A/N: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only making her characters do my bidding for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Sorry for the late update guys! RL reared its ugly head and then there was Thanksgiving (I hope you all had a great one), and it just didn't happen until now. In light of that, I will get on to what you really want and do my typical AN stuff at the bottom.

oOo

Tuesday, December 15th, 2080

JPOV

It was nine o'clock in the morning, and the guys and I—sans Carlisle—were headed home.

Son of a bitch! I cursed internally.

We were two miles out from the house, and Bella's scent was prominent. It wasn't supposed to be. She was supposed to be at school. I was supposed to have more time to get my shit together before I had to face her. I needed more time, but of fuckin' course, she ruined that. Didn't she always? And why was she home instead of at school? I wasn't the only one who wondered.

And yet, as much as I was dreading it, I was also excited to see her. I didn't want to be, but I was, and I was more okay with that than I thought I'd be. That didn't mean I was ready for it, but there was nothing that could be done. God, I was nervous.

We walked through the door and headed to the living room where her scent and the sound of the TV told us she was, each of us needing to sate our curiosity. Bella was snuggled into the couch, settled back so the cushions practically swallowed her, her feet propped on the coffee table, remote held close to her chest so she could tangle her fingers in the chain of her phoenix pendant, hugging a pillow to her middle with her other arm and watching a rerun of Supernatural. She was dressed in a thin tank top and short shorts that seemed entirely too skimpy for the chilly weather—even in the heated house, and the sight of her bare legs drew me in. I almost groaned out loud; my dick liked that image very much. Then I saw her face, and any physical desire I felt died, again replaced with the concern everyone else felt as well.

Bella looked exhausted, haggard and more haunted than usual. She even looked a little sick. Her normally perfect, peaches and cream skin held a pale but mildly greenish pallor I found alarming, and the circles under her eyes were as bad as mine after not having fed for just over two weeks. Not only that but she looked utterly drained and not in a physical way. It was an emotional sort of exhaustion that plagued her, and I hated it. Every reservation I'd had about seeing her before I was ready disappeared from my brain at the sight of her like this. All that existed now was the need to make it better. Grudgingly, or maybe not—I couldn't decide—Bella was my girl even if she wasn't. It was my job to fix whatever was wrong.

Peter, Edward and Emmett collapsed on the sofas while I plopped into an armchair, all in desperate need of showers since we were covered in dirt, mud, random forest debris, and blood from our hunt. When it was just us guys, we got dirty and didn't give a fuck about it … because we're guys. We were all too curious and worried about Bella's absence from school to make the effort yet, and Esme would have a shitfit if she caught us on her white sofas right now. It was a good thing she wasn't here.

"Whatcha doin' home, Punk?" Peter asked before anyone else could. I kind of liked his nickname for her. It was just so utterly him and her.

Bella shrugged noncommittally and grinned at him, but it was hollow and didn't reach her eyes. She looked like she had during our history project on the 2012 terrorist attacks, like she was just barely holding it together despite that contradictory expression. "I'm exercising my loose, questionable morals and returning to my juvenile delinquent roots. A girl can only live on the straight and narrow for so long before she goes certifiable from the boredom. You, of all people, should know this."

Peter grinned back, and her response had Emmett and Edward smiling too. It would have had me smiling if I wasn't so concerned. I forced a grin on my face anyway.

"You are absolutely correct," he agreed and Emmett eagerly nodded to show he believed so too. "Skippin' school is the best you got though? That's disappointing, Punk."

Bella shrugged again. "This town has limited options. It was either that or streaking down all five feet of Main Street. Forgive me if I'm averse to nudity in this weather."

Despite my worry, I could picture it. Her smooth, bare skin flushed with exertion, illuminated by the dull sunlight, which didn't do it justice but highlighted it enough for decent admiration. The curve of her perfect ass that I liked to imagine would fit perfectly in my hands. Her breasts, with puckered nipples from the cold and the excitement of adrenaline pumping through her veins, bouncing as she darted down the street were making me want to pull those tightened buds between my lips and suck until she writhed and moaned for me. Her hair flying in the wind and eyes alight with exhilaration and a secret smile that screamed, "Catch me if you can." Then rain began to pour down in this little fantasy of mine, water beading on that gorgeous skin of hers and trailing down, down, down to secret places I had always wanted to go; me and no one else. I bit back a groan. It was a good thing I was sitting down. Otherwise, I would have found myself in a really fuckin' embarrassing and awkward situation. My cock was so hard at those images that it hurt, standing at attention like a good soldier, a locked and loaded weapon that was impossible to conceal. Then again, it would have been impossible no matter what.

Focus, Jasper! I demanded of myself. Now is not the time for this shit!

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling forcefully and taming my erection through sheer force of will.

"You've never lacked for creativity before, Bellaroo," Emmett commented, bemused. "You've always appreciated that, despite its pathetic size, Forks is a veritable cornucopia of mischief in the making."

Bella didn't respond to Emmett's statement or to yet another of his attempts to christen her with a nickname. As it turned out, when I reopened my eyes, it was because she was staring at me with an unreadable look on her face, but her eyes were no different. They were still exhausted, still bone tired, still haunted more than usual. Then she did something I didn't expect, but didn't she always? She whipped an object out from underneath the pillow she had braced across her middle that I couldn't quite register, obscured as it was by her palm, and hurled it at me with surprising speed, speed that surpassed that of what a seventeen year-old girl should have, but then, I wasn't exactly an expert on seventeen year-old girls.

"Heads up," Bella warned almost too late, but she knew I would catch it—vampire reflexes and all. It didn't occur to me that I might have let it thwack me in the forehead just to make her laugh. I would do anything to make her laugh right now.

But I did catch it. I did it without thought and bent to examine what she'd thrown at my head. Why was it always my head? Why couldn't my shoulder or my gut be the target? It's not like it would hurt less if it hit those places rather than my head. It wouldn't hurt at all nor would anything ever actually hit me, but it was still fuckin' annoying that my forehead seemed to have a bullseye on it.

I frowned and cocked a brow at her.

"I stole your baseball," she said blandly.

"I can see that," I responded slowly, unable to muster an appropriate amount of annoyance. This baseball was a prized possession of mine, signed by Babe Ruth and played in a landmark game of his. It had cost me a small fortune, and I kept it in a glass case for a reason. "Why?"

Bella shrugged, her face impassive, and pointed to herself. "Juvenile delinquent with loose, questionable morals." When I didn't appear to be amused by this, she took on a more serious but still impassive air. "Because I could," she replied, "and because I was bored." Then her eyes filled with mischief that didn't entirely erase the other emotions in them and she smirked. "It's not valuable, is it?"

I snorted and glowered for a moment. She knew perfectly fuckin' well it was, but I decided it didn't matter. The baseball was just a thing. She was more important even if she was trying her best to rankle me.

"No," I answered, voice heavy with sarcasm. "Not at all. It's only a legendary piece of baseball history. It isn't worth a dime."

Her smirk transformed into a smug grin. "I had to find some way to annoy you even if you weren't here for me to do so in person. It is my favorite pastime after all. Did it work?"

"Of course it is," I groused with irritation I didn't feel. This was what she wanted, to instigate shit between us, just not the serious kind ... I hoped. I wouldn't let it go far. Neither of us needed a fight, not the stress or the drama. We were both too tired and fucked up.

"Come on, Whitlock," she complained. "You know it's yours too, so get with the program!" She snapped her fingers at me in a way I would have found grating, insulting and condescending in any other situation, and if it was anyone else, I would have snapped those fingers clean off. "This is the part where we engage in taunts disguised as witty banter and keep at it until one of us admits defeat. That person gets gloating rights, and then the process starts all over again to even the score. You can't resist a challenge or this little game of ours. You know you love it." She got up from her seat on the couch and made her way over to me, leaning forward to rest her palms on the armrests of my chair so her face was very close to mine. Our eyes locked and the world fell away, as I was now so familiar with, and I wanted to kiss her. I wondered what she would do if I did. Would she let me? Would she kiss me back? No, she'd probably slap the shit out of me, but that would be a good thing. It would knock me out of this ridiculous stupor ... hopefully. "Come on, Whitlock," she repeated with even more persuasive provocation, her voice silky, sexy and nearly enough to make my eyes roll back in my head at the sound. Venom rushed back to my groin, and I hoped she didn't glance at my lap. "Give in. You want to. I can see it. Play with me."

Fuckin' hell! the Major and I groaned in unison.

Son of bitch! he cursed. She's tryin' to kill us, Jasper. Why is she tryin' to kill us?

I wish I knew, I replied. I wish to God I knew.

She really has no idea what she does to us, does she? he asked in disbelief and bemusement.

No, she doesn't have a fuckin' clue, I said. And she has no idea how suggestive some of the shit that comes out of that pretty mouth of hers is.

Of all the women we could have fallen in love with ..., the Major grumbled.

