to have been looking in the future to see what could have potentially happened at the party, but she let it happen anyway. She allowed her brother to smash my heart in the woods, and didn't do a goddamn thing. And she left without saying goodbye. She didn't leave me a letter, or any acknowledgment that I had held any significance in her life beyond being a human plaything. She said she loved me, and then threw me out like trash.

I spent a lot of time dwelling on Alice and my friendship with her - all the time we spent together, all her insufferable but ultimately enjoyable shopping trips. Everything that passed between us. It was her, more than any of the rest of them, that I missed. I wanted her back most of all - I could never see all of them again, but if I could see Alice, I would be full of joy. My fondness for her had always scared me, the significance of it. But now I didn't care that I almost loved her more than Edward. I just wanted her back.

It was clear to me that the person I am now, the rage I have, would not have been good for me and Edward. We wouldn't have been together - I think that, had he stayed, he would have grown to irritate me. His refusal to change me, his stubborn attitude towards sex, and his overall dated perspective. But what would have happened then? I can't say. If he came back now, though? I would scream at him. I would yell, curse, fight back. Everything I had refused to do when he was still here, everything I wanted to do and say would pill out of me. I would spend hours fantasizing about the shocked expression on his face, the chastising tone he would take, the pitiful expression he'd opt for when he wanted to get his way. I pictured him trying to dazzle me, and me spitting in his face in response.

My favorite fantasies were those centering around Alice's return. Would I forgive her? Would I scream at her like Edward? Or would I fall to her feet, sobbing, begging for her return? I would lie in bed, close my eyes, and picture her face. Would she look sad, and guilty, would her topaz eyes shine with tears that would never fall? Would she just smile, and laugh, pulling me into her arms like nothing had changed? It drove me mad and I lost hours to the thought of her face. These fantasies were both worse and better than the ones about Edward, as they filled me with more conflicting emotions. I tried to hard to live my life in one gear - rage, and rage only. This allowed me to avoid the darker underbelly of what I felt. Still, I took a sick pleasure at the image of Alice with her arms around my waist, her chin pressed into the base of my stomach, begging for forgiveness. I would run my hands through her hair and pull her away to look in her eyes, and I would answer differently each time. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But it was always me in control.

This anger and my fantasies had consumed a lot of my life. I may have even further alienated all my friends in the process (Angela was the only one who still talked to me), and irreparably damaged my relationship with my mother in the process, but at least I wasn't catatonic anymore. That had to be better, right?

I sighed, glancing at the clock in the dashboard of my truck. I didn't know why I was here now. This was seriously going to interfere with the "single emotion" strategy, but I had to see it. I had to know it was still here. There were moments where I sometimes felt that the Cullens were no more than a dream, and seeing this house would put that to rest. I opened the door, and stepped out onto the gravel of their driveway.

The house was still there, grand and ridiculous as ever. I knew they were a large family, but I never quite understood the desire to live in a large mansion. Now that I'm alone, I think I get it. There's something beautiful about a grand house - even when it's empty, it looks full of life. You can look at the house, and imagine lots of people live there. It looks like the sort of place a family would live, a large, wealthy, human family - which is the illusion they were going for. I bitterly pondered how long they would stay away from this place. I pictured myself living here, withering away in this tomb of a house, and I almost laughed. Me, ancient, greeting when they returned here in 6 decades, wrinkled and half dead, while they were still the same undead beauties they would remain for eternity. Or, for as long as the earth was here, anyway.

I walked up to the door, and touched the knob. It moved with ease, and I realized they hadn't locked it. I wondered why that was. I entered the house, and took a deep breath. It smelled stale. It was obvious they had left very quickly. Much of the furniture was still here, covered in sheets. The great room was still in the configuration it had been in for the disastrous birthday party. The roses were gone, but i could see a small shard of glass underneath one of the tables, slightly stained with by blood. The vastness of the room gave it the effect of some sort of haunted house. It was obvious someone had lived here once, but they were long gone. I could feel their ghosts roaming the room, and I shut my eyes. For the first time in months, I didn't dwell in a bitter fantasy, and instead allowed my memories of the family to flood my mind. Images of Edward playing languid compositions while I looked on in awe, Alice laughing as she forced me to play dress up, Emmett and Jasper bickering in front of the Tv while Esme looked on in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Alice's laugh, like bells, rang in my ears, and let out a sigh. I missed her so much. Beyond wanting to make her suffer, hear her beg for for forgiveness, I just wanted to hear that sound again. I felt my rage wash away, and get replaced with the anguish I had succumbed to in September.

