Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, I would be making you guys pay for this story, hah.

A/N: I'm sorry if you guys hate this chapter! I tried so many times to get this just the way I wanted it, but it didn't really work. So next chapter I'll make it up to you guys. Sorry! And again, reviews appreciated infinitely!!

Bella's POV

A thrill of fear rushed through me upon hearing Jacob's words. His hands were balled into fists, his face complimenting the severe hatred he felt for Edward. I noticed that he was no longer wearing the black t-shirt, and that the bandage wrapped around his shoulder was now doing him no good. Blood stained his skin, and my stomach lurched at the potent smell.

Edward's face was impossibly composed, showing no surprise or concern at Jacob's statement. But as I stared at his golden eyes, something flashed there that I didn't like. Before I could identify what the dangerous emotion was, though, it was gone, and Edward glanced down at me. He looked almost apologetic.

"Bella, you should leave," he said quietly.

It took me a few seconds to understand the meaning to what he'd said.

"What?" I spluttered. "You're not fighting here! You'll annihilate my room!"

"Of course not," Edward murmured, his voice smooth, unwavering. "I meant for you to leave here, as in this area—Alice is waiting for you outside."

Jacob smirked, interrupting him. "She can stay. This won't take long."

Edward shot him a look, his eyes blazing with the sensation I couldn't quite recognise.

"I wasn't worried about timing," he said, and for once, his voice shook with anger. "I was more concerned about Bella's safety."

Jacob's eyes narrowed defiantly. "You don't think I can keep her safe?"

Edward remained silent. I was still trying to locate the feeling—whatever it was—that would not leave his eyes. But as I was considering the possibilities, another thought struck me. I mentally slapped myself for not realising it earlier. My eyes swept over Jacob's shoulder. It twitched every so often, causing him obvious pain.

"Are you a vampire now, too?" I asked him softly, the words sounding faintly ridiculous to my ears.

Jacob's eyes widened at my question, and for a moment I thought that he was in shock. But then he began to laugh, and I exhaled in annoyance and relief.

"A vampire!" he guffawed. "That's a good one, Bells!" His laughter rang out loudly, and his whole being shook. Edward gripped my arm cautiously as if expecting the tremors to knock me over.

"I thought… don't people turn into vampires once they get bitten?" I raised an eyebrow. Wasn't that how it worked?

"You said it, Bella," Jacob grinned, and thudded his right fist against his chest. "I'm not a person, so it's different."

"He can't be both wolf and vampire," Edward explained, and I nodded silently, understanding.

Jacob's smile faded, and he shifted his stance tensely. "So now that that's cleared up," he muttered, "back to the task at hand."

"Bella leaves first," Edward stated forebodingly, stepping forward to reassure Jacob that he was willing to fight… once I'd left.

"Bella?" Jacob stopped glaring at Edward to look at me. "Do you want to leave?"

"Don't fight," I begged them both. "There's no reason to!"

"No reason to!" they both snarled at the same time, and I jumped, slightly startled.

And then something clicked; it seemed so obvious now. I knew that Edward would never usually agree to this—I knew that he was more sensible than that. And suddenly I understood the emotion behind his golden eyes. It was his willingness to fight… he wanted to hurt Jacob, possibly even kill him. And it was all because of me—because of what I'd done. But Edward didn't want to lose me again; he wasn't going to leave me. He was going to rid my life of Jacob.

I shivered, and they both looked at me in concern. Edward held me close to his side, but I knew that his eyes were on Jacob, and that he was thinking… contemplating… wondering how he was going to hurt him. And Jacob gave him the same cold look. They were both raring to fight—both willing to die, over me! The realisation of this made my head spin.

It had been one kiss—it hadn't meant anything; not to me, anyway! But Edward seemed to think something else of it. Edward thought that I loved Jacob back.

"No!" I exclaimed, freeing myself of Edward's embrace and stepping in between the two of them. They both stared at me with the same curiosity. My heart thudded, and I stopped breathing momentarily. I stretched my hands out to each of them, signalling for them to stop, to wait.