No shit, I agreed, but there was no irritation there. Both of us were more resigned to it than anything else. We had tried to fight our feelings for her since we met her. It hadn't worked. Might as well accept that we were fucked, even if we didn't like it.

I swallowed hard, the burn in my throat making it almost unbearably dry, but that was the last thing on my mind. Bella was my primary focus, so much so that I only vaguely registered the snickers of my brothers as they witnessed this little interaction between me and the girl they now knew I loved. I would get so much shit for this later! I mean, play with me? Seriously? Come the fuck on! Still those thoughts hardly penetrated my consciousness.

I just stared at her, speechless. Honestly, how was I supposed to respond to that? A couple of weeks ago, I would have been able to hurl a smartass comeback at her, but right now? I had nothing.

Bella regarded me expectantly for several moments, and when I didn't react in any way aside from stunned silence, she pulled back and offered an indifferent shrug; only her eyes were anything but. "Suit yourself."

Then she backed away and sauntered out of the room, hips and ass swaying in a way that had my eyes riveted to her and nearly squirming in my seat as she made her way upstairs. The sound of her footsteps indicated she was headed to her bedroom.

Once she was far enough away, Emmett, Edward and Peter all burst out laughing—all out hysterical laughing.

"Play with me, Jasper," they teased incessantly in high-pitched voices that were poor imitations of Bella's, though not in unison. "Play with me!"

I scowled and shot to the couch Bella had just vacated, keeping my baseball in one hand and lobbing pillows at them in rapid succession with the other. They didn't even try to block them. They were laughing too fuckin' hard.

"Play with me!"

"Ha ha," I snapped, and now I was irritated. "Shut it, assholes!"

"Play with me, Jasper," they continued to taunt and cackle as if this was the most hilarious thing ever, and now it was my turn to retreat upstairs. I was not in the mood for their shit for so many reasons, my concern over Bella not the least of them.

My feet carried me to her room without thought. I knew I should stay away from her, but I decided, what the hell? If was going to catch hell for this shit, I might as well play.

Her door was cracked open, and I pushed it aside to find her sitting Indian-style in the center of her bed, her elbows propped on her knees and back hunched as she rested her head in her hands, fingers buried in her hair with the stuffed horse I'd given her for her birthday perched in her lap. That pleased me and made me feel oddly warm, but I forgot about that when I noticed that her shorts had ridden up especially high on her thighs, high enough to make venom pool in my mouth and feel an entirely different kind of warmth. I swallowed it back and ignored that the way she was hunched over provided an excellent view down her skimpy tank. She wasn't wearing a bra. She was torturing me.

Not just you, the Major piped up, agonized.

I propped my shoulder against the door frame and crossed my arms over my chest, baseball still clutched in one fist, and my feet at the ankles as I watched her. I couldn't tell if she knew I was there until she raised her eyes to me. There was no surprise in them as she took me in.

"Can you not lurk in my doorway like a jackass?" she requested, eyes widening as she took in my stance. There was supposed to be bite to her voice but it didn't come across. She was too tired for it to be sincere. She also looked unnaturally disturbed. "Either come in my room or don't. Lingering like a creeper is not cool, Jasper."

And then she looked away again, so I passed through her door and shut it behind me.

God forbid we act like a jackass or a creeper, the Major mocked with uneasy amusement. He was worried about her, too.

I ignored him for the moment, dragging her desk chair to the side of her bed and positioning it a couple of feet from the edge before I dropped into it and rested my own elbows on my knees. The baseball was held firm between my tented hands as I perched my chin on the scarred, knotted surface I'd made with my fingers and continued to watch her. Now that I was here, I had no idea what to say, which didn't exactly surprise me, so I waited for her to speak again. I somehow knew it might be a while.

Absently, I noted that my stomach was a little more settled in her presence, but the nausea was still there, still strong enough that I wouldn't be able to keep anything down if I tried.

It was a solid minute before Bella acknowledged I was there again. With a sigh and a squeeze of her scalp, she brought her gaze to mine. "Despite what I said downstairs, which I only did because I hoped it would distract me, I didn't steal your baseball to piss you off. I was careful with it. I promise."

I took a moment to process this, not sure what to make of her revelation or how I felt about it. "Then why did you steal it?"

She stared at me, unblinking, for several beats before she shrugged and answered, "Because it's yours, and ..." She trailed off abruptly but didn't avoid my gaze. When she continued, I knew she didn't finish the thought she'd begun. It made me wonder what the rest of that first thought was, but I knew I would never find out. "You're mad."

It was a direct statement said with no doubt, but if there was one thing I was certain of in that moment, it was that I wasn't angry and nothing about me advertised otherwise.

"I'm not," I told her honestly. "Confused, maybe, but not mad."

Bella frowned and the cutest little crinkle formed between her eyebrows.

Pussy, the Major sneered with disgust.

My smirk was internal, and the question I asked next wasn't really a question. You think it's cute too, don't you?

Yes! he admitted almost pathetically, and with a groan of self-hatred. Love sucks! It turns us into a downright mushy bastard. I don't like it.

Neither do I, I agreed. But that crinkle is still cute.

Yes, he said again, with less reluctance and another groan.

"But I can see that you are," Bella protested earnestly. "Your eyes … they're black."

A gust of air escaped my lungs as I thought about how to handle what had now turned into what I considered a situation. How to explain this? I couldn't waver on it for too long or she might think that whatever I came up with was just to blow smoke up her ass.

"A vampire's eyes turn black for more reasons than anger, Bella," I decided on.

Her expression turned expectant, a prompt without words.

"Hunger," I elaborated, being purposely but not obviously vague. Technically, I should have said thirst since vampires didn't actually eat, but for my intentions, hunger fit better. A person—or vampire in this instance—could hunger for more than one thing: food or in my case, blood, and sex.

They were the preeminent things that came to mind, and since I chose not to specify, I wasn't lying to her. I really couldn't tell her lust turned our eyes black just as easily as being thirsty did. Bella was too goddamn smart, and my eyes had been black around her for that reason too many times to count. Though it was generally intermingled with anger, it was true; and the fact remained that it was likely she would figure out more than I wanted her to.

Her frown made a reappearance, and so did that damn adorable little crease, both deeper this time.

Son of a bitch! the Major cursed for the both of us at the sight.

"But you just went hunting," she said, bewildered. "Didn't you eat, or drink rather?"

I gave her a half-assed, lopsided smile I knew didn't reach my eyes and shrugged. "Nothin' I came across was particularly appetizing."

Her frown and that damnable crinkle deepened even further, and she scooted across her bed until she was perched precariously on its edge, reaching out to run the pad of her soft thumb over the dark purple skin beneath my right eye. As difficult as it was to do, I didn't let my lids flutter shut at her gentle touch, just held her gaze. But Bella wasn't really looking at me, even though she was staring into my eyes. It was more that she was seeing me in a different light now that she had this new information; I wondered if it somehow changed things, though I didn't know in what ways it might.

The pulsing electricity of her skin on mine filtered from the minuscule points of contact of her fingertips on my cheek and down throughout my body, filling me with peace and desire and need ... to touch her, maybe even to hold her, to chase away whatever waking nightmare she needed distracting from. I didn't know how to do the last without doing the first two, so I did none of them.

"What's wrong, Bella?" I asked. Words were all I had, all I could offer. I should have removed her hand from my face, but I couldn't. Not yet. "Why do you need a distraction?"

Her hand dropped and I missed it immediately. "I had a dream about you a couple of weeks ago."

She was surprised she'd told me this. I could tell, but it wasn't precisely without purpose on her part. It was her attempt at evasion.

I pushed that aside for now. My curiosity had strengthened so much at her words that it was easy enough. What could she have dreamt about me? Was it absolutely terrible that I hoped it was erotic?

Nope, the Major assured me.

"You did?" I asked, attempting to sound as though I wasn't shocked or affected by her admission.

"Yes," she admitted ruefully, a bitter smile twisting her pretty mouth.

"What about?" I tossed the baseball to lighten the mood a little. She looked uncomfortable despite her evasion tactic, and the urge to alleviate that discomfort was too strong to ignore. Since the Major hadn't given me shit for it, I presumed he didn't mind my moment of weakness. He was just as eager to hear her answer as I was, and that probably had something to do with why.

"Nothing worth repeating, though you did happen to lurk in my doorway precisely the same way as you did a few minutes ago," she answered, hand shooting out to snatch the baseball out of the air before I could catch it myself, again with that seemingly unnatural speed. I didn't comment, only stole it back when she tossed it herself. It made her smile, so mission accomplished on the mood lightening front.

"Okay," I said. It explained why she'd looked disturbed when she saw me standing there but it gave me nothing else, and I was mildly disappointed she wasn't going to share any of the pertinent details of her dream with me. "Is that why you're upset?"

Bella scowled at me and fisted her hands in her comforter until her knuckles went white. "I'm not upset!" she retorted with annoyance and narrowed eyes. "I'm not thrilled you invaded my unconscious hours since you're already such an irritating part of my waking ones, but contrary to popular belief, not everything that bugs me is about you. You're not that special."

