He had failed. It was simple to admit, simple to say, simple to ponder, but he wished that he didn't have to be dealing with it. He had lost the battle, maybe even the war; victory had eluded him. He was defeated. His own failure had brought him where he was, standing awkwardly in front of the Swan residence, a manilla envelope clutched in his hands. Inside the envelope were various documents, those being Sam's resumé and various other work-related papers. Most likely his recommendations.

He had offered to take it to Chief Swan, mostly due to his desire to quell the restless aching in his chest. He knew what it meant, as there wasn't any other explanation for his wallowing. Due to his sense of pride, he did not want to announce it to himself, but he knew that he was going to lose his essence if he wasn't around her. That's albeit cowardly, but only two people knew, after all. And he wasn't even speaking to Quil; he hadn't been for the last two weeks since their squabble. And Sam, well, he had too hard of a head to even realize things that required more than a second grader's level of perception.

He wanted to hate it. He wanted to agonize over it, maybe even pout. But how could he do that with his instincts in tact, diverting his attention? That'd just be cowardly... again. Wasn't he enough of that already? Any more would definitely wound his enlarged ego.

His hand moved and knocked on the wooden door, as the doorbell looked shoddy. He didn't favor getting electrocuted in this weather, werewolf or not. Werewolves weren't immortal no matter what Seth's fellow pack mates claimed. Pain still stung, even in their matured bodies. Hell, in their matured bodies, they were even more sensitive to things like that.

Chief Swan, or Charlie Swan, wasn't the nicest of guys. Gruff, cursedly gawky, and a bit lumbering of a man. A strong father, that much Seth knew, but not exactly the best father. He hadn't been involved in Bella's life, Seth had learned, and had only been around in her summer visits. But those weren't often, and had most likely even stopped completely. Seth felt mildly bad for Bella. Growing up with only one parent around must have been hard. Like Quil had accused him of before, his life wasn't that hard. It had a few challenges from time to time (does this one count?) but it wasn't difficult. More of an easy-going road, really, excusing Harry's untimely death, but Seth couldn't go back in time to change that.

He wished he could have.

After his teenage transformation had rolled around, Seth grew to hate the man he looked so much like in looks and personality. But Harry's reputation around La Push made it hard for Seth to live up to. He had wanted when he was twelve to be that respected by the town. But he hadn't, as he had gotten in trouble often when he was younger and naïve. It was expected for the child of Harry and Sue Clearwater. Besides, then they had perfect Leah, who hadn't had her heart tromped on repeatedly at the time. Immaculate grades, lots of friends, popular status, her boyfriend being Sam Uley.

Going back in time would have been so great.

He couldn't change his genetics, but he sure could of handled his longing for mischief. He could have found a significant rebuttal to it, perhaps even spending more time with is father.

But those were dreams that couldn't be achieved. He had paved his own way to where he stood today, fumbling nervously in front of a harmless house with a seemingly harmless (not) chief of police residing inside with Seth's object of his affections.

Entertaining the thought of winning over Bella Swan's affections left his stomach uneasy. He did not want to do that, but needed to, to satisfy his inner beast. It was sickening.

But he couldn't help it. He would play with the cards he had been dealt, even if it was a bad hand. He could even create some ruckus on the way of his downward spiral (because what else could it be called?). He was okay with that, but knew that his free will was a must. If he didn't have that, then he'd easily resist. He wasn't strong-willed for nothing. He didn't have many talents, but if being an obnoxious smart ass was one, then he'd be all right. Absolutely all right.

Charlie opened the door, eyes probing Seth up and down, landing on the suspicious manilla envelope. Realization dawned on his face, and he quirked a thick eyebrow. "From Sam?" His voice was rough as if he hadn't used it that much. His words were blunt, however, and Seth did not let that go unnoticed. A fresh slice of unhindered annoyance flared in his brain, causing his free hand's fingers to twitch cumbersomely.

"Yeah," Seth replied, holding the envelope out to the older man as he took it. "He asked me if I could deliver it to you. He's got some reservations with Emily, or something." His tone was despicably bitter when he spoke of his cousin. It was outlandish to blame her for his sister's pain, but did anyways. Emily could resist.

So could Bella. She didn't feel the pull of it. Only the wolf.

That thought left Seth with a strange and empty feeling holding court in his chest.

