Why do you talk without knowing what you are talking about? Where were you when I created the earth? Tell me, since you know so much... Do you presume to tell me what I am doing? ... Like an open book, I watched you grow from conception to birth; all the stages of your life were spread out before me. The days of your life were all prepared before you'd even lived one day. Now what do you have to say for yourself? Are you going to haul me, the Mighty One, into court and press charges? Excerpted from Job and Psalms. Warning- Contains references to child abuse. Written for PTB Challenge The Life and Times of Bree Tanner

My Dear Child,

RE: Bree Tanner

This letter is in response to your inquiry: Why would God allow so much tragedy in Bree's short life?

Response:

I do apologize for the delay in my response, but I'm a busy man, you know? This universe doesn't run itself. I'm constantly being bombarded with questions and requests: Please, God, just let me find the right man...Why, God, why did you do this to me...Please, God, don't let it rain today...

But back to the issue at hand; while your inquiry appears to be a general question about why I allow bad things to happen, explaining this to you would take much too long, and I highly doubt you would be able to understand, no offense. Instead, I will specifically address the case of Miss Bree Tanner. You wanted to know why I would allow one small girl to experience so much hardship in her life?

I should have you struck by lightning for daring to question my authority... just kidding. Before I try to explain why I allowed such tragedy to occur, let me tell you about Bree. You see, you don't really know as much about her as you seem to think you do. You only know a few weeks of her life. Were you there when she was conceived in her mother's womb? Did you rejoice when her heart beat for the very first time? Did you watch as she was born? No? I didn't think so. I was there when she was born. I watched her tiny body enter this world. I celebrated as she took her first steps and spoke her first words. You see, I was the only one who cared enough to pay attention to those things.

Bree's mother walked out when Bree was just a toddler. I let her go, because even worse evil would have come about if she'd stayed. Greg, who is not on my guest list if you know what I mean, was not a good man or a good father. Greg was a selfish human being, and without my intervention, Bree would likely have died within a week of being left alone with him. I made sure that Greg provided basic care for Bree so that she would stay alive and healthy. Could I have stopped him from laying a hand on her in anger? Of course, but that would have interfered with the much larger plans I had for Bree's life. All events impact your life, the good experiences and the bad, and often people must experience tragedy or injury in order to fully experience joy and happiness later. Not every bad thing that happens to you is some sort of punishment from me. Just keep that in mind next time you find yourself asking why.

Back to Bree. When Bree was old enough to enter school, I placed her in the care of Eloise, or Ellie as she prefers to be called. Ellie is one of my favorites, an absolute joy to be around. Her soul is so pure and full of love; it's a rare beauty. I led the precious child to Ellie on her first day of Kindergarten. Bree was very nervous that day. Her only routine interaction with adults was with Greg, and based on his behavior, she wasn't sure she could trust grown-ups. It took a lot of patience on Ellie's part to break down the barriers Bree had unknowingly erected around her heart. Ellie requested that I allow her to tell you about her Bree through her eyes. I can never say no to that woman...Below is a letter from Ellie.

~o~o~o~o~

My Bree...I would like to think that I knew Bree Tanner as well as anyone could. I watched the child come into my library every day after school since she was five years old, a Kindergartener. She would peruse the shelves, looking for something that caught her eye. When she found it, she'd snatch it up and head to the back of the library, where there was a small seating area with several beanbag chairs. She'd stay there until the last school bus departed, the one that waited for the children in the after-school athletic programs.

Bree liked to keep to herself. I never once saw her come in with a companion, nor did I hear her mention any friends, but she wasn't unfriendly. She was always pleasant and courteous to me. The child was clearly smart and had an appetite for reading that rivaled my own.

It was several years before Bree started to warm up to me. She seemed to have a deep distrust of authority figures, and she didn't speak to me until she was in the third grade. Finally working up the courage, the little girl approached my desk quietly and introduced herself. Her soft voice was tentative, but sure, telling me that she loved to read and was hoping I could recommend some books she might like. Seizing the opportunity to interact with her, I steered her over to the children's section and started pointing out the books that I loved. A bright smile appeared on her face as she selected one of them to read before heading back to her favorite beanbag chair, the purple one. This began our weekly routine. Every Monday, she would come and ask for recommendations, and I would give her two or three, which would be enough to last her the week.

