I'm surprised at how many of you thought unknown-guy was Jasper. Yeesh. I may be cruel to my characters, but not that cruel. Although this guy could prolly disagree with that statement.

REPLIES (to other reviewers!):

ClumsyReader: Jasper will play a major role in this story, whether he is Isabella's mate or not.

Crackers414: Welcome to the crazy train :D

YunaNeko: xD Here's the chapter, then.

chipmunk742: Oh, heck no. I can vouch for that. That is the one thing I will assure you of. Isabella's mate will be a canon character.

I am in Loki's Army: I was hoping people would find that more amusing than me actually calling the body parts by their scientific names :3 Also if she doesn't read it now she might regret it laterrrrrrrrr or she can, y'know, read the next story I'm planning to write.

milagglad: Well, update, so...

gabba6 (Guest): wow

It was dawn on the fourth day when the first sign came. John had long since stopped thrashing about and had been lying still, as all supernatural creatures can. His head lolled to one side, and his eyelids were open only the smallest amount. Isabella hadn't dared to approach his crumpled form, to see if his irises had turned red and if he had been given new sight somehow. The other vampires didn't dare leave their corners of the room; the kings were standing against the wall on Isabella's other side, and Alec was right beside her, wide-eyed and unmoving. The vampires waited for the newest to awaken or decay.

They heard it first. A slight cough from his lips. The racking pains that they associated with it now couldn't be heard at all. Rather, he sounded as though he were clearing his throat.

Slowly, John opened his eyes to stare at the grainy ceiling. He didn't notice any difference in smell or touch or taste; after all, he had already been gifted with enhanced senses thanks to the poison that had killed his body before. Now, he felt a bit lighter, almost. As though his body had regained its old vitality.

Isabella couldn't see his eyes. Neither could the kings. They didn't know what else to expect of him, but they knew that they didn't eradicate the werewolf portion of him. The werewolf would always be there. Whether or not it would function the same was a different story.

John hesitantly hoisted himself up into a sitting position with a slight grunt. As soon as he did so, his legs crossed and his back slumped, he massaged an aching temple. His head seemed to be slowly cracking open; as he rubbed, the pain got worse and worse. Soon, he thought his skull might break open and his brains would be dashed on the ground just because of its pressure. He yelped to himself, curled up, his head buried into his lap, as he tried to fight the primal urge that his id forced him into.

His curled form began to expand and sprout fur, his teeth elongating, his nose turning into a snout, and soon he was a wolf instead. It was his wolf form, albeit much more animalistic. While he had once been a canine creature that walked on two legs only on the full moon, he was now an actual wolf, despite being the size of a lion. He shook his head slightly, mind racing.

Isabella hesitantly stepped forward. "John?" she ventured.

The wolf turned to stare at her. She stifled a gasp.

His eyes had a whitish film that appeared to be almost like spider webs streaking across his pupils. He obviously hadn't regained his vision, which didn't surprise her. What shocked her was that his eyes were golden, as golden as Carlisle's had been.

The wolf-that-was-John gave a shudder and seemed to shrink into himself. He seemed to vibrate before becoming a man once again, a man without any clothing on. Isabella quickly averted her eyes as Caius threw him a cloak. Dark grey, the color of slate. John was to be lower guard, it seemed.

John threw the cloak on and drew it around himself, as if to claim some modesty. "What was that?" he asked, mesmerized. His voice had gained a baritone quality, making him sound ever so slightly older, but for the most part, he remained the same. He didn't even appear too much paler, though his skin shimmered in the half-light of the dungeon room.

Aro's head cocked to one side. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a gift. A shapeshifting gift. See if you can't become anything else, and somehow take the cloak along with you."

John nodded at the implied command and closed his glowing, honey-yellow (God, how Isabella hated that color!) eyes. A look of determined concentration drifted onto his face, and soon a small white bird with a grey head and wings was flitting about the room, letting out soft chirps. He landed on Isabella, poked her stony cheek with his stony beak, nodded at her, staring with those oddly colored eyes, before flying off and simultaneously changing back as he landed.