"Emily?" Charlie asked, his thick brows dipping over his dark eyes. "Oh, the girl who was attacked by that bear?"

"That's the one," Seth said, "she's my cousin, so I'd know."

"I'm sorry."

Seth shrugged. "Don't be. It was too bad the bear wasn't put down, y'know?" Oh, how very true. If only I could put down that bastard.

"Still, the apology's there." Charlie looked inexplicably awkward. Seth felt sorry for him and his inability to properly converse with normal people. Probably a side-effect of his wife leaving him, and all. It must have sucked to know that Charlie had been replaced by a younger, much more limber man. One still in his twenties. Seth was immediately grossed out by the picture. A woman in her early fourties doing it with a twenty-year-old? Saggy skin and a small dick? It made him want to vomit.

Seth's toothy smile gave no clue to what he was thinking. "Thanks, Chief. I'm sure Emily would appreciate that." He paused, daring a glance over the shorter man's shoulder. "Is your daughter home?"

"Why?" Charlie accused, one hand instinctively going to where he usually had his holster. He didn't feel comfortable without his Beretta there, sitting in the worn holster. He usually didn't use the pistol on civilians, but knew that it was better to be safe than sorry.

"I'm concerned," Seth said gravely, "she promised me that she'd call. I was very concerned after I had found her. It's just who I am, sir."

Kiss-ass. "We formed a strange friendship when walking back to your home. When she brought the application to Sam two weeks ago, I was there with him. Let's just say that I've developed a small crush for her, sir." He smiled warmly, falsely. "I have no intention of doing anything obscene, Chief, so you don't have to worry."

"I've seen many boys like you around my town, Seth," Charlie announced seriously, "and they always have obscene intentions. Call it testosterone, if you want. But what they want is never just innocent."

"You knew my father, didn't you?" Seth tacked, "so I'm sure that you know I'm a well-mannered man. Oh, excuse me, boy. I'd never want to cause problems, sir. My father taught me better than that. And now that he's gone," he gave a professional yet masculine sniff, "I intend to follow his wishes. Harry Clearwater was a good man. A very good man. A godly man."

Charlie softened at the sound of his late-friend's name. He sighed, stepping back from the doorway. "Let's be civil, son. Nothing that would ruin dear Harry's reputation."

"Never," Seth vowed, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Her room's up the stairs and to the left." Charlie paused. "Keep the door open, will you? It's not that I don't trust you, but one can never be too careful."

Charlie's hand stroked an imaginary holster where his sidearm was usually strapped to.

"Of course."

Seth took to the stairs, hand trailing on the wooden banister. The Cullen's scent was all over the place, lingering with the faint aroma of Bella's own unique smell. Hers would fade more easily, seeing as she was just mortal, but Cullen's would remain. He had marked his territory, all right.

Seth wasn't sure why that disturbed him so much.

His hand clenched around the doorknob. The door creaked open slowly, much like a horror film would. Her room wasn't all that bright, but not dark either. A faint shine of sunlight breaking through the clouds passed her blinds, but then dissolved once the clouds covered the sun again. Seth pushed the door back to the dresser that stood beside it, hands going to his hoodie pockets. Bella looked up from her desk, half-expecting to see her father standing there, but instead was greeted with the rather large form of Seth Clearwater. One delicate eyebrow rose, hitching up on her forehead, but she did not say anything. Seth realized a little too late that she was waiting for him to speak and explain his entrance.

"Nice room," he said, "Anyone with your depth would have the exact same one."

Bella was not fazed. "What do you want?"

Seth scoffed. "Nice way to greet a visitor. That's how you talk to your grandmother, isn't it?"

"She's dead."

"Pity," Seth sniffed disdainfully, "Would've liked to meet her so I could tell her what a bitch you are to guests." He entered the room, plopping down on her bed gracelessly. "So lemme guess, Kid, you're doing homework?"

"Mm," she murmured, turning back to the book propped up on a notebook. "No, I just do a bunch of bookwork for the hell of it." She gave him a snarky look. "It's sort of amazing that you say I don't have any depth, while you see me with several high school level things on my agenda and ask me if I'm doing homework." She laughed quietly, turning a page in the economics textbook. "But I suppose anyone with your depth would think so."

