Stabilize.

Chapter Three: Long nights, even longer nightmares.

Last night I heard the screaming

Then a silence that chilled my soul

I prayed that I was dreaming

When I saw the ambulance in the road."

Tracy Chapman.

That night, Paul downed about four and a half bottles of scotch. And then he moved on to whiskey.

It didn't help, but it slightly took the edge off, which is what Paul needed. It had been three fucking hours since he'd left the Council meeting, and he still hadn't stopped trembling with rage.

Even thinking back on how it went was nearly enough to have him bursting from his skin in a furious rage of gnashing teeth and claws.

"We simply don't know enough about this outsider, Paul. We cannot extend our protection or aid to just anyone that gets tangled up with vampires."

And while Paul might have agreed that anyone that slept with leeches deserved to get bit, her being his imprint, as confirmed by Uley, meant that if she died, wouldn't stand to reason that he would also?

Of course, they'd had an answer for that.

"None of us are saying you are lying Paul, we are merely confused. It is fundamentally impossible for a werewolf to imprint on a vampire. The biology of the two are incompatible. Even if the vampire in question is… an anomaly."

It was all well and good for them to say it was impossible, but it had fucking happened. And whether they wanted to believe it or, was besides the point. Besides, their logic didn't mean shit when the person in question wasn't a vampire. Well… wasn't a vampire yet. Something had put a hold on the venom from spreading. Something, that if investigated, could probably be beneficial to the Pack. But didn't the Council care?

No.

Of course not.

It wasn't them with their lives on the line. It wasn't them that had to track and kill any vampire that entered the area.

Paul threw back the last of his drink and slammed his cup down with enough force to shatter the thick glass. He watched with a scowl as his skin healed, pushing out a few shards of the foreign matter from the wound before it closed completely. The only evidence of his mishap was a few smears of red on his palm, which quickly dried on his skin, becoming itchy and flaky.

Fuck he hated this place.

He hated the Council.

He hated the leech family for making him… whatever the hell he was, and he hated that he was stuck.

Paul stood, took a swig from the bottle, and then threw it into the fireplace with a roar.

This was not the first time those old farts had refused to help him. Oh no. This was all basically a repeat to Paul.

They hadn't helped with his father, they hadn't done shit to help his mother, and they weren't fucking helping him now.

"I'm sorry, kid, but our hands are tied. There's nothing we can do until you mom says something to us."

Hell, they hadn't even wanted to help Sam when he accidentally maimed Emily.

They were useless!

And everyone knew it. They just didn't say anything because of 'traditions.'

Just as Paul had watched, helpless to save his mother, he was once again going to have to watch the Swan kid with his thumb up his arse, unable to offer any sort of aid outside of death.

And wasn't that just the fucking kick in the dick he needed. Since when had he become the Council's executioner. He was both too old and not old enough for this bullshit.

And why the fuck hadn't Sam stepped up, as Alpha, and put the Council in their place?

Why hadn't he, for just fucking once, had Paul's back? Why didn't anyone have Paul's back?

Sighing, Paul lifted his shaking hands to card his fingers through his hair and starts to pace.

He was chewing at the bit to return to the Swan kid, but he was also afraid what would be waiting for him when he got there.

Would she look at him with those empty brown eyes of hers as he took her down, teeth around her delicate throat? Would she cry out for help, afraid and clinging to life, or simply accept death. Laying there like a broken doll with no strings.

The thought keeps Paul up long through the night, reaching bottle after bottle of whiskey, until his stock starts to run low and his eyes burn from fatigue.

"So much for sleeping tonight…" He murmurs as he spy's the first rays of dawn begin to peek across the skyline. With a begrudging grunt, Paul sprawls out on the three-seater sofa in the loungeroom and sips at the whiskey until the room spins. When his lids become lead weights he lets them shut, if only to make his eyes stop stinging, but then doesn't have the reopen them. His mind drifts, and soon, he is asleep, thought it is not restful

Sam finds him much later curled up on the couch, never in the bedroom, cradling an empty bottle and snoring lightly. Paul twitches as nightmares and memories fuse together to create a hellscape of horror in his mind's eye.

His mother stands before him, bloodied and screaming as his father steps up behind her with a broken bottle. Paul runs, just like he always does, legs pumping in vain, as he tries to reach her before…

But this time, as he gets closer, his mother vanishes and, in her wake, stands the Swan kid. Her gore mattered hair and torn clothes the exact same as those they'd found her the night she was missing. Confused, Paul's mad dash turns into a half sprint.

"Please… help me." Her whisper lingers on the wind and Paul feels his heart drop as he watched an exact copy of himself step out of the shadows from where his father had once stood. As his sneering doppelganger took position behind the small, slip of woman, Paul's eyes slipped from the girl to stare at himself in horror. Paul and his 'twin' lock eyes and he knows what's about to happen before it does.

