Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga and am not Stephenie Meyer.

A/N—WARNING. WARNING. WARNING. There is violence in this chapter. Not suitable for the squeamish. Repeat: WARNING. WARNING. WARNING.

I know it's taken me forever to update. I'm glad that so many love this story.

Guess what? ONE CHAPTER LEFT. Yeah, it really is that close to the end. I totally did not realize it was that close until I finished writing this chapter, and then I gaped at my computer for a long minute. I can hardly believe it. There's one actual chapter left, and then an honorary chapter chock-full of a long author's note and other odds and ends I want to include for your perusal. I'm sorry there's not more of a warning for you… :D

This feels like a very short chapter, but I can't really put anything more here. It feels like an anti-climatic ending to me, perhaps because I've been waiting for it for so long. But it's everything that I wanted to include, and everything I expected and planned for. So… Well, here it is.

Enjoy the update!

"…I've really been on a bender and it shows…

…Give me a shot to remember…

…So you can leave like the sane abandoned me…"

"The Sharpest Lives" by My Chemical Romance

Chapter Twenty-One—Resolution

Boston, Massachusetts—Isabella Marie Swan

The scene that lay before my eyes was straight from a nightmare.

Edward, locked in combat, could not spare even an instant to notice my frozen self by the entrance to the cavern. Victoria darted before him, her arms slightly extended as if to hold him in a friendly embrace. Her deadly, clawed fingers pulsed gently. She was positively itching to grip him with all the force she could muster.

He was mirroring her actions, his arms stiff and body steadily balanced on the balls of his feet. He was ready for her to attack, ready to fight. And there was something in his face that told me he knew how to win, not just struggle against her deadly assault.

But…Alice's vision was at the forefront of my mind. I could not move, for fear that anything I did would cause his death, cause her vision to come true.

My fingers curled into tight, helpless fists as I watched—and listened.

Their banter was one-sided. Edward murmured responses to whatever she had thought. I could see his lips moving; could feel the vibrations in the air as easily as the shockwaves from their fight. I could see him speak, but I couldn't understand. Frustrated, I could only watch their bodies twist and turn in their deadly dance. I couldn't even focus on their lips, for they moved too much and the rest of their motions drew my focus.

I winced when their skin clashed, the feeling like boulders tumbling over one another in an avalanche. My stomach twisted in ever-tighter knots as she came too close to grasping his arm. Tightly compressing my lips, I said nothing as he retaliated with a sharp, eager blow to her head.

But I could not interfere. I didn't know how to fight one of my own kind—it was nothing like taking down prey. Prey was weaker, prey had to bend to the solid diamond of my body. A vampire was of the same substance as I, nearly impenetrable and more than capable of fighting back…and winning. Killing me instead of me killing it.

I would be a liability to Edward if I involved myself in this fight.

And I didn't know how to help him. The only thing I could do was stand out of the way, bearing silent witness to the quiet world around me. A sentinel, a stone statue watching them with mouth agape and eyes wide—unable to do a single thing to help…that was what I was.

That was all I could let myself be.

I couldn't be the cause of his death…I told myself that, over and over. With every hit, with every vibration, I inched forward—then forced myself to step back. Constantly, the refrain of, "No, no, no," rang in my head. Until I couldn't tell whether I meant, "Don't get involved," or, "Don't hurt him!"

I had no idea how long I stood and watched, aching to help and terrified of doing so. He noticed me—I could tell, even with all his concentration narrowed down solely to her—and she saw me, too. He knew what I was doing. She might have guessed.

The time passed so slowly, yet so swiftly. The minutes stretched on, both performing to the best of their abilities—both trying their absolute hardest to win the battle. I could see the exertion as time went on, could see how, even though their bodies didn't tire, their minds were.

And then she lunged at him, in a move that was desperate. I could see that it was. And it worked.

I had tired, too. My mind was worn, my fear and anxiety breaking my vow of silence. I gasped aloud as she slammed Edward into the wall.

It was my mistake.

Boston, Massachusetts—Edward Anthony Masen Cullen

Victoria could not stop thinking, though she tried her hardest not to give me anything. She might have vaguely understood that I had a unique ability, but that didn't mean she was able to shield herself effectively from my reach. Without prior knowledge and effort, her 'defenses' were useless against me.

I wasn't the most skilled fighter, but my ability was an innate advantage over virtually any opponent. I could win: I would win.

I had to win.

Bella appeared at the entrance to the cave near the beginning of our fight, but I barely spared her a glance. My concentration absolutely had to be on Victoria. As long as I kept my focus on her, as long as I got rid of her, then by proxy Bella would be safe. All she had to do was stay out of the way… I couldn't let her place herself in unnecessary danger.

Fortunately, she seemed to understand that I wanted her to stay out of the fight. Bella was frozen in place, so still that I wouldn't have been surprised if Victoria didn't notice her—but of course, she did. I redoubled my efforts to keep her focus on me, to keep her thoughts away from my Bella.

It worked for the most part. We spun and struck at each other, each trying to grip the other.

Our intent was to kill.

And both of us were evenly matched.

I was certain that I could win, if I had a chance to get past her defenses. If I took her by surprise, catching her off guard, I could tear her limb from limb the way I wanted to. My anger at her was like a fiery fuel that fed my every motion. I wasn't even breathing, my concentration on our fight was so absolute.

At least, I thought it was.

She grew desperate. She lunged, her intent to shove and not tear—hoping that I would be caught off guard in that moment, that I would provide an opening for her to rip into me. It was a roundabout, slightly frantic move for her to make. My shoulders slammed into the wall, but I wasn't caught off guard by her action.

