It has been a very long wait, but here is another chapter, finally. This is not the chapter I originally got the teaser from, since I have changed the order of events since then this will have to do. Sorry for being an awful author and leaving for nearly two months like that, but here you go. I typed this very quickly, so there will unevitably be errors in it. Please review if you are still reading, and check out my new story that I will be updating soon, called Art of Deception.

I do not own Twilight.

BPOV

Pain. Pure, undiluted torture scorched me for eternity. I was burning from inside out without hope of reprieve. It was all consuming, a pain so deep that it almost trumped the one I felt when Jasper left. Almost. With that thought in mind, I braved the fire raging through my veins, steadily pumping through my bloodstream as I burned alive.

I screamed until my throat was raw, clawing at my skin, trying to get rid of the source of all my afflictions.
My body writhered, twisted like an acrobats as the pain peaked and rose to new heights that I thought impossible; almost as if every cell in my body were being rewritten. Time was not a concept I grasped throughout those unending hours as it eluded my clouded mind.

I was vaugely aware of someone murmuring things every once in a while, of that same someone coming in and out of what I assumed to be a room periodically, their cool hand relieving the hot skin of my forehead, sitting occasionally next to me. Even in the hell I was wallowing in, I had the mind to notice these things, these small details that otherwise would not have registered.

Eventually, the raging fire began to recede, inch by painful inch, after an eternity of suffering. My screams ceased as the pain ebbed, my breathing even out and I lay still after my ceaseless movements. As everything came into persepective as the fire eased, I was actuely aware of sounds that had previously gone unnoticed by my ears; the frenzied pounding of horses hooves on a cobblestone street; the rickety sounds of carriges zooming along the streets, the pattering of feet on a sidewalk. Not only was I able to hear beyond the confines of my room, but I could distinctly make out the feeling of the cotton my body was swathed in, the rustle of clothing as someone moved near my head; the slow steady pace of their breathing as I could further focus on my enhanced senses as the pain dulled to a thobbing not yet gone but not dominating my every thought.

I did not open my eyes even when I felt the tentacles of my previous torturer slither away, only elated that finally the suffering was coming to an end. I open and closed me hands as if testing to make sure they were still there. The tempo of my heart began to slow, and in a short, final burst of fire it beat once and did not beat once again.

I took a deep breath, feeling the air rush into my lungs and distincly tasting the particles that came into my system, the taste of a sterelized room registering in my mind. Slowly, I began to lift my lids, afraid of what I might encounter once I could see where I was.

I "awoke" to a wooden ceiling, in which I could distinctly see each individual grain one the panels, the dust motes swirling in the air as I observed the grains closely. I turned my head and saw a window; it opened to a spectacular view of dense foliage I could clearly see even from the considerable distance I was from. The sun was nowhere to be seen, but a brilliant white moon lit the dark sky. By then my eyes moved on, and as I took in the appearance of the room it became clear that I was in a cabin od sorts; a large one at that. I was laying upon a wrought iron bed, a simple wash basin tucked against a corner of the room, a mirror hanging ontop of it. A dresser was pushed against the far wall, lonely in the austere room. A chair lay next to my bed, empty of occupants at the moment.

It was a rather impersonal room. It was more of a guest bedroom that no one used or cared to furnish. I was tangled in sweaty white linen sheets, dressed in the simple gown I recalled from a distant memory.

As I was finishing my assessment of the room, I hear the light footsteps of a person coming towards my door. They were much to light to be a normal person's; even then I knew that. I waited with baited breath as the footsteps neared, came closer to the door. They stopped altogether once they were directly at the entrance, slwoly twisting the brass knob as if not to scare me. I trained my eyes on the piece of wood seperating me from the stranger that had apparently cared for me in my moments of distress.

Yet as I was completely taken aback by the sight that greeted me from the frame, hands heald out in a clear demonstration of peace. The man was an angel fallen from heaven; fair and luminous. His golden hair looked like silk; his perfect, god like face passive as I gawked blatanly at his perfection. He was unbelievably pale, his skin a smooth alabaster that resembled marble. He was tall and sinous, somewhere in his early twenties by the glorious looks of him.

His odd golden eyes stared at me as he stood unmoving from his position, seemingly to gauge my reaction as I took him in.

"Who... are you?" A strange, smooth voice queried. I knew that I had opened my motuh and spoken the words, but this voice took me by surprise. I had not sounded like this before, like harps plucking out smooth, musical notes into words. It was abnormal, but everything that had occured so far indicated nothing to the cotrary. This situation only got more uncomprehensible as the seconds passed.

"I am Carlisle Cullen. We are not acquianted, I am afraid. Do you recall what your name is?" He asked, his voice a smothing velvet as I raptly listened.

Though I had been entirely focused on the sound of his voice, I instantly registered the question. Who was I? I was... Bella. Yes, That sounded right. Isabella Marie Swan. That was it.

"I am Isabella Marie Swan... but prefer to be called Bella." I said tentatively as he nodded his head.

