My darling Bella was asleep in bed, and I decided to drive up to La Push, treaty be damned. Jacob was waiting for me. We had some business to take care of. Apparently, he had tried to kiss Bella again.

I couldn't have that, now could I?

The sensible part of me, the dull, history-teacher voice part of me that had the misfortune to exist for a century before I met Isabella Swan, was telling me to turn the car around.

But frankly, I didn't feel like it.

I knew we'd have to leave after doing something this crazy. Not just me, but Carlisle and Esme would have to rip up their roots and move somewhere else. I suggested that they come with Bella and myself to Point Barrow, Alaska, where we'd wait out the year or so that it would take for her to adjust to being a vampire.

Jacob was waiting for me at the boundary line, sitting in his ridiculous German contraption. He was getting so tall that he had to fold himself in half in order to fit in that garbage heap. I drove past the car, and crossed the line, without thinking twice. I heard the dog maneuver behind me. Superb. He was just where I wanted him.

I drove down to the beach. Late on weeknights, there wasn't exactly a great deal of activity. Even the dogs had to go to school, like the rest of us.

I left my car, and secured it. I walked toward the shore without waiting for the dog to extract himself. The air was cool, and there was salt in the air. Soon, with any luck, a faint trace of hemoglobin would accompany it.

I stood with my back to the dog, watching the waves gently lick the shore. The full moon reflected beautifully off the black glass. I was thinking of how –simply, gorgeous – this sight was, when I felt something flick against my back, like an errant Frisbee, tossed carelessly like a child.

"What, dog," I asked, not bothering to turn around just yet, "do you want to play fetch or something?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, sounding quite stupid.

I turned around, and he was lying on the ground, rubbing his shoulder. Apparently, he had tried to ram into me. I laughed at the thought.

"What are you trying to do, dog?" I asked him, voice laden with venom. "Are you trying to hurt yourself further? I would think that you broke enough bones during the battle with the newborns."

He scowled. Apparently, I touched a nerve.

Wonderful.

"I'm going to kick your…" He started talking like a big man. Something that was far beyond him.

"You're going to kick what?" I asked. "Certainly not my ass; it seems that you're, ah, yes, too –weak – to leave a mark."

"Perhaps I should rephrase that," he snapped. "I'm going to bite your ass."

"Why don't you kiss it, too, while you're down there," I smirked.

Houston, we have liftoff – the dog's body shimmered, and he went from being a tall and hairy boy to being a lithe and hairier dog.

And he lunged at me, trying to bite my neck. So much for him kissing my ass.

I grabbed him, one hand deftly wrapping around his snout, trying to break his jawbone. I was hoping to do enough damage so that he wouldn't be able to talk for a week or two. Maybe he'd learn how to listen when other people say 'no'. Maybe.

I heard the bones crunch, and I smiled. A little flicker of a smile, really.

"Now, Dog, do you want more." I paused for a second. He didn't – couldn't – answer. "I'll take that to mean 'yes'."

I aimed my leg toward his groin, but I ended up kicking one of his back legs. The bone splintered. Frankly, he was lucky it didn't fly off into space; it just hung limply like a sack of potatoes.

Ah, inspiration. I proceeded to do the same with his remaining limbs. Now… if only his tail was long enough for me to hog-tie them all together. For shame, for shame.

He was lying on the ground, sand matted in with his hide.

"Excellent," I whispered, my lips a millimeter from his lips. "Next time I even think you're near Bella, I won't bother to wait until you morph, I will castrate you."

--

I felt a hand tapping my shoulder.

"Edward, hellooooo, are you there?"

It was Bella. Dammit, it was just a dream. A fantasy suspended before my eyes while I partook in pseudo-sleep. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn."

"Sorry love, I was dreaming."

"About what?"

"You, of course."