Author's Note:

Well, Wyatt's golden moment has come and gone. He's currently unaware of the new restrictions by the Volturi, else he wouldn't have done what he did. But now it's time for wakesies wakesies. The girl's been … burning for three days. It's time for her to wake. Read and review please! (:

Disclaimer: Lalalala, only Wyatt & The Girl belong to me. All else, is Mrs. Meyer's.

Chapter Two: Revelations

She had screamed intermittently, short bursts of heated cries, and then ragged panting. She'd sobbed too; gasps of air and cries that had sounded strangled. I had not stayed too long with her; instead I had hunted, despite the fact there was no blood to tempt me anymore – I had washed it all off her. I had not touched her too much, only cleaning her deep wounds – the long, jagged scars down her arms had previously revulsed me, but now, they were just wounds. I had stayed away from her too, keeping her quiet in the house I owned for as long as possible. When she began to groan again, I'd flitted back to check on her. Her skin was growing marbled, and the wounds almost nonexistent, but I had kept my eyes focused on her face – her still human face.

Occasionally, her eyes would open – blank and wide as she'd screamed. They were a pretty green, delicate and floral, and framed by dark lashes. Her skin was creamy white, almost ghostly, her features delicate and china-like. She was pretty, I'd surmised – tempting to human boys, certainly, but the strange paleness of her skin and hair in contrast to her vivid eyes was startling. Like any human, she had her flaws; her dints and cracks and pores that made her genuinely normal. Not like me.

On the third day, I hovered by her bedside in the blue room of the house, waiting for her to wake. She struggled and flailed viciously in her bed, tearing the sheets to shreds as she screamed, echoing howls of agony that broke the window. Her face was tortured, and I heard the uneven rasp of her snarls as she struggled to free herself from my restraining hands. Her moves were sharp and accurate, her new hands clawing into my skin and digging at my shirt. Her eyes opened just slightly for a moment, and I caught a glimpse of a murky sea polluted with blood before they rolled back into her head. She shook on the bed there, trembling, gasping for breath, as her heartbeat raced on. Another scream, so heartbreaking I thought to run from the room. The neighbours would come soon.

On impulse, I pressed my mouth to her's – she did not fall slack, but fought all the more harder, scraping, clawing, beating and battering me. She screamed against me, thrashing and flailing, and I held her there, hoping that the embrace would calm and soothe her, and that I could swallow her screams. Never once did she hesitate to attack me, and I would've laughed at the fury of her flurry of attacks, had she not been in pain.

Then her heart gave out. The vicious, raging drumbeats I heard crashed into silence. I could only hear the rustling of the sheets as they slid off the bed; nothing more. I stepped back, releasing her, so I could see her.

Her eyes were open; while I had expected the bloodred colour, it was still a shock. I felt a momentary pang of annoyance – the previous green of her eyes had been much prettier, much more … alive. These deep sharp eyes that looked out at me were alien and angry, possessing none of the girl's former warmth. She was, undeniably, a beauty – just as all vampires were. Her features had been enhanced; her features straight and petite still, her eyes wide and alluring, their numerous, thick lashes each tinted with a shade of night I couldn't name. She was pale – paler than any other vampire I knew, like snow, or paper, or oblivion, but somehow smaller. Still she was graceful, her proportions feminine and adult, her limbs smooth and slender and supple. Her hair had grown, now falling to her waist in a waterfall of snow; it was almost impossible to believe it's colour and it's rich texture. Her lips, unusually dark red next to her fair features, parted.

A soft murmur – she sounded like a bird, gentle and distant – echoed around the room. She was asking what happened; where she was. I was surprised she hadn't crouched, hadn't bared her teeth at me, but after all, a good five minutes had passed. I could feel her confusion – and distantly, her despair, written in her soul.

"Jennifer?" I said quietly, knowing it would reach her.

At once she was crouched down low, her hair whipping out behind her, rage and grief written in a fiery language through her soul and on her face. She paused, seeing her arms – pale, but whole and unmarked, stretched out before her. I moved towards her – her head whipped up once more to stare accusingly. Her body shook, and she did not speak, but I could feel her wordless shock at having lost her one chance to escape. Still, she would not say anything - and neither would I.

"That's not my name." her rich voice answered, and there was an edge of hostility to it, "That's my mum's."