It was very difficult not to point out that she'd just admitted she thought I was special, but I didn't think she would appreciate that. "Fine, you're not upset, but you are bugged. Why?"

"I just ..." She seemed at a loss as to how to explain, and I felt for her. How often were the words out of reach for me? How often could I never explain what I felt or even figure out how I felt despite that I should have known because of my gift? "I can't shut my brain off. It's a little like when we had that project on the terrorist attacks of 2012."

It was just as I'd suspected, just as I'd feared. The only thing I could think to do was what I'd done last time. "Scoot over," I commanded nonchalantly.

Her puzzlement was clear on her face but she obeyed, and I hauled myself out of her desk chair and onto her bed, settling on my back and stretching my hand in the space between us. Bella followed suit, careful to keep two feet of distance between us before she reached over and grasped my hand in hers, stuffed horse clutched to her chest. The contact elicited a sigh of relief from us both.

I wasn't shocked when she fell asleep. I knew that if I could feel her emotions, her exhaustion would only compound my own—impossible as that was supposed to be. I was even glad as I heard her breathing slow and saw her body relax into the mattress so much that her grip on my hand began to loosen. It meant she had a respite from whatever was torturing her. I just hoped she didn't have a nightmare this time.

I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me when she drifted across the space between us to curl into my side exactly as she had done the last time. How she draped herself over me, twined her legs with mine and rested her hand on my chest with the stuffed horse wedged between us. The way she snaked the other beneath my back and buried her face in the crook of my shoulder, her soft little nose pressed to my skin and warm breath driving me insane. And yet, it did surprise me because she was always doing that, always catching me off guard. I may not like being caught off guard, nor the uneasy feeling it left me with, but I sure as hell could appreciate how it felt to have her in my arms, and I basked in the warmth of her unconscious need to have me hold her.

God, she feels good, the Major mused thoughtfully, for once not sounding like a total dick. Bella had that effect on him apparently. It was odd and kind of disturbing, but I didn't mind.

Yes, she does.

I probably should have disentangled her from me, but she seemed peaceful in my arms, and I was peaceful with her there. For the first time since I left Louisville, the chaos in my head was easing up and I felt like I could breathe—metaphorically speaking. There were many things I couldn't have with this beautiful human girl, many things I would not allow myself to, but I would let myself have this: this peace, this quiet, this ... anchor. It was only for a little while. A little while wouldn't hurt.

oOo

Bella stayed asleep for much longer than she had the last time—three hours instead of just over one. Unlike the last, however, she didn't freak the fuck out when she woke to find herself wrapped around me. She didn't startle and scramble out of my arms and across the bed; she simply stayed there, snuggled into me, breathing against my neck and drawing little circles on my chest with her fingers, though I doubted she knew she was doing it. She didn't seem to mind how tightly I was holding her, one arm resting along the small of her back and the hand of my other tracing lines up and down her spine. She seemed to find the action soothing, as soothing as I found hers, which was a relief.

"I have somewhere to be," she said softly, her face still buried in the crook of my shoulder and her warm lips whispering against my cold skin. I wasn't sure how much time had passed between when she woke up and when she spoke because I was too enthralled with the feel of her lips on my neck and the fact that she hadn't rushed out of my arms.

Oh God, is she drivin' you as crazy as she is me? the Major demanded to know. He sounded exasperated.

She always drives me crazy, I informed him. It was meant to be succinct; instead, it came out gentle, and I would have been annoyed under different circumstances, ones where she wasn't in my arms.

I didn't want to let her go—she wasn't the only one who'd benefitted from this—but I couldn't fight her. I couldn't give her a good reason for it, as much as I wished otherwise. But did I really wish for that? Was it something I actually wanted? To hold her? Yes. To tell her why? Abso-fuckin'-lutely not.

I didn't say anything to her announcement. I didn't see the point, so I merely nodded. I did wonder where it was she had to be though. Work, maybe?

Bella only pulled back enough so she could look in my eyes. There was emotion shining in them, different from before: peace, relief ... gratitude. The tortured look in them wasn't gone but it had lessened. I had helped and that was all I'd wanted to do.

"Thank you, Jasper," she murmured sincerely. Then she was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing away from me, unable to see my second nod. I didn't expect for her to say anything else but she did. "I don't know why or how but you help sometimes. I'm grateful for it, but other than that, I'm not sure I like it. Actually, I know I don't like it."

"It doesn't matter if you like it, pretty girl," I told her. "It just is."

I expected her to glower or snap at me, but she didn't. She arched a brow instead. "Pretty girl?"

I shrugged and grinned, doing my best Emmett impression. "I'm tryin' it out."

Of course, my reasons had nothing to do with endless attempts to nickname her. This was a precautionary measure. I refused to call her "darlin'." I may love her, but we weren't lovers, and that wasn't a term of endearment I ever planned to use with anyone. Ever. I did have another reason though.

Bella rolled her eyes, and I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I needed to look in those gorgeous brown eyes of hers so she could see into mine when I said this, so she would know I wasn't bullshitting her.

I crossed the distance between us and grasped her upper arms, my hands easily wrapping all the way around her slim, defined biceps—firm yet still magically soft in the way only women could manage to be—and I hoped for two things in that instant. One, since we were no longer cuddled up on her bed and our moment was over, I hoped that she wouldn't push me away if my touch was no longer welcome; and two, that I wouldn't have to make her look at me if she refused to. My worries were unfounded.

"It's just to clear up any doubts about whether or not I think you're mediocre, Bella," I explained, fingers flexing lightly around her arms. "Call me a cheesy bastard all you want, but you're not, and I don't want you thinkin' otherwise."

Wow, the Major complained. If that's your idea of how to successfully keep our feelings to ourselves, all our strategical ability clearly came up along with everything else when you ralphed.

Shut up, I warned venomously.

Are you surprised I'm pointin' out what a piss poor job you're doin'? Really?

I made no attempt to mask my internal scowl.

Just sayin', his matter-of-fact shrug was obvious.

There'll be time for doin' a better job of that later, I argued. She needs to hear that now, and you know it.

The Major huffed. Fine, maybe she does. Sue me for watchin' our asses.

I ignored that.

"You are a cheesy bastard," Bella countered, "but I don't hate the name."

I smirked. "Wouldn't matter if you did."

"Of course not," she grumbled.

"Don't expect me to stop callin' you sugar," I warned seriously.

Her expression turned long-suffering and martyred. "Wouldn't dream of it," she muttered, pulling out of my grip and heading to her closet to change. "Ass."

It was thrown over her shoulder, and waiting a beat, she peeked back at me, a smirk of her own twisting her lips.

What? We don't at least get a kiss on the cheek like last time? the Major asked me—or Bella—I didn't know, miffed. Not cool!

I rolled my eyes freely since Bella wasn't looking. You're a jackass.

I know, but damn! A kiss on the cheek would have been nice. Don't know 'bout a regular one, but ...

Who's doin' a piss poor job now? I taunted smugly.

Silence.

oOo

I reluctantly followed Bella downstairs as she headed to the garage, leveling a menacing look at my brothers before they could start up again.

"Any of you say anything," I growled, "and I will disembowel you."

Emmett smirked. "No you won't," he said with satisfaction. "Because you can't. You can't disembowel a vampire."

"Are you sure about that?" I challenged with a raised brow, a dead serious air and a cockiness that gave him pause. The slight twist of fear he tried to hide from showing in his expression couldn't be concealed in his emotions. "Human flesh turns practically to stone when we change, but we're not solid straight through, Em. We still have bones that can be broken with the right amount of force, that flesh can still be torn clean through, and yes, we still have internal organs, even if they're no longer necessary for our survival. How else do you think we absorb the blood we drink? Those organs aren't as vulnerable as they were when we were alive, but they aren't as 'invincible' as the muscles that turn so hard. They're even still kind of squishy, and let me tell you, it hurts like a motherfucker when those guts spill to the ground with a sickening splat of venom. It's not exactly pleasant when they get shoved back in either. You can survive without them, of course. You would think it wouldn't hurt, missing your guts, but it does. The lack of them makes you feel hollow, almost like a husk. You don't absorb shit without them and you starve in the worst way. Now that, boys, is fuckin' agony."

Emmett and Edward's faces were horrified, their emotions absolutely sick, which did nothing for my nausea. I could tell they wondered if I was just fucking with them, hoped I was, but I wasn't. Every word I'd spoken was true. It had been done to me many times and I had done it to others on occasion back during the Southern Wars. The grim expression on Peter's face told them all they needed to know. Part of me found a perverse sense of pleasure from scaring the shit out of them and that part wasn't sorry. Actually, none of me was.

"I did not do what I did the other day so you could mock me for it," I growled.

They both held their hands up in placating gestures, still thoroughly dismayed at my revelation. It didn't lessen my satisfaction, though, it was possible I might feel guilty for it later.

