A/N: RAWR. It's Monday. Kris is GRUMPY. And sleepy. Harumph.

Edward stared at the book left on his desk. It was from Carlisle—that much he knew. Edward had read the book himself many times and had seen it nearly every day. It always sat in a prominent place in Carlisle's study. No matter what else Carlisle happened to be interested in, the book was alway there.

It was an old book—written in the 1800's. Really, it was a collection of stories dating back as far as recorded history.

A compilation of vampire legends. More specifically, it was an accurate compilation. Oh, most of the suppositions were wrong. Like any myth, the stories were an explanation for the things humans couldn't understand, but Carlisle could name almost all the vampires who had spurred these stories. They'd lived; some of them were still living—himself included.

Stregoni Benefici.

Tucking the book under his arm, Edward headed downstairs. Carlisle would be home in another two hours. It was more than enough time to do a patrol. He took off running in his usual loop.

At Bella's house, he stopped. He listened. She was awake—she didn't sleep as often now—and reading. He could hear the rustle of the pages.

Did she still read like a girl, on her belly on her bed with her legs swinging in the air? He had no idea why the thought occurred to him. Maybe it was that he ached for her to have some semblance of innocence and lightness in her life, even if it was only the facade of a young woman losing herself in an interesting book.

It was a silly thing to think. There was nothing light about Bella's life that he could figure.

The longer it took for her story to come out, the more the townspeople were turning on her. Not in an angry mob kind of way. They'd all imagined any number of untold horrors about what must have been happening to the girl. For her to turn up in one piece—not even a visible bruise—was too anticlimactic for their tastes.

Behind her back, they were beginning to make up their own stories about what had happened to her. She'd run off with a boyfriend, gotten into drugs, or simply skipped town on a joyride.

No, there was no lightness or levity in Bella's life. She didn't have the friends who could give her that. She was up in her bedroom now not absorbed in her books out of pleasure. He could guess the reason she was researching vampires. Trying to find fact among the fiction. How much had the demon told her, Edward wondered.

Even if he intended to leave her in peace—and no part of Edward believed he did—was it possible now that she knew monsters existed? He stared down at the book in his hands.

He stayed only another minute before he left again. The demon hadn't been here. When he had finished his typical rounds, he was certain the beast hadn't been anywhere near Forks.

As satisfied as he could be without ripping Jasper apart, Edward returned home. Carlisle's car was in the drive, and he could hear the voices and thoughts of the rest of the family as well. He breezed into the house and into Carlisle's study where he waited.

"Why?" Edward asked without preamble. He set the book on the desk between them as though Carlisle needed clarification.

HIs father looked up at him. "For the girl."

For form's sake, Edward sat in the chair across from him. "I know it's for the girl, but the question remains. Why?"

Carlisle sat back, his hands steepled and his eyes as troubled as his thoughts. "She's as much a prisoner now as she was with him. She must feel so alone with what she knows. I can't imagine what that kind of silence does to a person."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Can't you?" Carlisle had spent a solid century alone, sequestering himself away from humans and vampires alike.

Carlisle looked at him and offered a small smile. "Ah, I do know something of that kind of loneliness. But our vampire minds are as permanent and unchanging as our bodies, Edward. I knew only the stubbornness my father cursed me for. Stubbornness to survive, first of all. Then to destroy myself when I realized what I was." He waved his hand in the air. Edward knew the rest of the story well enough.

"But human minds are different," Carlisle said. "A human mind can be changed. It can be broken, can be destroyed. That was his aim, wasn't it?"

"And yet you didn't care about that before."

Carlisle flinched and looked at Edward. He simply held Edward's gaze.

Edward's shoulders slumped. He looked down.

Of course Carlisle cared. He always cared. Like he'd cared about every human being when he learned what he was, and more importantly, what his kind did to humans. He'd cared enough to want to destroy himself. He'd cared enough to torture himself every day, inhaling blood he would never touch, getting it all over his hands, his clothes. He did all he could to help humans.

