Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, yadda yadda.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading guys! I know it's a bit slow but it'll pick up real quick after this chapter. We have to give fledgling Beau a chance to get his feet wet, don't we? Also on a side note, this story doesn't have a beta (yet), so I apologize if there's any grammar mistakes I missed!

Rating: Mature, 18+. Death, gore and heavy romantic elements are not glazed over.


WAITING BETWEEN WORLDS

∞ Chapter 2: Blood ∞

Beau didn't open his eyes at first.

He kept his mind under lock and key, desperately holding on to the nothingness he felt. There was no excitement or giddy sensation that came with being dead, but he supposed that was still preferable to the alternative. He didn't have to think about his human life anymore and how ordinary it'd been without Edythe Cullen. He didn't have to wake up every morning and come face to face with Charlie or anyone else; there was no need for charades, to keep up the false pretense that he was fine when in reality it felt like his chest had been carved open and his heart ripped from his body. It had started to feel better this last month or two with Julie Black in his life—she was as sweet as she was stubborn, and her sense of humor had kept him… happy, though he realized now that her company was more numbing than it was healing.

Julie Black was a painkiller, anesthesia, but that wasn't going to heal his wounds in the end. Julie, like Edythe, had abandoned him. There was no explanation or reason behind it, and he was too tired to try to understand it anymore. His quick fix for incurable cancer had failed.

That was in the past now—he had no choice but to let it go. Julie Black would never see his face again as far as he was concerned. He was dead to her, just like he was dead to his father and mother, dead to everyone else in the small town of Forks, Washington.

It was almost a relief that he didn't have to think or care about anything anymore. The fire had finally left his body. He'd blacked out some time ago, the last sound he'd heard was his heart frantically racing to the finish line as the venom snuffed him out. He wondered how long Julie had stood there and kept singing her strange song of life and death. In those last few seconds he had wanted to say something to her. He'd wanted to shout at her to get away from him, that he might turn and try to kill her. He didn't understand how she didn't find his transition frightening. Although Beau had never witnessed it himself—and Edythe had made sure that Archie didn't reveal too much information regarding the transition—he couldn't imagine that it was anything normal to witness.

Then, nothing. Sweet darkness embraced him as his heart gave out. He had broken to the surface of the ocean and was now floating peacefully, his battered body giving up. The fire turned to embers, embers to ashes, and then all that was left was the dead lump of coal his body had turned into.

If this was death, he would gladly take it. No complaints here.

Time had become meaningless. How long had he been gone now - minutes, hours, or days? It already felt like it'd been an eternity, and Beau lost all sensation of time. He'd grown complacent and calm in the darkness of his afterlife.

That was probably why it was so jarring when he suddenly woke up.

Beau's eyes snapped open for all of two seconds before they snapped back shut, the light blinding in its intensity. For one wild moment he was stunned into absolute stillness: was he in heaven? Had he finally crossed over to wherever—if anywhere—he was destined to go? He'd never given much thought to religion or what happened if he died instead of turned. Charlie worshiped his Sundays away with a fishing pole in hand, and Renee, his mother, had flitted between churches off and on throughout his childhood. Her interest lasted for as long as it took the next fad to get its grip on her.

Beau dared to take in a deep breath, and then realized this was a drastic mistake. All of that warm darkness, that peaceful displacement he had felt vanished in an instant: the hunger sprung on him like a trap, its razor-like edges cutting up and down his throat. He remembered through his dim, human memories how Edythe had described the smell of blood. She had been drawn to the smell of his blood like a frenzy of sorts, a drug addict surrounded by her favorite brand of heroin. Those words had thrilled him in the past—the whole situation was (if he was being honest with himself) as erotic as it was dangerous—but now he felt nothing of the sort.

Every breath he took was like burning nails dragging down his throat and then dropping into his gut. Beau struggled to just exist in this moment, forcing himself to take in steadying breaths and desperately hoping that it would ease the hungering pain. It did nothing of the sort. All he existed for anymore was his bloodlust.

I need blood. The thought came to him naturally. He craved it, revered it.

Beau choked on his breath and opened his eyes again. The glare of light was blinding, but after a few seconds his eyes adjusted and overcame the rainbow of colors. The source of it was the sun, not some ethereal glow greeting him from heaven's gates.