Aro nodded, looking delighted. "As I thought," he crowed quietly, though all could hear. "You are indeed one of a kind, sir. I hope you don't mind not being in our elite as of yet; the others had at least 500 years to prove their loyalty. I'm afraid we as the kings must give you the same amount of time."

John nodded slightly, his eyes filled with exhilarating mirth. "Yes, of course," he agreed. "Master," he added after a moment of thought. Isabella let out a quiet snort. Of course, she was the only one who defied Aro, though he knew he had her respect. It was the only thing that stood in the way of her possibly being torn apart and not put back together for a good century or so.

Aro looked even more pleased at the title and seemed to practically be preening himself. Caius just looked vaguely annoyed and amused at the same time. Marcus had long since lost interest in the conversation going on and was talking to Alec about suppressing the wolf's newfound thirst.

Speaking of which.

"John, do you have any, er, cravings of sorts right now?" Isabella asked.

"Well, I'm not pregnant or anything, so no."

Isabella rolled her eyes and Alec made a suspicious noise that sounded like a chortle being hastily covered up by a hand. Caius sighed at their collective immaturity. Aro blinked in mortified shock at his forthrightness.

"Of course not," Marcus said, as he was the only one with complete control over his emotions. "Isabella is merely asking of your thirst. And how great it is."

John swallowed suddenly, as though he just thought of the fierce dryness residing within his throat. Isabella and Alec brought him out of the dungeon carefully and asked Jane to bring back prey for the wolf. She returned with an unconscious prostitute, who John wasted no time in draining. He didn't stop there though; he practically tore her chest open to eat her heart.

"I haven't seen that before," Jane commented wryly, staring at the carnage. John's eyes widened as he realized what he had done, and he lurched backwards, a scream buried in his now satiated throat.

"As I thought," Aro murmured, appearing as if from nowhere. "The wolf is still within you and craves flesh. The vampire side is much more demanding and asks for blood. Your body willingly copes, but the animal part wants something more substantial. I daresay that you will most likely limit yourself to the heart, as eating an entire body is probably not very appetizing for you.

"I'll say," John muttered. Interestingly, his eyes didn't lose their amber glow. Instead, they intensified in yellowness rather than gaining redness. Isabella decided that the tiny detail was too little to even both thinking about, and she gave up on judging them rather than judging her friend for what he really was.

By this time, Jane had called Felix to help her get rid of the body, which he gladly did. He liked the feeling of setting things on fire, apparently. Sadistic bastard, Jane thought to herself with a snort. Alec had quietly muted the once-werewolf's throat and told him to go hunt for himself in the next month, if he could curb his thirst as well as he had before. As the mood swings based on bloodlust were killed off, John's humanity shone through.

It was with more than just a hint of exasperation that the Volturi found out that John had an impish side to him that enjoyed pranking others in something they affectionately called "terrorizing". He would mercilessly tease any other guard for any tiny reason, making even the quiet guards suddenly become spitfires. Aro found it tremendously amusing. Caius found it tremendously annoying. Marcus didn't really care, as was usual.

Isabella, Jane, Alec, Demetri, and Renata found themselves bearing the brunt of the terrorizing. John had an air of sadistic mirth with them, knowing that they wouldn't respond with much more than a stinging remark or maybe a punch to the chest. He would stalk them silently from the shadows as a feral cat before pouncing on them, crushing them in a large embrace, licking their cheeks, and darting away as a sparrow as they shouted at him crossly. On more than one occasion, Isabella found him carving the chess pieces so that the kings, queens, and rooks all looked like bishops. Jane's cards would suspiciously go missing before being found carefully glued to the ceiling to spell out lewd remarks. Alec's cloak would be swept off of his shoulders and thrown over his head with blatant disregard for whatever he was doing. The guard tolerated John's trickery, if only because his pranks were admittedly too minor to even bother them.

It was with much more ease that John settled into his position in the Lower Volturi Guard.