But he wasn't human. His species were the monsters. Vampires. They were who he associated with. He had come to know so many of them—their histories, their camaraderie, their friendship. The de facto leaders of the vampire world, the Volturi, were his direct benefactors.

It was a conundrum Edward knew, for a fact, was never far from Carlisle's thoughts. He loathed violence, death, and cruelty. Yet, he couldn't fault his fellows for being what they were, what he was. His moral code was not law, and who was he to judge others when none of them had chosen to be created this way? If they were not better than humans, why were humans their only true source of sustenance and strength? Yes, Carlisle had found animal blood to be a viable alternative, but how could he expect anyone else to take the same route he had when only human blood satisfied; when every instinct a vampire had was centered around that single craving?

Vampires had no need for shelter or healthcare or anything else. The one and only thing on every vampire's mind was human blood. Carlisle had believed in God before he was changed. Faced with the reality that vampires existed, what choice did he have but to believe God had created them exactly as He'd intended?

"It was never that I didn't care about the girl," Carlisle said, his tone even. "I didn't stop you from looking."

"Do you think you could have?" Edward asked, his tone bordering on mocking in spite of himself.

Carlisle's lip twitched. "No. But if I could, I wouldn't have. This is your life, Edward, and I can't decide how to live it for you. I do what I can with the cards I've been dealt.

"Yes, I had the same card you did—the knowledge of what this monster does to his victims. But that's one card, my son. I also had my beautiful family, and my fervent desire for all of you to remain in one piece. Because of our strange lifestyle, not a one of us has been in a single fight with another vampire." Carlisle spread his hands wide. "Then, of course, was the practical—the cards I didn't have. I had no way of knowing where he was, where he had Bella. Stumbling in on another vampire's hunt is what gets many of our kind killed, Edward. You have your gift, but it's untried against a seasoned warrior."

He sighed, and it was such a human sound, Edward looked up at him again. Carlisle's eyes were sad and tender. "And then my final card. You. You already sent yourself on one crusade to right the wrongs of the world. I saw what that did to you. I didn't see what good this obsession could possibly bring."

Carlisle stood and went to him. He put a hand on his shoulder. "But there are new cards now. Bella is back with the humans, and she has a secret that separates her from all the rest of them. Now, I can help. And it's not, you'll note, because it's easy to act now. This isn't an easy choice by a long shot. Not when her blood calls to you."

Edward frowned. "I won't hurt her." He said it to himself more than Carlisle. He'd been repeating that same mantra over and over again since she'd run out of the bookstore that first time.

"I believe you."

~Bella~

It wasn't over. No part of Bella believed her ordeal with the demon was over. And as long as she didn't know what would happen next, there was no rest for her.

She couldn't sleep—wouldn't even try—unless she was so exhausted she'd fall straight into oblivion. The what-ifs that plagued her as she tried to get her mind to settle down enough to sleep instead sent her into a frenzy.

What if this was just part of his plan? To let her go, to let her see her parents again, sleep in her own bed, in a room that wasn't locked from the outside? Had he known she would never be able to stop looking for him in the shadows?

He'd wanted to break her mind. He was succeeding admirably even though, as far as she knew, he was nowhere near her. She lived her life on the edge of panic with very little respite in between.

For the millionth time, Bella tried to sit across from her father at his little kitchen table and interact like a normal human being. Ever hopeful that her appetite had returned, he'd made her a full breakfast for dinner of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. The smell of it made her nauseous, but she tried to nibble at some. She tried to talk a little. Small talk. Nothing important. The weather. The book she was reading—she always made up something. The weird things he'd had to do as a small town chief of police.

She must have spaced out again, because when he set his coffee cup down with a little bit of extra force, she jumped a mile at the resulting thunk. Her heart jumped into her throat, and a cold sweat sent chills down her neck.

Her father looked pained as she tried to calm herself down. "I'm sorry," she said in a tiny voice. "What did you say?"

"I ran into Dr. Cullen's son today," Charlie said, thankfully deciding that he wasn't going to push her about her mental instability this time. "He said you two know each other?"

Bella furrowed her brow. "I don't know anyone here." The last word came out choked as her mind reeled off a list of potentials. Why would anyone say they knew each other unless…

Unless it was him.