There were three things he noticed a fraction of a second:

One, he was in the woods, in a place he had never seen before in his life. The trees surrounding him were hunkered and twisted, older than anything he had ever seen around his home in Forks, Washington. Ferns cropped up in clusters around the clearing he was lying in, framing a near-perfect circle around his body. It was almost protective in nature, as if whoever had brought him here had made sure no one would see him unless they were walking directly nearby.

Two, Beau was almost positive that he had been lying here for days (if not weeks). With each gasping breath came a mouthful of the scent of dirt and sweetness from the surrounding vegetation. There was no indication of Julie's presence in the clearing—it was as if she had vanished, no traces of her scent remaining. Beau felt a twisted mix of relief and anguish: the part of him that was still raw and human was relieved she wasn't around to face his hunger, and the other part of him, the vampirism—the newborn part of him that was trembling with hunger and viciously swallowing every logical thought that crossed his brain—was disappointed that she wasn't.

How long have I been lying here? He wondered, wincing as his throat constricted painfully. Where is Julie? I… couldn't have been here that long, right? He didn't know how that was possible, unless… unless Archie had lied to him about how long the transition was supposed to take, but he couldn't see any reason he would've.

Is turning different for everyone? Beau swallowed again thickly, cringing at how dry he felt on the inside.

The final thing Beau noticed was that he could move again. The second this reached his brain—which was processing what felt like a thousand things in each passing moment—he was suddenly standing. He didn't have to move so much as think about it, and then his body responded, lifting him to his feet effortlessly. It was more than just the fact that the heaviness had left his limbs: he felt weightless now, a natural-born confidence to his movements that human Beau had never experienced before in his life. He had transformed from human to vampire, sprung from the death cocoon he'd been smothered in and forced back out into the living world.

One he didn't want, not without her. Without Edythe.

"What do I do?" Beau asked no one, then shivered at the sound of his own voice. His eyes went wide—was that really his? He spoke again just to hear the warm, unfamiliar tenor of his voice.

"What should I do?"

Edythe's name hung silently on his lips.

His dead heart clenched painfully at just the thought of her name, a reminder that while he'd survived this encounter with Lauren, it was far from over. She'll be so angry when she finds out. And then suddenly it hit him like a bag of bricks: how was he supposed to find them?

The Cullens had made a point to wipe themselves off the face of the earth. It'll be like we were never here, Edythe had said, and she'd made good on her promise. The only thing that Beau had been able to find as a shred of proof to their existence was the pictures of them in his high school yearbook. He had purchased it just to make sure that he hadn't imagined them. For weeks he had obsessed over looking at their small, square pictures, reveling in how perfect they were even in those tiny snapshots, and then hating himself when he caught a glimpse of his pale, boringly human appearance in his own pictures.

He didn't have a phone number for any of them. He didn't have a single clue as to where they might've gone. And even if he could somehow stomach the smell of humans to the point of not wanting to kill them on sight, returning to the Cullen residence would do little more than remind him that they were gone. Their scents would've washed away after all these months.

And yet… that was suddenly all he wanted to do. He wanted to go back home, but not to Charlie—god, could he ever be around Charlie again? No, he wanted to go back to the Cullens, to be welcomed back with open arms now that he was just like them. Several realizations punched him in the gut all at once, each one more painful than the last: he hadn't been able to say goodbye to Charlie or his mother, and he never would. He wouldn't be able to say goodbye to his friends (though he only really had one friend in mind that concerned him). They would be searching for him just like that fateful night that Edythe had left him. On that night he'd wandered so deeply into the woods that he'd gotten lost and passed out, and the only difference between then and now was that Charlie would never find him. He would—is—dead to them, or would be, if they hadn't already given up on their search. Beau felt his heart squeezing painfully in his chest again, and it was all he could do to remain upright. He hadn't expected to feel so weak, so human and emotional after turning, but like all his other senses everything had merely become ten times more intense rather than vanishing altogether.

He was going to be sick. He didn't know what to do—return to Forks, or find some other way? Why had Lauren bitten him and then left him?

Why did Edythe leave him?