By the time Bree was in fifth grade, I was pleased that she had become more comfortable with me. Instead of heading directly back to the seating area, she would linger at the counter and watch me scan the returned books back into inventory. She loved it when I let her place the books back on the shelves. She would skip down the aisles, rolling the book cart and carefully sliding the books back into their proper locations. I got the feeling the girl didn't have much structure at home and that she found security in the organized order of the library.

Bree turned out to be a great help to me, both emotionally and physically. Even though I was only in my late fifties, I had struggled with rheumatoid arthritis for quite some time. It bothered me most on chilly, damp days, which was, unfortunately, very common in Seattle. I often had difficulties walking because my knee would swell up, and I couldn't bend it properly. On a day like this, Bree came up to me after noticing my limp. She quietly took the book cart out of my hands with a glare, challenging me to argue with her. I let her take the cart without a fight. She smiled and started down the nearest row. She reached up to place a book on a shelf above her head, and I watched her shirt ride up, exposing her lower back. There were several ugly, green bruises striped across her back. I gasped loudly, unable to hide my alarm, and she whipped her head around, meeting my eyes.

I was horrified by the sight of those marks on her beautiful skin. Who would want to harm my sweet Bree? I opened my mouth to ask her about it, but she cut me off. Wringing her hands and picking at some non-existent lint on her shirt, she began to tell me that she had talked back to her father and had been punished, but it wasn't something that happened often. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The poor child seemed to think that it was not a big deal or that she somehow deserved it. I couldn't let her think that this was normal or acceptable behavior from a parent. I told her that even one time was too many; parents should never punish their children like that, but she pleaded with me to keep it between us. She said that everything was fine at home, so long as she stayed out of the way. That was why she spent so much time here. Hearing this made me want to cry. I vowed to pay more attention to her when she was here, to do my best to be a loving parental figure, as she clearly didn't have one at home. Continuing on, she reasoned that if I said anything, it would just make the situation worse, because she didn't want to be taken away and placed in a foster home with strangers. How did such a young girl even know about foster care? She was sure, given the possible outcomes, the safest choice was to keep quiet and stay out of her father's way. I didn't understand how she could be so logical about the situation and couldn't imagine being so calm and unemotional if I had been in her place.

I was torn. As an adult holding a position of authority in the school, I was required by law to report any suspicions of child abuse—but I didn't want to betray the trust that had taken so long to win. It seemed that Bree would end up hurt no matter what I did. Ultimately, I told her that I would not say anything yet, but only on the condition that she told me exactly what happened. She held my gaze for several long moments before agreeing.

As there was no one else in the library that afternoon, I brought her back into my office to talk. I dug a candy bar out of my desk and gave it to her. After devouring the candy bar, she started telling me about her family. I forced myself to keep quiet while listening to the distressing story, even though I wanted to scream about the injustice. After her mother left, it was just her and Greg, her father. She always called him by his first name when she spoke to me, and she didn't appear to have any emotional attachment to him. He was a troublesome roommate and nothing more. As far as Bree knew, she didn't have any other family. She longed to know more about her mom, but Greg would get furious if she dared to mention it. Hearing that, my heart broke for her.

As Bree continued her tale, I learned that she'd never had a close relationship with Greg, but he had never been physically violent before. She was pretty sure that he blamed her for her mom leaving. He often yelled at her whenever she made a mistake, spilled something, or didn't follow instructions immediately, but this had been the first time he had hit her. I almost cursed aloud when Bree described the events that led to the bruises.

Greg had been yelling at her for leaving the refrigerator door open. In a moment of anger, Bree had mouthed back to him, telling him that she already said she was sorry and what more did he want? He'd said he wanted to be shown proper respect and that he would make sure she never sassed him again. I closed my eyes as she described the scene, unable to bring myself to watch her. He took off his belt, pushed her over the kitchen table, and whipped the belt against her back repeatedly. It took all the restraint that Bree could muster not to cry out because she didn't want to further anger Greg. When she continued to just lie there on the table, motionless, Greg walked out of the room, and she heard the rumble of his car as he drove off. He didn't come back that night, nor was he there when she woke up for school in the morning. She didn't see him again until the following afternoon, when he showed up at the house, drunk, pretending nothing had happened.