Then Bella gasped. And I made a mistake—a stupid, foolish mistake.

My eyes flew to her face. They moved off of my opponent.

One second. One glance.

That was all she needed.

Pain exploded in my wrist.

Boston, Massachusetts—Isabella Marie Swan

I saw his eyes move off her face. I saw her hands, greedy and grasping, reach out and lock on his arm—far flung and curled, like he was reaching for her in the instant he focused on me, his hand was easy to grasp. Easy for her to lock her rigid fingers around it and pull.

There was sensation in the air—it wasn't vocal, it wasn't words. I didn't know how to descried the awful sensation that sound made, the way it sent shivers up my spine. The only recognizable vibration after that was Edward's roar of pain. The air trembled at his cry, and his other hand clamped around the wounded limb.

I knew Edward was hurt—with a mind-numbing, stomach-clenching knowing that chilled me to the core. I knew that he was in danger, but I was frozen in fear the instant I understood. And the next moment, I was no longer frozen.

If I had blinked, I would have missed it. One second sooner, and I wouldn't have noticed.

But I didn't blink. And somehow, despite being frozen, I saw.

I saw his wrist. I saw how Victoria had twisted it, how Edward was cradling the damaged hand to his chest. I saw what she had done—saw the torn skin, the ripped muscle, and the bone barely being held together by tendons. The venom, spilling from the edges of his skin to close the wound, too slow to repair it before he would need it to fight her off.

It was only a brief, chanced glimpse, but it was enough to ignite the oil-fury that had lain in my chest as I watched and waited. It went up, a blazing inferno.

And I could not stand still.

I didn't realize I'd moved until my knees were digging into her back, my fingers were digging into her shoulders, and I was releasing an unheard war cry. I had no idea what sound was coming from my lips—all I knew was my fury, and she must die for hurting him. For trying to kill him.

On the outskirts of my rage, I felt ashamed for not acting sooner. For hesitating because I was worried I would get myself, or Edward, killed by interfering. The panicked rationalization was completely gone from my mind as my fingers went from digging into her shoulders to…tearing an arm from her shoulder.

My brutality was shocking enough to me that she managed grab me with her remaining arm, throwing me from her back. I slammed into the solid rock wall, feeling it bend underneath my back.

But it was too late for her.

Edward was too close. She was caught off guard, her focus on me. She was as disabled as he was. Her back was too him. He only needed one hand and his teeth. His fingers curled in her hair, pulling violently—

I closed my eyes, and turned away. The scene of death before me felt too familiar—felt too much like torture, as the sounds of her demise ripped through the air with chilling vibrations. In this cave, in this place I had known in my last minutes of human life, the death of my creator made some kind of hole rip in my chest.

I didn't know why I felt like this. She had killed me for no reason, tortured me before my death, hurt Edward—and still, I could find no joy in her death. No peace, nor resolution. I felt nothing, in a way that was so much worse than the emptiness I felt towards the humans and animals I had killed in my long years of solitude.

No, this was different, because I knew what I should feel. I should feel as if justice was taking place, as if we were winning our freedom and I was getting revenge on her. But I didn't, maybe because…it wasn't like that for me.

This hadn't been a quest to find who I was, to dispose of an old enemy, and to ensure the life of my mate. It was survival, it was expected; it was what had to happen. It was fate. Destiny.

Maybe.

Or maybe it really was all part of a larger picture, that theory of a quest. Maybe I was meant to discover everything that I had, and to know who I was at the end of this. Maybe she had to die so I could live—have a life with Edward, with the Cullens, with myself. Maybe she was a good person, driven to terrible acts by necessity, paranoia, fear—or maybe she was a bad person, the way I saw her…but truthfully? She could have been either, or both. Or neither.

The point was that I should have felt something. Something other than an overwhelming sadness—unless, of course, I thought of the selfish. Unless I thought of what it meant for my past, that she was gone. That made more sense, even though I was still unsure. I wasn't usually a selfish person, but maybe in this case…

A hand on my arm brought me back to myself.

I lifted my head from the wall, turning back to the cave. I could smell the venom lingering in the air. Edward's eyes drew me in, their topaz concerned and weary. I reached for him without thought, taking his hurt arm in my hands. The wound was already closing—slowly but surely—and I could see the mound of Victoria's body on the floor.

He grimaced slightly as my hands touched his, transmitting my concerns and worries into his head. I heard him—the weariness after the battle, the exhilaration of the fight coupled with the overwhelming concern for my safety and healthy. Are you all right?

Of course I am. I would be if I weren't already. Are you?

I'll be okay. He smiled, knowing better than to tell me he was fine when he was wounded. I need to light her remains on fire. We'll have to leave the cave quickly and head back. He was concerned about me, but he was also concerned with keeping up appearances and ensuring our safety from the human world.

I felt like I was in shock over the whole situation, but with Edward's hand in mine, I was slowly wrapping my head around it. There was a lot of room for wrapping in there.

I knew what he wanted by his gently words, never mind being about to directly read his thoughts. I allowed my feet to follow him as he made his way back to what was left of Victoria. We paused for the second it took for him to flick the lighter on and drop it on her remains. He'd had it in his pocket this whole time, a precaution that Carlisle had given him before we left the house.

We left it behind as we exited the cave, wandering into the forest. Heading to our car at the station, then to our hotel room: after that, back to Forks.

Home.

A/N—I'll repeat myself here: ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT. You're almost to the end!

Thanks for reading!