We spent the next fifteen minutes in tense, uncomfortable silence. It was the only reason I stuck around—to make them uncomfortable. Sure, it was immature and vindictive, and maybe I should have taken their teasing with more grace and a better sense of humor, but I wasn't in the mood and I didn't care. The burn in my throat was making me cranky as fuck.

That tense silence only lasted fifteen minutes because Rosalie, Charlotte and Alice got home from school then. Generally after being separated from their mates for a couple of days, the reunion emotions between them all would have been joyous, and it was on the guys' part; the girls, not so much. It wasn't that they weren't happy to see their loves and blah, blah, blah, but they were distracted, agitated.

While Edward was ecstatic to see Alice—his previous horror having dissipated at her arrival—confusion pushed through his joy, but whatever was confounding him, he didn't comment on it. He let Alice drop into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. Despite that she was disgruntled and upset over something, she had missed him so much that she said nothing about the muddy, ripped state of his clothes and his disheveled hair he hadn't even bothered to pick the twigs or brush the mud out of. Charlotte always liked it when Peter came home filthy from a hunt, and Rosalie gave Emmett a half-assed, yet affectionate hard time.

I was in no mood for that lovey dovey mate shit. I hadn't had the urge to vomit in hours, but watching that—feeling that—made me throw up in my mouth a little. I may be in love but that didn't mean that shit wasn't annoying. I couldn't avoid feeling it, but I sure as hell didn't have to watch it, so I went to my study, slouched lengthwise on one of my couches and began tossing and catching the baseball I had yet to return to its case. It was soothing for some reason. Maybe because it was mindless and monotonous. Either way, it passed the time.

It was two hours, all of which I'd spent playing catch, before Esme got home from wherever she'd gone, and that's when Edward's confusion ratcheted up to a level that had him ansty enough to finally say something. I happened to hear his demand since my study was not one of the rooms in the house with soundproofing.

"Okay," he began, his frustration clear in his voice. "I usually appreciate it when you guys block me. It gives me peace and all of us some privacy because, as useful as my gift can be in certain situations, I would rather not hear and see your thoughts. I also know you resent me for it on occasion, but this isn't about giving me peace or preserving privacy right now! You're all keeping me out of your heads and you only do that when something's happened and you're not sure how to tell me or if you even want me to know. What the hell went on while we were gone?"

Alice bit her lip, conflicted about revealing whatever it was, and she rarely ever hesitated or felt conflicted about sharing anything with her mate. It was only when I felt that, that I truly believed something had happened, and I raced downstairs to witness my sisters' and mother's confession firsthand. I needed to watch them as they told us to get the best possible grasp on the situation.

It was Charlotte, the most level-headed, who spoke up. "I'm sure Bella would prefer it if she was the one to tell you. Where is she anyway?"

"She had somewhere to be," I answered. "Work probably."

"No," Rosalie said, uncharacteristic worry trickling into her voice and demeanor. "She doesn't have a shift today. She has the next few days off in fact."

"She didn't mention anything when we saw her earlier …" Peter said next, "... other than gettin' back to her juvenile delinquent roots."

Charlotte's grin was sardonic. "That's one way of puttin' it."

"Bella won't tell them," Rosalie mused, biting her lip. It was another uncharacteristic tic she rarely employed and then looked to Charlotte, Alice and Esme searchingly. When she continued, it was like none of us guys were in the room. "I promised her yesterday I'd do my best to keep it quiet. We all did, but they'll find out anyway tomorrow at school. It's all everyone, not just at school but the entire town, is talking about. I don't want to betray her trust, but the guys shouldn't find out like that. It could be a disaster. Hell, it was damn near a fucking disaster with the three of us there."

The women of the house studied each other. My patience was worn much thinner than usual, and I snapped.

"Spit it out or I swear ..." I warned with such danger imbedded in my tone that it conveyed defiance would be a very bad idea.

They gave each other decisive nods, and Charlotte spoke for the group again. "There was an incident at school yesterday. Gavin Nichols pinned Bella to the salad bar and grabbed her ass amongst other things. As you can imagine, it didn't end well … for Gavin."

"What does that mean?" Edward demanded before any of the rest of us could ask.

Over the next several seconds, his mouth dropped open and his eyes got progressively wider. When sixty seconds had passed, he laughed ruefully. I could feel just how amused he was, but his fury practically knocked me to my knees.

Charlotte picked up where she left off, which was good because the delay had red gathering around the edges of my vision. "She put him in the hospital."

"What?" Emmett asked, astonished but even more furious than Edward. "How? What the fuck did she do?"

"I'll show you," Edward said grimly, looking to Peter and I. We gave him minute nods to acknowledge that we would let our mental guards down enough for him to use the part of his gift that allowed him to put images in our heads.

As he showed us, Charlotte narrated. "First she broke and dislocated his wrist, then she dislocated his elbow and shoulder. After that she slammed his nose against the counter of the salad bar and broke it, she then took out his legs and nearly crushed his trachea, during which she added in a few very effective threats. When Gavin tried to pass the whole thing off as a joke, she practically twisted the little fucker's balls off. In all honestly, as I'm sure you can see, it was pretty damn awesome."

And it was. Bella was graceful as she took Gavin down. Her technique was perfect, her face fierce as she neutralized the threat to her. It was beautiful.

That's our girl! the Major crowed approvingly and with no small amount of pride. My feelings echoed his exactly, but that wasn't the only emotion we shared. Rage—pure, overwhelming, merciless rage. The red had thickened, and I'd frozen, my whole body rigid with tightly coiled fury … along with everyone else's.

White noise slowly overtook me entirely. It was followed by red, narrowing inward from the edges of my vision until they were mere pinpoints, and then there was nothing but black.

My awareness slowly came back to me but it was still hazy and indistinct. I thought I heard Peter say with what sounded like fervent caution, "Don't, Esme," but the words were garbled. I didn't know how much time had passed or how much damage I'd done in the meantime, and I didn't particularly care. "Not now. Let me handle him."

Esme backed off, or that's what I assumed because it was Peter who invaded my personal space, coming into my direct line of sight. He gripped my shoulders, tight enough to act as an anchor, but not enough to come across as a threat. Still, I shrugged him off with violence. He wasn't deterred, returning his hands to their perch. Though I wanted nothing more than to shake him off again, I didn't, even though his touch was making my skin crawl.

"Jasper," he said quietly. When I didn't respond, he tried again, "Major." I had been looking past him until then, seeing through him, but that got my attention. "Snap out of it, brother."

Calling me that was his way of grounding me, or reminding me of who I was and not who I had been. He was trying to bring me back to myself. He was the only one who could, and he knew it. Peter would let me rip him to pieces if it meant I would come back to him and Charlotte.

Ironically, it was a combination of his attempts and the Major's prodding that did it.

Focus, Jasper, the Major ordered. That little douchebag just gave us something to fight for. He gave us a cause. I know how close you are to losin' your shit to the God of War, but you've got to keep fighting it. Don't give in. Not now. At least not until we've made this little fucker pay.

What the Major had said made sense, and I was nothing if not a good soldier. Though I rarely had to do it since I was generally the one who gave them, I followed orders. I needed to follow orders right now, these orders, and Peter and the Major were the only ones that could give them to me. I was hanging on by a thread as it was, and whatever was wrong with me wasn't helping. Orders were necessary to keep that thread from fraying and snapping completely.

"Major," Peter uttered softly. "Look at me."

That was a simple order to follow. My eyes found his and the voice I'd lost in those last minutes returned, along with more of my awareness. He tightened his grip on my shoulders; he knew he was cutting through the haze.

"I can't be here," I told him. He was the only person I was aware of in that moment, the white noise and the red haze still there, just more manageable. The only indication of the others in the room was the strength of their emotions as they battered against me and soaked into my skin: fury, anxiety, alarm, traces of fear, disgust. They were all emotions that fed my instability, and my own emotions had me unstable enough. It was getting to the point where I was internalizing it. They were blending together, and there would be a point when I would no longer be able to discern which were theirs and which were mine. They would mix and roil and churn and multiply until there was nothing left. I would be gone, banished to the darkest, deepest depths of my mind. There would be no awareness, no control, no sense of self, nothing but the rage. I would be lost and the God of War would reign. Every time he took over, I wondered if that would be the one I wouldn't be able to claw back from, even with Peter as my saving grace. For all I knew, I had already succumbed when the black encompassed my vision and stole my consciousness. I wasn't with it enough to confirm or deny that I had. "I can't think. I need to go."

Peter nodded, the look on his face intense and full of so many things: understanding, patience, acceptance, love. He'd pushed all of his own anger aside … for me. "Then we'll go, brother."

He took a hand off me and stretched it behind him, then brought his arm up parallel to the ground but bent at the elbow in a ninety degree angle and waved his hand from front to back twice—the military hand signal for come. It was then that I realized that when he stretched his hand behind him that he'd been pointing at Charlotte, telling her to come with us.