Bree looked back up at me and told me it really wasn't that bad. She just had pale skin which made the bruises look worse than they really were. She tried to appear stoic, but her chin quivered, and there were tears in her eyes as she spoke. Looking at her scared little face, how could I trust that this delicate girl was safe at her house with her cruel father? Bree saw my torn expression and pleaded with me that it didn't even hurt anymore. She claimed that Greg had never been violent before, it only happened this once. With heavy heart, I told Bree that I would give it only one chance. This one time I wouldn't say anything to anyone. However, I also told her that I couldn't promise not to say something in the future. If Greg continued to abuse her, how could I not report it to the authorities? Bree might be angry with me, but I would hate myself if I knew that she was being hurt and I could have prevented it.

After that day, Bree was much more open with me. She started to talk to me about the books she liked. I knew that she had a very high reading level, based on the books she was picking from the shelves, but I was surprised at how articulate she was when discussing her favorites. There was a weekly after-school reading program for the first and second-graders who were struggling. I asked Bree if she wanted to be my assistant, and she was thrilled. She was very good with the little kids, patiently helping them sound out the words in the beginner's books they had been assigned.

When she started sixth grade, we founded our own little book club, just the two of us. Our first book was Charlotte's Web. I hadn't read it since I was young, so it was wonderful to revisit the magical world along with Bree. As we went through each chapter, I had to remind myself that she was only eleven years old. I found myself discussing and arguing interpretations with her as if she were an adult colleague. I think I got as much, if not more, out of our meetings than Bree did. We read fifty-two books together that year, religiously meeting once a week even in the summer, taking turns choosing the book.

I was grateful that the library was well-funded, as we were quickly exhausting our available reading material. The summer before seventh grade, Bree and I worked together to decide what books to order for the library for the upcoming school year. I had always done this myself, but found it difficult to decide what children would be interested in these days. Bree was like a kid in a candy shop when I told her that she could pick out anything she wanted for the children's section of the library. I wasn't disappointed in her choices. Having Bree's perspective was a wonderful change, and it made the task actually enjoyable.

Entering eighth grade, Bree was thirteen—a teenager, as she proudly told me. The first book we read together at the start of the school year was Watership Down. Bree readily identified with the rabbits in the book, as they set off on their own to build a new life, unencumbered by their past. She told me in confidence that she planned to get out of the house as soon as she turned sixteen and could get her driver's license. I asked her if things with Greg had gotten worse, but she denied it. She said he was just the same—verbally abusive—but he hadn't hit her again. I wasn't sure that I believed her, but I had never again seen a mark on her body, and I had been looking when I thought Bree wouldn't notice.

When Bree graduated from the eighth grade, she asked me to attend the ceremony as her family. I cried—both when she asked me and at the actual event. I was the only person there for her. No Greg, no grandparents—just me, her middle-aged school librarian. But Bree was so happy to have me there, and I was honored to be her support. She gave me a huge smile when she walked across the stage to receive her diploma, and I clapped loudly; I was so proud of her. I took her out for a special dinner that night. I wondered how she managed to get Greg to agree to let her go, but I didn't ask, because frankly, I didn't want to know. I was pretty sure there was some lying and sneaking out involved.

Luckily, Bree's high school was in the same complex as the elementary and middle schools, so there was no interruption in our daily meetings. At fourteen, she was now more of a friend to me than a student. I still tried to be a good role model for her, but she needed me more as a female confidante. The day Bree first got her period, I was the one who took her to the pharmacy down the street to buy the things she would need. I was the one who took her to the mall one weekend to get her first bra. It was my shoulder that she cried on when a boy she liked ignored her.

Every once in a while, I would ask her about Greg. She always told me the same story. But whether she was telling the truth or not, I didn't know. I suspected things were worse than she claimed, but without any proof, I was reluctant to report anything to the county. This was selfish on my part. I didn't want her taken away from me. If I really loved her, I should have reported the abuse back when she was ten. But I didn't, and she paid the price. I didn't deserve the love she gave me.

