A/N: I've tried to keep this chapter within the spirit of Stephenie's original views of Emmett -- the outtake from Twilight that is posted online, describing his reaction to becoming a vampire in his own words -- is pretty clear:)

I let my mind wander as I ran the brush through my hair.

He had become so beautiful. By the dawn of the third day, his whole visage had been transformed. He still had the same look about him – the impossibly cherubic appeal in his manly face – but it was somehow more vivid. All the little imperfections had been smoothed away. It was physically painful to take in so much beauty at once. The only thing that I missed was the rosy glow of his cheeks – now, I realized with a lurch of my dead heart, except for after the hunt he would always be ash white.

Carlisle's voice had whispered in my ear, "There's not much longer now." Esme then squeezed my shoulder, leading me away to ready myself.

And now, as I looked in the mirror, I wondered what he would see when he looked at me. Would he recognize me? Would I still be appealing to him, now that he was no longer human?

You mustn't think of that , I scolded myself. You are here to protect him. Nothing more.

From down below, I heard the sudden racing of his heart as the final stages of his transformation came to pass. There was a heavy thud, followed quickly by the splintering of wood and more crashes that sounded like the heavy kitchen table folding in on itself like an accordion.

In that instant, I could have sworn that I still had a beating heart. It seemed caught, there in my throat, at the thought of the man opening his eyes to his new life.

In a split second everything changed. A cacophony of growls filled the air – one, the loudest, in a voice I did not recognize.

I threw the brush down, cracking the dresser in my haste, and ran downstairs to see what had happened.

I ran past the wreckage of the table to find the man backed into the corner of the kitchen, frayed rope still dangling from his massive body. The buttons on his shirt strained as he shifted warily, crouched low to defend himself against Carlisle, Edward and Esme. He hissed, flexing his hands into fists, his flaming red eyes full of fear and confusion.

The others crouched as well, a solid mass in front of him, unsure of what to do.

"Let me through," I demanded, trying to push through them, but Edward read my mind and swiftly blocked me.

"It's not safe, Rosalie," he said, never turning his back on the man. "He thinks we're a threat."

"He won't think I'm a threat," I hissed, straining against his arm. "Let me pass, Edward!"

Carlisle stood up abruptly. "She may have a point, Edward. Let her through."

Edward paused, then dropped his arm. His body still tense, he stepped aside.

"Carefully, Rosalie," Carlisle cautioned.

I stepped through their line and came face to face with the man. My breath caught as I looked at him. The clothes Esme had hastily sewn for him could barely contain his body. Even though he was crouched, I could see he would stand head and shoulders taller than me. He was perfect and whole. Neither scar nor bruise marked his body. Only the red eyes betrayed what I'd taken from him.

"Don't be afraid," I whispered to him, my voice shaky as I inched closer. I could feel my family's stares boring into my back as they watched my every move. "You're safe here with me."

His red eyes darted around him, confused, before they settled on me. He stared at my face, his eyes searching.

Slowly, I reached out my hand to him.

"I promised I wouldn't leave you. And I didn't," I said. I could hear every second being marked by the clock as I stood, waiting, unsure of what to do next.

"He's remembering you, Rose," Edward whispered.

Even as Edward spoke, the man's muscles seemed to uncoil as the tension drained from him and he stood to face us. A radiant smile of recognition spread across his face.

"Angel!" he cried, rushing forward to grasp my hand in his.

"Ow!" I yelled as he crushed my fingers. "Too tight!"

He jumped back, dropping my hand like he'd been burned. He stared at me, perplexed, as I nursed my hand, and cautiously eyed the others, who'd unconsciously shifted forward to help me.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes dropping to his own hands, which he slowly flexed. He looked up and his eyes were even more confused. "I don't understand. What happened? Where am I?"

Carlisle cleared his throat. "You'd better sit down, son, while we explain."

The man looked around. There was nowhere to sit – every piece of furniture in the kitchen had been broken.

"Why don't we go into your study, Carlisle?" Esme suggested.

"Would you come with me?" I asked the man. He nodded, grinning. "Let me," I said when he went to take my hand again, deftly tucking my arm under his to lead the way.

We floated to the pecan-paneled room. It was dark, as Esme and Edward had closed all of the shutters.

"I can see!" the man exclaimed. "Even though it is dark in here, I can see you all perfectly." He dropped my arm and held his hand out before him, turning it over and over in fascination.

"That's just one of the many changes you'll have to get used to," Carlisle said as he drew up a chair. "Please, sit down."

"Carefully," I cautioned, patting the sofa gently. The man gingerly set himself next to me and turned expectantly to Carlisle, tugging at his too-tight collar. He looked out of place amongst the fine furnishings – too big, too rough. He examined it all carefully and then turned back to Carlisle, eyes wide.

"Are you God?"

Carlisle looked dismayed, while Edward and Esme tried to hide the smiles that tugged at the corners of their mouths.

"Goodness, no! Whatever gave you that idea?"