Not able to stand it anymore and knowing I had Peter and Charlotte with me, I about-faced and left the house behind. Peter was right on my heels, but Charlotte took a few seconds to catch up, and when she did, she had a backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Come on, brother," Charlotte said. There was something like a smile in her voice. It was small, but it was there. It wrapped around me and brought me a little warmth, not much but any amount of it was better than nothing, which was where I was now. "Lets go obliterate some foliage and murder small woodland creatures, or big ones."

All I could manage was a tight nod.

oOo

"Feelin' better, brother?" Peter asked, surveying the impressive damage I'd done.

Trees and bushes were uprooted, most smashed to pieces after I'd ripped them from the ground by their roots, and sharp shards of stone from rocks and boulders that got in my way were scattered haphazardly as far as I could see. The twisted bodies of deer, rabbits, a couple of mountain lions, a violently stubborn moose and even a few birds lay amongst the wreckage; blood, bone, guts, fur, feathers, fat and skin decorated my surroundings and were splattered over bits of wood, fragments of stone and the foliage just as Charlotte had predicted. Blood trickled in steady streams across the ground, some meeting and pooling together. Add in that Peter's arm was lying in one of those pools of blood and the whole scene was comically macabre. A single humanesque arm amongst a sea of animal carcasses, both whole and in pieces.

I was covered from head to toe in gore. My clothes were saturated with it, sticking to me uncomfortably in spots and stiff in patches where it had already dried. The hair around my face was dripping red while the back was crusted into rigid waves while bits of brain, leaves and twigs dug into my scalp and added to my grisly state. I didn't have a mirror, but I was sure I looked gruesome—a horror movie villain out of place in the serenity of the picturesque forest. I didn't care.

This little venture had started out with me in control, but by the time of its end, I had no recollection of my actions. It was another blackout, and it was the only reason I could fathom that Peter's arm had parted ways with his body. I also suspected that my tearing it off was what had brought me out of my disconnected temper tantrum.

Peter gazed at me with no less understanding, patience, acceptance and love as he had back at the house. If anything, there was more there as he met my eyes, and the emotions radiating out of him matched. He said nothing. He offered no words of comfort or reassurance, no forgiveness. His silence was his way of offering me all of those things. Peter knew I would resent the words, that words weren't what I needed. He always knew what I needed, and he always gave it to me. I knew how lucky I was. I didn't deserve his forgiveness, but he always gave it. He never hesitated. Where would I be without him? And Charlotte, too? I didn't want to contemplate that.

He merely made his way to his severed arm and spat venom on to the torn flesh, spreading it over the surface with his fingers and pressing it to the matching wound on his shoulder. I watched the two knit back together at a rapid pace, leaving no trace of the injury behind. I was grateful that only wounds inflicted by the venom of other vampires left scars. If there was evidence of all the times I'd lost limbs on my body, I would be nothing more than a patchwork of jagged, chalky white lines, wearing the violence of my bloody past like armor forged by pain and suffering. So would Peter, and it pained me to say that I would be responsible for most of it. It was bad enough that his skin bore the indents of my teeth more than I liked to be reminded of. I didn't like to be reminded of it at all.

I wondered what shade of black my eyes were right now. The demonic hue of the Major's? The inky, fathomless black of the God of War? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

Peter had told me once that my eyes were different shades of black when the Major was fully in control and when the God of War took over. As the Major, the darkness in my eyes was blacker than that of a typical bloodthirsty vampire; there was a more demonic feel to them that most backed away from when they looked in to them. As the God of War, they were a deep, fathomless black—a black hole—with an emptiness to them that was truly frightening. I had never seen this myself, but Peter had no reason to lie and the reactions of those I encountered in battle suggested he hadn't. He never lied to me. Sometimes he kept parts of the truth from me, but he always had his reasons which were generally due to his gift, and he always came clean eventually. That didn't mean it didn't piss me off, but I always got over it.

Some of the blood I'd shed during my shitfit had splashed into my mouth. In my subconscious wrath, my now ever-present nausea had abated. It was an unlikely blessing of losing control, but it returned with a vengeance now. With frightening speed, it lurched up my throat, and I hunched over just in time for it to spill from my lips without adding a layer of vomit to my already gory clothing.

My stomach heaved until all the blood I'd unintentionally consumed left my system, increasing the burn in my throat, and nothing but pearlescent venom came up. When I was finally finished, I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth. Instead of smearing more blood on my face, it cleaned some of it off.

Charlotte's emotions, which had echoed Peter's up until I'd spewed, had morphed into genuine, deep concern and fear. Peter's were also of concern, but it was a miffed concern, the same as on our hunt.

I was about to say something when the Major piped up.

Do you have any idea how much I wish those animal corpses were human ones? the Major asked, disgruntled.

I rolled my eyes. Yes, I'm aware.

You know we'd feel so much better if they were, he said with conviction.

Says you.

I'm right, and you know it. Admit it.

"That is not helpful, asshole," I snapped. It was like a couple of days before, when I said something aloud that wasn't meant to be.

"That wasn't meant for us, was it?" Peter guessed, brow raised.

I didn't answer.

"How long has it been since you've fed, Jasper?" Charlotte questioned worriedly, her gaze fixed on my black one.

"Sunday," I replied. I wasn't in the mood to discuss this, but I doubted I could get away with avoiding the subject. Peter had allowed it two days ago and kept quiet since, but that was over now. His stance and emotions told me so.

"How long since you've fed and kept it down?" he demanded, a warning edge to his voice. It was a daring gesture on his part after what had just occurred, but despite everything, he wasn't afraid of me. He never really had been.

I shrugged.

Both of them narrowed their eyes and crossed their arms over their chests in a simultaneous move. It was almost comical, and as stubborn as I was, I knew it would be unwise not to answer.

"Since before I left." I said it nonchalantly, as though it was no big deal, an everyday occurrence that was nothing to give a second thought to. It was a big deal, but I hoped my attitude might rub off on them.

Charlotte's eyes widened until they practically bugged out of her head and her arms dropped to her sides in shock. "You haven't fed in twelve days?"

"Fifteen," I corrected, still in that even, impassive tone of voice.

Peter let out a low whistle. "Two weeks, Jasper? That's dangerous."

"What do you expect me to do about it?" I came back at him, crossing my own arms over my chest. "You think I've gone and turned into some sort of bulimic vampire?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Charlotte couldn't help but crack a smile and Peter outright laughed. The shift in their emotions told me they were going to drop it for now but not forever.

"We gotta get you cleaned up," Charlotte announced. It was almost an order but not quite. I still needed the structure of that, so I didn't argue and the smell of the carnage around us wasn't doing me any good.

When they started to run, I followed.

oOo

Peter and Charlotte took me to a waterfall. Their waterfall. It was a gorgeous place with moss-covered rocks and untouched greenery. Clear, pure water that let you see all the way to the bottom of the random pool in the middle of nowhere and a little cove hidden behind the flowing curtain of water that cascaded from the ledge. The steady trickle was soothing, and I let out a breath of relief.

"Strip," Charlotte said, and it was definitely an order this time.

I did as commanded and peeled the still sticky but drying clothes from my body. They left a reddish residue on my skin that itched and it felt good to shed them. I did it without hesitation or embarrassment. Peter and Charlotte had seen me naked before, and I had never been ashamed of my body. I wasn't exactly fond of my scars, but they were a part of me, and I wore them with as much grace as I could.

"In," she commanded next, pointing to the pool.

I dove in, again without hesitation, and the water felt amazing as I cut through it and swam to the bottom, leaving a cloud of red in my wake. As the blood washed away, it was as though I was washing away my most current sins and the blackout. I hovered at the bottom, scooping up a handful of fine silt and letting it sift slowly through my fingers, watching as it filtered back down again like the sand in an hourglass. It was a simple thing to focus on, which was exactly what I needed. I had expended all the excess emotion, but my own fury still clung tight to me. Focusing on simple things made it easier to keep in control.

When I resurfaced, Charlotte tossed a bottle of shampoo and conditioner, body wash and a wash cloth at me. That was Charlotte for you. Always prepared, and the backpack she'd brought made sense now.

"Wash up," was her next order. I did, and damn, did it feel good to be clean and not just rinsed off.

She handed me a towel when I emerged from the water and turned to Peter as I scrubbed myself dry. She didn't turn away because she was bothered by my nudity. She was just as comfortable with it as I was, but she and Peter were having one of those freaky, silent mate conversations. I rolled my eyes and reached for the pile of neatly folded clothes Charlotte had laid out on a worn tree stump, ignoring the two of them as I tugged the t-shirt and jeans on.

By the time I was done dressing, Peter and Charlotte were finished with their mental powwow and were watching me expectantly.

"What?" I asked, annoyed by their staring.

Charlotte reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper clearly torn from the corner of a page in a notebook. "I did some research for you yesterday," she replied. "I know you well enough to anticipate what you'd do when you found out about what happened with Bella, so I thought I should be prepared for our little field trip."

