She wondered why she kept doing this to herself, letting herself get so depressed and nearly slip back into her old habits. It had been 7years for heaven's sake! Would she never get over him? Her family was worried about her. Very worried. And she was worried about herself as well. What was wrong with her? It wasn't jealously as far as she could tell. She liked his new wife. She honestly did. And she was truly happy for the two of them. He had been lonely for so long, so brooding and…what was the term? Emo, that was it. He'd been so emo before. Now, he was deliriously happy with a wonderful wife as well as a delightful and precious daughter. Everything had finally turned around for him, and she was glad.

Her sister, too…she was glad her sister had found someone who so obviously adored her. Adored and loved her enough to give up his old lifestyle, and settle down with the family. But now, having two happy couples in the house, she was the odd fifth wheel, unable to relate to the situations the others were living.

She had toyed with the idea of moving out, but where would she go? Family bonds, created over so many years, weren't easily broken; certainly not on a whim. It would seem petty, bratty even, to leave just because she had no mate. So she would stay. If she were honest with herself, leaving the family had never truly been part of the equation. It was just that sometimes, especially when the couples had departed to their rooms or were cuddling on sofas and chairs, she had to get out of the house.

And then of course, there was this one night in particular. Around this time every year for the last seven, she acted like a werewolf does around the full moon…running off somewhere—anywhere—to lose herself in men for three nights: the nights before, of, and after that one day in her year which she dreaded above all others. It was like remembering a death, although she never ran off on the dates of her mother or sister's deaths. Then she stayed in and cried with her remaining sister and their friend who was as close as a sister.

Besides, there had never been anything romantic between them. Oh, on her part there certainly was, no denying that; but not on his…never on his. It was all her. He could barely tolerate her, and that was probably more for his father's sake than hers. And she hated herself for feeling this way. For playing the fool over a silly boy.

So there she was, standing in the pouring rain in front of a bar in some city in the Los Angeles area—Glendora, she thought-in search of another conquest to fill her emptiness for one more lonely night. Another night to pretend she had a love of her own. Tomorrow she would go back home. Her sister and friends would say nothing about it, would welcome her back, knowing that she was mourning in her own way over a lost dream, now gone for good. The men she picked up were nothing to her. There was no other man out there who was, who could be, anything to her. Only him. And he was out of her reach forever, although he'd never even been hers to begin with. It had never been anything more than a dream.

Maybe after this year, things would be different. Maybe she would finally grow up and get over him. Maybe she would wake from the stupid, school-girl crush, and act mature enough to deal with the reality of being alone (romantically speaking). But not yet. One more night of self-pity and indulging. She sighed and entered the bar.

It was like any other she had visited—crowded, noisy, filled with acrid cigarette and cigar smoke, music blaring from an unseen jukebox, and drunk men. A few women, but mostly men. Standing in the doorway shaking the rain off her coat, her eyes scanned the room. Most of the tables were full of loud men bragging to each other and flirting with the waitresses. After several moments of looking around, decided to try another place.

But as she turned to leave, she caught sight of a man at the end of the bar furthest in the corner. His fingers were steepled, a lit cigarette dangling between two of them. There were many empty shot glasses on the bar in front of him. No one was sitting near him, although there were empty stools on both sides of him, and several of the women in the room, also sitting at the bar, were casting longing looks in his direction. However, he seemed oblivious to this fact, lost in a world of his own.

Even from this distance, she could see his green eyes. They held a far away, vacant look. And she didn't doubt it, considering all the glasses in front of him. The man must be very drunk by now. Yet his hands didn't shake, and his eyes, while vacant, did not look like the eyes of a drunken man. His brown hair was neither too long nor too short. He was dressed conservatively in polo shirt, brown leather jacket, and (she suspected, unable to see the lower half of his body) khaki pants. A drunk, good looking man on his own in a bar. Just the thing she was looking for after all, she thought, and headed his direction.

Sliding onto the stool to his right, she smiled the smile that had captivated so many men over the years. "Hello. "

The man turned slowly and locked eyes with her for a moment. Then he looked away again. "Evening."

