A/N: Hey guys, here's another one. Sorry it's a little late, the first week of the month is crazy for me at work. Hopefully Calefaction will have an update by Thursday.

One quick note. There is some perspective changing this chapter; I didn't note it, but you should be able to tell when it happens. Everything that is first person is Bella, the rest of the story will be told in third person.

Let me know what you think.

~Ex

And because I forgot on Chapter 1:

***I do not own anything that you recognize and this is done for fun, not profit.***

Becoming

Chapter 2

Unacceptable Losses

I was going to refuse.

The decision was made the moment that the fallen angel had bodily hefted me out of my seat, smiling as though I was being granted the most incredible gift.

I wanted to hit him. I wanted to grab him and shake him, and rail at him.

How dare he smile at me? How dare he speak to me as if nothing had happened? As if he and his cohorts hadn't just slaughtered a group of innocent people right in front of me? My best friend included! Did he truly believe that I was going to view these circumstances, to be used for whatever power they had imagined up for me, in a favorable light?

I'd rather die than do anything to help these monsters. I only hoped that I would be able to hold on to my conviction when they inevitably attempted to 'sway' my decision. I could gladly live the final days of my existence without seeing Jane's terrifying gaze again.

Or maybe they'd decide I wasn't worth the effort. Maybe my supposed 'shield' abilities weren't good enough to bother with the trouble I intended to give them and they'd end this ridiculous charade before it could go any further.

I allowed Edward to lead me back to my cell without protest. It just didn't seem like the right time to inform him of my decision. Not with the muscles of my arms and legs aching with every step, memory of the pain that Jane had inflicted far too fresh in my mind.

As he closed the door, he smiled; a deceptively beatific expression that I returned with nothing more than a half-hearted glare.

"We'll have to see about getting you a more comfortable place to stay, hm Bella? It seems as though you'll be with us for a while," he murmured, before the heavy iron door swung shut and I was left with nothing but the darkness and my thoughts.

I had a feeling that the latter would prove to be the greater evil.

The shadows settled oppressively around me, a stifling obscure blanket, and it began, as I'd known it would, but prayed it wouldn't.

My head ached with the sudden onslaught of torturous memories; voices and images that seemed intent to pry my already tenuous grip on sanity looser yet. I was helpless to stop them, and I fell to my knees as pain, pain greater than even the terrible girl had inflicted, wracked through me.

I slid down onto the cold floor, drawing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms tightly around myself, lest I shatter into millions of irretrievable pieces.

Hot tears began to trek their way down my cheeks as I relived Angela's death; the blood on her face, her eyes, wide and unseeing, staring accusingly right through me.

It was my fault. It was my fault she was dead. And I... I was alive. Why was I alive? My shoulders began to shake as choked sobs ripped their way out of my throat. Why hadn't I gone with Jessica? Why had I been so stubborn and insistent?

Oh God. What did Jessica think? How long had Angie and I been gone? Was the other half of the four musketeers worrying about our whereabouts? Had they called someone? The police? My parents?

A new pain, acute and consuming, spread through my chest, and I gasped desperately at air that was suddenly too thick for airways that were rapidly becoming too small.

My parents. I was never going to see them again.

Of that, I was absolutely certain.

I swallowed against the hysterical sobs that clawed their way out of me. My mom. She would be inconsolable...

For as long as I could remember, it'd been me and her; my childhood had been filled with love, laughter and most importantly, my mom. She stayed at home with me, while my dad worked long hours, protecting the public from the dregs of society. There wasn't any problem, big or small, that I couldn't bring to my mom. She knew when I needed to be reined in and she knew when I just needed a sympathetic ear. She was easily one of my best friends.

And now...

A painful lump swelled, lodging firmly in my throat and my eyes burned with a steady stream of tears.

She would never move past the denial stage. I remembered when Gran had passed away; it'd taken her months simply to come to terms with the tragedy... I could envision her when she found out, the frantic, wide-eyed look as she pleaded with Charlie to purchase two flights to Italy, where she'd flash my photo at everyone she met, asking them if they'd ever seen me. But I knew... Even if my dad were to agree to the crazy scheme, they would never find me.

And dad.

