A/N: I've always thought fanfic was a bit…you know, lame. But I've been reading recently and, man, some of you guys are gooood! So, I'm in…This is my first wee attempt, kind of experimental, leaps about in tense and voice. I'm British, so US, please feel free to point out any major 'we wouldn't say that word!' errors. I'd love some feedback, good or bad!

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I keep falling over, I keep passing out,
when I see a face like you
What am I coming to
I'm gonna melt down

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"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?"

Her stomach twisted at his words, at his disconcerting, fulvous eyes boring in to her as if he could see through the layers of her clothes, past her flesh to her heart as it shuddered to a stop. She nodded slowly in something like understanding, she could suddenly see the lack of humanity in his tormented, other worldly eyes, the anger in his too perfect mouth. She supposed that she always had seen but, blinded by the other, more interesting aspects of him, had chosen to ignore her instincts, convincing herself that her always overactive imagination was playing tricks on her – it wouldn't be the first time after all, too much reading too late at night pushed a person's mind towards fantasy – that it was just her twisted way of convincing herself that someone as inhumanly beautiful as him couldn't possibly exist in the same unexceptional, dank, wet and downright boring world as she did, much less have the slightest interest in a mousy, clumsy girl, a girl remarkable only in that she was so very ordinary. But now, hearing him confirm what she had so willingly buried in the lowermost depths of her subconscious, she realised that her prejudices had very little to do with her and everything to do with him, with his total…otherness.

Bella couldn't lie, even to herself. It wasn't in her nature to do any more than avoid the truth, something which she'd done very effectively, in some senses at least, where Edward Cullen was concerned. But now her inner voice screamed the truth: she had been shallowly drawn to his mysterious beauty, the smooth sensual voice, the hard, toned body ill hidden under subtly fashionable clothes and the face. God, the face. Part angel, part Roman God, poised between childhood and masculinity, whispering of the chiselled jaw and knife edged cheekbones which she imagined would soon break out from behind softer lines. Even his breath - washing over her like the most powerful incense, clouding her thoughts with his every word or sigh, making her head swim – was like nothing else on earth, tugging her towards him as if he held in his elegant fingers the invisible thread which seemed to coil outwards from a nameless point just below her navel.
She had never considered herself shallow, had never been the kind of girl who was fanatical about handsome film stars or who tacked pictures of rock stars to her bedroom walls. Of course she'd had crushes. Didn't everyone? But they were fleeting, quiescent flames soon extinguished by boredom or inactivity. She had never before felt as if she couldn't breathe as she did, not only when Edward spoke to her or looked at her – both things he rarely did - but even when she simply thought of him. The mention of his name, a glimpse of him passing a window, the mere sight of his car would send her stomach plummeting as if she had driven too fast over a humpback bridge, blood would rush in her ears, her fingers tingling numbly, her legs inexplicably weak. And Bella didn't even know him, not really, not enough to feel so ridiculously overwhelmed by the mere idea of him. She was shallow. He was the good looking boy who had saved her life, however ungracious he had been about the whole affair. It was a simple equation when looked at that way. Like Jessica and most other girls in their year, Bella was crushing on gorgeous, mysterious Edward Cullen. At least she could say that she was like everybody else in one respect. Although…

But now…now his words changed everything. She still wanted him, of course she did, she wanted to unravel him, to lay him bare in front of her, to understand everything about the boy who had made her feel like nobody else ever had, who had awakened feelings which other, less serious girls would giggle and whisper about. But Bella wasn't stupid. She didn't take risks. She couldn't afford to, not when her parents – her pathetically deficient parents – needed her so badly, to cook, to clean, to reassure. Not when there was a possibility of being hurt, of finding herself in some kind of trouble. No, she wasn't reckless, she wasn't her mother. Edward's words echoed in her head like a cheesey effect in a bad daytime soap: 'what if I'm the bad guy?' He was warning her to stay away, to stop looking for ways to get closer to him, to keep herself safe. He was dangerous, not good for her. Perhaps he wasn't good for anybody. Perhaps his aloof demeanour was his way of keeping those around him from hurting themselves, the way Charlie had always unloaded his gun when she was around, just in case. She inclined her head slowly, in understanding. "Oh. I see."

