Disclaimer: I do NOT own Twilight.

Author's Notes: Takes place while Edward and Bella are on their honeymoon, and I'll say it now, Bella does not get pregnant. There will be absolutely no Renesmee. It's not that I hate her, as many people seem to. I'm just really bugged by the very notion that Jacob imprints on her. Seriously, I think it's cruel and unusual. He hates imprinting, and he hates vampires. So, he imprints on a half-vampire? Hahahaha – no.

Anyway, I'd like to say this is just a one-shot, but I know it's not. When I first started writing it, it was a stand alone idea. Nothing before or after. But now that I've finished the first chapter, I'm pretty sure there's going to be more.

Chapter One

Accident

If Carlisle Cullen's heart was still capable of beating, he'd have sworn it had stopped in his chest.

One would think that after more than three centuries as a vampire, he'd be ready for any eventuality. That his supernatural reflexes and strength would give him the necessary edge to react to any possible catastrophe. One would also think that as a doctor, the number of injuries, illnesses, and deaths he had seen would have hardened him. That nothing would shock or surprise him or leave him feeling helpless in the face of what was unalterable. One would think that by now he had learned acceptance, if absolutely nothing else.

And to a degree, it was true. Over the endless years, he'd treated men and women, ranging in all ages from elderly to children. He wouldn't lie, not even to himself; the children were always the worst. It pained him to watch them, more than anyone else, suffer the consequences of mortality. Even more so since Esme had become part of his life, part of his soul. Her pain over losing her child had never completely left her, and so he bore it as well. And so it was, on this day when he bore witness to some terrible accident, he experienced pain like no other, and no amount of time or training or acceptance made any difference.

By the look of her, he thought she was perhaps twelve or thirteen. Small for her age, there was no question about that, but his keen eyes registered the angles in face indicating that she had begun the departure from childhood. Also, within that vast mind of his where so many thoughts and calculations could be done simultaneously and almost without effort, he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing out at night, alone, walking down the sidewalk with neither parent nor guardian to see to her safety. Carlisle had no children in the truest sense of the word; yes, he had his adopted family, but they had come to him into his care as adults, and we already ( or had soon become) indestructible immortals. Never had he been entrusted with the welfare and safety of a tiny, helpless infant and been responsible for bringing it safely through the years of childhood, adolescence, and eventually into adulthood. But he knew in his heart (beating or not) that if this young thing had been his daughter, his responsibility, she never would have been found walking down the street through the night, alone and helpless to whatever fate befell her. This horrible tragedy would never have occurred.

But he knew, even as he deliberated over the situation, that this line of thought was unimportant. This girl was not his daughter, not his responsibility, and though he knew it would likely take him another three centuries to accept it, he was in no way culpable for the fate that had befallen her.

This tragedy began on a summer night in the Valley of the Sun, also known as Phoenix, Arizona. Carlisle had come there at the invitation of Bella's mother, along with Esme, Alice, and Jasper, with the mission of helping Renee pack the remainder of the belongings Bella had left behind when she'd moved up to Forks. Renee knew that Esme was renovating a cottage for Edward and Bella to have as their own home when they came back from their honeymoon, and had decided it was time to let go of the idea that her daughter would come home someday. One phone call to Esme was all it had taken. It was, in Esme's opinion, the perfect chance to get to know the rest of Bella's family, and so they'd booked the flight and made the trip for that very weekend.

Renee was a charming and gracious hostess, and seemed so genuinely happy and eager to be getting know the 'in-laws' that she didn't even ask questions or seem to mind that the Cullen's had such a "busy" schedule while they were in town that they could only help with the packing after the sun had set. She talked endlessly with Esme and Alice, and on the third night of their visit Carlisle had decided to slip away to attend to some of his more baser instincts.

He was so thirsty. He hadn't fed since before their flight, and he desperately needed to now. However, he was no familiar with Phoenix, or the wildlife surrounding it, and had climbed high atop a building to orient himself with the sprawling city surrounding him.