The man grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Well, I reckon' I must be dead, what with the bear and all. And this young lady –" at this he swiveled uncomfortably on the sofa to get a better look at me – "well, she came out of nowhere, like a glorious vision, to carry me off. For a while I felt like I was trapped in the fires of hell, which was really no surprise – my mama warned me that my hijinks would catch up with me one day. But the whole time the flames licked through my veins, I could hear beautiful voices. And then all the pain stopped, and now I'm here, with y'all, and y'all are just about the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen."

He let his eyes linger on me a moment longer, then turned back to Carlisle.

"And your voice, your voice is the one I recognize the most, after hers. You were there the whole time, along with my Angel. So I reckon' you were the ones who made the fire go away, and somehow, maybe due to Mama's prayers, I ended up in Heaven."

He stared dubiously at Carlisle, who was speechless.

"Sir," the man said gravely, "you can't fool me. If you aren't the Good Lord himself, then you must be St. Peter."

Edward choked back a laugh and I glared.

"You aren't in Heaven," I said softly, taking the man's hand in mine. It was icy cold and yet, my fingers seemed to burn with fire as I touched him.

His eyes opened even wider. "This can't be Hell," he whispered, stricken.

"No, it's not Hell, either. You didn't die up on that mountain, son," Carlisle said evenly. "Rosalie here fought off that bear and carried you back home, to us."

"I remember, Sir," the man said, winking at me. "I'd have had that bear if she'd given me a few minutes more. I was just catching my breath."

Esme beamed at me from across the room. The man didn't notice and kept on talking.

"She must be an angel to have done all that. Sure as a skunk's got stink," he said, puffing himself up, "no little girl could manage to get me down that mountain by herself. I'm the biggest, strongest man in the county and I've won the County Fair wrestling match three times to prove it."

"Rosalie's not a girl," Esme jumped in before I could spit out my retort. She knew that despite my fascination with this man, I'd be rankled by his sense of male superiority. "But she's not an angel, either," Esme said slowly, giving each word extra emphasis.

She stopped to let her comment sink in. The man sat, puzzled, while we stared at one another, not sure where to begin.

"I know y'all are trying to tell me something, but you Yanks have got to remember I'm just a simple country boy. Spit it out, it can't be worse than thinkin' I'm dead and buried."

Carlisle cleared his throat. I stiffened next to the man, remembering how horrified I'd been when I'd learned the truth.

"Rosalie – all of us -- we used to be human," Carlisle said, picking his words very carefully. "But at various points we all were changed. Like you."

"We can run more swiftly than the wind and our strength knows no bounds. We can see in the dark, as you have learned for yourself," Esme continued, nodding at us to go on.

"We have lightening fast reflexes," Edward began, seizing a book from Carlisle's desk and hurling it across the room toward the man. Instinctively, the man's hand shot up to catch the book. He tossed it up in the air, eyes wide, wondering at his agility.

"We can hear the lowest whispers," Edward continued, "and our voices sound like music."

The man murmured. "So the noise I am hearing?"

Edward answered. "The clock in the other room. And a wagon being driven up the hill. A mile away."

"I see," the man said, his expression unreadable.

"We are unbearably beautiful," I said, as I dragged my eyes away from his face. "And we never age."

"We never sleep," Edward said grimly. "If we want to, we never have to breathe."

"Nor eat." Esme said quietly.

Each statement cost us. We usually went to great pains to avoid speaking out loud the truth of our nature. The words were priceless, rubies and diamonds and pearls we had earned through pain and wakeful, never-ending nights. We set them before this stranger with great care. It was left to Carlisle to proffer the last of them. He laid the words, bare and stark, before the man.

"We only drink. Blood. We are vampires, son. We have chosen a different way – we only feed on the blood of animals – but our nature is the same. We are vampires. And now, so are you."

I cringed, waiting for the man's inevitable response once the horror sank in.

"Really?" he whispered.

"Yes. Really," Carlisle answered, his voice tinged with sadness.

I felt the man shudder next to me on the sofa and braced for the worst, my heart sinking. From deep inside my brain, the little voice cried out, I told you! He's going to leave, and you never even learned his name!

Then I noticed that the shuddering I'd so dreaded had not stopped. If anything it had intensified, shaking the sofa under me. Was he going to erupt in madness, a violent newborn, gone out of control? Alarmed, I turned to face him, tensing myself for a fight. What I saw made my jaw drop.

He was laughing. The shudders were nothing but gut-busting guffaws. The man was shaking with mirth, his eyes screwed tight against his non-existent tears, shaking so hard that he could barely even speak.

"Shoot," he struggled to say between breaths. "Y'all looked so serious; I thought you were going to confess to something really bad, like being Papists!"

He slapped his knee, gleeful at his joke. We all just stared in shock.

"I've had worse to eat than animal blood in my time, no doubt about that," he continued between his guffaws. "Y'all should just be grateful you turned vampire before my Granny made you sit down to her possum stew!"

I looked at him, mortified. One of the worst things to happen to me in my entire existence was, to this fool , a laughing matter?