All those thoughts and feelings became secondary when he heard movement nearby. It was so faint that he thought he might've imagined it, but with every passing second it solidified in his ears. Soft footsteps were crawling through the forest nearby. It didn't sound human—how Beau knew this he couldn't be sure, he simply knew—but whatever it was had a pulse.

It had blood.

His throat burst into flames with vengeance, the pain so strong that Beau groaned, and his hands shook. His body twisted in the direction the small herd was moving and then he sprung forward into action. The world flashed around him as he sped through the forest. His feet found hidden paths among the underbrush, guiding him around the twigs and vegetation that would've alerted his prey that he was approaching. He was gasping at the air, smelling and inhaling the earth and wind until he caught the scent he was looking for.

Blood.

The herd of animals—deer most likely, though his suddenly vacant mind hardly cared what they were, just that they had a pulse—was moving just north of him. They were moving slowly now, though it wouldn't have mattered even if they were already sprinting to save their lives; they were too slow compared to him. Even when he burst into the small clearing they were passing through, and he paused for just a split second, his newborn eyes taking time to understand everything before him…they didn't stand a chance.

The deer bolted. Beau felt like he was flying across the open field after them. His mind detached from his body and he became nothing but an animal when he finally closed in on the nearest one. He grunted when his body crashed into her and they flung to the ground. She squealed wildly in his ears, and that squeal turned into a scream when his mouth found its way to her neck. He wrapped his arms tight around her chest and throat, instinct guiding him to squeeze—squeeze hard, until he felt her delicate body break in his grasp and she was silenced. His teeth ravaged against her, tearing through dirt and a thick pelt until it pierced her flesh.

Hot blood exploded in his mouth. Beau would've groaned aloud if he could manage to pull himself free from her, but he couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to. The flavor of the doe's blood wasn't anything he'd consider extravagant (though he scarcely had anything to compare it to), but it was filling, and that was all he cared about. He drank in heaves, swallowing mouthfuls until there was nothing left.

And then he killed another, and another. Each of them drained dry. Even when his body felt overbearingly full Beau couldn't bring himself to stop. The frenzy had taken over him completely, stripped him of his humanity until all that was left was hunger. It wasn't until he could practically feel the blood sloshing back and forth in his gut that he finally pulled away and fell back onto the grass.

He could think clearly again, both a blessing and a curse. He let himself sit there for what felt like hours when only minutes passed. He stared at everything in wonder, letting himself have just a moment before he had to face the choices looming ahead of him. The world had become clear to him now: clear and pristine and breathtaking. Everything was more pronounced than it used to be, as though he had been looking at life through dirty lenses when he was human. Light glinted off everything—the grass, the trees, even the glistening blood that now stained the ground—giving it an almost surreal glimmer. Dust motes danced in the air, brought to life by the heat of the sun. There was an indescribable color that he'd never seen before, a seventh shade to a spectrum that should've only had six. His human eyes hadn't been able to detect it before, but now he saw it with stark clarity. Beau had hated the green, alien world that was Washington when he'd arrived all that time ago, but now he marveled in its alien visuals.

It was only when a flurry of clouds broke over the sky and blocked the sun that he was brought back from his stupor. That sinking feeling was creeping up on him, reminding him that everything else he'd just done was secondary to what he had to decide now.

Beau considered his options carefully, breathing deeply. He could hide somewhere, possibly even here (wherever here was), until he was sure that he wouldn't be a threat to humans. As dismal of an idea as it was to make a forest his home and 'rough it', it was a very real possibility that he'd have to do just that.

The second option, though it somehow felt forbidden, was finding the Cullens and begging them to take him back. He didn't know how Edythe would receive him other than being angry over his lost humanity. She had shunned him because of his humanity. She had left him over it, which Beau painfully understood and accepted. He had been frail, unbalanced, and as prone to danger as though he were a literal magnet for it. But that shouldn't matter anymore.

That's in the past now, Beau thought, breathing deeply. The smell of animal blood was starting to become unpleasant. The only excuse she has now is that she never wanted me to begin with, and that couldn't possibly be true. If she hadn't cared about him in the slightest Beau knew he would've died a long, long time ago.