Our relationship shifted when she began her sophomore year of high school. She finally told me that she had not been honest with me when I had asked about Greg. He had been hitting her for several years, and she was just careful not to let me see the evidence. She knew my conscience would require me to report it, and she didn't want to put me in the position of choosing between my loyalty to her and my legal responsibilities. She was right. My conscience was screaming at me at that moment; why had I been so naïve as to believe that it had been an isolated incident? Why had I idly stood by while the person I loved most in this world was suffering silently? That I had been unaware was of no consolation to my guilt-ridden heart. We both cried that afternoon. I asked her why she decided to tell me the truth after all this time. She said it was because she now had a plan. She looked down at her feet as she started to explain this plan to me.

She had been doing a lot of research on emancipation of minors. In Washington, she told me, she could petition for emancipation as soon as she turned sixteen, which would be in the spring—March. She had already started preparing her petition. A local bookstore said they would hire her for part time work once she was sixteen, so she would be able to prove that she could take care of herself financially. She hesitated before telling me that she had also been documenting Greg's abuse and that she had many photographs to support her claims, so that the judge would believe her. The only concern she had was where she would live. After a pause, she glanced up at me, wordlessly asking me the question I was already prepared to answer. I told her I would love it if she would come stay with me. She was ecstatic as she threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly while promising that she would never be any trouble. It saddened me that she would even think there was a possibility that I would turn her away.

The next few months were full of preparation. We worked together on her emancipation petition. A cousin of mine was a lawyer, specializing in family law, and he agreed to help us for free. Without telling Bree, I had started working on a bedroom for her. I lived alone in my house, and there were plenty of empty rooms, but I wanted to make hers special. I found some beautiful used furniture: a sleigh bed, two matching dressers, and an old, oak desk. I painted the room a nice, neutral gray and purple. I bought a nice bedspread and framed some posters for the walls. I even stocked the small bookcase with some of her favorite books. I couldn't wait for her to see it, and it was very hard not to spill the beans.

The trouble started around Christmas that year. I was shoveling snow in my driveway when I felt a crushing pain in my chest. I managed to make my way into the house and call an ambulance. They took me to the hospital, and after hours of tests, they said I had not had a heart attack, but it had been a close call. Apparently my cholesterol was very high, and I had several partially blocked arteries. The doctors said they didn't want to do bypass surgery just yet, but that it might be necessary in the near future. I was sent home without having to spend the night in the hospital.

Bree was beyond upset when I told her about it. She was angry that I was out shoveling snow in the first place, and then she was angry that I had to go through the whole ordeal alone. It was a good thing she was going to be living with me soon, she said, because it wasn't safe for me to live there all by myself if I had heart problems. She was right; we both would benefit from the arrangement. Even before the scare, I had been looking forward to having company in the old house. I had grown to see Bree as the daughter I never had, and I secretly hoped that Bree would think of me as a mother figure.

From then on, Bree insisted on doing all the lifting and book filing for me. She knew how much work she should expect to have waiting for her at the end of the school day, so I couldn't even do these things while she was in class. She always seemed to know if I did. She laid the guilt trip on me, asking me if I really wanted to hurt myself before she had a chance to be free. Giving up, I allowed her to help me with any physical tasks.

As winter went on, I didn't experience any more heart problems, and I was starting to believe that it had just been a fluke. Bree planned to file her emancipation petition on her sixteenth birthday, which was less than a month away. My cousin said that he would pull some strings to get her a court date as early as possible.

Everything was in place, and Bree and I were just waiting.

I walked into the library one morning and almost tripped over a stack of boxes right in front of the counter. I guess I forgot about the March book delivery. Bree was in class until at least 3pm, and I didn't want to stumble over the boxes all day long, so I decided to start working on them by myself. It took most of the morning to enter the books into the library computer system using the invoice. I didn't start unpacking the shipment until about 2pm. I remember struggling with the tape and going to my office to grab a box cutter. I remember trying to pick up the first box and move it over to a nearby desk, so I wouldn't have to reach down to get the books out. After that, it was just black.

The next thing I remember, I was lying on the floor, staring up into Bree's frantic face. I guess it is true about your life flashing before your eyes right before you die. I prayed to God to please not let me die. I had to stay alive for Bree, to give her a chance to be free and happy. I saw her kneeling beside me, holding my hand, and I saw the telephone up against her ear. She was probably calling 9-1-1. I struggled to speak, and she turned to face me again. With a hoarse voice, I told her that I loved her, that I was sorry, and that I wanted her to promise me that she would stay safe. My vision was gone then, but I faintly heard her voice telling me that she loved me too and that she would do her best to live her life in a way that would make me proud. I was unable to respond, but I smiled to myself. My Bree...