I took the scrap of paper from her and studied it:

Gavin Nichols

1839 Calawah Way

I looked up and met the faces of my two dearest companions, my lips twisting into a sadistic grin.

oOo

Gavin lived in the nicer part of Forks in a two story house with four bedrooms and whitewashed wood paneling. The layout wasn't complicated: three bedrooms and two full bathrooms upstairs, one bedroom, a half bath, kitchen, living room and dining room on the ground floor. Gavin's room was on the upper floor at the back and to the left. His scent was nothing worth noting except for the rancid smell of worn gym socks and the unpleasant odor of sweaty balls. Didn't the kid ever air this place out? That was just fuckin' nasty!

I had taken a cue from Bella and picked the lock on the front door, made possible by the fact that neither he nor his parents were home, and happened to be in said disgusting smelling room at the moment. That was all the better for me. If I was already waiting for Gavin in the dark, the likelihood that I would scare the shit out of him was high and I most definitely planned to. I would.

It was the normal room of a teenage boy nowadays, I suppose. There was a flat screen TV against the wall and across from the unmade double bed with an X-Box 2080 plugged into it, the controllers strewn from the console to the floor beneath the edge of the mattress. Clothes were scattered all over the place, random food wrappers and dirty dishes here and there and all his textbooks were piled haphazardly in a corner, clearly untouched for quite a while from the layer of dust on them.

Asshole!

I had been a teenager in a very different time, but I never would have gotten away with this shit, then or now. Besides, I gave a shit about my personal space—my neatness only enhanced as a human through my time in the military and carrying over in to my life as a vampire—and really, how hard was it to pick up a few wrappers and take your dishes to the kitchen sink?

The only human I paid any real attention to was Bella, unless you counted my recent dealings with Harpy Bitch, so I didn't know shit about Gavin Nichols. That was why Charlotte had done more than just get me his address. I now knew that Darlene, his mother, was a realtor in Port Angeles who had Mondays off and worked late hours on Tuesdays, and his father, David, also worked in Port Angeles but as an accountant. According to my brilliant sister, he'd left for some convention after Gavin had been released from the hospital the night before. Gavin would be alone until late tonight.

Why do people make things so easy for us? the Major complained. We could use a challenge, you know?

I didn't acknowledge the truth of that. Instead I steeled myself to say something else. You take point on this.

What? he questioned incredulously. Can you repeat that, Jasper? I'm not sure I heard you right.

I said, I repeated through "gritted" teeth, you take point on this.

But why? he demanded suspiciously.

Because.

That's it? That's all you're gonna give me? he complained for what seemed like the billionth time today.

You're a whiny little bitch, you know that? I growled irritably.

Quit with the evasion, asshole! he snapped.

I let out a steady breath. Because I lost it and Peter lost an arm. I hate to say it, but I don't think you would have lost control like that.

There was silence for several moments before the Major responded to that. That was some seriously intense rage, Jasper. I would have lost it just the same as you. I did lose it. We didn't go completely God of War, but we were close, and I wasn't the one that kept us on the brink. If it would have been me, we would have toppled over the edge.

You still get to take point on this, I told him. I will let you take point provided you let me ride shotgun as opposed to shovin' me in the trunk.

But why? he questioned again, flat out confusion replacing his suspicion.

You love her too, I replied. I got to pilot our last revenge scenario. This time it's your turn.

You know I'll kill him, don't you?

No, you won't, I told him with confidence but disappointment.

Oh really? I could tell that if he was already in control he would have crossed our arms over our chest in stubbornness and defiance as well as some smugness.

Because you love her, I reminded him, and as douchey as this fucker is, and as much as he disgusts me for not having the same code as I do in regard to women, she'll hate us just as much for killin' him as she would if we'd killed Harpy Bitch. Plus, this isn't Louisville. We kill the son of a bitch and we would have to move. There's no guarantee Bella will move with us. Besides, Peter and Charlotte have our back just like they always do.

They were stationed outside, out of sight, ready to intercede if the Major and I went too far.

Goddamn it! Love really fuckin' sucks!

No kidding, I agreed.

Can't we go back to hating her? he asked sullenly.

I think it's too late for that, I said with a sigh.

Then I let go and the Major took the wheel. As much as I hated not being in control, it was freeing—to give up and let someone else deal with my shit, and it wasn't really giving it up, was it? The Major was me. His anger was my anger. We may butt heads at times, but his thoughts were still my thoughts, his actions still my actions, his love for Bella was my love for her, his revenge was my revenge, and he would do this right. He would make Gavin pay brilliantly and I would still get to chip in my two cents.

And so we waited …

oOo

The Major's POV

I waited for an hour before Gavin pulled into his driveway, my impatience growing by the second. I really had no idea why Jasper had such faith in me for this little mission of ours. We were both ruthless, but he was capable of mercy. I wasn't, and this little dickhead deserved none. I could picture it, what I would do to him—the shiny sports trophies on his mantel coated heavily with the splatter of his blood and painting every surface of the room. I heard the crunch of his bones, the tearing of flesh and sinew and the squishing noise of fat as it was rent from that fabulously delicate wrapping called skin that humans were so reliant on. They were all happy sounds that prodded my lips into a smile most would consider inappropriate. I was not most people, and I had to do something to pass the time. It was either that or picture Bella naked, but that felt wrong in this situation when my fingers, Jasper's fingers, literally ached to inflict pain on the one who had hurt the woman Jasper and I loved by laying his hands on her. Her face was seared behind my eyelids—perfect features tired and worn, her eyes tormented but with determination to keep her suffering silent … just like my oh-so-annoying, downer of a counterpart who hardly ever let me at the wheel. That's why I'd had to get so good at taking it from him, though I only did that when I absolutely could not take his bullshit for another second; but he'd let me at the wheel now. I was in control. I was running this show. This asshole would remember this night. If only I didn't have Bella hanging over my shoulder, holding me back from what I really wanted to do; from the gloriously gorgeous violence I was so capable of and brilliant at. Honestly, I was an artist and my talent was going to waste because I had feelings! I may love the girl, but I really kind of fuckin' hated her too.

Gavin was on his phone, his conversation easily overheard with my keen vampire hearing. The person on the other end of the line was Riley fuckin' Dwyer.

"I don't understand why you're being such a dick about this!" Gavin complained, his voice like nails while my brain was the chalkboard. That combination was never a good one … unless I was using it to torment someone else. "Do you know what that bitch did to me? She tore ligaments in my shoulder, fractured the bones in my elbow and fucked up a nerve, and she broke and dislocated my wrist. I need surgery and I'll be in physical therapy for weeks. She ended my sports career this year, if not for good. It's senior year, Rye! I need that shit on my transcript for college applications!"

Like you could get in to college, you fuckin' amoeba! I mocked with hatred, my hands tightening into fists. My fingernails cut crescents into the skin of my palms that oozed lines of venom, and I welcomed the pain. It gave me clarity, focus, pleasure; hell, it sparked my imagination. I refused to think on the knowledge that this was precisely what Maria had instilled in me, had always wanted and expected. It served no purpose.

I'm fairly certain amoebas are smarter, Jasper interjected smugly.

True, I agreed.

"You're really not that good, Gavin—" Ha!— "and maybe you should have thought of that before you fucking attacked her!" Riley snarled. "I don't feel sorry for you, and why the hell are you bitching about this to me?"

"Whose side are you on, man?" Gavin demanded with confusion and fury.

Do we even know what's dumber than an amoeba, Jasper? I queried, stumped.

Gavin, he responded.

Obviously, I retorted with exasperation, but we have to think of something else. We can't exactly insult him by whippin' his own name back at him.

Actually, amoebas aren't really dumb. How about we go with rock or something? he suggested.

That works.

"I think I've made that pretty clear," Riley shot back. "Why on earth would I be on yours? How can you not see how out of line you were?"

Gavin had made it to his room by now, flipping on the light and tossing a bag of McDonald's, Forks' one and only fast food joint, on his bed. He certainly was an ugly fucker, and he smelled like he'd been working out, which was an idiot move considering he'd just been released from the hospital. My nostrils flared with revulsion and heightened nausea at the smell of his body odor and the scent of greasy french fries and a hamburger. Why did this fucker smell so much worse than most humans? Maybe it was because I fuckin' hated him for putting his hands on Bella. The sight of him made me want to do even more unconscionable things, to make him squeal even more high-pitched than Bella had before it petered out abruptly. I even had designs to take her actions a step further and divorce him from his balls. I would get sole custody of them, string them on a chain and wear them around my neck as a trophy, a warning to all: this is what happens if you fuck with my girl, and this is only the beginning.

He hadn't turned around, so he hadn't seen me where I stood in the shadow just behind his door and to the left with my back settled against the wall, arms crossed over my chest and a menacing scowl on my face.

"What the fuck?" Gavin snapped. "How can you say that to me? Bella was asking for it! I just gave her what she wanted! I took what was mine and she put me in the fucking hospital! She's a fucking cocktease!"

That made my venom boil in my veins. Bella was asking for it? She was a cocktease? He gave her what she wanted? Fuckin' bullshit! She was not a cocktease. Sure, she constantly tortured me, but she didn't do it on purpose. She was never aware of how she affected me and never had been. She really had no fuckin' idea at all the effect she could have, on anyone. And he took what was his?

She will never be yours, asshole! I was absolutely indignant at the gall of this guy! I should exterminate him and all the other bastards like him in the world. Not only that, but I would make a very bloody example of them. Shit, I may be ruthless but I had standards, and though I would never admit it to him, on principle of course, I agreed with Jasper's policy on not touching women without their permission.

She will never be ours either, Jasper lamented impassively.

Probably not, but she's a hell of a lot more ours than she will ever be his! And she sure as hell deserves better than that bottom-feeding jackass! Jasper didn't have to say anything for me to know he agreed.

My chest vibrated violently, literally shook with the growl I was suppressing. It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep it from bursting forth and revealing my presence, but I refused to give up the advantage of surprise.

Are you sure I can't kill him? I growled venomously.

I wish we could, but unfortunately, the answer is still no, Jasper answered with true regret. I could feel how much he wanted to kill him, and that made it so much more difficult to resist. I mean, what the fuck did I care about this stupid human douchebag's life? Oh, right ... because of Bella and her goddamn morals. I should have a talk with her about that. Maybe I could convince her just how unnecessary they were. Even Jasper agreed with me about that in this particular instance.

Peter and Charlotte had the luxury of releasing the evidence of the rage they felt over Gavin's sentiment that I didn't, the lucky bastards. I could hear their growls from outside, but they weren't loud enough for him to pick up on. I envied my brother and sister.

"What are you talking about?" Riley asked, his disgust so clear it practically assaulted me from over the phone. "And why am I still even talking to you?"

Beats me, dipshit!

"You were at the dance, dude," Gavin said, still confused as to why Riley would ask him these things. "You saw the way she was when she danced with me."

Wow. Just wow. This kid really was a delusional dumbass.

I could almost see Riley's mouth drop open. "Are you serious? Bella hardly let you touch her! She hardly let anyone touch her ... except for Jasper Whitlock. If she was sending signals to anyone, it was to him, you idiot! Again, why am I still talking to you?"

That was a tricky and sort of hilarious thing because I couldn't say with any certainty that Bella had been sending Jasper signals. For starters, she was human. There was no way she could feel the mating pull as strongly as both he and I did, if she even felt it at all. That's right, I knew Bella was our mate. I had known the moment I laid eyes on her and felt how much she drew me in. At first, I'd kept that tidbit of knowledge from Jasper because I had the same views on mating as he did. I hated her just as much as he did, only I knew why. I wanted nothing to do with that vampire love potion bullshit and I knew if I kept quiet, the guy would never figure it out, especially since Bella left only hours after I met her. Of course, I never, in my wildest dreams, could have predicted the bond would drive him crazy enough to lead him right to her like a moth to a fuckin' flame—I knew just as little about genuine mating as he did aside from being able to recognize Bella for what she was to us.

You see, I wasn't the one who suffered all the trauma and aftermath of our time with Maria. All three parts of Jasper—which included the God of War and I—had been seriously fucked up by her and Savannah, but the God of War was too mindless to acknowledge anything but the rage and pain of it. I refused to be affected by or to deal with said trauma and aftermath; therefore, I foisted it all off on Jasper. Was it a bastard move? Absolutely. But even though I grudgingly cared about that part of myself, I wasn't sorry for it. I suffered that shit by my damn self for a fuckin' century. It didn't matter that Peter had been pulling Jasper out of me slowly but surely for those last couple of decades. That didn't count because I was still the dominant one for all that time. Jasper remembered everything that happened, everything that we went through, and it did happen to both of us but it didn't. It happened to me and by the time it was over, I was done. It was someone else's turn to live with that massive pile of fucked up, and Jasper was fucked up because of dealing with all of it on his own, but he was strong, and when it occasionally overwhelmed him, I did step in to help.

It was because of Maria and Savannah, as well as my actions after the fact that he was so clueless about Bella. Then she came back—moved in, no less—and the longer we were around her, the more she crawled underneath our skin. He and I both started to care about her, to fall in love with her as much as we both hated it, and I kept it from him for a different reason. If he was ever going to figure out what she was to us, though I wasn't entirely sure I wanted him to, he had to do it on his own. That meant no help from Peter or Charlotte and especially not from me. It was my way of protecting him as well as covering my own ass since I still didn't know what I wanted, but I did want her. My dick definitely wanted her and I did love her too. I was slowly coming to accept that the mating thing might not be so bad. At the very least it would be nice to have someone around to fuck all the time and I had never wanted anyone as much as I wanted Bella. Crass? Absolutely. True? Yep. I was a guy and an empath. I had needs that were not fulfilled nearly often enough, and I did not enjoy the constant blue balls. Sue me.

Jasper would take a lot more convincing on the mating front.

It would be a fuckin' relief on all levels if Bella did want him; mentally, physically, and emotionally we would be sated. Seriously, she made my dick weep with frustration and deprivation. It was not cool nor was it pleasant, but they just fought so much—too much. Sometimes that meant there were feelings, but she was so damn hard to read that I couldn't tell if that was the case for her. Besides, she especially wouldn't want him if she knew about me and the God of War. That didn't mean it couldn't change though. She could grow to want him, to want us. We were mates after all, but she was stubborn and human, and I wasn't holding my breath.

I knew their fight was the only reason she let Jasper touch her at all. Even though she shouldn't have, she felt just as guilty about their confrontation as he did. Both of them had wanted to make things right, even though that was a pussy move on his part. Then again, I had wanted to make it right too. The fight was partly my fault after all. The jealousy Jasper and I had felt, yeah it was mostly me responsible for his hot-headed reaction, and I would never admit it to my alter-ego but I had needed to fix it just as much as he had—not one of my prouder moments. For some reason, making things right had involved touching. Gavin, however, didn't need to know that. Let him think Bella did want Jasper that way. Let every guy in Forks think that, especially Riley fuckin' Dwyer.

"Because we're friends," Gavin answered, bewildered.

"No," Riley corrected, "we're not. We never have been. I tolerate you, but that's it, and the only reason I do is because we're on the baseball and football teams together. I'm the captain. It's my responsibility to make everyone on my teams feel included and to show them respect whether they deserve it or not, and you don't. Haven't you ever wondered why you don't have any friends, Gavin? It's because you're a dick, and I'm done with you. You're lucky Bella took care of you before I had the chance because I would have done a hell of a lot fucking worse. When you see me, whether it's at school or around town, walk the other way because I promise you, I will pick up where she left off, you piece of shit!"

There was a click and the sound of the dial tone. Riley had hung up.

I felt oddly conflicted at his words, but only for a moment. Then I went back to hating the fucker. I mean honestly, the guy was a fuckin' Ken doll with his clean-cut looks—perfect blond hair, chiseled features, blue eyes, blah blah blah—varsity jacket and stellar GPA. He was annoying.

Can we hurt him too? I asked hopefully.

No, Jasper answered, letting his disappointment shine through. He disliked Ken doll just as much as I did. Bella would really kick our ass if we laid a hand on Riley fuckin' Dwyer.

Do we have to like him? I bit out. We'd better not have to like him. That was a deal-breaker, to what I didn't know, but it was.

No, he replied, still disappointed. I think we're even allowed to hate him, but I also think we have to respect him … just a little, Jasper added hastily.

I was relieved I didn't have to like him and ecstatic that I was freely allowed to hate him with no irritating backlash, but respect him? Really? Was Jasper yanking my chain? It took a lot to gain my, our, respect. What had that fuckin' Ken doll done to earn such an illustrious honor? Nothing!

Why? I demanded furiously.

You know why. He just defended Bella.

He'd done nothing to earn our respect ... except for that. Damn it! Jasper was right. Son of a bitch!

Fuckin' Bella, I bitched. Now she was the annoying one of the hour, but that wasn't really anything new. Unfortunately, I still loved her. Love sucks!

Jasper gave no response to that. I already knew he agreed.

Can we call him Quarterdouche, like Emmett? I asked.

You have to ask? His raised eyebrows were implied.

Gavin threw his phone down on his bed in anger at Riley's words and rejection. Now was the time to reveal my presence, so I made my move with anticipatory glee, though fury, disgust and the desire to make this fucker bleed were still my primary emotions.

"So Bella was askin' for it was she?" I asked, darkness and danger in my voice.

Gavin spun around so fast he tripped over his own feet, stumbling a little. It was funny as hell and incredibly gratifying. Weren't athletes supposed to be agile?

Dumbass motherfucker, Jasper and I chorused in unison. It was almost sad how much fun this already was.