As pathetic as this was, it gave Beau the first real feeling of warmth since waking up (apart from the blood he'd just gorged on).

Grimacing at the blood and dead carcasses around him—was he supposed to do something with them? Edythe had never specified… she had been horrified at the idea of him watching them hunt—he sprung to his feet. His sneakers squelched as he walked, just as saturated in blood as the rest of him.


Days passed, and with them so did his patience.

He hadn't taken a single breath in almost two hours. Beau didn't dare to, not this close to civilization. He'd been practicing for the last few days, but no matter how many times (or how long) he managed to resist the urge to breathe, he still couldn't get used to the uncomfortable sensation that came with it. His lungs felt oddly deflated with no air in them, like two empty balloons were hanging uselessly inside his chest. What was worse was the lack of scent. He couldn't smell his surroundings anymore, something he'd now come to rely on as second nature.

"In and out," Beau muttered by accident, a knee-jerk reaction when he'd spotted the first sign of human life: a dingy green sign that announced he was entering Clallam Bay. He had officially returned to the human world. Small mistakes—whispers of encouragement and restraint that he kept feeding himself—kept escaping until finally he could scarcely feel any oxygen in his lungs.

And by that time he'd already stepped foot into Clallam Bay, and there was no going back as far as he was concerned. It was a small, struggling town, making Forks look grand by all comparisons. Beau would've overlooked Clallam Bay entirely if not for the rumbling sound of a semi-truck passing by. He wasn't ready to be around humans, Beau knew that, but he couldn't stand it anymore. If Edythe wanted to chide him for his irresponsibility, then he would take it in stride.

A quiet, small part of him still wondered if he would manage to find her. He didn't want to consider the possibility that he might be on his own for months if not years before he found a trace of their existence again.

It wasn't just the uncertainty of his future that was getting to him, it was everything else: the loneliness, the emptiness.

No matter how full of life the Olympic northwest range was, it starved him of company to the point that Beau had taken to talking to himself. Only his thoughts kept him company otherwise; and there was no break from his worries, fears, and the hunger that sprung up on him at every turn. It was driving him mad, this guilt and fear that came with his new life. Everything was made worse by the steady rainfall since he'd awoken, something else he hadn't anticipated. A vicious storm had swept over Neah Bay and soaked him to the bone, and he hadn't been able to shake it since. The cold didn't bother him but the wetness did. Being perpetually wet had drowned what little spirit he had left. His clothes were soaked, too, not just from the rain but also blood-stained from his sloppy feeding. He'd been forcing himself to hunt almost every day now, too paranoid to take any chances.

He wanted to be prepared for when he smelled a human the first time.

As the days passed, Beau slowly solidified a plan of action: he would use Clallam Bay as his first test. If he could withstand breathing (and thus withstand being near humans) then he could make the trip south back home. He also desperately needed new clothes, not just to get rid of the blood but to finally feel normal again. He was tired of his shirt and jeans clinging to him like a second skin, and his shoes were battered to hell and back.

Unfortunately, new clothes meant going into town, which meant surrounding himself with humans.

Beau knew without a doubt he'd kill someone if he wasn't careful.

It was nighttime when he stumbled onto the edge of Clallam Bay. He shied away from getting too close, deciding to take baby steps as he observed from a distance. There was only one street through the town and four small stores. The buildings were dilapidated and looked on the verge of collapsing. Tacky hand-made signs hung outside the stores with the store names written in bright red and black. Beau froze each time he saw a human, his muscles clenching in anticipation of his sudden loss of control… and each time passed mercifully, his clean record kept intact. When he saw an elderly man finally step out of a small store called Compass Rose Gear & Gifts, he decided to take his chance. The man finished locking up the store and then trudged towards his truck. It kicked to life with a rumble and then sped off, swerving down the small road to wherever hole-in-the-wall he lived.

Beau didn't risk waiting for another green light. A small whisper of caution pressed in on him when a few men slogged into the bar across the street, but Beau kept moving, refusing to let his resolve wane. They weren't paying any mind to the dark store across street. They moved sluggishly and were laughing loudly, already intoxicated before they started their round at the bar. It was dark and late, and if he crossed paths with anyone now, he'd just have to face fate head-on.

