Authors Note: I blame this story on a conversation I had with a friend on facebook about the volturi vampires and how little screen time they got in the movies, as well as the lack of attention they got in the books.

But mostly I'm just writing this for a laugh, so don't be surprised if it gets a bit random.

HIGH HO SILVER, AWAY!

You say "yes", I say "No"

You say "Stop" , and I say "Go, go, go"

Oh no.

- The Beatles

I came out of the movie theatre at ap. 1 am, the air was freezing so I huddled into my winter coat and shoved my scarf around my neck as tight as it would go without choking me.

Aww, why not?

Ah, the voices again. Or should I say THE voice, as there was only one inner voice. No, no – don't be alarmed! It's basically my very loud thoughts manifested into a sort of alter ego that continuously reminds me of my foolish life decisions.

But occasionally we do agree don't we?

Beside me my best friend Heather tried to do the same with her scarf while talking happily about the movie we had just seen. I let her get the excess giddiness out of her system before I got to put my 2 cents into the conversation, after all – she was the twilight buff and not me. We had just seen Breaking Dawn, part deux. A masterpiece to be sure.

I just found the whole thing just a little bit absurd, what with the imprinting on infants and whatnot. But I smiled at her enthusiasm, it had been an entertaining one hour and forty minutes after all.

As we walked to the tube station we discussed the fighting scene at the end.

"Okay I admit, when they showed us Carlisles head cut off I was a little disturbed by it." I said as we headed down to the ticket booth. Damn tube tickets and their incorrigible prices- one of the many downsides of commuting in London.

"I think bella should have killed Aro like in Alice's vision." Heather said after a moment of pondering.

"Why?" I asked incredulously as we bordered the train headed south of town. I removed the scarf around my neck as it was nearly choking me now with warmth.

"Well he was going to kill Carlisle, that's reason enough I think. Plus he's super evil, duh."

"I don't know, I think Aro is the only character in the whole saga who's actually interesting. " I said while looking out the window at the snow covered scenery we passed along the way. Heather looked at me as if I was a bit mad.

"interesting? Please elaborate on that." She said.

I turned to her and explained my brilliant thoughts on the matter .

"Well, we don't know that much about him and yet – you kind of want to know more, unlike with other characters I will not mention. Clearly he's a bit insane and eccentric, but I have the feeling there's a lot of layers to him that we do not get to see. "

Beside me, Heather puffed out a sigh I recognized all to well. She thought I was a hopeless lunatic. Well, she was right. I smirked at her and playfully pushed her in the side.

"Yes yes I know, I can't help but feel a little sympathy for the devil alright?"

"Why am I not even surprised?" she said dryly as we both watched the homeless man in the next aisle playing on a harpsichord.

Fifteen minutes later we hugged and parted ways outside the central station south of town and I took the night bus home to my flat. Thankfully it was almost empty save for two elderly ladies, I'd hate to run into potential rapists and thugs as one is prone to do on a regular Saturday night. I chose a seat near the back of the bus by a window and let my face relax for the first time that evening as I let my mind wander. I remember when I had seen New Moon, and how Bella first met the Volturi. I remember looking after fanfics with Aro in it, but to my everlasting surprise – fanfics with him in it were few. It didn't make sense to me, the guy was like Dracula's even more sinister cousin on a sugar high and yet, nobody seemed to pay much attention to him.

I could imagine him on an imaginative playground, a dark silhouetted figure standing alone with nobody to play with while all the other kids flocked around Bella and her Edward. I snorted quietly at my line of thought. It would probably also be very wise not to approach a man like Aro, at least not without some protective head gear and a padded suit on. Maybe a translation guide to Italian as well wouldn't be so wrong.

"Ciaosignore, comenon si tratta dimemangiare?"

Or maybe even better.

"Ti pregocarodioio voglio vivere!"

Yep, both sounded like excellent first things to say to a mass murdering italian psychopath, I mused.

As I got home, Diana – my black cat, greeted me at the door by meowing quietly and swishing around my ankles so I almost fell face first on the shoe carpet in the hall. If that's not love and affection, I don't know what is. Diana and I shared a sort of hate/love relationship, my grandma had given her to me as a gift when I turned 16 mostly because she wanted to be rid of the thing. Diana was the sort of cat that liked sitting on your face at 4 am, bite your toes under the covers and smash at least one piece of crockery a day, even though I made sure to keep anything fragile out of her feline reach. She's a fucking bitch let me tell you.

But then, every time I was feeling particulary low or sad – she'd snuggle up to my side on the couch and purr loudly until I was feeling better.

After filling her bowl of water and emptying the litter box (my god the smell) I made myself some lapsang tea and changed into my spongebob pj's.