'No!' He tries to say, mouth won't working, and reaches out with a hand, but it's too late. The Swan girl shrieks out in terror as his smiling look-alike tears the girl apart. By the time Paul reaches her, she is nothing but a crimson mess of scattered meat and entrails. The only thing intact is her head, and it stares at him, lifeless yet accusing.

Her lips tremble, and Paul is unable to look away.

"Why?" Her voice is so lifeless and monotone. Dead. Just like her.

Paul wakes to the sounds of his own harsh breathing. There is a blanket thrown over him, and signs that at one-point Sam had dropped by to check on him. Groaning, Paul pulls himself up from the couch and meanders towards his fridge.

The sun is setting, so he has obviously slept through the day. Plenty of time for Sam to have snuck in and out like the creepy bastard he is. Scoffing Paul pushes aside the food, obviously cooked by Emily, that has been loaded into his fridge and reaches for the milk.

He takes a sip to make sure it's still good before making a coffee. It's bitter because he has no sugar, and the milk is close to expiring, but he doesn't care. It's not an uncommon occurrence after all.

By the time he has eaten, showered, and back at the Swan's house, it's about six at night. Paul finds Charlie asleep in his recliner, an old western movie playing in the background, and his daughter asleep in his arms. Both smell of sorrow and exhaustion as he creeps closer and the tv casts shadows across their faces, but they seem content enough. Paul tips his snout skywards and takes in a breath.

Both human. Both alive. If not a bit cold.

Idiots.

After shifting back, Paul creeps into the house, careful not to make a noise, tiptoes around the couch and throws an old, crochet blanket over the two before switching off the movie. He leaves them like that, seeing no reason to intervein where he is not needed. It's not until he is back outside, lurking within the brush of the forest, that he catches a whiff of vampire. Fresh, and leading to and away from the house.

When he follows the retched aroma, he quickly discovers that, much like himself, the vampire is watching the Swan house. But he doesn't recognise the scent. It's not one of the Cullen's. And it smells like it's been coming pretty frequently.

Paul's nose curls in disgust when he stumbles on the spot that reeks the most. Clearly where the leech spends the most time. When he looks back at the house his blood runs cold when he realises, he is looking right up at the Swan girls window.

'Oh for fucks sake,' he curses, kicking up a tuff of leaves with his back paw in annoyance, 'of course the leech is after her. What was she, catnip for vampires?'

Settling down on his hunches, Paul readies himself for a long night only to be startled by a mash of thoughts and feelings and flashing of colour and smells.

Jared has shifted. And boy does he suck at controlling his senses.

'Wow, fuck this is weird.' Paul hears the other mutter as he crushes through the underbrush towards him. 'It only gets worse, not gonna lie.' He sends back and can't help but laugh when he hears a yelp as his new pack brother goes tail over paws in fright.

'Fuck, Paul! Warn a guy before you go invading his brain, will ya?' Jared growls as he approaches, and there are leaves and twigs in his fur that is too long and slightly rumpled.

Paul roars with laughter, because the scene is so familiar to his own first few experiences shifting.

'Sorry, bud. I forget how jarring it is to have other people in your head. I've had Sam in mine for two months, but it feels like forever.' He confesses as Jared pads over and plonks down awkwardly next to him. Jared seems to boggle at him.

'Wait… two months? You mean… this doesn't go away with practice?' Jared sounded so horrified and indignant that Paul couldn't help but snort.

'Yeah, no... Say goodbye to your privacy, buddy. From now on everything that happens to you is broadcasted to the entire pack the second you shift.'

While Paul was somewhat accustomed to the fact that, this was his fucking life now, Jared looked like he didn't know if he should run screaming or not.

'Does that mean I am going to see all those girls you… oh yuck, now you're thinking about them, argh! Stop it, stop it! Holy fuck how old was that nurse man? Wait no, I don't want to know… arrgh—'

The line between them went dead as Jared shifted and took off into the dark of the forest with a disgusted yelp.

"You are fucking nasty, Lahote!"

Paul let out a wolf-y gauffer as the other fled, but quickly sobered at the sounds of Bella's moans of distress. He found out, after shifting and flicking himself stealthily up the tree outside of her room, that it was due to nightmares. She lay in bed tossing and turning, a sheen of fine sweat coating her pale limbs as she thrashed.

Paul barely had time to sling in through the open window and shove himself into the Swan's girls closest, yet again, before Charlie burst into the room and swept the weeping girl into his arms. He left her arms secure to her chest as he rocked her back and forth until she woke with a weeping cry.

"I got you, Bells, I got you." He promised her, and Paul felt a twinge of jealousy bloom in his chest. Because that should have been him on the bed next to her, rocking her awake from nightmares and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. But it wasn't, and because of the Council it never would be.

The only thing he would ever be able to give his imprint, was a cruel and unfair death.

End Chapter.

A/N: Sorry this new chapter took so long, Christmas was spent in Darwin with my family and any attempt to go near my laptop resulted in firmly disappointed looks and scolding. Anyway, thank you for those that reviewed, it means a lot! And I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and a tiny look into Paul's backstory and his dislike for the Council.