He was silent as he glided from the trees towards the Compass Rose. Beau couldn't stop looking around him, his eyes continuously drawn to the bar. He chalked up his paranoia to feeling on edge without the security of smell. Once he was at the entrance of Compass Rose, time seemed to speed up.

The lock broke with ease, and no alarms triggered when he stepped inside the dingy store. Even though it was dark inside he managed to wrangle himself through the tiny isles until he found what he was looking for: a hiking backpack. He ripped it from the wrack and threw some clothes into the bag, including a pair of sturdy-looking boots.

He didn't let the guilt of stealing get to him—he'd already resolved he would pay the man back someday (and then some) but right now Beau had to focus on the here and now if he was going to keep his sanity in check. He shoved a pair of socks into the bag before quickly making his way back towards the exit.

It was when he went outside that everything went to hell.


Standing before him was a teenage boy with crudely cut black hair and warm, coppery skin. Beau's mind splintered in several directions simultaneously:

Get out of here. Get out of here. Get out of here.

…but what if he remembers my face?

Act natural—respond like a human would.

Why didn't I notice him? Sure, I can't smell him, but I didn't hear a single footstep—

Get out! Get out!

"Who are you?"

He was about to split—just run, let the kid think that he was a figment of his imagination (Beau was making a point to ignore the fallacies of his plan, such as the obvious signs of break-in and missing items that couldn't be imagined away)—but the question caught him off guard. Most people would've demanded to know what he was doing, not who he was.

His hesitation was enough to feed the kid enough courage to step closer. A measly ten feet separated them. Beau watched, transfixed, as he had the audacity to move to stand in the doorway, blocking his exit. It would be so easy to just knock him aside and rush past him, and yet…

"I—I know you can hear me," the boy fumbled in his courage, as if he had finally noticed something off about him. Good, Beau thought—no, begged. Just leave. Step aside and let me leave.

"Who are you?" The kid repeated.

Beau finally looked at him. Really looked. He was immediately reminded him of Julie, another unexpected blow. He couldn't have been older than fourteen, fifteen maybe. Despite how brave he was trying to look, his full cheeks and the gentle curve of his jaw gave away his true age. He was wearing a black tank top and jean shorts in the dead of winter, something that stood out as strange in his mind.

Beau took a step forward, hoping that whoever this kid was would catch on to the fact that he was dangerous. Beau didn't dare open his mouth and breathe in to speak. That was a last resort.

I won't kill anyone. He resolved. I promised I wouldn't kill anyone. If Carine could do it, so can I.

He refused to kill anyone, least of all some teenager from La Push. Even if he never intended to see Julie again, Beau didn't think he could live with the guilt of knowing he murdered someone from her tribe. He took another step forward, and another, and finally the kid seemed to get the point. He took one hesitant step back, but otherwise held firm. It seemed whatever human gene that instilled a sense of self-preservation was missing from this kid.

"Listen, my mom's across the road at the bar."

He's lying. Beau heard the spike in his pulse. But there was something to his words that held a partial truth, as if he had already told someone he was here. Beau remained mute, staring back into the boy's bright brown eyes.

"All it'll take is one shout and everyone will come running to see what's going on." His brave words didn't match the quiver in his voice, nor did it match the way his entire body had started to shake. There was something off about this, too. The way he was shaking was… abnormal. It wasn't so much like he was in fear as something else—and that something made the hair along his arms and back start to raise in warning.

Maybe there was something wrong with him. Beau remembered joking to Edythe about how there had to be something wrong with his brain if she couldn't hear his thoughts. Maybe now that he was a vampire, that same wrongness had crossed over. Except this time, it had manifested into something that was broken.

What am I still doing here? This boy wasn't a threat. Beau looked past him towards the dark abyss. His escape was waiting for him. He'd made a mistake coming here, and he wasn't going to allow it to be the ruin of him.

Beau took a chance and ran for it, and that was when the night took another awful, unexpected turn.

In all of three seconds the entire world was flipped on its head.

The boy jumped back, allowing him out of the Compass Rose and into the night. Just as Beau was picking up pace and heading like a bat out of hell for the forest, the sound of clothes splitting—ripping so loud that it forced him to jerk back and look over his shoulder to see what was happening—followed by the heaving sounds of harsh, loud panting flooded the air.