"I am sure that you are very confused at the moment, but if you give me an opportunity to explain the situation, I assure you that many of your questions will probably be answered." He said, slolwy inching his way into the room.

I simply nooded as he fluidly stepped a little faster towards the chair, pushing it farther way from me as if I were going to bite. I sat quietly as he sat and gathered his wits.

"I am originally from London. It has been a great while since I have seen my homeland, but it has been a greater while since I have been alive, per say." He paused, looking off to the distance as if in a different time. It was apparent he was going to tell me his story.

"I was son to a preacher then. He was passionate about finding mythical creatures and killing htem. Unfortunately for his victims, he was usually wrong about these so called monsters whom were people like anyother who were befallen the misfortune of being labled a witch and the likes of that.

He was getting old, and eventually was no longer able to conduct his persecutions. When that time came, he left the task up to me, his son.

I was not like my father; I was more careful and less assuming, not quick to judge. One of my investigations led me and a mob armed with torches to the sewers of London where I thought there were to be vampires.

And it turned out they indeed were those very creatures. They were ravenous and attacked the group I had led to them. I myself ran, trying to get away.

Yet one of the fiends managed to tackle me and began to drink my blood. It was killing me and might have finished the job had it not gotten distracted. I then dragged myself to a barn and hid myself until the pain that came soon after the bite assaulted me.

It lasted about three days, and afterwards it became apparent to me what I had become. I had been turned into a vampire." He said, looking me in the eyes as he said the last sentence.

There was no other need to explain the situation further; it was clear as daylight what had happened to me. I was just like him now, a monster of myths and legends that I had before thought impossible.

I was vampire.

It was like a dream, though there was obviously no escaping this reality.

"How...how did this happen? Why am I a...a..." I trailed off, unable to say the word. Vampire.

"The bite of one of our kind injects venom into the system. It changes us. As for your other question, it is a simple matter. You were dying, and I simply could not let that occur, as it was partially my fault that you ran out into the middle of a busy street..." He left off, his head tilting to the side as I tried to recall the situation.

I vaugely managed to drege up a blurry memory from my human life. I remebered running out from my home to the street, Carlisle's golden head bobbing through the crowds as I desperately tried to reach him. Some of that desperation seeped through me, as a name floated through my head, like a prayer.

Jasper.

It all came rushing to me then, a torrent of blurry memories that refused to go away. The ball we had met in, the park, him telling me he was going to join the Confederate army, our farewell in the train station. All of it flooded back, along with them the emotions each memory was accompanied with.

The longing, happiness, elation, desperation, numb pain trembled through me. But above it all there was always love. Always love.

"Jasper... I thought you were him..." I whispered, my dead heart lurching with the realization that it was now practically impossible to see him again if he wasn't dead already. I had turned into a monster.

"Yes, you were muttering something about a Jasper fellow when befroe you decided to run out onto a busy Houston street. I take it you remeber him?" Carlisle inquired, curiousity pouring out of him.

I nodded vigorously, my mind bringing forth an image of my only love.

"Yes. He was... someone infinitely special to me. He was the man I loved. He had left to join the Confederate army, and when I saw you I mistook you for him. I was very depressed then, barely making myself live." i murmured, awash in sadness as I realized that now I was truly going to be alone.

Carlisle slowly extended his hand, patting me on the shoulder as he would a daughter, sympathy written across his face.

"I am truly sory that you lost him. It must have been terribly painful for you." He said gently, smoothly stabding upright as I fiddled uncomfortably with the hem of my gown.

"Thank you." I whispered.

"Well, I didn;t think of it before, but you must be extremely thirsty. You just awoke afterall." he said, making his way gracefully to the door.

Until he mentioned thirst, I had not noticed the dry, burning feeling in the back of my thorat, a fire of its own as I tired to swallow convulsively in a vain attempt to quench the thrist.

"Come; I will teach you to hunt animals, as I do. You do not need to drink for them, of course, if you would prefer to drink from...humans." He explain, distaste sharpening the last word.

Until then, I had not given my new diet a second thought, but as he suggested this altered for of living, I knew there was no earthly way I would willingly drink from another human being, thirsty or not. I would not become a murderer.

"I would prefer it if you taught me to hunt animals, please." I said, and a glowing smile spread across his face. Obviously pleased by my decision, he led me to through the door to the end of a hall, where he crossed a comfy living room furnished with simple, elegant furniture. He opened the door and began to run towards the woods I had seen outside my window.

Running was incredibly easy now that I was a vampire. I was graceful where I was clumsy, lightning fast where I was slow.

Yet as Carlisle informed me of other vampire facts I listened with half an ear to what he was saying. The other part of me could not stop dwelling on my memories of a man that I had once known and loved. Memories of a stranger I had met, of a being that I had loved unconditionally.

Even then, as I began my first hunt I knew I would stop at nothing to find the man that I had once loved.

I was going to find Jasper Whitlock, dead or alive.

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