A/N: This is my first Twilight fan fiction, and I am a bit nervous about it. I have never really written anything about Jasper, but his character and his past are so intriguing that I decided to do so. Hopefully, I captured his emotions successfully. Any constructive criticism is welcome, even flames.

I wrote this while listening to Two Coins by Dispatch. Magnificent song.

Alice once told me that my history, that past that is as present in my mind as the scars are across my body, did not define me. But even as I lunged after that one drop of blood appeared, I felt the judgment of my family and of my wife, the thought that this would happen eventually. Even as I felt my instincts take over and my mouth form growls, I was repulsed by myself; I had tried so hard to restrain myself, only to know that once again, Emmett's brute strength would ensure that I did not manage to hurt her.

I was there the day that Bella told Edward that this had been the happiest summer of her life. She was over at the house constantly, but no one looked at me strangely when I suddenly announced that I needed to go hunting after Edward or Alice told of her appending visit that day. I felt their pity radiating off them. And then I felt his happiness.

I wanted to hate his happiness. I was in constant pain, the burning at the back of my throat demanding attention whenever she neared. My resolve was tested each day so that he could chastely kiss her and question her on what she was thinking.

Most of the time, I did not mind the fact that his love overshadowed my pain in the family's collective mindset. Everyone felt the difficulty of always being on guard so as not to slip, but I grimaced in pain when her visit became lengthier and lengthier.

I felt anger at times when I felt his overwhelming emotions. She inspired such love and joy in his life, a change that made most of the family warm to her immediately.

I wanted his love for her to be my love for her. I wanted her lips and her touch to be the thing that would forever make me resist her blood, tame my thirst if only for a few moments. I wanted that emotion to be mine, that overwhelming, blissful emotion that always wanted more and more.

I wanted to steal her. When he was away, close to her and unable to hear my thoughts, I plotted, breathing potential into ridiculous plans. I would don my cowboy boots and call her darlin' until she swooned right into my arms. I would flood her with feelings of love for me until they overshadowed anything she could have possibly felt for Edward. But somewhere beneath my fanciful delusions, I knew a healthy dose of southern charm or of strong love potion would not change anything, could not change anything.

I tried to hide those insistent thoughts from my brother, the man who had almost lost the hope of ever finding a person to share his lonely days with. I would be even more repulsed with myself if I had done that.

I took it as a goal to never make a decision about Bella. With all the possibilities running through my mind, one never stuck to the point when Alice would see that decision's effect on the future. Part of me wanted Alice's eyes to go blank and see whether Bella could ever love a monster with scars crisscrossing his body. I wanted to know whether I would attack her, if I had the strength to love her.

As my throat burns, I know that I would not have. She is worth more than a few moments of draining her blood and feeling the satisfaction of it. Bella is something else that is not defined by her smell.