Her body shuddered for a moment, and then she pulled herself back together, her displeasure at having betrayed her emotion vivid in her face. I dared not move towards her once more; I remembered her dreams. Once again they were overflowing from her, although this time, her emotions were faded, blurry.

"I don't mean to startle you." I said in a softer voice. "But I have to ask – what is your name?"

Another spasm rippled through the girl, and her red eyes darted vividly from place to place, not focusing on me. I knew she was seeing through her new, proper eyes; seeing every infinite detail she'd never picked up on before, hearing everything, tasting absolutely everything. I knew I had to be quick. The burn would come soon.

"Please."

The girl snarled, a throaty sound low in her throat, but she was trying. After a moment, her stance relaxed. "Phoebe." she managed. "What … happened?"

I sat down. It would take a while to explain.

---

"A vampire." Phoebe had repeated dully when I'd told her everything I knew. "You … created me."

Her red eyes had not lost their spark, but some of the anger had faded in her soul. I had read her carefully as I'd explained, watched as she'd searched through foggy human memories to find those last few moments of death. She'd been silent as she'd recalled her slowing pulse, a feeling of creeping cold I vaguely remember too, and then sharp swords sinking into her over and over.

She had listened as I'd explained Carlisle, vegetarianism, and all that I knew to her; the Volturi, our new bodies, our instincts and so on to her. Her soul hadn't kept still though; it had flitted from one emotion to another, and she had radiated wave upon wave of anger followed by despair, finally followed by a blurry sense of hope.

In her birdsong voice, she had asked, "Why didn't you just let me die?"

I did not know how to share my own emotions, my own memories; that talent was locked to me forever. I had tried, many times; tried projecting my own self, rather than absorbing. It had not worked. It was not possible.

"I saw," I began, lowering my gaze to her's. She had blazed back at me, no fear, no hate, no emotion whatsoever in those red eyes, "I saw your memories. And your creations. And all you felt. And … all of it … well, I couldn't see that going to waste. I didn't want … your life to end."

"But it has." Her birdsong voice was low and threatening, and the waves of malice overcame me. Knowing my gift for reading people, she was purposefully throwing them out, filling her nonexistent heart with hatred and rage. Two emotions I was very familiar with, but could not prevent in any way shape or form.

It was true, though. She was no longer human; she had no 'life'. She simply had forever.

"I know." I said, "I … am sorry, Phoebe. But-"

She'd struck at me then, the boulder crash deafening, and then fought me bitterly, clawing into my skin, biting. Her teeth sunk deep and she was strong; my shoulder ached from her bite, and the wound was deep.

But there was nothing that could be done.

---

We went hunting.

Phoebe was swift and unstoppable in her approach. It had been inappropriate for her, dressed in the clothes in which she'd died, no matter how much I'd cleaned them. She still wouldn't let me approach her, and so I'd laid fresh shirts and a skirt I'd found – presumably one of my vampiric nomad friend's – on her mangled bed. She'd dressed quickly, and waited for me. Her instincts were still very much in play, like I should've expected; she heard everything, saw everything I did.

But she was pleased too; I could feel her joy radiating from her as we ran through the thicket of trees. She dodged them easily, scampering over branches and leaping from boulders with the same agility I possessed; no instruction was necessary. She'd slipped through the water, in comparison to my jump, and let out a slight gasp. I knew she couldn't feel it's cool, but certainly the familiar sensation of being in the water was good to her.

Her tee-shirt was drenched through; a little embarassed, I turned away. Nonetheless, her joy – and her new memories of racing through the trees, the wind whipping her hair and clothes into oblivion, sprung from her. There was still the bitterness there of not having died, but rather, having started a new – more uncomfortable life – burning through her, but it had faded slightly.

At the clearing, we paused; the wide arc of older trees and mossy rocks providing me with a good stop to pause and explain to Phoebe exactly what we do next. She seemed fascinated, her eyes taking in the thin streams of light filtering in through the green leafy sky, at the miniscule moss covering the dark dirt.

"I explained to you what vegetarianism was, right?" I'd asked; she nodded.

"No humans." She'd said softly, and for some reason, there was no anger in her voice when she said it, despite the fact she knew what vampires were 'supposed' to eat. "None."

