THIS CHAPTER IS FAR MORE SUBSTANTIAL THAN ANY OF THE OTHERS! YOU ACTUALLY LEARN SOMETHING ABOUT ANDY -GASP-! THIS SECTION FOCUSES ON ANDY'S CHILDHOOD AND EARLY LIFE. YOU NIGHT EVEN MEET SOME FAMILIAR FACES ALONG THE WAY.

DISCLAIMER: WHY DO WE WRITE THESE? I MEAN SERIOUSLY, IF ANY OF US OWNED TWILIGHT, NONE OF US WOULD BE POSTING STUFF UP ON THE INTERNET FROM CRAPPY GREEN DESK CHAIRS THAT DON'T ROLL ON CARPET. OK MAYBE THAT'S JUST ME. ONCE AGAIN, HANDS OFF ANDY! I ALSO OWN HIS ENTIRE BACK STORY. OH! WHAT NOW, BLOODSUCKING LAWYERS! NO PUN INTENDED.

EPOV

I could have sworn that he was crying as he waited by the steamer, this time waiting for a pitcher to heat up. Don't be ridiculous, vampires don't cry. I thought, internally smacking myself. My thoughts turned to my family as I waited for Andrew to get back. What were they doing, now that they knew I was gone? Would they come and get me? Would they stay? Different reactions flashed through my mind as I thought of each of them. Alice would be sobbing into Jasper's shirt, as he tried to sooth her as well as the rest of the family. Emmett wouldn't be smiling for once, and Rosalie would have her 'I told you so' face on. And then there was Esme, poor Esme. I knew that out of everyone, she loved me the most and she would be the one to take it the hardest. An image of her sobbing in Carlisle's arms flashed through my mind, deepening the hole in my chest. Carlisle, London, witch hunts, Andrew. NO.

"Andrew?" he looked up at me, wondering what had suddenly snapped me out of my self-loathing, by the look on his face. "Didn't you say that you were the subject of one of my father's father's hunts?"

"Ah, yes, I believe I did. Just a moment please." He balanced the pitcher of blood on a silver tray and carried it over to the table between us. He filled both of our cups, and sat back. "Don't blame me if you get bored. I warned you about my long-windedness, and you asked." He smirked at me, and I saw that he was joking. I unconsciously sat forward; I had always been a sucker for stories. Andrew sighed and began.

"As I have already told you, I was born in London in 1482. My mother was a seamstress and my father was a tailor. We were never rich, but we always had enough to eat. I grew up on the banks of the Thames, playing with others of my age. One kid, James, was my partner in crime. We came to be known collectively instead of separately because we were never without one another. I went deer hunting with his family every fall, and he would always come over for tea in the summers. By the time we were twenty-one, we had grown into able-bodied men, though we couldn't have been more different." He smirked slightly at his memories. "We had gone out separate ways when we were fifteen. I had retreated into my books, fascinated with the thousands of stories that existed in the world. James had retreated into the world of drinking, gambling, and fighting. I never objected to this turn in his development, it suited him perfectly. He was always more of a brute than I was. Despite our differences, we still saw each other regularly. One fall, however, my mother got sick with pneumonia, and I stayed behind to look after her. James still went with his family. He never came back. As a human at least." His eyes flashed to mine, conveying the unspoken truth. James had been turned. It infuriated me to even think of that name, considering my past with it.

"James came back in the winter. I was walking home from my job at the university outside the city, and I saw him. He was taller, leaner, and far scarier, than when I had last seen him. He turned to speak, but a hand flashed to stop him." He stopped, a shudder rippling through his body. "I had not noticed the woman with him," No, it couldn't be! "She was more of a cat than a human. Her eyes were blood red, and they stared at me with a hunger that should have sent me running, but I was too terrified. The only other things that I remember about her are her hair and a name. Her hair was like fire, it seemed to light up the ally where we were all standing. James called her by name then. He said that it was-,"

"Victoria," the shock on Andrew's face was defiantly genuine.

"Y-yes, h-h-ow di-d-d you…?" he stuttered, desperately trying to process all that I was telling him.