Well, I'd never been much of a daddy's girl, but I knew where to go when I needed silent companionship. My dad never required the idle chatter that my mom seemed to like so much. With him, I could just be, and it was quite alright with the both of us.

Dad would bury his emotions; he'd be the stoic rock that my hysterical mother needed. But his eyes, the eyes that mirrored my own so exactly, they would betray him. He would blame himself. He would blame my mom. He would blame me. Like Renee, he would never believe that I was truly gone. Without solid proof, without being able to see my body for himself, he would believe I was out there until his dying breath.

Their lives would be ruined.

All because I didn't want to see the fucking Roman Theatre!

I uttered a furious cry, slamming my fist down with merciless strength onto the damp stones, briefly going rigid with shock as a resounding crack echoed throughout the tiny room. I felt my pulse throb heavily in my hand, a tingling sort of numbness following in its wake. Frowning into the darkness, I experimentally flexed my fingers, the sudden ache that radiated up my arm helping to assuage the ragged wound that afflicted my conscience. I welcomed the pain, the distraction from my thoughts. I struck the floor again, shuddering as the obviously broken bones in my hand shifted slightly, grinding together in a way that they had no right to. I did it again. And again, and again; mindless, violent repetition, until I collapsed onto my side, trembling lightly with adrenaline, warm, sticky blood dripping from my damaged hand.

I deserved far worse.

Throwing myself onto my back, I cradled my injured arm against my chest, staring into the nothingness and silently praying that I was strong enough to do what needed to be done.

"What do you think?"

Alice glanced up, a small frown marring her impish features as she pondered Edward's question. Her chest rose and fell with an unnecessary breath as she heaved a burdened sigh.

"What do I think?" She echoed pensively, flitting gracefully from one end of the room to the other, her face a constantly changing mask of lucidity and incoherence. "I think that if we don't expose the girl to Chelsea's influence soon, we may lose her before the game's even begun."

Edward arched a sculpted brow, a slight smirk tugging one corner of his blood-red lips upward.

"She's locked in a cell with nothing but the dust bunnies, Alice. She's certainly not going to be able to end her own life with those."

Alice uttered a quiet 'tut' beneath her breath, shaking her head in exasperation at the young man she loved.

"Edward, you disappoint me. I would think that after all these years you would know to look beyond the glaringly obvious to see the subtleties beneath."

He frowned at her assessment, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. Though she seemed intent to barb her point with poorly veiled insults, he was certain she'd divulge it eventually.

"You see, when I say that we might lose the shield, you immediately presume that I'm speaking of death. What of her mental faculties? Leaving her in a dank little cell in the dungeons, undoubtedly tormented by what she's seen over the past day, with no answers, and no hope…" She frowned, her eyes glassy as she lost herself, briefly, to hazy memories that were best left unrecalled. She shook her head to clear it as she glanced up. "Well, there are often far worse things than death, Edward. Things that our own minds are able to submit us to." Alice smiled faintly, flouncing over to brush a light kiss to Edward's lips, her words murmured against his cool, stone skin. "You underestimate her; the girl is quite resourceful. When next you check, trust that there will be blood."

My own screams woke me.

I didn't recall falling asleep as I jerked upright, someone's shrill shrieks ringing in my ears. I peered wildly into the consuming darkness, wondering where it could possibly be coming from.

It took several seconds, and my throat beginning to sting for me to realize that it was me.

I hastily silenced the disturbing sound, trying to gather my bearings.

I was cold; my clothing slightly damp from having lain on the dank, blood-smeared floor. As though prompted by my thoughts, my hand throbbed excruciatingly, and I bit my lower lip against a whimper.

What had I been thinking? What did hurting myself prove?

I laughed mirthlessly, feeling about with my uninjured hand for the wall. I pushed myself gingerly toward it, leaning against the smooth stones, peering down at where my hand was cradled delicately in my lap. I wished I could see what I'd done; though perhaps it was better if I didn't.

How long had I been here? When did they plan to come get--

Light suddenly flooded the room and I squinted, blinking rapidly against the brilliant illumination. It occurred to me, for just a moment, that the path to freedom lay right in front of me. Just a few short steps away. Of course, nearly blind and injured as I was, it probably wasn't the wisest choice to make a run for it. Besides, I didn't even know what kind of people, if that's what they were, I was dealing with.