The boy finally awoke, his eyes shining a glaring red color, much different from the previous baby blue eyes he once sported. His body ached everywhere, from his neck all the way down to his legs. The area in between them ached, but he tried not to think about what the witch had done down there. He had to remain strong.

Speaking of witches, he could see her sitting in the corner of the room, clothes ripped and covered in blood. And she was smirking. The devil in a crystallized body. The symbolic form of lust. The one deadly sin that precluded the others.

The newborn stumbled backwards away from her, his latest memories crashing into his conscious mind all at once. The tearing of the skin, the molestation, the terror, the complete fear that a woman held in her hands and played with like a toy. He shuddered to think of what happened in the time while he was unconscious and fighting the inner flames.

"Ah, ah, my little toy," the bitch whispered. He heard every word crystal clear. He could feel himself being taken over by fear again.

"Come here, toy," she commanded, and he reluctantly did so. She owned him now, didn't she? Why else would she do what she wanted with him? He should feel grateful that she wanted him, now that he was ruined. Now that his innocence had been snatched away violently with a lasting sneer. He felt almost lifeless as he struggled forward.

"Now now, you're coming too slowly, toy, a bit faster now," she instructed lightly, as though asking him to hurry with a cup of coffee. And hurry he did, stumbling over on all fours as though he were a mangy cur.

"Good boy," she cooed at him, running her hands through his hair. He shuddered and whimpered at the contact, at the burning in his throat, at his overall situation. He keened a bit more loudly when it seemed as though she didn't understand his predicament. He thirsted. He needed to satiate himself.

She tapped him on the nose lightly. "No, my little toy, you won't get anything until I get something." He shrank back again, fear filling his gaze once more. "That's not what I want. Not yet, anyhow," she said, rolling her eyes. He felt himself go complacent in despair. Would the horror ever end for him?

"You see, I have too many toys to keep calling you just that. There are just too many of you to be had, you see, and I have many pets too. It's almost like the world wanted to give me so many!" She let out a demented giggle. He was still in shock from what she had said. There were more? More that felt the same way that he did? More that were forced into the servitude, for lack of a better word?

For the first time, he felt a ray of hope. Maybe he could lead them into revolt.

Or not.

"Latest toy, I'm going to need your name. I need to be able to tell my toys apart, you see, and even though you're made slightly differently, you all look too similar for that to happen. I have my own set of clothing for you too. I'm just going to have so much fun with you! My partners like playing with you too, so I need to make sure that you're mine and not theirs, you see." She sounded like some crazed little girl as she rambled on about toys and material and having fun. He felt sick to his stomach. He silently shifted position; her hand was still possessively on his head and he had not much else he could do.

"Now, your name, toy."

His throat burned with the aridity of the Sahara. He barely managed to clear it slightly with a small cough before it filled with sand again. "I am Cooper, mistress," he managed to rumble out before the thirst took over his throat again. She looked delighted that he had called her his mistress. That was what she was now, wasn't it? She owned him now.

"Cooper." She sounded the name out on her tongue before nodding in satisfaction. "Well, Cooper, I have a little tea party that I need to make sure all of my toys are there for. I'll have so many scrumptious delights for all of you! And you can meet my other toys as well! There's Cheryl and Jenny and Scott and Ray and so many more for you to meet! There'll be enough for you to have, and even more! Really, it'll be perfect."

She stood up quickly, dragging him along with her by the hair. He towered over her by at least nine inches, but he kept his head bowed and his body bent so that he still looked up at her.

"Come, Cooper the toy, we will go and dress you up all pretty and perfect and then we will go to a tea party," Maria commanded, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the blood-soaked house with a skip in her step. "I have to change too! A lady must be presentable at the parties she hosts, right, darling Cooper?"

He nodded mutely, thinking to himself that she was the farthest from a lady possible. She was a witch that stole his life. But he couldn't say that to her, could he? She would just play with him again, and maybe more... enthusiastically.

He dumbly followed her to his doom.

"Name?"

"Whitlock."

"Mm. Age? Dee-oh-bee?"