~o~o~o~o~

Now that Ellie is with me, she understands why things had to happen this way. I wished to spare her from the pain of Bree's transformation and the necessary separation it would cause. See, whether she ran away or not, Bree was destined to become a vampire. Ellie had taught her the value of love and loyalty. These were essential lessons for Bree, so that she could stand strong against the evil that would soon come her way. I allowed Ellie to experience the joy of being a mother, but I brought her home before she would have to experience the heartache of watching her daughter suffer. It was a merciful decision on my part, not the horrible callousness I have been accused of.

When Ellie died in the library that day, Bree was terrified about what would happen to her. She was sure that the emancipation petition would not be approved, since she now had nowhere to live. The events that unfolded at her home that night were not for the faint of heart. Rather than rehash the painful details, I will simply tell you that there was a verbal and physical fight, culminating in an unconscious, and soon to be dead, Greg. Let's just say I didn't exactly intervene to protect him...

Wanting to get out of the house in case the police came, Bree ran. She grabbed a backpack and stuffed it full of essential items, including Greg's wallet, and took off. She had no plans for shelter or food. But sometimes it is easier to take care of the people with no plan when compared to the ones who think that they have things all mapped out. Those without any plans are much more open to my divine intervention and much less likely to fight me on it. I made sure that Bree didn't run into too much trouble out on her own. I managed to set her up with warm shelter that she thought she just happened to stumble across each night. She was very hungry though. The money she took from Greg had long run out, and she hadn't eaten in days. It was difficult for me to allow that to happen without intervening.

When Riley found her, huddled in an alley near a generator, she was desperate. She was cold and hungry and had been out on her own for two weeks. Riley was a vampire, an evil one. He worked for Victoria, creating an army of newborn vampires that she planned to use to destroy Bella and the Cullens as revenge for the death of her mate, James. Riley lured the girl into his trap by offering Bree a cheeseburger, and she couldn't bring herself to turn it down. This would mark the major transition point of Bree's life.

Even though I knew that it had to happen, it was difficult to watch the next few days as she burned internally without respite.

When she finally awoke to her new life, she found herself without any allies. Unlike most of the other newborns, she was able to keep her wits about her. She kept a low profile and her mind began to reject the lies that were fed to her by Riley and Victoria. She didn't remember many details about her human life, but she still loved to read. Even if she couldn't remember Ellie just yet, it was clear that her influence on Bree was still present.

After the first few months of this second life, Bree began to trust a select few individuals. Fred was a young vampire with a special gift. While not the most glamorous of abilities, it was very effective. I gave Fred the ability to essentially disappear, not physically, but by causing those around him to be unable to look at him. He produced a deep revulsion in any observers, ensuring that he was never bothered. Life among the newborns in Riley's coven was dangerous, full of uncontrolled emotions and impulsiveness. Trusting Bree, Fred used his ability to protect her as well as himself from unwanted attention. This was the start of their friendship.

Diego was the person that Bree trusted the most. He had been a vampire longer than Bree, but he was still considered a newborn. Like Bree, Diego retained his ability to think clearly and critically. He knew that something was off about the plan Riley had given to the group, but he badly wanted to trust Riley, considering him to be a friend and mentor. Diego was an optimist, always assuming the best of people when others assumed the worst. This was his gift.

Diego and Bree were a match made in heaven, literally. I created the two of them for each other: mates. They complimented one another perfectly, and they found a deep connection that they had always felt was missing from their lives.

Now before you start harping about how they had so little time together, I should tell you that you don't know the whole story. Bree is special in many ways. She may have hid it well from you and those around her, but I did give her a special gift: Bree has the ability to alter memories. Think about the implications of that for a moment...

Did you come up with anything? I'll give you a hint: Bree and Diego are still quite alive and very happy, if I do say so myself.

I will let you learn the rest of the story at a later time, but in an effort to defend myself against unfounded accusations, I will provide you with the basics of what really happened that spring.