That was when he saw it. His sharp eyes were scanning the horizon, taking in the low mountains in the distance that would sure have an abundance of wildlife, when his gaze suddenly dropped lower to a darkened street some distance away. He couldn't say what had drawn his attention there, but once he looked, there was no chance of him looking away.

He saw the girl. Young, alone, and distracted by some dark, inner thoughts. And a second later, he saw the speeding car swerve around a corner ahead of her. The driver was going too fast, swerved, lost control. He saw the girl's face clearly in the bright headlights, her blue-green eyes wide with terror. He cried out in warning, knowing even as he did it that she was much too far away to hear, and much too slow, too human, the avoid the collision in any case.

Over a thousand pounds of metal collided sickeningly with her fragile human body, and he was almost certain she had not survived. She couldn't have. But that thought did not stop him from running with all possible speed to her side. He ran so fast that in the back of his mind he wondered if even Edward would have beaten him there. He completely forgot about caution, about the very real possibility of witnesses. None of that mattered. If there was any chance, any at all, he would bear the consequences of his carelessness.

Once at her side, he let his medical training take over. By some miracle, his sensitive ears picked up a pulse, and ragged, pained breathing accompanied by a low gurgling noise. At least one rib had pierced her lung; he could hear it filling with blood. Even more blood surrounded her body, pooling out onto the sidewalk. Her left arm and leg were bent at odd angles. Indeed, it appeared the entire left side of her body had been crushed by the impact. He had to act fast, he knew. She would not survive if he did not. She may not survive anyway…

In a second Esme was kneeling on the girl's other side.

"Alice," she said, by means of explanation. Of course, it was the only way Esme could have known. Carlisle saw her face was contorted with pain at the sight of the child's mangled body, and said only words of comfort that came to his mind.

"She's still alive." It was a redundant thing to say; he knew Esme could hear the girl's pulse as well as he could, but it was all he could think to offer her.

"Carlisle… oh, Carlisle…" she whispered in agony, looking as though she could weep. "What happened?"

"Struck by a car," he said quickly, "The driver – he didn't stop –"

"Poor dear," Esme whispered, her hands hovering close to the child but not touching her out of fear of injuring her further. "What can I do?"

His wife looked at him, her honey-colored eyes filled with certainty that he would save the child.

"She's lost a lot of blood," he said quickly. "Her lung is punctured. Most of her bones have been crushed…" He gave her a solemn look. "Darling, even if I if I had an operating room right here, and the best surgical team in the world assisting me…"

Esme blanched and looked down at the girl again, her face pinching in agony. "Carlisle, we can't just let her – I.. I won't let her –" She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, it was with pained determination. "We'll take her."

"Esme… she's so young," Carlisle said, a hitch in his voice. "She's practically a child –"

"Exactly," Esme said, her normally soft voice hard, though it cracked it pain. "Too young. Way too young. I won't just let her die. I won't."

She hissed the last two words, and Carlisle felt helpless. He had never, in all his centuries, dreamed of bringing a child into this life. Even if she were awake for him to ask her what she wanted, he didn't even consider her old enough to make that kind of decision! But she was fading fast, he knew. She only had a brief time left. Either way, her life was going to end this night. And his wife looked as though she had no intention of leaving without the girl.

"Carlisle!" Esme hissed, jerking her head to the right. He heard them. Humans were approaching. He had mere seconds to make a decision. Take her to a human hospital where she would be lucky to survive, or…

Esme made the decision for him. As gently as possible, she lifted the child from the ground.

"I'm taking her," Esme said. "Carlisle, I can't – I can't –"

"I know, dear," he said, his heart heavy. "Come, we need to hurry."

In a blur they ran through the darkened streets, Esme carrying the girl while Carlisle led the way out of the city. They had so little time. They needed to get to the home they had rented for their stay, a comfortable house a few miles into the desert.

It took less than fifteen minutes for them to get there, but even that seemed like too much time. Carlisle could hear her pulse faltering, and he urged Esme to lay her on their bed, (nothing more than a prop for them), and he knelt beside the girl to look her over once more. She seemed so small, broken as she was. Her eyes were closed, but she still breathed, if only barely. Her face was so damaged he could barely even make out her features. Who was she? Why had she been out all alone? Why hadn't anyone been there to protect her?