I lifted my head slowly, eying the dark silhouette in the door skeptically. I thought I could just make out a halo of blonde. Great.

"Get up," the voice demanded, and I recognized it immediately as belonging to the man that had struck me. I touched my cheek lightly, wondering if there was a bruise.

"I said, get up," he repeated quietly, the undercurrent of threat in his tone causing me to push myself to my unsteady feet. I swayed dizzily for several seconds, using the wall to hold myself up. He sighed impatiently.

I grit my teeth against a scathing response, focusing my energies on staying upright.

"Come with me," he demanded, turning to walk away without waiting to see if I would follow.

I did, without thought. I could pretend that I had a sliver of control by refusing, petulant and childish, but what purpose would that truly serve? I was many things, but stupid was not one of them.

He led me through the room in which they'd interrogated me previously, and I looked about avidly. Though I knew the odds were slim, if I had any chance of escape, I needed to be familiar with the terrain.

The room was long, and gave the distinct feeling of antiquity. A single glance made it immediately apparent that, despite its age, this particular room didn't see much use. Dust hung in the air, tiny motes that sparkled in what murky light filtered in through the ancient stained glass windows. Their scenes were disturbing; pale, wraith-like creatures attacking what appeared to be clergy. I glanced at the back of the young man's head before me in surprise, unable to escape the glaring similarity. I hastily changed the direction of my gaze.

On the far side of the massive room were three long tables, made of a wood so deep brown that it nearly appeared black. Each of these was flanked with long benches, coated in a thick layer of dust that appeared to have not been disturbed in years. In several places, the old wood was badly decayed, splinters seeding the floor below. I frowned thoughtfully. It looked to be an ancient dining room of some type. Apparently my captors did not use it as such, or at all for that matter. Candelabra dotted the tops of the tables in several places, their candles ill-used, twisted and useless with the passage of time.

I must have made a small, unintentional sound, for my tormentor turned suddenly, his deep crimson gaze flitting over me.

"Something to say?"

I quickly shook my head, my heart leaping swiftly into my throat, where it beat rapidly, making it impossible for me to speak.

He nodded, and we resumed our exit.

As my heart slowly eased back into my chest, where it belonged, I found myself muttering distractedly beneath my breath,

"Just that a little house-keeping wouldn't be remiss..."

He glanced over his shoulder in surprise, and I was certain my expression matched his. There was no way that he'd heard that... Had he? I thought I saw his lips quirk in what may have been a slight smile, before the unaffected mask fell back into place and he turned away.

I glanced to the right, examining the tapestries that hung below the windows. I could just imagine the histrionics some poor historian might have, seeing the shape that the venerable wall-hangings were in. Dulled with age, they were still quite beautiful; red and gold threads woven into intricate patterns that bordered what were most likely family crests. Fraying and moth-eaten, I had to wonder why they weren't better cared for.

The carpet beneath my feet looked as though it may have been expensive once; before the crimson fabric had been worn so threadbare that the dark floor underfoot was nearly visible. It gave way to yet more smooth stone, and a thought occurred to me, belated, but incredibly important.

I stopped, on the cusp of exiting the room.

My reluctant guide took several more steps, before realizing that I was no longer following, and turned an irritable stare on me.

"What is it now?" he hissed.

I peered about the new chamber curiously, murmuring,

"Where are you taking me?"

"You want to change her now, Aro?!" Alice stood beside the elder vampire, her soft features drawn tight with agitation.

He smiled at the girl he had taken under his wing. Where others had seen lunacy, he had seen greatness.

"Do you have a problem with that, my dear?" he inquired, his voice laced with more than a touch of amused indulgence.

Alice paced, as she often did when upset, wringing her hands before her. She knew that if she was unable to persuade Aro, in the precious few minutes that she had to do so, everything would go awry. Everything would be for naught.

She slid gracefully into the large throne beside her mentor, the one that Caius usually occupied, and nodded emphatically.

"Yes, Aro, I do. I've seen..." She breathed quietly, gathering her thoughts. "Well, I just don't think this is the appropriate setting, nor mood for that matter. What do you think the girl will think when she's led into the very same room where her friend was killed? Into the very same room with the very same monsters?"