Seth shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't disagree. I'm aware of my depth perception." He rose, leaning over her, watching her scribble down various sentences with her chicken-scrawl handwriting. "But I'm not a bloodsucker, am I?" The shiver she exhibited made him feel whole again. "Don't have the pristine vision, do I? Bit on the slow side, I admit, but I'm just a big puppy dog anyways. Not a fearsome little kitty."

"So you're a comedian?" she whispered.

His chin was digging in her shoulder now, painfully. "Uh huh. My teachers keep telling me I have a future, but then I just go tell 'em that I want to do stand-up comedy. They aren't so happy when I tell 'em that." He pressed a hand to her right shoulder blade. "Warm?"

She didn't respond, but continued to write.

"Much different than a 'cold one's' touch, isn't it?" he snickered, tracing a finger up and down her flesh (he didn't think that his little game would work as well without her wearing a tank top). "Hot or cold, hmm?"

"I can't tell the difference," she said suddenly, moving away from his touch. "Both are selfish bastards."

"Oh, I don't think so. You come from Arizona, right? You must love the heat. Raw heat is so much better than the cold, huh?"

"I'm used to the cold after being here for so long. I don't think I'd fit in the heat anymore. Besides, I don't even know it that well. No tan, see?"

"Can we cut the shitty analogy?" Seth drawled, licking one finger and draping it on a written word. It smudged as he moved his finger, but Bella didn't seem to notice. His other hand rubbed into her shoulder freely, but not roughly.

"Wanna know a secret, Kid?" he wondered quietly, shadowy. "I'll tell you my little secret if you tell me yours... Come on, it's just like 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours'." he teased gently. "Who cares if I know?"

Of course, he already knew. The Cullen family stench was all around her, practically marinating. He found himself wanting her to smell like him. That'd make him happy. It was strange that even his girlfriend's handjobs couldn't equate to the joy he'd feel if Bella smelled like him, inside and out.

It's puberty all over again, he thought lazily.

"Why don't you leave?" she suggested in a slightly broken voice.

"Oh, why?" he pouted. "Memories resurfacing, Kid? Some things you don't really want to remember? Did he touch you like this? So intimate, so, dare I say it, loving? Or did he really not care? Did he even love you?" The last few words were whispered, just barely registering in Bella's ears.

"Get out."

Seth grinned in an all too animalistic way. "Your wish is my command. But I'll be back. I can't seem to stay away."

"Get out." she repeated, not even looking at him. He withdrew his arms and stood to his full height, spine straightened. "Well, okay then. I'll see you... soon."

Desmond paused, looking over the phone morosely, before picking it up and dialing an unfamiliar number. It rang for a few long seconds, but then the other end picked up.

"Hello, this is Desmond Bly. I have a matter to discuss with you."

The number might have been unfamiliar, but the voice was not. "Oh, is that right? I always have time for you, Desmond. Tell me what's up."

"It's that Seth Clearwater boy," Desmond spat angrily, "He's always disobeying. He never listens to the council, just like his godforsaken father." He paused to catch his breath, heart beating heavily. His pacemaker had yet to regulate the beats.

"He's a nuisance, and I'm afraid that may turn into something much more worse if he isn't tamed. Or contained. Whichever is better. Whichever can get the job done. What do you think of that?"

"He hasn't been showing much disobedience lately, but I haven't been around him to really put any proof on it. But I'm sure you would not lie to me, Desmond. We've known each other for two years now. We can trust each other." the man spoke somberly. "I'll talk to him later. When I last saw him he was acting a bit odd, but he had just turned. It may be stress related to the transformation."

"No, no!" Desmond hurriedly denied. "He purposely came to my – our council and threatened my life along with the other councilmen!" He struggled to sound alarmed. "He has caused enough damage already! We're fearing for our lives here!"

"All right, all right, Desmond," the man soothed, "I'll help you with whatever you have planned. If he's threatening homicide, then we have to tread carefully and lightly."

Desmond gave a sufficient sigh of thanks. "You are a lifesaver, Sam. Literally."

Sam Uley laughed. "You know me, Desmond."

And then Desmond hung up the phone.

Tried a different format this time around. I'm sure some of you are noticing some subplots from the original Crossing the Lines, like Sam's deceit and Seth's eventual breaking off from the pack. That's about it for now, loves.