In an attempt to control the newborns, Riley deceived them into believing that they could not go out into the sunlight or else they would be burned up. One day, after being separated from their group, Bree and Diego found themselves unprotected as the sun began to rise. That day they discovered the sun posed no danger to them. Diego wanted to believe that Riley was just misinformed, but Bree felt that this was unlikely. To uncover the truth, Diego wanted to approach Riley on his own to tell him about the discovery, allowing them to find out whether Riley was truly an ally or not.

The "official story" has it that Diego went to Riley, alone, with his newfound knowledge, and Riley and Victoria destroyed him to prevent him from telling the other newborns the truth. What really happened was a little different. While Diego was confident in Riley's friendship, Bree was quite wary and did not want Diego to go alone, so they went together.

Bree stayed outside the cabin, downwind so as to remain unnoticed, while Diego waited until Riley exited Victoria's cabin, approaching him as he entered the forest. While surprised to see Diego, Riley was not overly concerned. He asked Diego what he was doing there, and as Riley listened intently, Diego explained how he had accidentally discovered that sunlight was, in fact, harmless—dazzling sparkles aside. Riley acted as though this was fascinating news that they must immediately share with Victoria. Promising Diego that Victoria was sure to reward him extravagantly for this incredible discovery, Riley led him back to Victoria. When Diego entered the cabin, expecting to share his findings, he instead found himself tackled to the ground by Riley, who told Victoria that Diego knew the truth about the sunlight and that he wasn't sure how he should handle the situation. He did truly think of Diego as a friend, but maintaining power in Victoria's army was of more importance to him. When Victoria coldly told him to help her dispose of Diego, he didn't hesitate in following her orders.

Outside, Bree had been carefully listening to the unfolding scene. Just as Riley moved to attack the struggling Diego, Bree acted. Deceived by Bree's mental fabrication, Riley and Victoria suddenly "remembered" that they had just heard the sound of an approaching enemy, and they both rushed to the window. This momentary lapse in attention allowed Diego to escape from the cabin and flee into the forest. Once he was out of their sight, Bree was able to manipulate the memory of the interaction in the minds of both Riley and Victoria, causing them to believe that they destroyed Diego to preserve their secret. Bree was still learning the extent of her talents and was not confident enough in her skills to attempt to completely erase the memory of the event. However, she was comfortable modifying the details.

After this incident, it was important that Diego not be seen by any of the coven, so he stayed out of sight, but close enough to know what was happening. During this time, Bree and Fred became closer allies. When the day came for Riley and Victoria's attack on the Cullens, Bree played along. She followed Riley out to the field under the pretense that she was looking for Diego; she knew perfectly well that he was hiding in the nearby forest with Fred. It had been difficult to convince Diego to let her go alone, but she insisted on finding out the truth about Riley and Victoria's intentions.

When she arrived in the clearing and saw the fight was already lost, she made for the forest to meet back up with Diego and Fred. This is when Carlisle captured her. When she did not engage him in combat, he stood down. She was still only a child, and Carlisle felt pity for her. He offered her mercy, and as she never had any intentions of hurting his unique coven, she quickly surrendered to him. They were soon joined by a woman who appeared to be his mate, Esme. Seeing how young and afraid Bree was, Esme wanted to protect her. A third golden-eyed vampire approached, and Bree recoiled at the sight of him. He was covered in scars, clearly a seasoned fighter. He crouched, ready to attack her, but Esme stepped between them, protecting Bree while leaving herself open to attack. Bree was unable to comprehend why these strangers were showing her such kindness. She started to realize just how many lies she had been fed.

While they were discussing her fate, she signaled to Diego not to interfere. She was curious about these people and wanted to find out more. Diego reluctantly lingered back and out of sight. He knew that she could use their secret signal, scratching her arm, if she felt that the situation was out of her control.

Finally, the vampires reached an agreement about Bree. Eyes closed, at Jasper's insistence, Bree was led back across the battlefield. Smelling the fumes from the fires of her burning coven members, she felt nothing but satisfaction at the knowledge of their demise. There were still lingering sounds of battle and a strange howling that Bree could not identify. When they finally came to a stop, Bree was instructed to keep her eyes closed until she was told otherwise. She listened to what she could hear around her, trying to make sense of the world she clearly understood so little about.