In the instant their eyes had met, her breath had caught for a fraction of a second. She wasn't sure why. True, he was about the best looking man she had ever seen. But it was something more than that. Something she couldn't quite figure out.

Then it dawned on her. His eyes were clear and sharp, not dull and glassed as they should have been, considering the number of empty glasses—fourteen—in front of him. Not only that, this man had been unfazed by her beauty. She wasn't vain, but she did know how beautiful she was. Men never just glanced at her. They always did double takes, ogled her, undressed her with their eyes. Yet he had just glanced at her then looked away.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes on his face, enjoying it (he had a lovely profile, she decided), listening to his heartbeat. It had not increased a bit. In fact, it sounded a little slower than a normal human heartbeat should. Another oddity…not only had her looks not caused it to increase, he seemed to not be bothered by the fact that he was seated so close to a predator that could kill him in an instant if she chose. Human heartbeats always increased when her kind were near them, for one of those two reasons.

But this man, first rebuffing her looks, was at the same time not affected by her predatory nature. This both amazed and intrigued her. She took in his scent…human, and yet off in some way. Human, but not exactly. That made no sense. She knew he was human, could hear his heart. So what was it? He didn't smell like Renesmee, who was part human and part vampire. He did smell delicious, though. Different from anyone she had smelled before. No, this was something else all together; something she had never encountered in her thousand some years on earth. And she realized another thing that increased her feelings of interest—the man was not the slightest bit drunk, as she had thought when she saw him from the door. She began to wonder if the shot glasses were for show, when he filled another from a bottle of Jack Daniels, and tossed it back as if it were water. He added the glass to the pile in front of him.

His eyes still stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. Or seeing something far away, something in his past. Then she knew. Oh, she knew, for she had seen the same look in her own eyes before, in mirrors. And always around this time of year.

"What was her name?"

The man stiffened somewhat, and his head turned towards her faster this time. He stared at her intently for a few moments, before looking away again. A corner of her mind noted that he had looked only at her eye, not lower to where her low-cut dress showed off much of her stunning features. Every man before had never been able to resist the urge to look down. But this man did. So either he was gay, or the most unique man she'd ever met.

"What makes you think it's a woman?" He took a drag on the cigarette before grinding it out on the bar, then tossed back another shot of Jack.

"Oh, I know the look." Sympathy filled her voice, and she, too, found herself staring at something far away and long ago.

The man chuckled. It was a nice sound. "And what was his name then?"

Coming back to the present, she looked and noticed he was watching her with a small smile. She returned it, noting his eyes were still on her face and not somewhere else on her body.

"How do you know it's because of a man?" Her words echoed his.

His eyes moved away, and resumed their melancholy aspect. "Well, a classy, beautiful woman (He had noticed!) alone in a bar. She's either a hooker, or looking for a quick hook up with a drunk man either revenge or to forget another guy." He glanced casually at her, this time his eyes sweeping over her figure, but not lustfully, just assessing. Then they returned to her face. "You don't come across as a hooker at all, not dressed in those very expensive clothes and shoes. Logically, then, it must be a guy. So what's his name?"

"I asked you first." The playful banter was nice. Not flirting, just comfortable. She'd never felt like this before, and it both bothered and delighted her.

His smile widened, but grew sad. "Bridget."

"Edward." She heard the depression in her voice as she said it, wondered if he noticed.

He nodded, and returned to contemplating the bottles on the shelf behind the bar.

"I'm Tanya, by the way." She held her hand out.

"Sean." He took her hand. As he did so, his eyes widened and his gaze fell to her hand, then rapidly back to her face. She released his hand a bit too fast, and prayed he didn't notice. She flashed her dazzling smile, hoping to distract him.

"Hmmm," he murmured, a slight narrowing of his eyes. Then he turned away yet again. "So, Tanya, how long has it been?"

She blinked. "I—I beg your pardon?" If she had been human, she would have blushed. What exactly was he asking…the last time she'd been intimate?

Noting her reaction, he smiled. "How long has it been since he broke your heart, this Edward?"

