A/N : This one is a few days early, as I finished up most of 'Bella and Edward at Angela's wedding' ahead of schedule. So here you go - enjoy!


Chapter 9

Late Night Arrival


I flashed through the darkness of the late hour, plunging headlong through the shrouded forest at dizzying speeds as I raced towards Bella's house.

My thoughts were a tumultuous riot of conflicting emotions. Sadness and self-loathing at myself, because of the condition I had left my beautiful Bella. Bitter hatred, towards Victoria and Laurent, for placing Bella's life in danger. And finally, hope; that my Angel would forgive me and bestow her gentle love upon me once again.

The meeting with the Wolves, and the subsequent meeting with my family, had left me deeply unsettled. There were still too many unknowns about the events of the past ten months, and they gnawed at me. What had occurred during the last few months, that so radically changed Bella? What happened, that turned her from the practically comatose, anorexic-looking girl so prominently displayed tonight in the Wolves thoughts, into the very sexy but remote and indifferent vixen I encountered yesterday? From their minds, I had picked-up background details that indicated she was at her 'worst' last fall; and that by the time she had met Laurent at the meadow - in what looked like January or February from the color of the grass and foliage - she had already put some of the weight back on and looked to be marginally better.

And then what happened? The period between the encounter in the meadow and now was a total blank – a mystery of three or four missing months. The only images the Wolves had in their minds about that time period was the vision of Bella crying on her father's shoulder. In that distressing and sorrowful image, she had still been thin, but was in far better shape than she was months before. Did something change after that? What was the catalyst that caused the change?

I knew that if Alice could not get answers from Bella tomorrow, that I would have to entreat with the Wolves to get more information. And as distasteful as that option might be - as all dealings with those unpredictable dogs were abhorrent to me - I would do anything to help Bella, in any way I could. And to do that, I needed to fully understand what had happened to her while we were gone.

Even if I had to disobey Carlisle and pry into her personal affairs – school records, medical records, criminal records – I would.

After a sprint of less than five minutes, I found myself outside of Bella's house, her window beckoning to me, like a lighthouse calling a tired sailor home. The lights in her room were off, her curtain closed, and I listened with eager anticipation for the soothing sound of her heartbeat.

I immediately heard a trio of sportscasters talking on the living room television, discussing the night's baseball scores. And I heard the raspy sound of Charlie's snoring from the living room, where he was probably sleeping in his favorite recliner. But I could pick-up no other noise in the house. No thrumming heartbeat, or gentle breaths, or whispered murmurings of my Bella's sweet dreams.

Becoming concerned, I scaled the tree outside of her window, and jumped lightly over to the side of the house, holding myself up by grasping onto the overhanging eaves of the roof. I tried her window, but found it locked tight. This small detail bothered me tremendously, and the clenching in my chest was a painful reminder that I no longer had an open window with an Angel waiting to welcome me in. And I had no one to blame but myself.

Pausing for a moment, I contemplated my next move. I could have easily broken the lock, but my vampiric senses told me that Bella was not in her room and that I did not want to leave any obvious evidence of my entering uninvited.

Why was she not at home? Where was she at this late hour? Did Charlie fall asleep in his chair waiting for her?

I jumped down to the grass, and retreated to the tree line, preparing to call Alice and ask her to look for Bella, when I noticed Bella's truck parked on the gravel of her driveway. So wherever she was tonight, she had not driven herself there. Was she at a sleepover, at Angela's maybe?

With a pang of regret, I realized I had absolutely no idea what Bella did at night, or who her friends were now, or any of the million other details that I had taken for granted when we were together. I had always wanted to know every little detail about Bella's life, and it saddened me that I now had no clue whatsoever of how she spent her time, or who she spent it with.

I took a deep breath to gather myself, and was immediately assailed with the rotten stench of wet-dog. The smell was recent, perhaps as fresh as thirty minutes earlier. Why were the Wolves prowling around Bella's house? Was it to guard her from Victoria? That wasn't right - our agreed upon patrol schedule had them scouting a much wider perimeter, over four miles from her house.

Were they trying to guard her from me?