"Carlisle, hurry!" Esme said, her voice pitched high with anxiety.

Carlisle sighed and took the child's one good hand.

"I'm sorry," he said low. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I can't even ask you if this is what you want. I'm sorry for the terrible suffering you are about to endure."

He could say nothing more, and there was no more time to waste in any case. Gently, he brushed the pale blood-streaked hair back from the girl's throat and, using only the barest pressure, sliced through her fragile skin with his razor-sharp fangs, right through the vein that would take his venom straight to her heart. Seconds later he could smell the venom spreading through her bloodstream, and there was nothing left for it now. The two vampires waited, unmoving. They listened to her heartbeat. It pumped sluggishly. One beat. Two. Three….

And then a howling, animalistic scream of unimaginable agony echoed through the desert.

This was Hell. It had to be. Her mother had always warned her about it's terrors. So had their priest. And she had done everything in her short life to avoid ending up there. Church. Prayer. Communion. Confession. But apparently none of that had mattered. It did not balance out the sin of her existence. And now her existence was nothing but pain. Pain and intense, unimaginable heat. She couldn't imagine any other explanation for it than eternal damnation. Over and over again it coursed through her, so hot and unbearable that she was sure her very soul would be destroyed.

Definitely Hell, then. She could hear screaming echoing around it. It was so pained and terrible that it could only belong to the damned. That must mean she wasn't alone here, although she couldn't see anything but darkness. Maybe some of the screams were her own. In fact, she was sure of it. She should be screaming. Was definitely screaming inside herself. Begging for the end. Begging for… more than death. Because if she was in Hell, then she was already dead. So, she begged for oblivion. For there to be nothing at all. Anything to end this torture. She screamed for it, or thought she did. Hoped she did. Maybe if someone heard her, they'd end this. Erase her from existence as if she'd never been born. She never should have been anyway.

Let me die, she screamed inside herself. Let it end. Please, merciful God, let me never have existed.

But the pain didn't stop.

The fire blazed hotter. She begged for someone to make it stop, to not let her endure another moment of this. But there was nothing. Nothing existed outside of this. She had no concept of time. Of her own body. Of anything beyond this never-ending moment. It was just her and the fire.

Carlisle knelt beside the broken body of the child. Her shrieks echoed off the walls of their bedchamber, off the desert surrounding them, off the very insides of his skull. She screamed for death. Screamed for her mother. For God. For an end.

Carlisle would have wept if he were able. This was far from the first time he'd suffered through this, but it was by far the worst.

She's just a child, he thought. Dear God, just a child. Just a child.

He held her small hand in his, kept her from throwing herself from the bed as she thrashed, and let her screams reverberate through him. He would not leave, although after the first day he'd practically ordered Esme to do so. She was so soft and motherly, he could tell the child's pain was killing her. But he would stay. His pain didn't matter. He had even forgotten about his thirst. He wouldn't let the girl suffer alone.

"I'm here," he said, his voice low, filled with grief. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm here."

Eventually, time came to mean something again. This awareness did not bring relief with it, as she thought it might. The flames inside her did not decrease even the tiniest bit, but in some way she did not understand, she felt herself growing stronger. She could finally think through the pain. She became aware of her body again, and for the first time, she recognized the sound of her own heart, hammering wildly against her ribs. She did not understand how that could be possible; if she were dead, she would have no body, no heartbeat. Also, she could tell now with absolutely certainty that it was her mouth screaming. Could feel the strain the muscles in her mouth, the reverberating of her vocal cords. And when she had the sudden desire to see again, her eyes opened automatically, and she saw a vaulted wooden ceiling above her head. This confused her even further. Why would any part of Hell have a vaulted ceiling? And she could hear too, more clearly than ever before. Her own screams registered first, but there was something else. Something much quieter. A man's faint voice chanting the same words over and over again.