"Seven years." Relief flooded her; that's all he meant. "What about you?"

His eyes hardened. "A long time."

"How long?" She leaned closer to him.

"A very, very, very long time." He had two shots in rapid succession, swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. She heard the bitterness in his voice, and her heart reached out to him. Here was a kindred spirit, another broken, fragile person, someone who knew the pain of rejection every bit as well as she did.

Without thinking, she covered his hand with hers. "I'm sorry, Sean."

He looked down at their hands, and again murmured "Hmmm."

And again Tanya quickly removed her hand. "Sorry, it was an impulse. You just sounded so desperately sad. "

Sean looked her in the eye. "You have lovely eyes. Such a beautiful shade of gold. A very unique color. I've never seen the like of it before. Green or violet, on occasion. The common browns and blues, of course. But never gold. Does it run in…your family?"

Tanya was not at all sure how to answer the question. It seemed to be a loaded one, something about the way he'd said "family". She shivered, but decided to answer truthfully, see where it led. After all, Carlisle and the other Cullens were as much her family as her sisters were. "Yes, we all have golden eyes. Most of the time." She raised her chin and returned his stare defiantly. "Is that a problem?"

"Hmmm. No, it's not a problem. As long as you're not looking for a meal around here."

She gasped. Did he know? How could he know? And if he did, the Volturi would somehow find out. "What do you mean by that?"

He ignored her question. "You have a very slight accent. Slovak, I think, but not colloquial Slovak. Eastern Slovak, at the time when it was moving from Prot to a more modern dialect. I would estimate late 10th century."

Another gasp. "How? How could you tell that?" her accent was barely noticeable, what was left of it. Who was this man?

He held her gaze, the corner of his mouth turning up. "I've traveled extensively in my lifetime."

Neither spoke for a while, each staring at the other, until he looked away to slam back yet another shot.

"The aura of death surrounds you, Miss Tanya. But then, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Nor should I be judgmental." The last statement she didn't quite understand, but the first worried her a great deal.

Suddenly, she had to know more about this man. If he was a threat, so she could warn others. If he was a friend, to better understand and protect him from those damn Volturi. She leaned forward. "Tell me what you know." When he remained silent, she added, "Please. It's important. You could be in danger."

He laughed openly at that. "I most sincerely doubt it." Another shot. How many had he consumed as she sat there with him? And yet his eyes and speech were as clear and sharp as ever. There was no way he was fully human. No way. So the question remained: what exactly was he?

"But I believe that you are harmless enough, to humans at any rate. I only detect the scent of animal blood in you." His voice was low, there was no way any of the others in the bar could hear him. He shook his head. "So you're one of those, eh?"

Tanya bristled at the comment."What is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed. "A vampire who developed a conscience. One with a noble streak, or the mind of a martyr. Denying your true nature, the real you. Living in a weakened state of existence because you think it's somehow morally superior to deny what you are."

He turned to her, and Tanya gasped again. Gone were his lovely green eyes, replaced with red irises, and nothing but pure black where the whites of his eyes should be. He grinned. After a moment, he closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, they had returned to the green color she had first admired.

"What—what happened to your eyes?"

"Unlike you, Miss Tanya, I do not find shame in my nature."

"Who are you?"

"I told you, my name is Sean, and I am no one of any real consequence."

"OK then, what are you?"

He twirled another shot glass in his fingers, debating how to answer the question. She waited patiently.

"I am a mixture of three natures: human, vampire and…something else all together."

Tanya wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Wolf?" Gods, please don't let him be part dog!

"No, not wolf. Something else, other. As superior to vampires as you are to humans. Perhaps more so."

"What in the world could be superior to us?"

His beautiful smile returned, lighting his eyes mischievously. "Ah, the arrogance of ignorance. Didn't you ever consider there might be other things in the world, just as secretive, just as cunning, just as powerful, and even more so? Did you think vampires and werewolves are the only remnants of whispered nightmares from humanity's dim recollection that still walked the earth? 'There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'" He drank another. "I am sorry, I can't tell you. My family wouldn't take kindly to it."