As I considered the situation, I heard the sound of an approaching car, coming fast down the road, with its radio spewing the cacophonous noise of a juvenile heavy metal band playing at loud volumes. Much to my surprise, the vehicle that was blaring this noise pollution slowed as it reached Bella's house. It was an ancient looking, heavily rusted sports car in very poor condition, and it came to a complete stop right in front of her driveway.

To my utter shock, the passenger door was flung open and out stepped a smiling Bella, stunning me with another unexpected entrance. Yesterday, I find her riding on the back of a motorcycle being driven by a werewolf. Today, she is coming home at two a.m in a veritable junk mobile, spewing obnoxious music as it passed. What would she be arriving in tomorrow? Was she being chauffeured around town by anyone else?

Reining in my desire to shake some sense into her, I watched Bella as she swayed slightly on her feet, catching herself on the door to keep her balance. She then leaned back into the car, wishing the driver a goodnight and thanking him for the ride, to which he nodded and mumbled something in return.

Then I watched, in sheer disbelief, as she pulled the boy from the back-seat forward and up by gripping the collar of his jacket. And then she kissed him soundly on the lips, moaning into his mouth. The kiss went on for several seconds, and my mind went red with rage as images from earlier in the evening played through the boy's head; of Bella fondling his genitals in that same backseat not two hours earlier, laughing as they enjoyed a bottle of vodka together, and whispering lusty words as they gave themselves over to carnal pleasure.

A deep growl started in my chest, and I felt myself preparing to spring and rip the maggot boy in-half, when two things occurred simultaneously: my cell phone began vibrating in my pocket, and then Bella suddenly stood upright, swaying for a moment before turning around unsteadily and taking a step away. Then she slowly walked up the path to her front door, stumbling as she went.

Shaking off my blistering rage, I tried to calm myself by taking slow, deep breaths, ignoring the now silent cell phone. I felt myself calm by degrees, and was surprised to feel sudden wetness in my palm, and I looked down at my right hand in confusion. My eyes widened when I saw that I had inadvertently crushed the thick tree branch I had been leaning on, turning it into a mess of spongy pulp, which now dripped out between my clenched fingers. I had absolutely no recollection of doing this, and my loss of control frightened me. That boy had been very, very close to dying.

As I looked back towards the house, the car pulled away and vanished down the street, the sound of its engine and the jarring notes of the puerile music fading into the distance. The last thought I picked up from the hateful passenger was his satisfaction at getting to 'third base' with Bella. This stoked the flames of my anger again, and I narrowed my eyes as I searched through their thoughts to try and pick up the boy's name.

Nothing flashed through their minds, however, so I committed the license plate number to memory; perhaps I would have Jasper hack into the DMV database for me, and have the owner's driving license suspended. Even though the driver was not the one who had put his hands on Bella, the act had occurred in his car, presumably with his knowledge. That alone was reason enough for the jealous beast in me to demand retribution.

As I pondered these admittedly juvenile and petty thoughts, a sudden laugh sounded across the lawn, sending heated sparks deep into my bones. The carefree laughter came from the lips of Bella, giggling freely as she fumbled with her key at the door. Before I knew what I was doing, I had taken several steps closer to her, the sound of her gentle laughter reeling me in.

I had no plan, no grand strategy, other than to prostrate myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness. Some part of my brain realized that perhaps this course of action was not the wisest, or likely to bring any success; but right then, in that moment, I saw and knew nothing but Bella - that my Angel was there, and I needed to make her understand how much I needed her.

Maybe my plan would have worked; perhaps she would have taken pity on my monstrous self; or maybe she would have laughed at me and slammed the door in my face. I would never know, for as I started across the street her front door swung open and Charlie was suddenly there, helping a clearly inebriated Bella into the house. I froze, watching him gather her to him as she mumbled her thanks. And then, the door was closing behind them, cutting off the sweet sounds of her laughter with a loud 'click.'

And the brief moment of happiness I had upon hearing her beautiful laughter was extinguished like a snuffed-out candle, as I stood outside, alone in the dark.