But Charlie knew everyone in this town, didn't he? He'd mentioned Dr. Cullen before. He was the doctor Charlie kept trying to get her to go see. He was gentle and kind, apparently.

"He works in the bookstore," Charlie said, scanning her worriedly.

"Oh." Okay. That made a little more sense. A very little. She'd been to the bookstore. She'd had a two second conversation with the clerk. The one her paranoid mind had convinced her wanted to kill her the first time she stepped foot in the store, because she was apparently going to spend the rest of her life wondering how many normal people all around her wanted to hurt her.

In a town like Forks, though, a disjointed conversation while he rung her up counted as them knowing each other. "I don't even know his name."

"Edward," Charlie said. "He's Carlisle's adopted son, actually. They're only something like twelve years apart in age." Charlie waved a hand. "Anyway. He gave me something to give to you. A book. Hold on. I'll go get it."

As he retreated to the living room, Bella's mind raced. Why would this stranger give her anything?

"He said he thought you might be interested," Charlie said as he returned to the kitchen. He set an overly large, rectangular package wrapped in brown paper—who actually did that?—next to her on the table. "He said you seemed interested in the subject when you last talked."

Bella stared at the package as though it would explode. She was afraid—was this some kind of trick somehow?—but she was also intrigued. The book couldn't be about vampires, could it? Maybe it was some ridiculous vampire love story, the kind that were popular in fiction, and he was trying to flirt with her. She grimaced at the idea, but then realized the book was way too big for that. It was tome-sized.

Her father was watching her expectantly, obviously as eager to figure out what was in the package as she was. There was no way she was going to open a vampire-related book in front of him though. She cleared her throat, took a healthy bite of eggs and forced herself to swallow. She could give him that much. "Thanks, Dad. So, you were talking about how Mrs. Stanley at the bank calls you every other week to report suspicious behavior?"

~0~

It took two days for Bella to talk herself into going to the bookstore. Here was the thing, she reasoned with herself. She was just as safe in the bookstore as she was in her house. The asshole had gotten in a locked, third-story apartment without a problem. If he wanted her, Charlie's little house wasn't going to keep him away.

She couldn't live with that knowledge. That was the whole point of what she was trying to do with all the vampire books.

After Port Angeles, Bella knew what had happened to her could happen again. Any one of those men could have overpowered her on their own.

As she tried to come to terms with what had happened to her, tried to recover, she'd felt helpless. The world was filled with strangers who could have her broken and bloodied on the ground in a heartbeat, and she couldn't stop them.

Except she could.

Charlie had been the one to talk to her about self-defense and martial arts. Her size didn't matter, he'd told her. It was about knowing how to fight and how the human body—any human body—worked.

Here she was, helpless all over again. She couldn't defeat a vampire physically; she was sure of that. But was there something she simply didn't know that could help? Was there any possibility she could learn to protect herself from a being that was Hulk-strong, Superman-fast, and immortal?

Bella needed knowledge. She needed to know what popular fiction had gotten right and if anything actually worked against a vampire. A stake? Garlic? The sun?

The prick had said the only thing that could kill a vampire was another vampire. He'd had every reason to lie, of course, even though he'd claimed he'd never lied to her.

So Bella got in her car and drove to the bookstore again. She peeked through the windows before she parked, trying to catch a glimpse of the clerk. Edward Cullen, her father had said.

"Not much ambition, I guess," Charlie had said when Bella carefully pressed him for information. "The Cullens got here three years ago, and in that time, his mother, uncle, and aunt have started a successful business from scratch. Edward has a degree, but he's not doing anything with it. He just stays at the bookstore."

It was more than what she was capable of at the moment, but that didn't matter. The point was that Charlie vouched for Edward's character. He wasn't going to murder her or, well, otherwise.

The shop was, thankfully, empty when she came in. Edward had his back to her. It had to be her imagination, but she thought she saw his shoulders tense as she took three uncertain steps in the door.

When he turned, though, his smile—while a little strained—was friendly. "Oh. Hello, Bella." He pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded to the book she carried clutched to her chest. "I see you got what I sent you."