A look she'd never before seen passed across his eyes, part relief, part fear and part…she wasn't sure…disappointment? He replied in a low, grave voice full of misgiving, "do you?"
She bit at the skin around a thumbnail nervously, not daring to look at him too closely, afraid of what she might see. Or, to be more precise, afraid of what of herself she might give away if she raised her terrified, tear flooded eyes to his. She already felt as though he must be able to hear her skittering rabbit heart as it once again thudded in her chest. "You're dangerous?"
It was a stupid question, one which she knew he wouldn't answer, but she needed him to see that she understood only too well what he was trying to tell her. That she appreciated his…mercy? Was it mercy? Was she being too kind in attributing such a humane act to him? Was she being ridiculous in seeing myths and fairytales where anybody else would have seen a story which had been repeated a million times over in every corner of the world – a messed up teenage boy who couldn't be trusted, a broken child who didn't know the difference between right and wrong, or if he did, didn't care about the former and relished in the latter? As he let her words hang in the air, a noose for their fledgling relationship, Bella made her decision.

Jasper

It was easy for the rest of them. They threw surreptitious glances towards our brother as he nervously gripped the sides of the canteen chair he sat awkwardly in just inches away from the odd little brown haired girl, the soft aluminium tubing of the cheap piece of furniture moulding to the shape of his tense fingers. They knew he was in pain, that much was obvious from merely looking at him, from hearing the metallic screech of his teeth grinding in his head – a noise which couldn't be heard by human ears but which made each of us wince uncomfortably in turn. But they couldn't feel the agony that overwhelmed him as he fought with his desire to reach over and wrench her to him to….to what? To hold her to him and feel the warmth of her soft, human skin against his own cold and unforgiving shell? Or to rip open her veins with his razor teeth and take her life away from her only to satisfy his own animalistic desires? He raced from one to the other, his feelings changing in tenor with every slowly passing, agonising second, from the most human lust to the deadliest cravings of our kind. All the time afraid, angry, tormented…the usual for Edward, but magnified a thousand times. I felt every single one of these emotions along with my younger brother and I tried to find sympathy for him.

And I didsympathise…to a point. Bloodlust like that which Edward was feeling now certainly wasn't alien to me, I felt it every day, though perhaps not so specifically. At the same time I couldn't help but feel vindicated. Triumphant. I was used to being the weak link in our family. The one who was watched as if he might snap at any time, take out a classroom full of students, drain a supermarket full of happy shoppers as they went about their mundane day to day business. And it wasn't as if I could blame them, my adoptive parents and siblings, the family – no, screw it the coven - for thinking ill of me, waiting for me to make a mistake. Seeing the things that others didn't was some kind of special skill amongst the damn Cullens.
As if to prove a point to myself I swept a glance across the room, settling my focus ever so briefly on the pretty but unpleasant muckraker, Jessica Stanley as she gossiped to her neighbour, one disbelieving, jealous eye on the girl who was supposedly her friend but whom she was now hating with such maniacal pleasure it wouldn't have surprised me if she was all at once able to shoot more than metaphorical daggers in Bella's direction. I watched the slow, even pulse move beneath the translucent skin of her neck, imagining the panicked screams of her classmates as I launched myself – lithe, like a cheetah in pursuit of its feeble prey - across the room at speed and sunk my barbaric teeth in to the very place where hot blood rushed closest to the surface of her flesh, drinking deeply of…Alice's head jerked up, her eyes wide. Point proven.
"You won't Jazz." She stated simply, capturing Emmett and Rosalie's attention, both stiffening, ready to talk me down, or hold me back. My wife, my sister. The only one sure that my vampiric nature could be overcome, but still even she kept one eye on my immediate future. I winked playfully and she sighed in response, glancing towards Edward as she did so, "really not the time. I'm trying to concentrate here." They retook their positions and returned their attention to the floor show elsewhere in the room.

"Oh, for…" Rosalie suddenly and angrily flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder with the back of one manicured hand, rolling her eyes "if I wanted to see a damn mating ritual I'd watch National Geographic."
"Rosalie!" Alice scolded, "I really don't think this has anything to do with mating."
Rosalie, bored of the drama unfolding a few tables away, muttered beneath her breath, "mating, murdering…whatever," before leaning back in her chair and throwing her long legs across Emmett's lap, her back decisively turned on Edward and Bella. It was then that everything changed.