I opened my eyes again and shuddered. I didn't like this feeling. My singular emotions were gone, and now I felt a wide range of things. I moved through the grand room, trailing my fingers across the leather sofa, causing the sheet to fall. I remembered sitting here, having Alice force a pedicure on me, and I felt another spasm of pain. I shook my head, attempting to clear my thoughts, and walked through the room, over the staircase, avoiding looking at the barren walls - all things of value had been stripped from the house. Esme's art and decorative pieces were gone. The Cullens only seemed to take their personal items with them when they left a place. Furniture and unwanted appliance were left to collect dust over the decades, their closets full of dated clothes. They could probably fill a museum with all the fashions they had acquired over the years. Another thing Alice would probably do. Another spasm of pain. I sighed, and continued up the steps.

Alice's bedroom looked essentially the same as it had when I had last been here. The large bed took up the center of the relatively small room, with a dresser adjacent to it. This had been covered with Jasper's personal effects, and had held his clothes; it was now as bare as everything else in the house. The bed had been stripped, leaving other but a very large mattress. I had always wondered how Alice was able to deal with the severe height difference between her and Jasper. This bed was clearly designed for his very tall frame, and every time she sat on it I remembered her looking like she was about to be swallowed up by the sheets. Another spasm of pain and a bitter laugh. I sighed. Too many memories in this room as well. The further I got into this house, the harder it was to hold onto this anger I had cultivated. I knew that if I spent too long here, I would either return to my catatonia, or regress even further to my hopeful, longing self from the beginning of last year, the version of me that was pathetic enough to pine for Edward and fall for him in the first place.

I turned around, and looked at her walk-in closet. I knew if I went inside there, I would not be able to go back. But I wanted desperately to see just some proof that Alice was really here at one point. I stood up, and carefully opened the white doors. The walk-in closet was nearly twice the size of the bedroom. I remembered the dread I used to feel whenever Alice would pull me into here, but now...I almost smiled at the room. It was, of course, unsurprisngly full. Alice was never one to hold onto outfits for long, so it made sense that she had left most of her Forks wardrobe to collect dust. For once, I was relieved that she was so fashion-savvy. The closet was full of her distinct vanilla tinged scent, as it lingered over all her dresses. I inhaled, letting her scent fill my nostrils, and shuddered. I felt a strange warmth pool in the pit of my stomach, like a liquid heat. I ignored the unwelcome sensation and moved deeper into her racks of clothes. I stopped at the back of the closet, and felt my heart drop out of my stomach.

Here was a rack with an envelope attached to it, with the words, "For Bella," lovingly inscribed on the front. I could feel tears begin to well up in my eyes, but fought against, trying to remember my rage. I screamed at the top of my lungs, grabbing the dresses on the rack and ripping them off their hangers. I picked one long, satin dress and ripped it down the seams, before I collapsed to the floor with another wail of fury and pain. I could feel the pain in my chest convulsing and ripping through me, and for once I gave into it. I cried and screamed on the floor of Alice's closet like a child throwing a tempter tantrum. I don't know how long it lasted, but it felt extremely liberating.

When it ended, I was panting, lying on a pile of old dresses. I likely looked ridiculous, but I didn't care. I was feeling every emotion I had been repressing behind my blind rage, and I felt alive.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably only brief amount of time, I sighed, and sat up. I saw the letter, and opened it.

Dear Bella,

I'm sorry we left so suddenly. I'm sure you'll think that apology is too little too late, and I know it is, but I still mean it. I left this here because I had a vision of you visiting the house at some point. These are all for you, provided you haven't torn too many of them (don't worry, the blue dress wasn't expensive).
I promise you, I will be back at some point. But things needed to go this way. Again, know that's not a helpful explanation, but I can guarantee someday you will understand.
Please, remember above all, that I love you. I did when we left, and I still do. Edward has asked me not to look too far into your future, but I promise I will check up on you. Remember: it's signifiant things that I see the most.
Please don't be too angry with me or the rest of us, especially Esme. We really had no choice.

Love,
Alice

I clutched the letter to my chest, and I began to cry again.

I don't know how it happened, but here I was, standing naked in the Cullen's bathroom. After my fit in Alice's closet, I decided what I really needed was a good bath. Charlie's house only had an old shower, and felt like the muscles in back were screaming with tension after months of barely moving. The bathroom next to Carlisle and Esme's bedroom had a massive bathtub in it, and I quickly stripped out of my clothes in my haste to get in, peeling off layer by layer as I walked to the bathroom. I stared at the empty tub, and was overcome with an unwelcome memory.

'It was summer, and Esme was running a bath for me, so Alice wouldn't have to help me shower. I had enjoyed my time showering with Alice, so I had protested, but Esme had coaxed me into it. I was sitting there, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, when a question popped into my head.

"Esme, I know you're vampires, but why is the tub so obscenely large?" Esme looked at me, slight mirth in her eyes, and laughed.

"Bella, it's designed that way so two people can sit in it," she replied, her voice sounding like a series of chimes and bells. I immediately blushed, and was about to respond, when Rosalie walked by the open bathroom.

