Time

"I tasted, tasted love so sweet,
And all of it was lost on me,
Buttons sold like property, sugar on my tongue,
I kept falling over, I kept looking backward,
I went broke believing that the simple should be hard,
All we all, we are,
And every day's a start of something beautiful."

-"All We Are" by Matt Nathanson

I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders—it was pounding rain, which was good. It washed the smell of human blood away. Or lessened the impact. It also meant that people walking through the streets would be scarce. That was always good.

I hated being such a monster.

"Monstruo…monstruo."

"…yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…"

I groaned and scrubbed my hands across my face.

I wanted to do something impulsive. I wanted to feel something at least. Not the numbness I felt then. Anything but the monotonous deadpan emotions.

It was late at night—the sky painted cold, hard blue as the rain poured down. Like cats and dogs my father would've said.

I sighed and shook my head. There was no use remembering the past—I just wanted to forget. Maybe I would go back to Peter and Charlotte and ask them to kill me. Maybe then I'd be free of my prison.

Peter probably wouldn't do it. He considered me his brother, a kindred spirit.

I could stir up such a panic that the Volturi would come after me. That might work. I would welcome the pain of a searing fire as the smoke washed away every remaining trace of Jasper Whitlock.

But I need a diversion—a distraction that would pry the trio of ancient vampires away from their precious city. I needed a serial killing, I needed blood. Abundant, sweet blood.

I sighed and titled my head back, up into the air—smelling past the rain and the smell of bricks and asphalt and car exhaust. To a nice gathering of people.

I ran then, through the streets not even caring about speed. If I was giving myself a death sentence I might as well have done it well. Thoroughly damn myself.

There it was a small, well-lit diner it what appeared to be the seedier part of town. It was one of those specialty restaurants—always a one-hit wonder, locally notorious for some foul-smelling sandwich that I'm sure had I been human I would've consumed in mass quantities.

I stood across the street from the diner, staring in.

All the people there—maybe six, seven. All so good-smelling.

"Six people isn't a mass murder," I said to myself.

But that didn't stop me. I needed to feed. I needed a fix.

Like some addict to some illegal substance, I needed it. I had to get it; I would go crazy without it.

I was beyond functioning with some semblance of sanity.

I didn't realize that the only thing that kept me a monster was me. I was the barrier blocking my humanity.

I sighed and popped the collar of my trench coat up over my face. Maybe I wouldn't kill all the people. Maybe I would lure someone out with me and give myself more time to clear my head.

Yes, when I was better fed, things would make more sense.

I went into the door and pulled on the chrome handle. The little bell above the door chimed as I stepped in.

The hostess came up to me, a bright smile on her face. But she was nervous. They were always nervous around me—it was amusing. I waved her away lazily, my eyes sweeping across the room, looking for a victim.

There were a couple beautiful young women. They were the best—always entranced by my face, always far too preoccupied to realize that I was tasting their blood until it was too late and their euphoric satisfaction turned to terror.

But as I was smelling the sweet aroma of youth something else piqued my senses. It made the short hairs on the back of my neck stand on it. It was something I wasn't used to smelling.

Another vampire.

My eyes snapped to her, then.

A little female—about Charlotte's size, but she and Charlotte couldn't be more dissimilar. She had cropped dark hair, curled as was the fashion of the day. She wore a dark dress with a row of pearly buttons down the front. Her eyes a delicious butterscotch. I wasn't used to that. That was new.

And most of all, the thing that struck me about her was she was completely at ease.

She wasn't afraid.

Not of me, not of losing control in that little room full of humans—she was so happy.

So stunningly happy that I found myself smiling—it was contagious.

She hoped off the barstool on which she sat, and danced over to me with such grace that I thought I was looking at an angel.

And then, it hit me.

She wasn't a monster.

Not the way I was.

She was a perfect, sinless angel. And I was a demon.

But she smiled like I was the sun, like I was her light. And she radiated such love, such hope that I could feel it settle into my bones, into my cold, dead heart, into my very soul.

She offered her hand to me, and for some inane reason, I took it.

She was warm and soft, some irrational part of me noted. Though I'm glad that I was able to remember the little intricacies of our meeting.

"You've kept me waiting," she said, looking up at me from under her curly, black lashes.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said, ducking my head—actually feeling abashed.

She smiled brilliantly at me and stood on her toes to brush my hair out of my face. "We should probably go hunting," she said, tracing her tiny fingers around my eyes.

I nodded but then stopped as she was leading me back out into the rain, "How do you know me?"

She stopped and then smiled thoughtfully at me, "I know you, Jasper Whitlock, because every time I close my eyes I dream about you."

"We don't dream, ma'am," I said, still hazy and a little more than delusional from hunger.

She laughed—a sound like beautiful voices in some heavenly choir—"I suppose we don't. I can see you, I don't know why; but I see you. I saw you coming to the diner, I saw you leave the coven in Mexico, and I saw when you left Peter and Charlotte behind in Ontario."

I paled a little and tried to pull away from her hand, but she clutched tightly to my fingers. "How do you see all this?"

"How are you making me feel afraid right now?" She shot back, staring right into my eyes, "How did you convince Peter and Charlotte to let you leave so easily, how did you make them placid enough that they didn't argue?"

I stood still and stared at her, "You're talented too, then."

"I know Maria liked you because you're talented, you tend to babble about it when you're thirsty." She said matter-of-factly.

It scared me how much this little person knew about me, "And I don't even know your name."

"I'm Alice," she said brilliantly.

"Alice," I said again, "Alice."

"Yes, Alice," she said, pointing to herself then she pointed at me and winked, "Jasper."

"Yes, thank you, I know who I am."

"Do you?" She asked slyly, "Sometimes you wonder about that, too."

I was yet again struck by how much she knew about me. She must have realized it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable—I'm just so happy, I tend to get overexcited."

I smiled for her, "Why are you so happy to find me?"

She grinned back but her eyes told me she wouldn't answer. I sighed, "You won't tell me, will you?"

"No, at least not yet."

At the time, I was so overwhelmed that I didn't realize those words were familiar to me. But it would be more than fifty years later that I would figure out exactly why.

I've had the written for a couple of days now, but I kind of didn't want to post it. This is the last chapter, and I feel sad. I love this story, but I felt like I was dragging it out too long. There will be an epilogue, I'm planning on writing that. But I don't know when it will be done, if you read Seven Futures for Seven Families you'll know that all next week I have exams as well as preparing to take the SATs, so the epilogue definately won't be out until the second week of June. I don't have an exact date yet, but I'll try to do it as fast as I can.

The song at the beginning is "All We Are" by Matt Nathanson. You should listen to this song as you read this chapter, it fits. So look it up on Project Playlist or YouTube!

Thanks to everyone who reviews and reads this story, it really means a lot to me!!