I mentally ridiculed myself as I did so—like I could impede a fight between them. But even still, I stood there, unmoving, waiting for their stances to slacken, for their gazes to calm.

"Edward." I wheeled my head around to face him. "I'm not in love with him!"

He stared back at me—his face was so beautifully sculpted, and it reminded me of the first time I'd ever gazed upon his magnificence. His tawny eyes burned into mine, trying to read my face, trying to believe me. I sensed his reluctance.

He hesitated. "Then why—"

"It was a mistake," I blurted out, interrupting him. I willed him to believe me, begged him with my eyes to reach forgiveness. I felt Jacob shift behind me, and then a warm hand gripped my still-outstretched arm.

Edward's eyes darkened. I swivelled my head around and saw Jacob standing inches away from me, cradling my arm, a look of devastation in his eyes.

But before I could react—before I could try and compose my thoughts and attempt to right the situation, a loud noise swept through the window. It sounded like scraping metal. A shiver rushed down my spine as the high-pitched sound continued, and before I knew it, I was in Edward's arms, and we were rushing through the house, towards the door. I could see Jacob over Edward's shoulder, keeping pace with us easily. His eyes were lit, as if he was enjoying Edward's sudden reaction. Jacob grinned at me and winked.

"Edward?" I placed a hand on his stony arm, and he came to a fluid stop outside the house. Jacob lingered behind us, watching. Edward kept his emotions remarkably veiled, but I wasn't as composed. When he placed me on my own feet, my eyes widened and I let out a small, shuddering gasp.

It was dark now, and the grey clouds stood against the night sky like smoke. Edward's skin glowed, luminescent, where the moonlight hit him. The clouds and darkness chased the crescent-shape daringly across the sky, but the moon taunted them by shining brightly, and recruited small dots of stars where the clouds were thin.

The screeching noise dragged on relentlessly; my ears screamed in protest as the sound barrier threatened to be broken, and my head ached furiously. I turned it left and right, looking to identify the source, but the sound was too loud—too piercing—for a definite cause to be recognised, especially with the darkness clouding around me and limiting my vision to about a metre in front of me.

I sighed resignedly, giving up any hopes of being able to track it myself, and glanced hopefully up at Edward. He stood beside me now, and I ignored the sharp gaze on me a few feet behind him. Edward looked… scary. His eyes were narrowed, the topaz shining out, even on his ghostly face, and his mouth was curled upward in distaste. I followed his furious look

I could barely make out two large silhouettes, standing higher than any man. The figures were longer, and stood on four legs, not two. I shifted my stare and fixed it upon Edward's car. The silver glinted brilliantly and stood out, and I could finally see what the problem was. It was tilting precariously; the bumper was being shredded across the dark road and generating the horrific squealing sound that seemed to bother no one besides me. The two shadows that stood right behind it were positioned over the car, shoving it harshly, trying to flip the Volvo.

I could, from the sparkle of Edward's Volvo, scarcely distinguish who the figures were. The chocolate-brown wolf, who I acknowledged was Quil, turned to me momentarily and grinned, his long teeth flashing against the car's reflection. I didn't smile back—my mouth was hanging open stupidly, and my eyes were almost popping out of my head.

"Jacob!" I hissed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I glanced at Edward warily. His expression was even worse than before. He was livid.

Jacob seemed to enjoy this fact. "Just having some fun, Bells." He smiled at me innocently.

"This," I gestured at the car, which was tipping more dangerously every second, "is fun?"

He nodded, not taking his eyes off Edward. "Uhuh, definitely."

"Let me get this straight, Jacob," Edward muttered furiously. "You think that destroying my car will achieve that?"

I sighed. Another thought-conversation. Fantastic.

"No," Jacob laughed. "I just thought it'd piss you off. The more, the better. I don't want to feel guilty for killing you. I want to know that you tried your best to kill me, too."

"Could've done that with my car intact," Edward murmured under his breath.