"Don't worry, Bella," she said, smirking at me, "I'm sure Edward will show you the benefits of the tub eventually." I was so shocked that I had almost fallen into the tub. Esme quickly scolded her, but I was honestly so happy she had acknowledged my existence that I didn't care. That was the first and last time that Rosalie ever said my name.'

I returned to reality, shuddering. There are too many memories here, I thought to myself. I sighed, and began to run the water. I looked at my body in the large mirror, and remembered Alice's letter. I sighed, returning to her closet, and grabbing one the dresses she had picked for me, not looking at it. If I was going to spend more time in this emotionally haunted house, I may as well get something material out of it. I walked back to the bathroom, and laid the dress on the sink. By now, the tub was full, and I turned off the faucet.

I looked back to the dress I had grabbed, examining it in my hands. I knew from the label it was Versace, its color a deep, deep red. It was a floor length piece, with long, sheer sleeves, and a slit up the left side to show off my legs. I couldn't imagine where I would ever wear this dress, and I sighed at Alice's choice. Not thinking, I picked up the dress and pulled it over my bare body. The material was very thin, and provided a lovely sensation as it slid over my nipples. I looked back in the mirror, and shrugged. It was a beautiful dress, but it looked ridiculous on me. It was clearly designed for someone with important places to be, someone with fashion sense. I was neither. Still, I liked the dress. Dammit.

I brushed my hands over the material, tracing the collarbone and the texture of my breasts beneath the soft fabric. I shuddered, and without thinking, I climbed into the warm tub with the dress still on. The fabric began to absorb the water as it hit my skin, and I sighed in contentment as the temperature of the water began to loosen my muscles, and I shut my eyes, allowing my head to submerge under the water.

I began to drift into one of my fantasies, remembering the smell of Alice from her closet. I sighed as more heat began to pool between my legs as I pictured Alice's smiling face, and I wondered why that was. I pictured Alice begging for forgiveness again, and the sensation intensified. I pictured her chin on my stomach, my hands running themselves through her hair, tracing the shape of her lips with my finger. In my head, Alice looked up at me, desire in her inky black eyes, as she kissed my stomach, inching down my body...

I let out a gasp and lifted my head above the water. Why was I thinking of this? Why did the image of Alice kissing my stomach, lowering herself onto my sex cause such a strong reaction from me. Even in my repulsion and horror at my own imagination, the warmth and wetness between my thighs had yet to fade, and it became more pronounced as I pictured Alice's plump, marble lips again. I let out a moan, and I lowered my head back beneath the water, picturing Alice again, as she stood up in my fantasy, and pressed herself against me. I imagined her tracing the shape of my mouth with her icy tongue, and I let out another soundless moan as I slid my hand between my legs, slipping my hands into my sex, touching my clit lightly as I did so. I pictured Alice again, that same tongue entering my mouth, her breasts heavy on mine, and I began to pump my hand rhythmically in and out of myself, rubbing my clit and arching my back. I pictured Alice, naked, kissing me in her bed, her hand slipping between my legs, and began to pump faster, water filling my mouth as I did so. I tried to speak her name but I couldn't, so I just sped up again, allowing the images to become more graphic, her tongue slipping between my folds and me bucking my hips into her face. I was losing breath but I couldn't stop, I continued to pleasure myself as I pictured Alice's face between my legs, her tongue probing my center, making me lose control...

My orgasm came all too suddenly and all too powerfully, and I hit my head against the tub as I succumbed to the sensation crashing over me. I brought my head to the surface my head throbbing as I basked in the afterglow. What. The hell. Was that?

All my fantasies of Alice had never taken that direction before, and I was shocked at myself. What did this mean? Did I want Alice? Why would I picture my supposed "sister" with her head between my legs? I shuddered at the thought, feeling the warmth approach again in my center, and I stood up in frustration. I couldn't do that again. Somewhere, my anguish had turned into anger, and that had turned into ecstasy , and now all these emotions were combining into a confusing cocktail of rage and pleasure, pooling in my stomach and confusing the hell out of me. Was this what I wanted all along? Had I along the way somehow fallen in love with Alice? Did she know? Is that why she left?

I was angry again. Maybe she did know, maybe she saw it causing a problem, and she left before I could find out. Or maybe she felt the same, and allowed my relationship with her brother to fall apart so she could escape his telepathy allowing him to learn the truth. Did she see this happening? Did she see me, moaning her name in her bathtub, touching myself to the picture of her? Did she none of this and just suspected it? Did it even matter?

I let out another frustrated scream and looked at myself in the mirror. I was drenched, my eyes were puffy. I saw myself, emotional, hormonal, panting and sick, and I finally came to two realizations.

One: I was absolutely furious with Alice Cullen.

Two: I wanted her back in my life desperately, so I could make her mine.

Three: I, Bella Swan, was gay. And there was no dancing around that fact.

Shit.