Standing in the place of the boy was a sandy-colored wolf. It was larger than any wolf he'd ever seen before, almost the size of a small horse. It was growling viciously at him, its entire body trembling from head to toe just like the boy had been.

He turned into the wolf! Beau's jaw went slack. He jerked back and drew in a ragged breath, forgetting everything he had planned. Everything he had worked so hard to preserve had become second thought to the threat that stood before him now.

He heard himself shout: "What the hell?"

And then it lunged for him.

Beau swerved to the right, his vampire vision struggling to keep up with the movement. Not only was it bigger than any wolf he'd seen but it was faster, too. He had to focus hard, forcing himself to ignore the wonderful, horrible, painful smells clogging up his throat and lungs. He smelled human: body odor and fluids, perfumes and cologne, along with the heavy smell of whiskey and other liquors. None of it was spared from him, especially not the wolf before him.

Just as Beau feared, he could smell the blood pounding through the wolf-boy's body… and it made his stomach curdle in displeasure at the scent alone. It was the only thing that kept himself grounded in place and stopped him from charging straight across the road to the bar, where a room full of humans were innocently unaware as to the chaos unfolding outside.

The wolf's paws dug deep into the ground before it swung back around to face him and charged again, growling and snapping at the air. Beau was ready this time. He tracked him carefully and, just as it lunged towards him—its bright white fangs gleaming in the darkness—he pivoted and gracefully dodged its attack. And then he ran, and he didn't stop.

He didn't know what was going on or how any of this was possible, but he had to leave, and he had to leave now.

Just as he broke into the forest, he heard them sounding off: howls in the distance. They were far enough away to not be an immediate concern, but that hardly mattered when he could hear the wolf behind him barreling through the woods after him.


The water exploded when he landed in it. Beau lunged forward, dragging his legs through the water as quickly as he could go. He propelled himself forward whenever he was able to get a grip on the slippery rocks. All around him the forest was wild with noise: branches snapping, bushes crushing and smashing to the ground as the chaotic hunt continued. The wolves were snarling and growling. Beau could make out the sound of their fangs grinding as they snapped and bit at the air.

It'd taken only a matter of twenty, maybe thirty minutes before the others had joined the first wolf.

Beau had caught a glimpse of a black wolf leading the charge, but the bulk of them—how many he couldn't tell, maybe four? Five?—were further behind.

What are they? They couldn't be normal wolves, and shapeshifter seemed too lenient of a term to describe their ferocity. Beau cringed at the term werewolf, but it was the only thing that made sense.

Werewolves in Forks. Vampires in Forks. What else had Edythe hidden from him? Witches? Mummies?

Beau's mind was in a frenzy. Instinct kept him running. He could feel his muscles pulsating as they soaked up the blood to keep him fueled. He didn't know how much longer he could do this—not that he was tired, but Beau didn't know when it would stop, and he couldn't just keep running forever.

Twice the sandy-colored wolf had gotten too close to him, snapping and lunging at his side. He'd gotten braver as his pack had closed in, and Beau knew he had to act. He might've been able to handle one of them, but if he didn't find a way to deter an entire pack from chasing him then it would quickly be over. When he had leapt across a large river and the wolf followed close behind him, he'd turned and struck the beast hard across his right shoulder. A sickening crack! told him he'd struck home. Beau didn't turn to watch as it struck the ground and went still, whining and whimpering from the pain.

For some bizarre reason he couldn't even begin to fathom, the painful noises struck a chord of guilt inside him.

The pack had splintered after that, several of them flanking behind to look after the injured one while two others pursued him. They followed him further south until he'd lost track of where he was, and it wasn't until he struck water again that an idea finally formulated in his mind. He rode the water, using the distance he'd placed between him and his hunters to trail along it as far as he could. If he could just get rid of his scent—mix it with the water, or wash it away—then he might stand a chance.

The only problem was how slow he moved this way.

He dragged and ran, jumping when he could, and for the first time since his new life had started, he felt relief when the first crack of thunder roared overhead. Almost immediately a heady gust of wind and hard sheets of rain attacked the earth. The water snapped against him and bit at his skin, almost like it was as angry as the wolves that he might actually get away.

