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Author's Note:

I'm sorry this chapter took so long, it was due to other obligations. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

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You're in it for the long haul,

Grief will put you to the test.
And when in the night time, sadness rules

You won't sleep for regrets.

JPOV:

It was evening, and the soft light broke through the slats in the windows to cast shadows across the room. I could see every individual dust mote wind its way across the patches of light and to the ground. I had been watching for hours.

Kill the newborns, she had told me. I should have done it before, but I was putting it off... for reasons I didn't understand. Why kill the newborns? What would it achieve? My chest ached with some emotion I couldn't recognise. All I could think was..... such a waste.

They had once been humans, once meant everything to someone— they had a mother, or were someone's husband— they had dreams and emotions and aspirations. And I was aware of it all, I could feel their pain and hope and anger and lust and dreaming and excitement. I could feel.

"Jasper!" Maria called from upstairs. A reminder. She still had not heard the ripping, tearing, burning sounds that would signal that I was fulfilling her orders. Impatience hung around her figure like a shawl.

I sighed, uncurling myself from the window seat. I looked across at Peter— his dominant emotion was confusion, and I took the emotion and gently pulled it away from him like a ribbon, infusing him with a cloud of serenity. He sank back against the wall and closed his eyes. The newborns, however, still regarded me with wary glances. I assumed they were bitterly remembering my assertion of dominance earlier. They wouldn't forget it for a long time, I thought.

And then I paused. They didn't have a long time— when I did what Maria desired, they would have only seconds. I pushed this thought into the back of my mind, and called the name of the vampire closest to me. He was a large one, meaty like an Italian sausage. His tufts of black hair extended not only on his head but also on his upper lip, and in a thick channel down his chest. Few of the newborns wore proper clothing. No, that right was reserved for those who gained clothes as gifts from Maria. She particularly hated this newborn— his clothes hadn't been replaced for what looked like years, and his red eyes were almost black with thirst. He hadn't been rewarded in a long, long time. Maria would be pleased to be rid of him.

"Cleaver, I would like a word," I ordered, jerking my finger back towards the door of the house.

His hairy upper lip curled, but he followed me. He did not dare challenge me— the scars that adorned my body like trophies showcased just how many vampires had died trying to kill me. At least, he had sense in that respect.

I led him about a mile away from the house, just a few seconds run for us. The scrubby countryside was about as crisp and infertile as an old woman, and few bushes adorned the ground. The others would hear as we weren't that far away, but I didn't intend to make any noise.

I pulled sharply out of my running stance as we reached a patch of land that looked just like every other patch for miles around. Cleaver skidded to a stop, feeling unsure.

"What is it, Whitlock?" he asked sharply, his moustache twitching with distaste. "What have you brought me out here for?" I could tell he hated but feared me, it was rolling off him in waves.

I did not answer, but locked my eyes on his. I knew the newborns feared my eyes, for they were shockingly brilliant crimson. I had recently fed, and that gave me strength. I slipped slowly into a hunting crouch, my eyes still locked on the vampire before me. Immediately, almost instinctively, my eyes flashed across his body— deciding where his weak points were, where to strike, how best to kill...

And yet Cleaver was not an idiot. He knew this stance, recognised the calculating look in my eye... for he had seen it on the battlefield, watched me tear and rip apart until I was alone on the field.

"Whitlock," he growled out warningly. He didn't not try to stop my attack, or beg. That was not his style. His eyes flashed with defiance as he stood wide and braced himself for defence.

If I had my way, he would have no time to defend.

Two hours later.

I was down to the last newborn. I really needed a new spot to kill them off, for as soon as they followed me to a stop, they noticed the pyre of smoke and got angsty. Some of them had even got in a few strikes before I'd ripped them apart; I even had a new scar.

This last one would be easy, though. She was female— one of the few Maria had created— and weak. Peter had watched me blankly as I led newborn after newborn away from the house and returned alone. He had to recognise the signs, to wonder if he was next... yet, when I called the name of this one, in a slightly bored tone, I saw him stiffen out of the corner of my eye. His emotions betrayed him. Anger was all I felt, pulsing in waves from his body and saturating the room, even though he knew my power and was trying fiercely to hide it.

"Charlotte," I called, spouting some rubbish about Maria deciding to let her go free, "Come with me."

There. Again! This time, it was clenched fists.

Peter had some connection to this one!

I decided to make sure, and grabbing the hand of this female vampire, I began to lead her towards the door. As I passed Peter, he straightened from his sitting position to block my path to the door, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a snarl.

"Move." It was an order, not a request.

He leaned towards me and growled harshly in my face. He was usually so civilised, it was a shock. I dropped the female's hand, and Peter lowered into a crouch.

"Charlotte, run!" He yelled urgently to her, preparing to offer himself up to be torn apart by me. The sweet little thing hesitated, looking terrified. Her hand froze on the doorknob. I fell into a crouch, snarls instinctively ripping their way up my throat— Maria had told me to get them all! I couldn't let even one get away!

"Charlotte, he's lethal! GO!" Peter roared, still blocking me from her and the door. The little female finally took his advice, and tore the door off its hinges trying to get away.

At once I dove forward, hands reaching for Peter's throat. He slipped from my grasp like a worm, twisted away from me... but I jumped from his grabbing hands, turned in the air, and landed behind him. He growled in frustration. I noticed a weak spot as I lunged for him again— he wasn't protecting his back. Whenever he span to get away from me, he left his back unprotected to vampire snatches and blows...

"I can't let you have her, Whitlock!" he roared, diving backwards from my teeth, just a hair's breath away. "I love her!"

"And I can't disobey Maria's orders," I snarled, wondering what had happened to the companionship that had grown between Peter and I. I had no idea he was infatuated with Charlotte— the quiet, simple female who never spoke or looked anyone in the eye. Would our friendship be lost over this?

"I'll kill you before I let you hurt her!" he shouted, feebly lashing out. I dodged his blow easily, cuffing him viciously over the head. The blow sent him flying through the wall, smashing apart furniture, and left him in the next room. I sped to his side at vampire speed, and snarled as I slammed him into the ground and avoided his flailing limbs by planting a knee each side of his struggling torso and taking a hold of his upper arms, ready to rip them off.

His eyes were fearful now, not ready for death. He felt angry, like a failure... I could almost imagine his thoughts, it was so apparent on his face— I've failed. He'll get her now; she can't run fast enough.

He had one last stab at freedom. He knew me too well.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Jasper!" he shouted, yet his voice wasn't hard, but soft, crooning... persuasive. "You don't have to fight, to kill every day to stay alive! You can live differently!" And he assaulted me with emotions so strong they almost knocked me off my feet— hopeful glances shared with Charlotte, his passion as he first touched her, the joy of hidden kisses, shared secrets, and blinding, dazzling love that stung in every cell of me. I groaned, clutching at my heart like a dying man in torture.

"See, Jasper! This is real! You can feel like this!"

And he attacked me again with a second wave, just as strong as the first: earth shattering love... and devotion so strong he would die for her.

"You can come with us," Peter urged, "Run from all of this. Escape!"

I rolled off him, my eyes fixed on his. "Go," I choked out. I planted my forehead against the floor and tried to fight the sensations running through me, for I knew they could never be mine. He was torturing me with unattainable dreams, false hope!

I felt his hand on my shoulder before he left— once simple touch, and a whisper that faded away with his running footsteps:

"Don't loose hope."

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Author's Note:

This chapter was completely and wholly due to several reviews which gave this story renewed energy.

They got me off my ass and typing.

All hail:

..0.

and everyone else who reviewed, it was greatly appreciated!

Please? Could you do it again? ;)

CullenLove