"You're quick." I'd said, and at the sound of my laughter she'd looked up, the tiniest sshock coming from her. "So what do you feel like for lunch, then?"

Her red eyes widened, and her posture had stiffened at my easy, familiar tone; I'd held up two hands, keeping still, so as to ward her off. "What ... do you mean?" she'd said, strain in the words; I was surprised she hadn't taken me down already, I who had infinitely prolonged a life she didn't want.

"... Um." she'd whispered. "I can ... smell ... it's ... rich, but ... it's ..." her delicate little nose wrinkled in displeasure.

I laughed. She was undoubtably referring to the overripe, heady scent of the deer, just a few twenty kilometres or so ahead. They were indeed unpleasant; too rich, and too salty, an overpowering taste and scent overall. I did not dare admit to her that I had slipped often, drinking from humans as I would've from her, when it all became too much. No; now, with the last of the tempting humans now immortal, I would try to stick to this new path. It would not be that hard - or at least, with another vampire to keep in check, I would hope so. I had probed ahead as we'd run, heading away from all civilization except the deer.

"They're not tasty." I'd agreed. "But ... better than others. Better than eating humans."

Her eyes had flashed scarlet at that, and I'd caught an almost impossible to snag memory; her mother, her father, laughing faces. Her body was rigid, her face locked into a mask as she trembled. I'd doubted that she would've chosen the vegetarian way, what with perfectly good reasons to avenge herself, her human sorrows, and all else upon the family that had beaten her and corrupted her innocence, and the friends that had doubted her. But still she held still, unbreathing - that instinct had come to her naturally. For a long ten minutes she stood there, battling, and I'd watched the war rage, helpless to aid her. I could not influence a person's character or emotions any more than I could show myself to others.

"Will we..." she began, her voice still pained, "Go ... now? Hunt now?"

I could understand the reason for her lilting, shaking words; she was still fighting. I nodded wordlessly and we sprinted forward, light and easy on the forest's carpet. The deer; large, fully-grown creatures that were robust and strong, started at the sight of us, their large blinking eyes staring at us. I caught their animal flickers of fear as they bolted, but paused to watch. Phoebe flew effortlessly - graceful, and far faster than other newborns I'd seen before - around the glade. For a moment she was behind me, and I could feel her own animal rage, that vicious longing to strike out at me. She hovered there, but hunger propelled her onwards - and no blood could be drained from me. Her shirt dried in the wind as she bolted, pinning the largest of the deer to the ground. I selected another, smaller target; I was not so hungry, and took my fill as I watched Phoebe. She delicately cut into the deer's neck, a long incision like the ones that had been in her arms - this surprised me - and drank thirstily, growing more vicious as she drank more. Phoebe took another three or four down, and I became aware that if anyone were to see her, they would think they were looking at an Angel of Death, with her, once again, blood-stained shirt and dirtied face.

She flitted away from the carcasses once she was done, wiping her mouth. The rage in her eyes had dulled, but now pity emanated for her, for the little creatures on the ground. And for me.

"We'll be heading back now?"

I nodded. My house; her room.

"I'll be going with you, I suppose." she said, her birdsong voice quicker and more lighter now that she was full and her thirst just the slightest bit abated. I could still remember the cooled taste of her blood, and a shudder went through me. Her emotions were coloured slightly more than her others; I was surprised. Her pity for me was kind.

"Yep." I said. "To my place."

And we headed back. I reminded myself to talk to Carlisle in a few days; I would need his help. He would surely take care of Phoebe better than I ever could, no matter how much I longed for her vivid emotions and dreams.

"Thank... you."

The voice behind me made me start, whirl around; Phoebe dropped to the ground, snarling, her eyes wild. I relaxed my stance, and after a few minutes of assessing me, she did so as well. Shame coloured her tone.

"I ... well, stuff happened. I didn't think this sort of thing -- I mean, it's a kid's fairytale that my mum never told -- um. I just, I'm glad you've helped me out." she murmured quietly; I picked it ouf ot the whispering of the trees.

"It's alright." I said, unsure how to console her, "I would've wanted someone to do the same for me."

And her pity swelled and grew.

----

Yes, I know, Phoebe's a ... slightly more adapted sort of vampire too. But charting the whole newborn year is hard, although Phoebe won't be very friendly for a long time yet. Thankfully she's got a good influence. Now go go go, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! :D