He could hear his pursuers a short distance away; they were finally starting to slow down. It gave Beau a glimmer the glimmer of hope he needed to keep going.

And then for some unfathomable reason, the wolves stopped following him altogether. It was too abrupt not to make Beau pause, his eyes raking along the dark trees suspiciously.

Why did they stop? He doubted they had lost track of him completely.

Beau came to an absolute standstill after pulling himself free from the river. The backpack he'd stolen hung heavy down his shoulders, all the clothes and goods he'd taken just as wet as the rest of him. He stared long and hard, every shadow of movement making his teeth grind in anticipation. He didn't dare to move for fear of attracting his hunters again. He took short, quick breaths, only because he wanted to smell them if they were trying to sneak up on him—

But nothing. Absolute quiet, save for the howling rain and gurgling river.

Not trusting his luck to stay for long, Beau moved slowly, turning away from the river to face what he assumed would be another long stretch of forest. If he hadn't already been so alert, he might've missed the faint light poking through the trees.

Suddenly he recognized where he was. Now that he wasn't running for his life, all the little details he'd missed sharpened into vision. He could make out the gentle curve of the river he'd just escaped. Before him was a small hillside and two clusters of trees; a narrow path separated them, one that he'd taken often during his visits in the past. The path was overtrodden with bushes and vegetation now, but the packed, exposed dirt stuck out to him. He knew it would lead further into another clearing where an enormous house stood. He pictured in his head the glass walls that framed the side of the house nearest him. He remembered how, if one stood on the balcony of the third floor, you could see the very river that he was standing beside now.

It was the Cullen residence.

Beau exhaled sharply, hands shaking from pure adrenaline.

His footsteps were silent as he made his way up the path, pushing aside the overgrowth. The faint light grew brighter and brighter, coaxing him forward as if it had placed an enchantment over him.

They're back. The smile on his face felt foreign, almost painful. Archie saw me—they saw me and they came back!

He stepped into the clearing and simply stared. It was everything he remembered and then some. The multi-car garage was open, revealing a black Mercedes. He'd never been a car guy, but the sheer happiness he felt at the sight of Carine and Earnest's car was indescribable. It was only their car that he saw, but it hardly mattered.

They were home. He was home.

The lights were on in the first floor, but the heavy curtains kept him from making out anything else. He saw glimpses of a pair of shadows moving.

Exhilarated—not an ounce of fear left from his pursuit—he glided across the lawn towards the porch. The air smelled cool and pleasant for a change, and he realized in amazement that what he was smelling was vampire. Where the werewolves smell had made his stomach twist in disgust, like he was getting a strong whiff of wet dog, the smell of his kin had the opposite effect.

Beau reached for the door, but it opened before he had a chance to grab it.

A man stood before him. Tall, lean, wearing a white button-up shirt with collared wrists that were neatly pressed. He had on black slacks and polished shoes. If not for his scent, Beau would've been able to easily tell he was vampire due to his abnormally pale skin and dark golden eyes. His hair was bright blond and neatly combed back. Behind him, Beau spotted another vampire, a woman. Her body was mostly hidden behind his tall frame, but he could make out the soft, dark brown curls that draped around her kind face. She was looking at him curiously, a gentleness to her face that he recognized… and didn't.

He had no idea who these people were.

"Hello there," the male spoke first, his voice kind but intent as his eyes took in his disheveled state. "I didn't realize we were expecting company, especially not so late of an hour."

"Sorry, I—I thought that—" Beau exhaled in shock, glancing from one unfamiliar face to the next. Who were these people? "I was coming to see the Cullen family. I saw their lights on and I thought… well I thought that they might've been home."

For a moment both sides became intensely silent, until finally the vampire offered him another friendly (if not slightly confused), smile.

"Then you've come to the right place," he said gently.

Beau stared at him in confusion.

"My name is Carlisle Cullen, and this is my wife, Esme."


[End Chapter]

*prays you guys enjoyed it*

Special thanks to:
- DxGRAYxMAN
- Guest
- sentinel10

Your guys reviews were very much appreciated!

~Ephi