"Well, the Volturi won't take kindly to your knowing about vampires either!" She knew it might be an empty threat, but she wanted to know more about him, and hoped perhaps a good bluff might work.

But the face he turned toward her showed puzzlement. "What's a Volturi? Is that Chevy's new mid-sized sedan?" He chuckled, and it infuriated her. Infuriated her that he would speak flippantly of the vile scum who had hurt her badly so many times, that continued to hold sway over her family even now.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you! They killed my mother and my sister!" The words were out before she could stop them, and the hands she clamped over her mouth couldn't bring them back. She felt the familiar stinging at the back of her eyes that came so frequently to her these days, the start of tears that would never fall. She turned away.

This time he took her hand. "Eyes as wonderful as yours should never be so filled with sadness. Please forgive me. I had no idea. I'm not a mind reader, after all."

Tanya let out a sound that was half way between a sob and a laugh.

Sean frowned. "What did I say now?"

"Edward…Edward can read minds." Tanya shook her head. "It's alright. I'm fine. It just took me off guard, your dismal of the Volturi. They rule our kind, the vampires. I'm surprised you've never heard of them."

"Never." Sean frowned again. "I don't see how they can rule the vampire world, as I travel extensively within that particular world. Strange. But then, I have never seen anyone, let alone a vampire, with golden eyes before, either."

"Well, there aren't many of us 'martyrs' out there." She smiled as he raised an eyebrow, catching the use of his own words. "We call ourselves vegetarians, and have golden eyes. The human drinkers all have red eyes."

"I've never met a red-eyed vampire before either."

"And I've never met one with black and red eyes."

He flashed his smile again.

Tanya's confusion returned. "How many vampires do you know?"

"Thousands."

Tanya gasped again. "There are not thousands of us, not even if you include the Nomads!"

He looked at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if trying to gauge the truth of her words. "Interesting. This will require considerably more thought. At least, more than I am willing to put forth tonight. Now, tell me about yourself." His smile returned then. That kind smile Tanya found intriguing. No, she found everything about this man intriguing.

And Tanya found herself telling him more than she had ever told anyone, with the exception of her sisters and perhaps Carlisle. She told him about her life of the past few years, the marriage of Edward and Bella, the gathering to protect Renesme, the death of Irina, all the men she had been with since the Cullen wedding and even before, how alone she felt. She told him everything. And he made no comment, not interrupting, letting her vent for well over an hour. She kept her voice low, so no one around them-including the bartender who seemed incapable of keeping his eyes off her, until Sean sent him a pointed look, at which he gulped and moved to the other end of the bar.

"Incredible," Sean murmured when she was finished. He shook his head. "Such pain. I am truly sorry, Tanya. Life has not been at all kind to you. I wish there was something I could do to ease that pain. But regrettably, I don't know what."

"You've done something for me already." She leaned closer to him and took his hand again. "You've listened. You've been a sympathetic ear. I suppose I just didn't realize how much I needed to let it all out. I…feel safe with you." She laughed then. "Isn't that funny? I feel safer pouring my heart out to a total stranger than I do with my own family."

"Your family does love you. Remember how they held you back from attacking those Volturi parasites when they destroyed your sister. Think how they've given you your space all this time. Don't sell them short. This Carlisle fellow seems to be someone you hold in very high esteem. I bet he could help you deal with some of this. It's not good to hold it all in, Tanya. Not good at all." His face grew dark. "Trust me…you think seven years is bad? I've been trying to get drunk this one night a year for much longer than seven years."

"How much longer?"

Sean smiled darkly, showing his teeth. It was almost more of a sneer than a true smile. But it was directed at himself, not her. "Much longer."

"How old are you, Sean?" Tanya's voice was not much more than a murmur of a whisper.

"Old."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Disappointment was clear in her voice. She had told him so much about her, yet she still knew so very little about him.

His eyes found hers again. A long moment passed. Then he sighed; a bone weary, mind numbingly tired sigh. It reminded her a bit of Marcus. "I was born a year before the Romans abandoned Hadrian's Wall."