Before sitting down in the living room to enjoy a bit of light reading before bed, (that's playboy, if you must know and I think you must) I momentarily checked my appearance in the mirror. I hadn't washed my hair for a few days (or the rest of me) but I decided to do that in the morning. I had really short black hair cut into a bob, so it wasn't really noticeable if it went unwashed for another day, I'd just have to push the greasy bangs out of my face. Yeah, who washes their hair anyway right?

Don't answer that.

Sighing and rolling my eyes at myself I went back into the living room and picked up my magazine (and reached for the lotion and napkins…KIDDING) and started to read. An hour or so later I decided it was time to go to bed, but as I was shutting of the lights I paused in front of my living room window.

Hmm. Well, that was strange.

Right outside there was a small playground for the children who lived in the apartment complex, with a set of swings and a tower they could climb. What made me pause was a repetitive creaking sound coming from outside, as if someone had forgotten to close a gate. But as I looked closer at the swing sets, I could see a man sitting there. I knew that there could be a few hobos out there at night, but those were usually loud and drunk – this man (from what I could see in the dark) was very still and quiet. It creeped me the fuck out, and I momentarily thought about calling the cops, but then he was just sitting there, that's not exactly a crime.

I knew I couldn't go to sleep while that guy was still right outside, but I didn't know what to do about it either. I looked at Diana who was lounging on the couch, as if she would know the answer, she just glared at me as if saying "stop being such a pussy" before she jumped off the couch and padded into the bedroom to presumably burrow down into the covers and fart into them. Eventually I decided to just try and ignore it and so I turned off the lights and went to bed.

An hour later though, I was still awake.

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Oh DAMMIT!

I could not fall asleep no matter how hard I tried, that creaking sound was driving me nuts, and the more I thought about the mysterious man the more I felt bad about it. Maybe he'd just been through a rough breakup and needed someone to talk to? But then again, could be a rapist. I looked out my bedroom window – yep, he was still there. The noise was coming from the fact that he was sitting on one of the swings, swishing back and forth. After debating with myself for about twenty minutes, I put my winter coat over my pj's and slipped into a pair of boots and grabbed a baseball bat on my way out. At least I wouldn't go out unarmed.

As I opened the front door the creaking stopped abruptly but the man did not move from the swing set. I approached him warily with the bat behind my back, hoping I wouldn't have to use it. As I got closer I could see more clearly what he looked like with the help from a nearby streetlight. He didn't look up as I approached. His pale skin was the first thing I noticed, the second was his long red cape that billowed out behind him.

The third thing was, well –

He was wearing the exact costume Aro wore in the movie I had just seen earlier. Not only that, but his eyes (which were firmly trained on the ground) were also that deep shade of red and the all over resemblance was uncanny. His skin was so pale it looked like he was made of wax.

Huh, well that's interesting. Or incredibly weird, take your pick. It must obviously be a cosplayer that somehow got lost from a convention or something and now he's (she?) is sulking about it.

I lowered my bat and leaned against it casually as I asked "hey, are you alright?"

Then he looked at me, and for some reason, I felt incredibly stupid for asking. When his eyes met mine in the dark, I couldn't help but jump a little. Because the eyes I looked into were red, glistening from the light of a nearby street lamp. He quickly looked back down and continued swinging away, but he was smiling as he did so.

"No." He said quietly, his smile sort of erratic and desperate, eyes darting left and right. I recognized that look well, I used to smile like that when I was really stressed out about something and all you could do about the situation was smile like that.

"Well, do you need any help? Do you need to use a phone?"

"A phone?" he asked, his tone light and friendly but his expression anything but as he tilted his head to one side as he regarded me. He was silent for a long moment then, still staring at me with those wide red eyes, never blinking. Then suddenly without warning he stood up, eyes still on me as he dusted of his clothes and said "I'd much rather appreciate it if I could borrow the use of your gabinetto, if you wouldn't mind."

"uhhh..." Was my intelligent reply as I stood there with my mouth open.

"what is that?" I asked dumbly, but how the hell should I know what a gabinetto was? I did not take Italian in high school, all I had was a 3 year olds knowledge of French and that certainly wouldn't help in this situation. The Aro wannabe looked amused.

"The bathroom." He answered.

"Oh."

Should I let this guy into my apartment? Was that really such a wise decision? He still hadn't blinked, not even once – and there was a strange look of hunger upon his face which did not make me feel any better. Nope, defiantly not. Then I realized he was still waiting patiently for an answer.

"Ehm okay, just follow me." Why did I do these things, why why why?

Yes what ARE you doing?

It's like I invite unwanted stress and potential threats to my life willingly or something.

He nodded carefully and smiled a whole different kind of smile, he looked like a deliriously happy clown now.

"sì il mio giovane." He whispered before he followed me back inside. I think I just shit my pants.

Translations :

"Hello sir, how about not eating me?"

"Please dear god I want to live!"

Gabinetto = toilet,lavatory,bathroom

"Yes my young one."