"I'm s-err, eighteen, sir. Was born in July of forty-four."

"A young'un, are ye?"

"Yessir."

Beady eyes. They stared into the teenager's, trying to call his bluff on anything.

"I'm gonna tell it to ye straight, kid, war ain't nothin' to laugh at. Y'ain't gonna find your true love or whatever bullshit they be feedin' ye. Ye ain't gonna be savin' no maidens in distress either. Ye're gonna be killin' for the Confederacy. Ye hear?"

A short nod. Almost a staccato of a beat. "I hear you, sir."

A snort. "Ye speak like a city kid." A slight smirk, a new condescending tone. "Ye sure ye can handle the dogs o' war, kid?"

A reassured smile. "I'm certain, sir. I will not let the Confederacy down."

Another beady stare. A slight surrender with the eyes, darting down at the paper and the signed name. Jasper Whitlock. A strong name for a stronger man, it seemed.

"Well kid, welcome to th' army. Go get a gun."

"Yessir.

A crow flew around the city limits of Volterra. Not too many people saw anything wrong about this, though if some looked closely, they might have noticed the glowing golden eyes the bird sported. The vampire-turned-bird winged his way around the city once more, making sure that nothing was out of place. He did not need to feed, but he was willing to kill to protect the denizens.

Satisfied by his search, John flew back to Volturi Castle and landed mid-transformation. He stood up fully and calmly walked in, running his fingers through his windswept hair.

He abruptly nearly walked into a pole, but gracefully caught himself and walked around it.

"Smooth moves there, John," someone said from behind him. He paused and scented the air around him before smirking. "Well, Jane, it's my eyes, you see, I need to get them seen."

The other vampire rolled her eyes and snorted. "Yeah yeah, you have creepy colored eyes. Anyhow, what's up around the city? It seems louder than normal."

"Haven't you heard? They're celebrating the triumphs of a certain saint."

Jane sighed. "Is it that time already?" she asked dramatically.

John shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, looking down in Jane's general direction. She was nearly twenty centimeters shorter than him, and trying to locate where she was had always been a struggle for John. He had finally gotten used to seeing the blur of pale brown, almost blonde hair, but it had taken a while.

"Where're your siblings, Jane?" he inquired. They had planned to go out together into the fair.

She shrugged herself. "I'm actually not all that sure myself. I think Alec and Renata are off playing chess in another room. Isabella might be in her room. Who knows."

"Maybe I should go have a look-see," John said with a lazy stretch.

Jane smirked. "To do that, you'd have to know what part of the castle you're in. And from what I saw with that column just now, you don't have a single clue where you are."

John glared the best he could at her. "Thanks, Jane," he grumbled.

She gave him a radiant smile. "Any time, wolfy."

"Will you stop calling me that?" he groaned.

"Sure thing, Fido."

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

Isabella was at her piano again. She didn't know why it called her so much, nowadays, but she found herself sitting on the bench whenever she seemed to have any time to spare and she would be playing long, luxurious lines while thinking about whatever it was that was bothering her. She let the song weave around her fingers before melodiously being drawn out of the keyboard in front of her. It was all good fun to her.

John had never heard her play the piano before, and hearing her do so sparked the naissance of tears in his eyes. His mother, his oh so sweet mother, had played the piano herself. He remembered seeing her play so emotionally, with so much happiness in her dancing brown eyes. She had smiled at him as he passed by. "Hello there, son," she would say, "care to play?" He always mentally yelled at himself afterwards. He had lost his ability to learn how to play any musical instrument the day that his father threw acid into his eyes.

John stood behind Isabella timidly, watching her play with a longing burning in his eyes. Isabella glanced at him. "Hello there, John," she said, sounding distracted. "Can you play?"

The almost direct parroting of what John remembered his mother saying sent more tears into his eyes, though they would never fall. "No," he said in a surprisingly hoarse voice. "I never learned how."

Isabella nodded slightly, knowing that he could see the tiny movement. "Well, sit down. I'm going to teach you something." She stood up from the piano bench and gestured for him to sit.