When she was finally allowed to open her eyes, she saw smoke completely surrounding her. She could see a figure on the ground and assumed it was an injured vampire. Suddenly, the wind shifted, and Bree froze. It was the scent of the girl Riley had promised them as a reward. So it was true that these vampires kept a pet human with them. She couldn't understand how they managed it or why they would bother. Regaining consciousness, Bella moved to stand sheltered in Edward's arms, and Bree was baffled as to why the human showed no fear. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to attack, to drain the girl of her delicious blood, and the girl seemed oblivious. The other vampires, though, sensed her struggle. Carlisle, the merciful one, told her that if she was to stay with them, she would have to learn to control her instinct to hunt. Bree wasn't sure she could ever achieve this. But if it meant survival, she would fight the instinct with every fiber of her being. Carlisle's compassion deeply affected Bree. It pulled at her heart, reminding her of something she couldn't quite identify, but she knew that she would very much like to spend more time with these people.

Suddenly, the entire coven was on alert, waiting for the arrival of a mysterious Volturi. When they approached, she recognized the group of cloaked vampires from a curious incident a few short days ago. She and Diego had been tracking Riley, who unwittingly led them to Victoria's cabin. Hiding in a nearby tree, they observed the visit of several cloaked figures. The pair didn't know who they were, but they clearly generated fear in Riley and Victoria. It appeared that these vampires were some sort of police agency, as they spoke of Riley and Victoria creating an illegal army of newborns.

They asked Victoria how she managed to keep her plan from the golden-eyed coven. Sounding reluctant, Victoria finally explained that she managed this by not making any decisions about what to do with her army of newborns. Somehow, this strategy allowed her to hide her intentions. While the cloaked figures grudgingly acknowledged the strategy as effective, it hadn't made any sense to Bree or Diego at the time. Bree knew that the coven they were to attack was made up of vampires with special abilities, and she knew that one was a mind reader, but she didn't know what other gifts they possessed. If she had known of Alice's ability to see the future, she would have been able to grasp Victoria's explanation.

Taking in this bizarre confrontation, Bree started to question everything she had been told since waking to this new life. She realized that no one had any idea why Victoria wanted to destroy this coven. Was it because of their special abilities? Had they attacked her in the past? Even if Victoria had a good reason for plotting revenge, the manner in which Riley commanded her and her fellow newborns made no sense; there was no solid strategy involved, no organization.

Bree was now facing the same cloaked vampires who she now knew as the Volturi, and it was clear that they intended to kill her for offenses she had not committed, for sins that should have been paid for by Riley and Victoria. Bree was a clever, kind girl. Even confused and desperate, she had recognized the kindness of this new coven. She wanted to live. She wanted to finally find happiness. With Diego waiting close by, Bree decided not to simply use her gift to escape as she had initially intended. Instead, she wanted to help Carlisle and his coven. Wanting to protect these merciful vampires from the evil she had unknowingly participated in, she mentally broadcasted the scene she witnessed between the Volturi and Victoria, hoping the mind reader was paying attention. After showing the unknown mind reader everything she knew, she escaped, planting another false memory. She caused everyone, including you, to believe that the Volturi destroyed her in the name of upholding their law. Even Bella, normally protected by her mental shield, believed that Bree was killed in front of her. I allowed Bree to get past Bella's shield. I have my reasons, even if I don't always explain them to you.

So there you have it. Bree, Diego, and Fred are currently living a peaceful and "vegetarian" vampire existence in Vancouver. They are on their way to spend some time with the Denalis in Alaska. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, and let me say, Tanya isn't going to know what hit her. Oh, but this will be fun. Anyway, they have been keeping tabs on the Cullens and plan to visit them now that Bella is no longer a deliciously tempting human. Alice is, of course, expecting them. I would love to tell you what comes next, but you will just have to wait. I don't want to spoil the surprise.

Yes, Bree experienced fifteen years of heartbreak at the hand of her father, but I made sure that for ten of those years she had one person to love her unconditionally. Now she has eternity to spend with her mate and a very interesting future ahead of her. So tell me, do you still think that I am unfair or uncompassionate?

Sincerely,

GOD

Chapter End Notes:

Thank you to my PTB betas, tiffanyanne3 and AGirlReckoning, and to Addicted to Edward and Kayla Cullen.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Detochkina for her constant encouragement and relentless nit-picking. Without her, this story would not have been nearly as good. Check out her story, Sinnerman. www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?sid=11552