Up until that moment the girl had been constant in her feelings towards Edward.
First, curiosity: much like the other students of Forks High she was curious. But while others, wrapped up in their own lives, had but a fleeting interest in our unusual little family, her curiosity was part of something larger, more overwhelming. Rose had expressed concern that Bella was close to seeing us for what we were and I was beginning to think she could be right. Most, by now, had realised that whatever had piqued their interest in the Cullens was probably not good, potentially even threatening. It was an effective defence mechanism, allowing those around us to get just close enough to the truth to want to get no closer. But this impertinent girl seemed immune or stupid to the defence, no thanks to Edward's bizarre and ill advised interest in her.
Secondly, lust: it was always disquieting to feel a part of someone else's desire, especially when directed towards one's own brother, but the force of Bella's desire for Edward was stifling, more intense than anything any other human being had felt for any of the Cullens, and we were none of us strangers to human lust. In the same way that Edward thirsted for her blood, she hungered for his body, the strength of feeling was more than uncomfortable it was…well, downright embarrassing. It made me glad that I was not, as my brother was, able to read minds.
Lastly, confusion: the poor girl was disconcerted by Edward, as well she should be. It was a natural reaction to what we were. Who wouldn't be confounded by a group like ours? Bella's confusion was more than a by-product of her unsatisfied curiosity though. I suspected that Edward's inability to decide on a course of action had more than a little to do with it. She wanted him. She wanted to know who he was, what he was, but his inability to be clear about his feelings for her – one day apparent hatred, another concern - had left her unsettled, not knowing entirely how she was supposed to feel. The confusion was tinged with frustration, irritation and even a hint of shame, though the reason for the last was beyond my usually efficient abilities to decipher the human mental state.

Then suddenly, within one short moment, a totally new emotion overwhelmed everything else in my vicinity. I could almost see it surging towards me, like a thick, ominous fog rolling off of the girl and across the tiled floor, illuminated by the harsh overhead strip lighting. It reached me just as Edward's more subtle combination of despondency and relief hit, as Bella's face changed, closed down. The lust remained, of course it did – an emotion of that kind couldn't be switched off, especially when a human was faced with a creature designed to be desired – but her curiosity and confusion diminished unexpectedly. Whatever Edward had said to the girl – I hadn't been listening, too unwillingly wrapped up in their vivid feelings to concentrate on anything more – had changed her, had made her sensible to at least some of the horror of the man opposite her, who now tugged desperately at handfuls of his own hair as if he wanted to rip it from his scalp. I looked away. I may not have been able to avoid intruding on his feelings but I could at least afford Edward some privacy in other, more natural ways.

My brother and sisters had done the same – Rosalie out of boredom, Emmett and Alice civility. Emmett concentrated on absentmindedly rubbing one of his wife's denim clad legs with a rough, oversized hand, there was little curiosity in him as his yellow eyes, as unnatural as my own, stared at the slow progress of his fingers from knee to ankle and back again. It was rare for Emmett to remain interested in one thing for too long and he was as impassive as Rose where the already tiresome saga of Edward and his new pet was concerned. Alice though, my poor lonely Alice, who had already invested too much in this ill advised relationship, was wearing an expression I recognised all too well. She was flicking through futures as anybody else might flick through television channels or a magazine, the features on her face blank and unmoving, her large eyes staring glassily beyond her surroundings. Suddenly she gasped and all three of us jerked our heads towards her. "What is it Alice?" I asked for all of us, she continued staring ahead for a long second before her eyes shifted back to focus on us.
"She's gone. I can't see her anymore." Rosalie and I immediately understood, Emmett took a moment longer.
"Who?" he asked at exactly the same time as Rosalie muttered "thank God."
"Rose, she was supposed to be my friend!" Alice's face crumpled in sorrow, she visibly felt the loss of a friendship which had never even started and was never guaranteed but which she had already put so much of her own future in to.
The scraping of a chair brought the squabble to an abrupt end, our attenuated senses telling us just who was moving and where, though even if we hadn't already sensed her movement, her distinct voice confirmed that it was Bella who moved. She spoke only very quietly but to our ears the words rang, clear as a bell, across the room, "Thank you Edward. Goodbye."

Isabella Swan gave Edward one last small, sad smile, turned on her heel and walked quickly and purposefully out of the canteen without once looking back.

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