"I met her, and James. Last year. They tried to kill her." I looked down at the floor as my mind was immediately flooded with images of Bella. Andrew seemed to understand, and was classy enough not to ask questions. He seemed to know what had become of James, and did not seem at the least worried if he didn't.

'Hmmm." Was all he said. "She succeeded with me." He pulled down the collar of his shirt, and exposed the thin scar on his neck. "James pulled her off me before she could drain me. Deep down underneath all the corruption that she had put him through, he was still my friend. Apparently that part of him died long ago. The man I knew would never had killed just to kill." His eyes held sympathy for me, and I was instantly grateful that the Vultori had decided to throw me in here than somewhere else. Andrew seemed to understand what I was going through, at least, and he offered sympathy without judgment.

"The rest of my years in London passed, for the most part, without any major incident. By the beginning of the 17th century, I had developed enough control to pursue a career on the stage. But, of course you already knew that." He gestured toward the collection of scripts that was housed on his shelves. "Since then I have been an on-and-off member of the RSC for 400 years."

"Which ones did you do?"

"Well, I was the original lead in Romeo and Juliet; thank god Mark had a high pitched voice. (A/N: In case you didn't know, all the actors were men in Shakespeare's time)" he smiled at the thought, and I couldn't help but laugh. "I was also the lead in Hamlet, and Macbeth, played Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Caliban in The Tempest, and Lucio in Measure for Measure. There's more, but I don't want you to feel inferior." I could tell that my mouth was open. One, he knew James. Two, this guy just got pushed up like fifty spots of my cool list. (A/N: mine too ;) )Try as he might, I could tell that Andrew was pleased with my reaction. But I was still confused about one thing.

'What does this have to do with the preacher and the hunts? That's how this whole conversation started."

"I told you not to complain. You bought this upon yourself, Edward Mason! Don't blame me!" the fury on his face melted at the confusion on mine. All these mood swings were not helping me understand this guy.

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes, Father Cullen." I could see his eyes darken as he said the name. "The blood on that man's hands rivaled even my own. He spent his whole life searching for monsters, and barely caught any. I can still hear them. The screams of the poor souls that got in his way. One night I had the misfortune of being one of his targets." His eyes seemed very far off.

"Tell me."

-Flashback-

APOV

"Good lord, can't these humans mind their own business?!" I thought as I raced down another side street. This was not my night. I was starving, it was wet, even for London, and Father Mackenzie Cullen and his disciples were chasing me though the streets. And they were gaining.

I glanced back over my shoulder at the approaching mass. The good Father was at the lead, a look of malice in his eyes. He hastily swiped at a stray blond hair that blew across his face. I had to admit that, for a man in his early forties, he had a lot of energy. I skidded around another corner, the mob in hot pursuit.

As I ran, I listened. All of Father Cullen's men must be out tonight, because the night air was completely devoid of screams. Screams of terror. Screams of pain. Screams of the innocent, the wrongly accused. "That monster" I muttered under my breath. Though he prided himself on his belief that the people he burned were indeed evil, the truth was that they were just people who were just people who had the great misfortune of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. If that man wanted a true monster, the stuff of legend, he needed only to look into a mirror.

My thoughts came back to the present, and I realized that I had failed to notice the group of people in front of me. I went to swerve down another street, when one of them looked at me and shouted:

"There it is!"

"Oh, shit!" I skidded to a halt and turned to go back only to find the original mob behind me. Without thinking I darted through every ally, every side street I could see, but I was very thirsty and not as fast as I would have been. I swerved into an ally and found a dead end. "NO!" I was dead. I was going to die. I tried to blend into the shadows as the mobs passed, but one of them stayed behind. I froze as he stared at me. He was about twenty and his blond hair and blue eyes made him look like an angel. I mouthed the word 'please' and tried to convey through my eyes that I meant no harm.

"Carlisle, my boy, do you see something?" the gruff voice of the minister called. The boy looked at me and then said:

"No father, nothing." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

YEAH, ANDREW MET CARLISLE, JAMES, VICTORIA, AND WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. THE GUY IS JUST THAT COOL! R&R LIKE CRAZY! I WANT TO KNOW IF I'M DOING WELL! CHECK OUT THE PICK OF ANDY ON MY PROFILE! UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN...