TRIGGER WARNING: There are mentions of suicide.

I'm reposting this story so I can make a few clarifications and so that no one reads on for the wrong motives.

This is not a ExB story. Bella is a vampire, but she and Edward are not mates and have not had a romantic relationship of any kind. This is ExOC, okay? I hope to make it a slowburn, so if that's not your cup of tea, please, don't roast me lol. I'm also working on another fic at the same time, so if you want quick updates, please leave a review or a follow - or anything, really. Just let me know if you're interested!

Chapter One

The night was crisp and clear, a bright full moon gracing the dark blanket of the sky and illuminating the freshly fallen snow for as far as the eye could see. Narodnaya Mount was a perfect place for those who wished to rest in peace; the view, though beautiful, was bleak, and there was no living thing around to contemplate it. Not even him.

And the stars were always so bright up there. God, how he hated them.

He hated that they were so beautiful and indifferent when he was so miserable. He was a jealous creature by principle; even the fact that they were the only points of light in his eternal night was not enough to appease him. Edward sighed. The sound was loud to his ears, but the snow muffled it to anything but himself.

He sighed louder, partly hoping that something would hear. Most animals knew better than to disturb his resting place, but he aimed for a bigger - deadlier - kind of creature. In truth, he'd been waiting for a certain animal to deal a fatal - merciful - blow for some time now.

He'd heard much about werewolves. Tracking wasn't his strong suit, so he resigned himself to waiting for one there.

His siblings would say he was being dramatic, but the void in his chest certainly didn't feel staged. The coldness of the ground was lost on him; the breeze ruffling his hair, the quiet of the woods, even the brightness of the stars dimmed when seen from his eyes. The desperation through which he saw life only increased with time; he could not fake his own feelings anymore. How could he ever see his family again, accept their love when he knew there was nothing in his heart that justified such emotion?

No, he'd rather die than face their disappointment when they realised how unworthy he was.

He'd taken more than ninety years to reach that conclusion - he was not made for this life. Most of that time he spent in denial, convincing himself that everything was right. It wasn't. He'd tried human blood and animal blood, strengthening and loosening family ties, pursuing hobbies and setting up charities; nothing worked. He'd had a lifetime of disappointments, and that was enough.

Right?

Rosalie's words came to mind: You selfish idiot, you will destroy us all. She'd been the only one to catch him sneaking out to Russia, and her words stung. He didn't want to set the family apart, but suicide was the natural course of existence when one existed forever. Did she really expect him to forever rejoice in his sad circumstances? What else could he have done to ease his own sorrow?

He would miss Carlisle, for he was his father and mentor, but the man had other children and mentees. He would move on.

He would miss Esme, for she was the kindness he lacked, but that same kindness would allow her to forgive him. She would move on.

He would miss Emmett, for he was all the smiles Edward would never show, and it wasn't in his nature to brood for long. He would move on.

His relationship with Rosalie was complicated, and she would definitely move on.

He would miss Jasper, but his brother's priority would always be Alice. With time, he would move on.

He would miss Alice the most, and she would miss him and their silent conversations. But she was the most pampered member of the family, and they would pamper her out of her sadness. She would move on.

Bella...it was already past the time Bella moved on.

He was so lost in his anguished thoughts that he almost missed the heartbeat which accosted his resting place. It was definitely a big animal, for he couldn't distinguish any human thoughts, and it came alone.

He didn't even get up from his place on the ground. It would not do to scare the creature away.

As he'd hoped, a dark furred werewolf soon emerged from a slope across him, surprisingly silent for its size. It resembled a La Push mutt, but longer, leaner, and with even thicker fur. A werewolf's just a different species of mutt, then, he thought wryly. At least that one did not stink.

The creature trotted to him, its pace uncharacteristically calm for the creatures he'd heard so much about. Edward didn't move in the least, laying still as a statue, but his surprise was barely concealed when he felt the werewolf's muzzle nudging him as if trying to wake him up. The thought was amusing; did it really think he was sleeping, or was that some kind of murder ritual?

He moved a finger and the creature started a little at the movement, then huffed anxiously, folded its limbs and curled around him, its hot breath caressing his hair. Completely mystified, Edward contorted his head at an awkward angle to look into the creature's golden, soulful eyes. Were not all werewolves violent? How could he be so unlucky as to find the only cuddling werewolf nobody had ever heard of?

Bewildered, he let a few minutes - or maybe more, for the warmth was really comfortable - pass by. He waited for movement on the wolf's part, and the wolf, well, waited for something, its breath steady. When Edward's temperature began to rise, he understood what something was. It was trying to keep him warm, shielding him from the cold.

The thought was so absurd he felt the need to speak for the first time in - he didn't know how much time had passed since his escape.

"Do you not realise my heart is not beating?" he asked the creature. He knew it was pointless, but his curiosity was beyond reason. "I am a vampire. You hate me."

The werewolf looked into his eyes and deliberately - or so Edward thought - put a paw above his heart. Then he couldn't help it. He laughed.

The wolf started again, but opened its maw in a distinctly canine grin. It was a dog in spirit, gentle and eager. Edward thought of a name for him.

"I'm glad to have met you, Wolfie, but I really need to go, you know, find something that will kill me." Though he said it in a joking manner, he was completely serious. Wolfie whined and curled tighter around him, refusing to let go.

"You really are like a puppy," Edward murmured, running a hand through his tangled fur; Wolfie sighed. He mimicked the content gesture, feeling that, for once, he was needed somewhere.

Then the voices invaded his head, and the reprieve was over.

Edward? Carlisle entered his range. Are you there?

"I'm here, Carlisle," he said, a bit louder than normal. Wolfie looked at him questioningly. Then he heard Emmett's string of curses and his hackles raised.

"Calm down, calm down," Edward tried to reassure him. "They're friends, though not the ones I'd like to see now."

"We're your only friends!" shouted Emmett, still out of sight. While Esme chastised him, Edward prepared himself for when they'd see a werewolf for the first time. He grabbed Wolfie's fur more forcefully.

Carlisle was quick to reach him, but he stopped abruptly at the sight of a werewolf curled around his son, his mind thankfully blank. Emmett, however, couldn't stop himself from saying, "What the hell, Edward?"

The beast - as Emmett thought of it - growled at his tone. Emmett growled back, ready to pounce.

"No," Edward protested. "He won't hurt you."

The growling at each other bellied his words, but he forced himself to stand between the creature and his family. Esme, trailing behind, gasped.

I can't say I understand your suicidal tendencies, Edward, but to wish it on us too is kinda egotistical, don't you think? Emmett thought at him. Edward smiled ruefully, knowing he had, indeed, hoped for the beast to relieve him from his empty existence.

"You misunderstand me, Emmett. I'd never wish harm to befall any of you." Edward put space between himself and the werewolf. "This werewolf is unlike anything I have ever seen. He not only refused to...well, he helped me." He stumbled over his last words, not wishing to confirm their suspicions about his disappearance.

Emmett stared at him. The kid has gone nuts.

"It did what?" asked Esme, who seemed more amenable to his suggestion. Frankly, she would be amenable to anything that did not straight out try to kill her children.

"Precisely what I said. At first, I thought he would kill me," he looked at the creature, unsure whether he was grateful for that not being the case. "But he tried to warm me up because he thought I was dying from the cold."

He could see his father was doubtful, but Carlisle said anyway, "That is amazing, Edward. May I come closer?"

Edward thought the question was directed at him - it probably was - but the werewolf replied first with a regal and unmistakable nod. Carlisle hesitated, then approached the werewolf with slow steps, giving it time to growl a warning. It didn't.

Only when he was too close did Edward realise his intention to grab him and run for it. His plea, however, was aimed at the werewolf, that had come to the same conclusion and was ready to attack. No, Wolfie!

As he shouted his warning, Carlisle jumped back, thankfully unharmed, but looking warily at Wolfie anyway. "I felt it was about to rip my arm off," he declared.

"Wolfie?" asked Emmett, at the same time Edward admitted, "I felt it too."

"Wolfie," he said, turning to Emmett while Esme rushed to Carlisle's side, "is what I have decided to call him. You know, until he is able to tell me his name."

Seriously, you have to stop being weird. Aloud, he said, "You intend to stay until sunrise with this thing?" His tone was laced with disgust. Edward simply nodded. "What if it kills you?"

Wolfie whined and lowered his body to the ground, ten hundred pounds of muscle making an attempt at looking docile. To their surprise, Carlisle burst out laughing.

"Oh, I see you have found a new friend, indeed."

"Is that what's been missing in your life, Eddie? A pet?" Emmett rolled his eyes. "You should've said it sooner. I would've got you a golden fish."

"I don't want a pet," he replied, scowling. "I'm just dreading having to leave such an opportunity to study werewolves."

Wolfie looked at him, the expression in his eyes indescifrable.

"Well, Edward," Esme intervened timidly, now that she was assured Carlisle was intact. "You could bring it with us. It would be much less dangerous with the four of us to fight, if necessary."

Edward looked for an excuse, but found none. He didn't really want to go back to his family, but maybe studying a werewolf was worth it - at least for a while. And then he could also bid his goodbyes, instead of leaving so hastily.

All in all, he decided to agree.

Wolfie accompanied them easily enough, though he stayed close to Edward at the front of the group and avoided Emmett as much as possible. Edward's sibling wasn't his usual self; his thoughts were too concentrated on preventing a threat to be cheerful. As a result, Wolfie was wary.

"So," Edward asked casually. "Where are we headed?"

"We were about to take a flight, but circumstances," Carlisle was polite enough not to look at the huge wolf. "Dictate we go back to the house we rented for the week."

"Yeah, Edward, let's see what kind of guy your werewolf is." Emmett chortled. "Will you lay with him on the ground too? Want some privacy?"

If he had any blood on him, it would have flooded his face. Edward hadn't considered things that way; that Wolfie was, during most of the month, a human, and a man at that hadn't crossed his mind. He groaned, ashamed of his untoward behaviour.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience, Wolfie," he said. "Is there a chance you will not remember it in the morning?"

Wolfie responded by using his tongue to style Edward's hair in a cowlick fashion. Though Edward was amused, he didn't laugh; he was much too worried about the man's reaction when he took control by dawn. Why hadn't he gone to the Volturi?

The rest of their journey passed fairly quickly. Edward's mind wallowed too much on his own shame to heed Esme's trembling attempts at conversation. Had he taken the trouble to concentrate on her mind, he'd have realised it was not just the werewolf she was worried about.

The house was old, but beautiful; he wondered if Esme had taken the time to handpick it. A small, mean part of his mind suggested they were not really worried if they'd had the time to choose a house. He brushed the comment aside before it dealt any real damage.

"Are you bringing the werewolf inside?" Esme asked, always solicitous. "I can make some space for it."

"Thank you, Esme." Edward bowed his head in gratitude, and his mother looked at him with love in her eyes before rushing inside through the double doors.

"Son, I understand your need for research and I sincerely appreciate your curiosity," Carlisle decided to come closer and, undeterred by Wolfie's wariness, stopped only a few feet from him. "However, after this is over, we'll have to talk about family matters."

Edward dreaded that moment, and his hand involuntarily sought Wolfie's fur before he remembered there was a person inside the wolf. He jerked his hand away.

"Of course, Carlisle," he agreed with a lightness that he didn't feel. "It is only fair."

"It is the bare minimum, you mean to say," grumbled Emmett. "Suicide boy."

Edward bristled at the nick name. "Of course you wouldn't understand. Why should I expect a modicum of compassion from my own brother?"

"You're damn right. No compassion for the stupid here."

Wolfie growled and snapped at Emmett, who mentally yelped. "And for Heaven's sake, control your dog!"

Edward smiled, a ghost of his old smugness on his expression. Esme's thoughts interrupted their squabble, and he indicated that they should enter just as dawn lent its first rays of sunshine to their glittering skin.

Esme had pushed everything to one corner and hovered awkwardly in the center of the room, not quite sure what was in more immediate danger - the furniture or the vampires. Edward motioned for her to stick to the furniture, which Wolfie had been eyeing with uncommon interest.

"So, how do we go about this?" she asked.

"I've heard that werewolves transform with the first light of the day, but it seems not." Carlisle looked at the dawning sun through the window. "Perhaps we should wait."

Just as he said that, they heard a crack, and Wolfie whined. One of his hind legs was bent at an awkward angle, too straight to be a wolf's. His form seemed to shrink and twist, every time emitting a loud crack that could only be bones snapping back into place. Edward found himself fascinated and worried at once. Could Wolfie really suffer that pain every transformation?

The whining turned to a more human groan, and he caught the glimpse of a face. He had turned back even before Esme's muffled cry of surprise, and wished his family would do the same. Even with his back to the transformation, he was privy to the family's thoughts.

"What. The. Hell," murmured Emmett, never one to be quiet.

Oh, poor thing! thought Esme, her previous distaste for the wolf forgotten.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose in mortification. "Would you please turn back? I can see everything you see."

Nonsense, Edward. Who would tend to her then? Aloud, Esme said, "Honey, are you okay?"

He heard a moan, and concern overruled his sensibilities. He turned and tried to stare only at the face of the girl when he asked, "Wolfie?"

She stared at him in confusion - golden, soulful eyes in such a human face. Of course she was not Wolfie.

"My boy!" shouted Emmett, slapping his back. "I knew you weren't my brother for nothing. Can recognise a beauty even when she's dressed in wolf's clothing, huh?"

"Shut up, Emmett." Edward could swear he felt himself flush when he remembered the time he'd spent with her curled around him. He felt so guilty. Had he unknowingly taken advantage of her? He hung his head in shame.

Edward. Carlisle's thoughts called him. I think she wants you.

His attention snapped back to the naked girl - carefully avoiding dipping his stare below her eyes - and she was, indeed, ignoring Esme's attempts at getting her attention and staring directly at him. Catching his eyes, she slowly extended a hand in his direction.

Emmett turned to him and, his eyebrows shooting up to the hairline, repeated his words from earlier, "Want some privacy?"

So, how do you like the story so far? What do you think of this Edward? Suggestions to improve are always welcome!

About the topic of Edward's personality: I believe I'll be broaching the subject of his Madonna/Whore complex, his inferiority complex and also his superiority complex (lol). He is a character with many flaws, and I'll try to dissect those so we can see the man desperately in need of love that hides behind them :)