Please Note: I've seen all the movies, but I've just started to read the books. If there are any inconsistencies…sorry about that..But! Hope you enjoy and if you do, I hope you review
Jacob wouldn't be able to prove it meant anything, but the attack came the moment, the exact moment he was thinking of Edward. Glass broke, wood splintered, the sound of the television cut off with a horrible crack, a strangled cry.
"Dad!" Jacob called, running.
Whoever they had been, they were gone, but what they had been was suddenly obvious as Jacob saw his father screaming, writhed on the floor, his face twisted in pain and a bloody bite mark visible on his throat.
For a moment, Jacob just stood there, too shocked to move, too shocked to think. Then, the next minute, he swooped down, picked up the seemingly weightless and smashed figure of his father and ran.
How he got from the reservation to Bella's house would remain a mystery he didn't care to think about in the years that came. All that mattered was that she was there, and he was there. He could see him now-that leech-standing in the warm, safe light of Bella's room. He was watching him. "Help him!" Jacob yelled, but it came out a breathless whisper. The "please" was a swallowed, burning breath. Edward hesitated for a moment, studying Jacob's face, his own face disbelieving and inexplicably, furious.
"Jacob? Oh my god…Jacob!" Bella, who had woken and saw him through the window, beneath the trees. She seemed to appear at his side and it was she who finally broke whatever reverie held Edward still. "Edward…Please….He's…"
"Changing." Edward said as he finally made him way to stand beside Bella, to kneel beside the older man.
"What do you mean, changing?" Jacob said.
"Edward, you can…Can't you…?."
"I might kill him…"
"You won't. I know you won't."
Billy Clearwater gasped and Jacob's heart thrumped in his own ears. "Save him." He said. "Whatever you have to do. He's dead if you don't..."
"He won't be dead…" Edward began.
"He won't live through it." They paused and Jacob stared straight into those black pits the Cullens called eyes. His father wouldn't let himself live as…as one of them. Jacob swallowed and whispered. "Please. I'm begging you."
There might have been the splinter of a second where Edward weighed the decision. There might have been a breath of time when Jacob saw understanding in his eyes, however black and terrible they were. Then, the moment passed and Edward had fastened himself to the dying man's throat.
Jacob watched, maybe fascinated, maybe horrified, certainly helpless…and furious…and for once not at the Cullens…not even Edward. It hadn't been they who had attacked Billy Clearwater. Jacob could smell them… He could smell them running through the forest, further and further away….
"Jacob." Bella said and took his hand. "I'm so sorry. He'll be OK. Edward's…done this before."
"I know." Jacob growled.
"No. I mean…"
Jacob was glad she didn't finish. He didn't think he really wanted to know. He had noticed the marks on her wrist. He remembered when she had been recovering in the hospital from…blood loss. Watching Edward suddenly wrest himself away from Billy, watching that bloody mouth and white teeth emerge back into view, he really didn't want to know.
"Will he be…?" Bella asked.
Edward stood, half curled in on himself and Jacob noticed there was something weird about his eyes. Then he realized it. They were red.
"Edward…?" said Bella, taking a step towards him.
"He'll be fine…" Edward managed after a moment. "Bella…call an ambulance…and Charlie. Now…please…Now"
"Alright…." Bella said, hesitantly, but the way he wouldn't look at her, the way he seemed to be holding himself back finally made her go.
Jacob, in the meanwhile, had gone to his knees, pressing his head to his father's chest. There it was – life and more so…humanity…all in that beat that seemed so small. "Thank you." Jacob said raising his eyes to the vampire. "Please make sure nothing happens to him or Bella for me."
"Where are you going?" Edward said, still doubled over, voice strangely weak.
Jacob didn't mean to smile, but really, what twisted onto his lips was too sharp to be called such a thing. "Hunting."