Aro shrugged elegantly, a puzzled frown marring the smooth, translucent skin between his brows. "I do not particularly care what the girl thinks or feels, Alice. If she is to be my shield, I find no reason to prolong the inevitable."

"Do you not?" she demanded angrily. Though incredibly stubborn when he'd made a decision, she wasn't used to Aro putting up this much resistance in regards to her. Alice had been saving his hide for years; she usually at least gave him pause.

He smiled kindly in the face of her irritation.

"No, Alice. I do not."

With what sounded quite a bit like a snarl, Alice reached out and took his hand in both of hers, forcing the terrible visions to the fore of her mind.

Aro lifted his head, the girl's blood dripping from his lips. His eyes held no trace of humanity, and he growled beneath his breath as Edward, one of his most trusted advisors, stepped forward, concern etched on his angelic marble face.

"Sir, any more and you will kill her."

Aro peered down at the pale countenance of the girl, his dreams of being entirely invincible against his countless imagined foes seeming unimportant; inconsequential when compared to the taste of this blood, soothing the ache that burned his throat. With a quiet, defeated laugh, he leaned his head back in. Within moments the girl gave a final, rattling breath and went still in his arms.

Aro pulled his hand away from Alice's leisurely, though his eyes were bright with anger.

"You think me incapable? After thousands of years, you presume--"

Alice's smile hinted at sadness. "I presume nothing, Aro. These are not my imaginings. These are the truths that your current mindset will lead to."

He scoffed, raising a hand as though planning to dismiss her. She scrambled to take his hand once more, closing her eyes against the pain the following vision incited.

Aro threw the limp body of the girl away from him, trembling as he attempted to retain control of himself. Just a little more and he'd have killed her. He wiped the back of his mouth and gestured for Jane and Alice to take her away.

For days, she suffered the agony of the change, and for days Jasper warned that she was confused, and incredibly angry.

Edward spoke to the girl, holding her hand as he did what little he could to ease her transition. He could very vividly recall his own change, and it was his firm belief that no one should suffer that alone.

When the girl finally stilled, Aro, Marcus, Caius, and the guard were summoned. She opened blood-red eyes and peered at them all; captors, murderers, tormentors. She flexed her slender hands; felt their new power, and with a bestial snarl, she leapt at the nearest one. Edward fell beneath her, having no time to even utter a surprised cry as she tore him limb from limb. For a moment there was nothing but surprised silence, until commotion broke loose.

She reduced their numbers by four, injuring three more with the brute strength granted to ensure newborn survival, until she was destroyed. Her disturbing laughter echoed until her head was removed from her shoulders.

Where Alice's pleading words had held no sway, this, at least, seemed to faze him.

"Oh," he murmured quietly, crossing his legs and extricating himself from her grasp before steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

Alice nodded solemnly, falling back into the uncomfortable chair. The pain of witnessing Edward's death had been almost more than she could bear, but to have seen it again... She swallowed. "Oh, indeed."

Several minutes passed in silence, before he turned toward her expectantly.

"Well? I assume you have something in mind?"

A familiar spark danced to life in the younger vampire's gaze,

"I'm glad that you asked. First things, first, summon Chelsea."

The doors.

I would recognize them if I escaped, moved back home, and lived to be 100.

The doors that had led to our fate. Angela's death and my... Whatever it was that my fate was.

They loomed before us, two wide, wooden beacons of doom, and I felt myself stiffen and start backing away before I'd even realized that that was my intent.

My tour guide had studiously ignored my curious round of questions; generally revolving around where we were headed and what they planned to do with me, as we'd traversed several long halls. Now I had the answer to at least one of them. Curiosity…

"No," I gasped softly, blinking against a sudden, blinding sheen of tears. I tripped over my own feet, stumbling into a wall with a wince.

The young man turned slowly, his expression tight, as though what little self-control he had left was quickly slipping away.

"Excuse me?"

I shook my head furiously, several lank strands of my filthy hair sticking to the damp trails on my cheeks. Dammit, I didn't want them to see me cry. I scrubbed the tears away with my uninjured hand.

"No. I won't..." I took a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. Considering my circumstances, I felt I was doing admirably, really. I raised my chin slightly and declared, "You can't make me go in there." I'd intended my voice to be strong, but it was reedy, little more than a whisper.