"I'm here… I'm here…"

She turned her head to the side and saw him kneeling on the floor beside her. A golden-haired stranger with his head bowed, his pale hand grasping hers.

"I'm here… I'm here…"

Who was he? He was so beautiful it stunned her. His golden hair, pale skin, angelic features… Was he an angel, then? No, there were no angels in Hell. But that meant…

Her priest's voice came back to her in her own mind. Lucifer was the prince of angels, the bearer of light. He placed his own beauty and perfection above his love for God.

Lucifer. The most beautiful and perfect of God's creations. This man beside her was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. So far beyond the human concept of beauty that the word barely even applied to him.

And then he looked up at her.

His eyes were black. Completely pitch-black. Darker than a moonless night. Darker than the deepest pits of Hell. Bottomless pools of shadows and emptiness, a void that threatened to consume her very soul. Whoever this was, he was no man. He possessed the beauty of an angel, but his eyes were that of a demon, and even though he looked at her with empathy and concern, when she screamed again, it was not with pain, but with sheer terror.

"Nooo!"

The man – demon – appeared startled at her outburst. She tried to wrench her hand away from his, but he was so strong he didn't even seem to register her resistance.

"No! No!" she screamed, trying to fight the pain inside her long enough to flee from him. "Please, God, no!"

This time he did not miss her struggles, and he dropped her hand. Through the burning agony, she tried in desperation to get away from him. Much to her surprise, her body was strong, and although the fire almost paralyzed her with suffering, she managed to fling herself away from him.

She felt herself crash to the floor. It should have hurt, she knew, but her body reacted almost indifferently to the impact.

"Careful," the demon said, his voice so musical and angelic that she stopped screaming for a moment, wanting nothing more than to hear it again. "Don't hurt yourself."

A pair of arms lifted her from the floor as though she weighed nothing, and for the second time she found herself looking into the eyes of the devil.

"Let me go," she sobbed. "Please, God, save me!"

She tried to fight him, but the pain paralyzed her again as the heat reached a new peak. She shrieked with it, and the arms gently laid her back down on the bed.

"It'll be over soon," he promised gently, stroking back her hair. "I'm so sorry… so sorry."

Why was he apologizing? The devil wouldn't apologize. It was a trick. Had to be. Well, she wasn't falling for it!

With great effort, she clasped her hands together in front of her. She couldn't fight this monster on her own. She couldn't save herself. If this demon was going to drag her to Hell, she would not go down without a fight. She would appeal to God, beg him to forgive her, to save her from this demon.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, "O Divine Eternal Father," the began, her words punctuated with cries of agony. "In union with your Divine Son and the Holy Spirit, and through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I beg You to destroy the Power of your greatest enemy – the evil spirits. Cast them into the deepest recesses of Hell and chain them there forever! Take possession of your Kingdom which You have created and which is rightfully yours."

She paused to take a fortifying breath, her mind grappling for the remainder of the prayer, but the voice of the demon beside her interrupted her.

"Heavenly Father," he said gently, clasping his hand gently with hers again. Her eyes flew open and met his, wide with shock. "Give us the reign of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I repeat this prayer out of pure love for You with every beat of my heart and with every breath I take. Amen."

Silence fell between them. For the first time, she was able to resist the desire to scream, though the fire continued to burn her. There was no point anyway. It didn't ease her suffering one iota.

At length, the demon smiled. "I can understand how you might think me an evil spirit, come to take you to Hell, although I cannot imagine what a child such as yourself could have done to deserve to go there."

Her brow furrowed. "You're not… the devil?" she asked through her pained, labored breathing.

The man frowned. "No, I'm not," he said gently.

"A demon then?"

"No," he said again. "My name is Carlisle. Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

"Doctor?" she said, frowning. Every doctor she'd ever met looked like they were a hundred years old, whereas this man was young and beautiful. "You don't look like any doc I've ever been to."

"No, I suppose not," he said. "What is your name?"

"Gabrielle," she said, gasping as the heat razed her again and her body gave an involuntary thrash. "My mom calls me Gabbie."