He was frozen standing, staring at her with wide eyes. "Can I learn? Truly?" he challenged, pointing at his unseeing eyes. "I cannot read music, or see where the keys are, Isabella."

"That isn't what you need to play music, John," she shot back. "You need to feel the keys, not see them. You need to hear the music, not see it. I can show you a method to learn music by ear. It is much easier for our kind to do so. Come, I will show you. Sit."

John sat down numbly. Isabella hummed in approval and played one note. The middle C. "Find the key that makes that note, John."

He fumbled around for a bit, playing many keys before finally landing on the correct key. His face lit up, as though he had save the world by playing that one note on the piano. Isabella couldn't help but laugh at his expression and said, "Now, here's a simple rendition of a Classical piece." She plinked out the tune for "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You and I both know that that's a nursery rhyme sung to babies," he deadpanned.

"Well, yes, but there's this version too," Isabella said, breaking off into one of Mozart's variations on the theme. After playing for about thirty seconds, she glanced over at John, who suddenly looked much more eager to try learning the simple melody. He began searching for the notes with the right hand, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I'll get you your own piano once you master this one song. Until then, you can use this one."

John's head shot up from its bowed position over the keys. "Seriously?" he asked, looking so much more excited than she had ever seen him.

Isabella couldn't help but give him a smirk. "Where's your wagging tail, little pup? You seem like you're about to piss yourself in excitement."

John grumbled. "First your sister, now you. Why do you siblings love to tease me?"

The only response he got was a quick trill of laughter.

Days came, suns set, moons rose, and time wore on. The Southern Wars in America were noted, but not acted upon. Day in, day out, the guard did nothing more than observe what was going on around them. At times, guards were sent out to watch from afar. Most of the time, they were kept in the Castle.

It was rare for the patrols to find another vampire, but find one they did. It had been John, Lenna, and Felix who had found the unknown vampire. It was a woman, possibly in her early twenties when turned, with darker toned skin and glowing red eyes. She had seemed controlled, to say the least. She also seemed knowledgeable, so Felix politely invited her back to the Castle in hopes that she could tell Aro of what went on in the world. She politely agreed in order to stay on their good graces. An antagonized Volturi guard was the worst kind of Volturi guard.

Felix and Lenna flanked the new vampire while John stayed behind, transformed into a tiny mouse that scuttled beneath them to ward off notice. The larger vampire glanced down at the rodent, who glared back with amber eyes that seemed to snarl, Don't even think about cracking any mouse jokes. Of course, Felix couldn't resist.

"I smell a rat," he muttered to Lenna. The new vampire looked confused, but Lenna just laughed quietly. "Yes, it is a most foul trick, is it not?" she responded. Immediately, John transformed back into a human form and glared at the two other guards.

"I'll appreciate no more jokes, if you please," he grumbled before turning into a bat and flapping away.

"How very stereotypical of him," Felix muttered good-naturedly. The new vampire just decided to accept this odd, almost fun-loving side of the Volturi.

Upon entering the throne room, Aro, Caius, and Marcus looked at the new vampire curiously.

"Felix? Lenna? John? Who is this?" Marcus called out.

They bowed in unison. "Masters, this is Carmen, a nomad we found wandering in the wilds of Canada. We invited her to come back with us for a few days in hopes that she can tell us of what is happening in the world."

Aro nodded to himself before turning to Carmen. "Did you agree to this of your own free will?" he asked.

She nodded in response.

"Very well then. Lenna, if you would please show our guest into a room, that would be much obliged," Caius barked out. The guard in question gave a mocking curtsey, raised an eyebrow at the king, and swept out of the room, Carmen in tow.

"We will talk to her in the morn," Marcus rumbled to the remaining guards. "Go off now. You are dismissed."

SO YEAH COOPER IS NOT JASPER AND JUST IN CASE I SLID HIM IN HERE FOR YOU GUYS TO BE CALMED.

Until next time! VOTE ON THE POLL NOW.

~Shriayle