The joints of the sofa began to whine with the stress of his shaking as they began to give out. I jumped up from the sofa, flying across the room just in time to see him dumped to the floor. The floorboards creaked and cracked beneath his weight.

Everyone looked around at each other, puzzled at his odd reaction. Only I seemed offended by his outburst.

"Stress response?" Edward mouthed to Carlisle, who shrugged, confused.

The man wheezed through his laughter, until slowly, he got a hold of himself. He looked up from the floor, pinning each of us with an impish grin and his glowing ruby eyes.

"If y'all don't mind my saying, y'all seem to have a case of Yankee stuffiness. There's no need to be so serious."

A swell of anger rushed through me and without thinking, I launched myself at him, my lips drawn back in a growl.

He caught me neatly, pinning my arms to my side and plopping me in his lap. I struggled against him, but it was useless. He had me beat. I cursed him under my breath.

"Let me go!" I shrieked, thrashing about.

He simply chuckled and pulled me in tighter.

"Aw, don't be angry with me, Rosey. Is it all right if I call you Rosey?"

I refused to answer. He chuckled to himself once again and addressed the others as I continued to struggle in his lap.

"My name is Emmett, Emmett McCarty. I apologize if I offended y'all. I was just trying to lighten things up. My mama always tells me I don't have an appropriate bone in my body. I guess wrestling with a bear and getting bit up by a vampire is about as inappropriate as you can get."

His face became quite solemn then and he brought his face closer to me, speaking low. I froze, mesmerized by his eyes.

"Do I have you to thank for the situation I find myself in?"

I nodded glumly, casting my eyes away and steeling myself for his anger.

"You should know she didn't change you herself, Mr. McCarty," Carlisle cut in, hoping to spare me. "For that, you have only me to blame."

"There's no blame here. I thank you, sir, for what you did on my behalf. But mostly I thank you, Angel, for plucking me off that mountain and bringing me home with you." He looked at me earnestly. "I would rather spend a million years drinking goat blood than imagine a life without your beautiful face in it, even if that life could've been spent strumming a harp inside the Pearly Gates."

"A million years is about right," Edward said bitterly.

Emmett arched a brow. "We get to live forever?" he breathed.

"'Get to' is a matter of viewpoint," Edward responded archly.

"Well, I'll be," Emmett declared, letting out a low whistle. He sat still, balancing me on his knee, looking thoughtful.

"Does that mean the goat blood part was true?"

"More like mountain lions and elk," Esme offered.

"Huh," Emmett answered as he mentally rearranged his picture of his new reality.

Edward looked pointedly at Emmett, then at me.

"Oops, sorry," Emmett apologized, letting me loose. I jumped across the room, as far as I could get from him. I hissed from where I stood, rubbing my arms.

Emmett smiled, a great, dazzling grin, and against my will I felt my anger slipping away.

"Don't be mad, Angel," he soothed at me. "I guess I've just been brought up to see the bright side of things. Comes in handy when your lot in life is a tough one. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

Carlisle and Esme looked at one another, surprised to hear such wisdom springing from one so young. Edward's face held grudging respect for how the man had taken the news. Only I, it seemed, nursed any anger toward this…this…brute .

"Now, I must admit, I have a bit of thirst. I'm wondering, ma'am if I might trouble you for a drink of something cool?" Emmett gracefully sprung to his feet as he directed his request to Esme.

Esme smiled ruefully. "We have a bit more explaining to do about your new diet. Why don't you come with us," she said, gesturing toward the door. "I believe Edward has prepared something for you in the shed out back."

Emmett looked confused, but shrugged gamely.

"Race you, Edward," he said with a sudden grin, tensing to dash for the door, but before he'd moved an inch Edward shot ahead of him.

"How'd you do that?" Emmett bellowed, chasing him down the hallway and outside.

"Rosalie, are you coming?" Carlisle and Esme turned back expectantly from the doorway.

I sneered. "No, thank you. I think I've had enough of his company for one day."

They smiled to themselves and left me to my warring thoughts.

This man was no angel, I thought. More like a devil, with his troublemaking. So shallow, I thought, remembering his reactions. So rough, I sniffed, remembering how he'd grappled me down onto his knee.

Then I remembered the feel of his hands on my arms and that familiar burning sensation worked its way through my body all over again -- only this time it was stronger.

I slid to the floor and clutched my arms about me, groaning inwardly. I had never known such attraction before, but I knew, instinctively what it was. I wanted him, despite myself. My knees were weak with the thought of his touch and the sound of his smooth voice saying my name. And that only made me angrier, for I couldn't allow myself to want anything from this man. The only thing that would come of that was more pain.

But he isn't angry with you! My non-existent heart exulted as I replayed our conversation over and over in my head, lingering on his tender look as he'd thanked me.

He could love you, the voice whispered, suddenly traitorous. He could be the one.

I shoved the errant thought away. Don't be ridiculous. Stupid human impulses, I stormed, and ran upstairs to hide in my room.