I stared at the ground. Even at night, I could see that the grass was severely green, which calmed me slightly, but the unbearable sound that flowed through my ears was maddening. I needed to think. I silently wished for a time machine, or some event-altering device. This couldn't be happening! Not now; not when I couldn't help!

You've helped plenty, Bella! my mind replied sarcastically. You're the one who started the fight—you're the one who kissed Jacob. I don't think either of them need any more "help" from you.

I winced. Guilt ravaged me in every corner of my mind, and I knew that the tears weren't far away. A lump rose in my throat. I ignored it.

"Edward." I blew upwards into my eyes, trying to dispel the tears. "Please, please don't do this. I'm sorry. Blame me."

He looked at me sorrowfully, almost tenderly. He pitied me, I realised with a jolt.

"Bella," he whispered, "I can't. I could never blame you. I left you. You could kiss a thousand guys—a thousand wolves, even—and it still wouldn't measure up to the pain I've caused you. I forgive you."

I couldn't control my emotions anymore. I burst into tears.

"Please don't fight!" I begged them hoarsely. Jacob and Edward stared at me in sympathy, but with an air of defiance about them. It was useless. I choked on my breath.

"Bella," Edward lowered his mouth to my ear so that I was the only one hearing him. The next breath I drew shuddered in my chest as I drew closer to hysteria. "Bella, calm down."

I tried to breathe slowly and compose myself, but at that exact moment, there was a creaking sound, and the Volvo flipped over. Edward's eye twitched. He straightened, and his face turned from sympathetic to enraged so quickly that I thought for a moment he was glaring at me.

"Are you and your friends done destroying my car?" he spat at Jacob.

Jacob grinned. "No. I'm guessing you were just going to flip it back over." I watched him take a small box out of his pocket, and suddenly the air was filled with a rank, oddly familiar smell. I started to feel lightheaded.

"Wh—what did you do?" I spluttered, pressing my cold palm to my forehead to regain a clear head.

"He didn't," Edward muttered. "The fuel cap came off the car. Petrol's going everywhere." His nose was wrinkled in disgust; I suspected it wasn't at the odour.

Jacob hadn't noticed our conversation, seemingly unaffected by the smell, and lifted the small box up further, sliding it open. My eyes widened—suddenly, I knew what he was holding.

"NO, JAKE!" I screamed.

But it was too late; he struck the match and threw it at the car gleefully. At that brief moment before impact, I heard Edward mutter a stream of words that I'd never before known him to use. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me away as I screamed.

The explosion's impact was less than I expected, but I guess I had Edward to thank for that. We both hit the pavement at the same time, murmuring a shallow, "Oomph," as the concrete made contact with our bodies. My eyes were closed and my face was pressed to the ground, but—even though it was as dark as ever—the light of the blast still turned my vision a bright red. A few seconds later, a grumbling roar filled my ears, and it reminded me of the sound a plane makes before take-off. A hot blast of air rushed over us, and I clenched my hands behind the back of my head, Edward's arms wrapped around my waist, and the back of my neck sizzled. I smelled burning hair, and hoped to God it wasn't mine. Small chunks of gravel flew at me, pelting my arms and legs.

I hadn't thought that I'd been screaming for long, but when Edward pulled me up, my voice felt unbelievably hoarse. I groaned; my joints ached. I had acquired a new headache from scrunching my eyes up so tightly that I'd been afraid that they'd be pushed back into my brain.

Edward seemed unscathed and perfectly calm, and I wondered fleetingly how long we'd been lying there—the adrenalin and absolute panic washed any trace of time from my mind. But the thought passed, and my mind settled on what I was seeing, as Edward and I walked cautiously to where his car had once been. Large chunks of metal were scattered around the place in random areas—through a window, on the hood of my truck, jammed in the gutter.

And I think that the material damage was the only thing Edward and I could care about or notice at that moment—after all, a freaking car had just exploded. But I don't think either of us expected the damage that was yet to come from this event.