I listened in to Charlie's thoughts as Bella slowly made her way up the stairs. Apparently, this wasn't the first time she had come home drunk, and I was shocked that he seemed to accept this behavior from her. This was so very unlike the Charlie Swan I knew last year; the father who cleaned guns in front of her daughter's would-be suitors, who reminded her to carry her pepper spray when she went on dates.

What had happened here? The mystery of the missing months deepened, and I needed answers, desperately. I felt like Bella was slipping through my fingers, and a strange anxiety gripped me, a slinking fear that coiled around my stone, un-beating heart.

The only thought of Charlie's that gave me any sort of release from the slow dread that had filled me, was his relief that Bella at least made sure that someone sober would drive her home. Apparently they had made this 'deal' at some point in the past; Charlie would waive her curfew, and treat her like the adult she legally was, but she had to call him if she could not find a designated driver.

Despite this one slim bounty, I was outraged at his leniency and actually considered reporting Bella for underage drinking. How could the Chief of Police allow such behavior? And from his own daughter!

Dark despair gripped me again, and I sullenly walked around to the side of the house, to creep like the stalker I was, hiding under her window.

I stood there for some time, listening to the sounds she made in the bathroom, and reflecting on my dismal change in fortune. Ten months earlier, I was a welcome visitor in her bedroom, and would even now be lounging on her bed, eagerly waiting her return from her nigh-time routine and her 'human moments.' She would come into the room, flushed pink from her shower, hair wet and dripping down her back, her potent scent filling the room and drowning me in a heavenly haze.

The fantasy spun out, and I took it further, now imagining myself crushing her warm body to my chest, savoring her delightful taste on my tongue as she opened her mouth to me, feeling her desire for my touch race through her veins as her heart thundered out its cadence for the both of us.

I let myself drown in the dream; I pictured her hot hands working down my chest, pulling at my buttons, running the fire of her touch over my sensitive skin. I saw in my perfect memory the image of her soft, pale flesh, and I imagined her glorious mounds in my hands, fitting them as if they were designed just for me. My dream-self ran my nose along the silken column of her throat, savoring her life's essence, reveling in her breathy moans of lust and love.

My arousal was spiking, and I don't know how far the fantasy would have gone; but the moment was shattered, when the flush of the toilet intruded upon my consciousness, and the sound of Bella leaving the bathroom and trudging down the hallway reached my sensitive ears.

I listened as the whisper of clothes hitting the floor echoed in my brain, and heard her dressing in her sleepwear - probably her favorite grey sweatpants and holey t-shirt, I thought with a smile. But my momentary happiness faded as I realized that perhaps this new Bella had dispensed with the comfort-wear, and now dressed in frilly silk or lace. And the twisting in my gut started again as I realized that maybe I would never get the chance to find out.

Grief gripped me then, and I sank to the ground, ignoring the wet grass and mud that slowly soaked through my pants. I sat there, unmoving, like a gargoyle of myth, under Bella's window, as she settled herself in her bed and fell into a restless sleep. I listened for over an hour, letting her deep breathing and the sweet rhythm of her heart lull me into a peaceful state.

No spoken words came from her lips, and this filled me with mixed feelings, as I both feared them and yearned for them.

I feared, as I did not know what she would say; perhaps she whispered the names of other boys now? After all, she had allowed two separate men - if I could be called that - to touch her in less than a 24 hour span. Would she gasp and groan another man's name in her deepest sleep? Would I be able to endure such a torture, even to hear her sweet voice?

I yearned, as I wanted to hear her unguarded thoughts once again. They were, after all, the only avenue I had to understanding the inner workings of Bella's mind. Did she still dream of me? And if she did, were they nightmares? I knew she still found me attractive, and desirable: her actions of yesterday in her bedroom proved that. And she had invited me back for more.

But was that all I was to her now? A plaything, with no more significance than the unnamed boy who she stroked to pleasure in the back seat of his friend's car? A distraction, easily dismissed and forgotten?

I did not know, and the uncertainty was killing me. I had always joked that Bella Swan would be the death of me. But little did I know, as I sat there on the muddy ground outside of her bedroom window, how portentous that statement would turn out to be.


A/N - Next Chapter will be out sometime next week.