Old as she was, Tanya wasn't sure how old that made him, or what year that particular event had occurred. But she knew it was a long time ago, and many years before she was born. She looked at him closely. He appeared no older than Carlisle, if as old. Yet he had to be almost as old as the Voturi. But he looked strong, his skin normal and not translucent, nor his eyes having any of the filmy qualities the Volturi had. She found herself wondering more and more about him. There was so much she wanted to ask, to find out, to talk about. But he glanced at his watch and sighed again.

"I really must be going. It has been a immense pleasure talking to you. You've made this a wonderful end to what has otherwise been a most depressing night for me. I hate to end it, but I have things I must see to." He stood, dropped a handful of money on the bar, bowed to Tanya, and headed to the door.

Tanya felt like panicking. She had found someone who intrigued her more than anyone else she had met in her long years of existence. And he was about to walk out the door. She couldn't let that happen. Tanya wasn't sure what she was feeling, as she had never felt like this before. Was it infatuation? Strong like? A fast-forming friendship? Love? She had no idea. All she knew was that she couldn't let him disappear.

She hurried after him, careful to walk at a human pace. He reached the door ahead of her, and she called out, "Sean!" Hoping her voice didn't sound as desperate as she felt. Another first—she was chasing a man. Other than Edward, that had never happened before either. It was always the man chasing her.

He paused, hand on the door, and turned to her with another smile.

"Sean, I have to thank you as well, for helping me get through this night." She stood staring stupidly at him for a while. Then she shook her head. "Hold on, please." She dug in her purse, finding a pen and piece of paper. "This is my phone number. And here's my email address. And this is my address in Alaska. If—if you ever feel like talking or…or something, please give me a call, or email, or write a letter." She wrote it all out on the paper and handed it to him, feeling like a fool. She told herself it was just because it was an emotional time of year for her, but she knew better, and didn't buy her own lie.

Sean glanced at the paper. Then he looked at her and slowly shook his head. "Oh, Tanya. It's truly a shame I didn't meet you centuries ago, when I still had a heart to give a woman. How things might have been different." He smiled sadly. "You are an incredibly strong yet deeply compassionate woman. Your Edward must be one giant fool."

It was Tanya's turn to shake her head sadly. "No, he just found the other part of his heart. And it wasn't me, that's all." Strangely, for the first time in many years, that thought didn't seem to bother her. And again, she wasn't sure why.

Sean looked down at the paper. "Denali, Alaska. A lovely place, as I recall. Haven't been there in decades.

Tanya smiled. "Maybe…maybe you'd like to see it again sometime. At least, maybe in a year. It might be more fun than sitting in a bar trying to drink and forget. Especially when you can't even get drunk."

Sean half smiled. And for a moment, despite the difference in his hair and eye color, he looked as beautiful to her as Edward once had. "It might at that…at least maybe in a year," he repeated. "At least." Then he surprised her by taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. "Good night, Tanya." Then he turned and went out the door.

Tanya stood just inside the entryway, watching him walk down the now mostly deserted street. At the corner, he turned and raised his hand in farewell before disappearing from her sight.

Tanya sighed. Who was he? She had told him so much about herself, and yet what did she know of him? She went over the scant facts she'd gathered: He was an old, immortal hybrid of some kind. He ate and drank human food, yet couldn't get drunk. His eyes could change to black and red. He had a slight Irish brogue, knew about vampires but nothing of the Volturi, and that was about it. Should she be worried? Was he a spy? Would he use the knowledge he'd gained this night to attack or destroy her or her family, or even the Volturi? No, though she knew next to nothing about him, one thing she did know: he was a good man. That, she was certain of. And—he hadn't said goodbye…he'd only said good night. She smiled, and looked at the back of her hand.

The rain had stopped, the storm passed on; lightening flashed in the distance. Tanya took her time walking back to her car, still puzzling over the strange but lovely evening. And in that time she made a decision. She needed to talk it over with the one man whose opinion she valued over all others in the world. Carlisle Cullen. She started the car, got on the 210 Freeway, and headed north…