He stood before me in the space of a heartbeat, the motion so inhumanly swift that it took several seconds for my mind to catch up.

"How did you--?" I gasped, stepping back and connecting roughly with the wall, yet again.

"Don't worry about it," he mumbled gruffly.

Nodding toward 'the doors' he arched an expectant brow.

"I'm sorry, I can't," I whispered in defeat.

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Humans…" before grabbing my hand roughly.

I screamed. A blood-curdling, horror-movie-actress-in-the-making, vocal-chord-straining scream. Pain shot up my arm into my shoulder; the kind of pain that made my vision blur and my knees weaken.

He dropped my hand as though it had burned him, and I clutched the injured appendage to my chest, panting as I attempted to recover from the sudden bout of torment.

"What's going on out here?!" I heard another familiar voice shout from one of the hallways.

"Fuck," the blonde man muttered.

Angel-face Edward appeared seconds later. Though I knew I shouldn't think it, I knew that he was 'one of them', whatever they were, I couldn't help but imagine him as my savior. Maybe he would stop the blonde from trying to force me into the room.

"Jasper, having trouble?"

They exchanged a knowing glance, and Edward sighed.

"Why didn't you just force her compliance?" he demanded.

Jasper shrugged fluidly. "Doesn't seem like the right way to start things off, I guess." I noticed a slight hint of a southern accent in his voice, and I frowned curiously, glad for even the slightest excuse to think of something other than my throbbing hand. "She's hurt."

"I realize she's hurt, I could smell the blood from her cell all the way up in my room," Edward sighed in irritation. He pushed past the shorter man, and strode toward me, smiling. The smile was comforting, despite the fact that I knew something incredibly dangerous lay beneath that thin veneer of civility. Perhaps, just for now, I needed that illusion.

"What happened, Bella?" he asked kindly. His eyes met mine and I felt myself being lulled back into that warm, safe place.

"I hurt my hand," I replied simply.

He nodded his understanding, and held his out. "May I see?"

I felt like a child as I complied, placing my injured hand lightly in his. The sight of it was enough to snap me out of my slight daze. It was bad. Worse than I could have imagined. It was swollen, so incredibly swollen, as though all of the blood in my arm was circulating through the small extremity. Bruises, black, purple and green, marred the pale skin, and several of my fingers were bent at unnatural angles. Dried blood was caked on several long, deep looking scrapes, and something was poking against the skin on the back of my hand. I was willing to bet it was a bone.

"Oh my god," I gasped, nausea rolling over me in sickening waves.

"Mmm," Edward murmured in agreement. "We'll have to get this taken care of. But first, there's someone very important that you must meet."

His patronizing tone was far less soothing when he wasn't exerting whatever ridiculous powers he had over me.

"If you're asking me to go through those doors, I won't," I asserted quietly.

His smile affected a cruel edge, and I wondered, as an ice-cold finger of fear slid up my spine, how I could have ever imagined him as anyone's savior.

"You will, Bella. And not just today, but whenever we wish it." He closed his hand over mine, the slightest bit of pressure, and I cried out sharply at the stomach-turning pain. He may as well have clamped my hand in a vice. "Do you understand?"

I nodded helplessly, willing to agree to anything just as long as he stopped.

"Good girl," he replied lightly, and I jerked my hand back to my chest the very second he released the pressure.

Panting, I glanced between the two sadistic young men before me.

"What are you?" I demanded, wanting to know what kind of person, or creature, or whatever, could be so unfeeling… So blasé about causing another such pain.

The one called Jasper chuckled. "And Alice assured us you were smart."

"Not to mention observant," Edward replied with a flash of brilliant teeth.

"Tell me!" I snapped.

We all knew that there was nothing I could do if they didn't , no way to fulfill the unspoken threat in my words, but I needed to know. If they didn't give me something, anything, and soon, I was going to lose it.

Jasper stepped forward, grasping the elbow of my uninjured arm in his hand; it was frigid, even through the thin material of my t-shirt. He smiled cordially at me, canting his head.

"We're vampires, of course."

A/N: Okay, I know, they're pretty dark compared to their Stephenie Meyer counterparts. But honestly, without Carlisle's influence, humans are little more than food to them. They'll get better when they get to know her. Promise.