"Yeah." Bella had to clear her throat as the word came out garbled and shaky. "I was, uh, wondering if I could talk to you about it." She looked anywhere but his eyes. Direct eye contact was too intimidating for her just yet. With Charlie, she'd gotten practiced at looking at a spot directly above or below his eyes, but not in them.

Edward nodded. "Sure. I have some time now."

Bella looked around the shop. "Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Ah, I'm the only one here right now." His lips quirked up at one corner. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone if you won't."

Bella had no idea what the hell her face was doing at that moment. Her thoughts, as usual, were all over the place. Was this guy flirting after all? There was something pleasant about the tone of his voice, something that might have made her want to smile if she wasn't ten kinds of fucked up and suspicious.

He was only human, she reminded herself as she followed him to a space off to the side of the shop—a reading nook of sorts. She could kick his ass if worse came to worse. Besides, the little reading nook was near the store's huge, glass front window.

Bella set the book on the coffee table at the center of the space and chose the ginormous chair that gave her a view of the rest of the shop. There was only a wall behind her—no possibility of anyone sneaking up on her. She cleared her throat. "This book is so old, it has to be valuable. Why would you lend me something like this?"

"It's probably presumptuous of me," Edward said, his tone apologetic. "It's a bad habit. Not a lot of people come into a tiny bookstore in the age of Amazon and e-books. The people who do are either browsers with an honest love for books—any books. Or they're here with a purpose. I like that part of my job—helping people get more involved in whatever they're researching."

Now, Bella did smile—a wry sort of smile without any humor. "You want to help me to get more involved with vampires?" If only he knew what he was saying.

"It's a fascinating subject." There was no derision in Edward's voice. "And, as it happens, I have a personal book is my father's. He collects vampire myths. It's a hobby of his."

Bella looked up at that. "His hobby is vampires?"

"Vampire myths," Edward repeated. "He thinks it's fascinating that similar myths appear across most cultures. It's too big of a coincidence for so many cultures to have originated monsters that similar."

Bella blinked. These days, her brain processed information more slowly that she liked. "Are you saying your dad believes in vampires?" she asked.

"Myths are stories people make up to explain something they don't understand. Dad believes something is responsible for those stories." He shrugged—an indulgent smile on his face. "Call it vampires. Call it whatever you want. There's some explanation that explains everything even if we don't know what it is yet."

Bella's eyes pricked with tears, and she gasped at the sudden well of emotion in her. Too overwhelmed to care about what it looked like, Bella pulled her legs up onto the chair and hugged them close to her chest, rocking the slightest bit.

She'd been so desperately alone since the demon had snatched her from her bed. She'd been alone in the dark in more ways than one. She reached out to touch the book, running shaking fingers over the old, leather binding. There was no way Edward could ever know how much his simple validation meant.

If Dr. Cullen believed there was some truth to vampires, then she wasn't entirely alone. She wasn't the only person on the planet for whom vampires weren't the stuff of horror movies or improbable romance novels.

"Sorry," Bella said, pressing the heel of her trembling palm against her eye. "I just...Sorry." She knew she was acting like a freak.

"You don't have to apologize." Edward shifted in his seat across from her. "I can't imagine you've had an easy time of things lately."

Bella huffed. Of course. Stupid, tiny ass town. Everyone here knew she'd been missing. It was the lesser reason why she didn't want to leave the house. When she eventually went somewhere other than the bookstore, she knew from experience what to expect. The same as when she was seventeen: pitying stares, unsolicited affirmations and, her favorite, those people who thought she needed to be reminded how she brought this on herself.

What on Earth were you doing wandering around that part of town by yourself?

Well, whatever. It gave her permission to act weird without having to explain herself. She remembered that from before too.

Wiping at her eyes, Bella stood. "I have to go." She took the book and clutched it to her chest again, as though it were armor. "I'll take care of the book. I promise."

A/N: As always, so many thanks to MoH, Packy, Eleanor, Mina, and Songster for putting up with me.

So! That was a...calmer chapter. What do you think?