"Gabbie," he said. "Gabrielle. After the arch-angel Gabriel?"

"Yeah," she said. "My mom picked it…" Another wave of torture. She clenched her teeth against it and asked, "Am I dead?"

His lips quirked a little bit. "No."

"Then what's wrong with me, doc?" she asked, gritting her teeth. "Why does everything hurt so much?"

Pain entered the doctor's eyes.

"You… you were in an accident," he said carefully. "Do you remember?"

She thought back, and the memory came to her almost instantly, though for some reason it seemed kind of blurry to her, which surprised her when her mind was so clear.

"There was a car," she said finally. "I didn't see it coming until… and it didn't stop."

Carlisle nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry, I wasn't fast enough to get to you. You were hit."

She gave a brief, stiff nod. "Is that why everything hurts? Cause I was hit by the car?"

Again, the pained look.

"Yes… and no," he said. You… you were badly hurt. You were dying." He fell silent for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes, as though he were remembering. "I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do."

"I don't understand," she said. "You said I wasn't dead."

"No, you're not dead," he affirmed. "But –" He suddenly fixed her with a very serious look. "Gabrielle, listen to me. To save your life, I had to change you. Please understand. I had no choice. Your body – it was too broken. There was so much damage. If there had been any other way, I swear –"

"What are you talking about?" she interrupted, her abnormally clear mind suddenly confused. "You changed me? In what way?"

He didn't answer, and she felt her heart jump with a burst of anxiety. And then it began to beat faster. And faster. And still faster. And with this, the pain began to change. On the plus side, she could feel it fading from the tips of her fingers and toes. On the downside, the fire in her throat changed. It was no longer the burning of scorching heat, but more of feeling of being… parched. An unbearable thirst, as though she'd been wandering in the desert for days without so much as a drop of water. And even worse than that, the fire inside her heart got – if possible – even hotter. She couldn't fathom it.

"Doc?" she said in panic as a new shriek of pain tore its way through her lips.

"Shh, it's okay," he said soothingly, brushing back the hair from her face. "It's okay, I promise it's almost over."

The fire was receding from her palms now, leaving them cool and pain free, but it was retreating to her heart, which blazed hotter than the core of the sun and raced so fast she could barely make out the individual beats anymore.

"It's not okay," she cried in fear. "Something's wrong! My heart! It's going too fast!"

He made more shushing noises and smoothed her hair back again, but she was beyond being comforted. Renewed pain and terror consumed her, and she squeezed her eyes shut as ragged breathed escaped through her clenched teeth.

"It's okay, Gabrielle, I'm here," Carlisle said. "You're going to be fine. You'll be okay."

She didn't believe him. It felt as though her heart was going to explode in her chest; it was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird, and the heat now receded past her elbows and knees, adding more and more fuel to the scorching blaze in her chest. The pain was enough to break through all her control, and she screamed a high, keening wail as her back arched off the bed, as though the fire was lifting her in the air by her heart, and then she slumped back to the table.

It was like a battle inside her. Her heart was sprinting away from the onslaught of the molten fire, and both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed almost everything inside her. And her heart was racing to the end, the end she'd begged for since the beginning of this ordeal, and now she was unsure she was ready for.

"Carlisle!" she screamed helplessly. "Carlisle, please help me!"

"I'm here," he said hoarsely. "I'm right here. Just hold on. It's almost over. Hold on!" He gripped her hand tighter, so hard it should have pulverized her very bones, but her hand held its form, and even squeezed back.

The fire flexed and constricted, concentrating all its fury on the one burning organ left in her body. This attack was answered by a single, deep thud. Her heart stuttered. Twice. Then once more. And then there was nothing. Only silence.

Author's Note: Okay so I'm not completely sure where this is going. But I'll explain where it stems from. I'm fascinated by the concept of Jane. Of a very young vampire. I do not, however, want to write a story about Jane, who is so one dimensional (pain, suffering, doom and gloom), and I just don't see her changing. Also I just really want to start fresh with someone new, so I can do my own thing. I hope you guys like it. I'll see about writing more soon.