Emmett

"You presume to think that I have demands?" The vampire leaned back on his throne with a befuddled expression across his face, as if he would never dream of such a thing, but they all knew better. "Well, now that you mention it, I would appreciate a favor or two on your family's behalf if you were willing to volunteer it. What do you say, Alice?"

She paused, and he felt Rosalie stiffen that much more beside him.

"Don't tell me you're seriously considering it?" Emmett hissed. "We talked about this—it's the last thing any of us want, Ali."

"You don't understand." Alice sighed, turning back to face the lot of them, her expression becoming more and more pained. She looked to each of their faces, then to Jasper's limp and lifeless body on the ground. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen… And now I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if I can."

"Stop what?" He asked, but the way her expression darkened was answer enough for all of them.

Something horrible. Great. Just… Great. Now I feel like such an asshat for insisting that this was no big deal. I mean–Alice had it—she always has it. This was just another family vacation with an unfortunate errand along the way… But, it's not anymore. It's gone wrong. Whatever he's done to Jasper… It's definitely not a parlor trick, not with that look in Alice's eyes.

Before anyone could say more, the doors behind them swung open. They all turned their hands slightly at the noise of heels clicking against the marble floors. It was a vampire, a newborn, if the brightness of her red eyes were any indication, stepping over Jane's crumpled form as she entered the room. She seemed rather unconcerned about them as she walked around their group and straight up to Aro. Oliver seemed rather irritated by her entrance, by the way all the attention in the room was drawn away from him to her. Aro seemed especially taken with her, all warmth and smiles, the most sincere he had ever seen the aged vampire attempt to be.

"Ah, Robyn, my dear." He cooed, though his gaze lingered pointedly on the door from which she had come. "I suppose it's too much to ask that my two favorite girls get along?" He curled his fingers in a practiced manner, gesturing for her to move closer.

She murmured something the rest of them couldn't quite hear clearly, a sly smile on her lips. It was clear she had taken joy in besting Jane, and Aro didn't seem the least bit angry with her over her. The opposite, in fact. He was almost paternal.

If only she knew it was all an act. Emmett thought bitterly. I'm sure she wouldn't be so quick to perch herself on the edge of that throne of his if she knew he was about as genuine as those knockoffs Alice and Rosalie love to hate.

"Wait!" Alice called, before Aro could introduce Robyn. She had moved herself almost in front of the rest of the group, as if she were trying to protect them from some physical threat as Robyn began to step down from where she stood beside Aro. "Let's… Let's just talk. Please. I'm here. I'm listening."

It was clear that whatever Alice had seen had perturbed them deeply. Emmett followed her lead and shifted Rosalie so that she stood behind him. He felt her hands twitch as he guided her, he knew she probably wanted to protest and tell him off more than she wanted to do anything else at that moment. But he hoped that, just this once, she would let him protect her, for whatever his protection was worth in the lion's den they had walked into.

"Are you really?" Robyn asked, her eyes shifting between each of us as she looked us over. Her expression was sharp, unforgiving, like she could see through each and every one of us. "Your mate… He's an empath. His gift… It's slippery, like a wet bar of soap, thanks to what Oliver's done to him. But, even with my tenuous grasp on it… I can tell that you aren't really listening. You know what the Volturi want from you… But, you're not ready to hear it. Not yet. You're distracted. You're afraid. You're stalling. You aren't opening up, not like you should be." She shrugged a little, as if it didn't matter, and suddenly he didn't feel quite so naked under her gaze. "Perhaps this will make you a little more… receptive."

She rose a hand in the air above Alice, but Aro shook his head subtly beside her, so she sighed, turning suddenly and plucking an imaginary string from the air in front of his chest. For an instant it was like the wind was being knocked out of him. He saw the ground fast approaching, and then the room spun.

The room was still spinning, but he wasn't in Volterra anymore. He was home, or at least in the house he had lived in when he had been human. His bedroom stank to high heaven of liquor, as did he, he imagined, with how difficult walking turned out to be when he went for the door.

This isn't right. He realized, with stunning and sudden clarity as he knocked a half-empty mug to the ground, dark liquid spilling across his floorboards. I'm no human. I shouldn't be drunk. I shouldn't be here. What am I doing here?

Getting his body to comply with his commands was a challenge, but he managed to make his way out of the bedroom, using one hand against the wall to guide him towards the kitchen. It was exactly as he remembered it, wood stove and all. There were smudges around the edges of the door where errant pieces of soot had fallen, and a cabinet he hand once punched in a rage had a poorly-patched dent in it.

"I'm home." He whispered to himself, but the statement flooded him with feelings of regret and remorse, rather than the warmth and happiness he was sure many members of his family would feel if they were to revisit their own human lives.

But, he wasn't entirely sure this was his life. It was like walking through a memory, or a dream, especially as inebriated as he felt. He couldn't believe that it was real. Not until he had irrefutable proof.

Where are my brothers? My sister? My mother? Whatever is happening… They'll know. In a dazed state, he stumbled through each of their rooms. They were perfectly preserved, exactly the way he would have expected to find them on any one day when he had been alive. It wasn't until he was outside that he realized that something was really and truly wrong. It was dawn, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, and not a single member of his family was anywhere to be found. He was searching the gardens in a half-ditch effort when he noticed something truly disturbing: a single drop of blood on one of the flagstones.

He frowned and followed a trail in the tall grass, the lines in the dirt making it appear as if an animal carcass had been dragged, but away from the house, instead of towards it.

"Why…?" But, the statement went unfinished as he came across a large ditch.

A shovel had been stuck into a large pile of dirt, while a deep, square hole had been dug in their back yard. It was a grave. He just didn't realize whose until he stepped up to the edge of the hole. He felt sick as he looked at their faces. His mother, his brothers, even his young sister—she wasn't even sixteen. They were all ashen from blood loss, their flesh torn apart at the neck. Unwanted images flashed across his eyes, his own teeth tearing into the throats of the people he loved, the bitter taste of copper flowing across his tongue. It wasn't the sweet taste he desired so much as a vampire, but instead the taste he remembered after biting his tongue as a human. It was metallic and it made his stomach knot. A ginger touch to his lips only added further proof that what he saw was true despite all logic. His fingers came back red and sticky with blood.

He promptly turned away from the fresh grave as the acidic contents of his stomach came back up. His head was pounding when he had finished vomiting, but his mind felt clearer. It was a painful, but grounding action.

This isn't possible. This isn't real. I didn't hurt them. I didn't hurt Rosalie. I'm not human. This is… This is whatever Oliver did to me, whatever Robyn did to me. I couldn't have done this.

But, the blood was literally on his hands, even as he denied it, he was assaulted with images that felt so real. He could remember feeling their flesh tear with the excessive force of his teeth, he could remember the way each one of them fought against him, his mother clawing, his sister kicking wildly, his brothers throwing him into a wall and sucker-punching him to try to stop the assault. But, nothing had deterred him.

It isn't real. He tried to convince himself. I'm not this monster!

But, you are a monster. His mind insisted, each fabricated memory reminding him of a real one, a real victim he had killed, purely for the pleasure of drinking their blood. Each shared something in common with his family. A young man whose hands showed how much hard work he did to keep his family afloat, much like his own brothers. A young woman who tied her hair back with a ribbon, much the same way his little sister once had. And his worst sin, a seemingly ordinary woman who had turned out to be a mother, a photo of her infant son prominent in the wallet he had taken to stage a mugging when he had covered up her death.

He wanted to argue with the person this strange, warped reality painted him out to be, but he wasn't sure that he had the right. He wasn't sure that he was right.

Maybe I deserve this. He thought, as all faded to darkness.