He looked stunned, mouth agape with it as he took me in. My stance was intimidating, ominous. I radiated both, wore them like a second skin. I was every bit the lethal predator, but then, I always was. As dumb as he was, Gavin picked up on it, his heart racing in his chest and the adrenaline of fear barreling through his veins. If I wasn't so fuckin' nauseated, it would have been the sweetest scent, that stench of fear. It was the beginnings of victory and it was something I normally reveled in. The nausea ruined that. Despite his awareness, he decided to display his idiocy and ignore the danger I clearly exuded.

"What the hell are you doing in my room, Whitlock?" he demanded indignantly. "How did you even get in here?"

"That is unimportant," I replied smoothly, smirking.

"The hell it is!" Gavin shouted. His voice had shot up two octaves and was now way too high for any self-respecting man.

My smirk widened and I pushed away from the wall, stalking sinisterly across the distance that separated me and the despicable teenager before me. I gripped the front of his shirt in my fists, swung him around fast enough to make him dizzy and backed him up until he hit the wall with a sickening thud. He winced, though I wasn't sure if it was from pain or fear. I felt a combination of both, as well as the distinct hazy, sluggish sensation that only came from the use of painkillers.

"I asked you a question, you pansy ass fucker," I reiterated in a terrifyingly calm voice, that calm that nearly always conveyed more menace than the alternative. It certainly got Gavin's heart racing and his blood flooded with adrenaline, even more than my initial surprise appearance had. "Answer it."

Gavin swallowed hard, expression twisting with uncertainty, and I took the time to really study his appearance. Deep, purplish-black bruises circled his eyes, slight swelling puffed his lids to half-slits in the corners closest to his fucked up nose, which sported a butterfly bandage over where it had clearly been broken. I could tell by sight that it was a particularly nasty break even through the plastic of the bandage. If he wanted the now truly misshapen mass of cartilage and bone slapped on his face to look even remotely appealing ever again, he needed to have plastic surgery, not that it had in the first place.

That's fuckin' awesome! Jasper exclaimed, snickering. I joined him in it, but I wasn't done surveying the damage, so I wasn't yet ready to let it loose outside of my head.

His shoulder was still swollen as were his elbow and wrist joints. He wore a sling to keep his arm straight and a cast on his wrist. Even though it was clear Carlisle had prescribed the douche painkillers—he was obligated to treat his patients to the best of his ability because of his oath as a doctor if he wanted to avoid lawsuits and unneeded attention—I really hoped he hadn't given Gavin any sedatives or muscle relaxers when he'd set all the parts Bella had dislocated. This fucker deserved the undiluted pain.

There was an even nastier bruise on his throat than the ones around his eyes, and there was swelling there too. Now that I was bothering to pay attention, I noticed that his breathing was labored with the injury to his windpipe. That was fuckin' hilarious too. My only regret was that I hadn't been the one to do it to him. It didn't diminish the pride I felt at all the damage Bella had inflicted on this poor excuse for a man; hell, this poor excuse for a Homo sapiens. He was a shitty excuse for a multi-cellular organism in fact. The only reason my hands weren't wrapped around his throat instead of balled in his shirt was because I wouldn't be able to stop myself from crushing it completely.

Now that I was done taking stock of his injuries, I laughed thunderously, the sound chilling. It sent a shiver down Gavin's spine and his fear of me heightened. He did his damndest not to show it, but he failed.

"Bella really fucked you up, didn't she?" I commented unnecessarily, the mocking in my tone severe and my face condescending but still cruel and frightening. "How does it feel to have the shit beaten out of you by a girl?"

He growled. It was intended to be as intimidating and scary as I came across, but it came out hoarse and unconvincing. It was more a squeak than anything else, and I allowed myself another grim chuckle at his expense before I returned to the matter at hand. "Once again, I asked you a question. I won't give you another chance to answer it," I warned.

Gavin got the message, gulping painfully as he prepared to obey my command. They always did. I smirked on the inside.

"Yes," he responded with defiance that flashed plainly in his eyes. "You were at the dance. You saw. She did ask for it!"

Now my eyes flashed but with rage and hate. Gavin shrank back but he had nowhere to go, and the increased pressure against the wall made him wince again. Replaying the scene from the cafeteria, I imagined his back bore a gruesome bruise in addition to the ones I knew decorated his shoulder from the impact to the ground when Bella took his legs out from underneath him. His pain pleased me.

"Clearly your eyes need to be checked," I said. "Because the last thing Bella did was ask for you to put your hands on her, and you are one ugly fucker whereas I am devastatingly handsome. I have a better idea of when a woman wants a man to give her anything because women actually want to fuck me, and that is not what it looks like, you clueless, abominable cretin."

He opened his mouth to protest in indignation, but I refused to let him speak. "You think because you've gotten some pussy here that it means girls actually want you? The only reason you've gotten any tail at all is because Forks is a tiny ass town with nothing better to offer the girls here than the likes of you when guys like me, my brothers and your boy Riley refuse to touch them, and they're desperate enough to settle. Chew on that, you despicable ass!"

I slammed him against the wall, harder this time, to drive my point home. Gavin's breath left him in an agonized whoosh. "You wanna know what kind of man puts his hands on a woman without her permission, Gavin?" I asked almost sweetly. It made him gulp again.

God, I loved being a badass! This was the highlight of my fuckin' week. I was going to have to buy Jasper roses or rip the heart out of one of those wolf fuckers or some shit as a thank you. Jasper snorted.

"Answer the fuckin' question!" I snarled, pressing my fists so hard into his chest, I heard the creak of bones about to give.

"W-what kind of man puts his h-hands on a woman without her p-permission?" he stammered pathetically.

So sadly obedient, I grumbled. He could at least make this a little more difficult so we could torture an answer out of him.

Yes, Jasper agreed. It's unfortunate.

"A sad, useless, pathetic coward of a man who's got a dick and balls but who isn't really a man at all, you worthless piece of shit!" I answered. "You don't deserve either of those appendages, and I may or may not relieve you of them."

The sound that came out of Gavin then was a cross between a shriek and moan of dread because there was absolute conviction in every part of me.

"You would be incredibly lucky if that's all I decide to do to you," I growled, and then I moved on to the true threats. "The only reason you aren't a corpse is because despite how much Bella loathes you, she is heartily against murder, and for some God-awful reason, I give a fuck what she thinks. I don't happen to share that bullshit belief of hers and my loyalty to her conviction over it is paper thin. If you touch her again with her permission or not, you die. If you breathe the same air as her, you die. If you say one word about her, if you even say her name, you die. If you even look at her, whether by accident or on purpose, you die. If you squeal like the little bitch you are about this visit of mine, you die. Your death will be drawn out and bloody and excruciating. You will scream, you will cry, you will shit your pants and piss yourself. You will beg for mercy, but you will receive none, and then you will be an unrecognizable corpse. No one will miss you because no one gives a fuck about you. Not even your mommy and daddy, and you know it. You are a second-string football, baseball and basketball player, your grades are shit and you are shit. They have nothing to be proud of and your death will not faze them. You aren't worth their grief. Do you understand? And don't make me ask you twice before you give me an answer!"

Tears, actual fuckin' tears, and not just of fear, gathered in Gavin's eyes at my words, and I was tempted to smirk but didn't. I still needed to be frightening enough to shrivel the balls off the devil, and I succeeded at that. He needed to understand that I meant every word I'd said, and his terrified and utterly defeated emotions told me he did. His dejected words gave me confirmation I didn't need, "I-I understand."

To finish off this little display of menace and machismo, I gripped his injured shoulder and squeezed, popping it back out of the socket and listening with sadistic satisfaction as the bones crunched. Then I moved on to his elbow and then to his wrist to repeat the action. His sports career, mediocre as it was, was definitely over now. I added a jab to his junk for good measure. If it ever worked properly again, I would be surprised.

Gavin howled in agony and torment, and when I released him, he dropped to the floor and curled in on himself, rocking and sobbing like a little bitch. I could feel how much pain he was in, which only intensified my nausea, but I didn't care. His misery and agony was too good.

You certainly haven't lost your touch, Jasper praised jubilantly.

I rolled my eyes. You didn't honestly think I had, did you?

Nope, he said.

Gavin was too busy wailing to notice me slip out his window.

oOo

A/N: The Major speaks! Honestly, I was worried about trying to write him. I didn't know if I could do him justice, but I like how it turned out. :)

As you can see, I didn't devote much time to any of the other guys' reactions in this chapter, but they won't be neglected! Jasper just had to be the focus and he was too messed up to pay a whole lot of attention to what anyone thought of what happened aside from the obvious toll on his gift.

So, this chapter had a bit of everything: some drama, humor, angst, violence and sweetness. I hoped you liked it all. :)

Thank you to all my readers, which includes those of you who have followed, favorited and reviewed.

As always, thank you to my sis, Shelljayz, and my friends, Laurie Whitlock and juliangelus, for donating their beta-ing and pre-reading talents. I also must thank and welcome Deebelle1 to the Longing team. She came to my rescue. I love you Dee! She is also the immensely talented brains behind my banners.

Take care, everyone! Until next time ... :)