Hello All, here is the latest installment!

I would absolutely LOVE a few more reviews from you guys. I so appreciate the few that I've received, but they are a source of motivation for me, so if you take the time to let me know how I'm doing, I would love you forever! Enjoy this next chapter!

A soft knock came from the other side of the door. Bella sat up, still shaking from her dream and realizing that the entire Cullen family had most likely heard her screaming who knows what.

"C-Come in." she sniffed. Rosalie opened the door and tentatively stepped in. She seemed hesitant, and yet walked with a grace that still awed Bella- she would never get used to Rosalie's beauty.

Rosalie sat softly on the side of the bed, the frilly bed which Edward insisted upon her using, and pulled Bella into a hug. Bella stiffened, as this was very unlike Rosalie, but she then realized that she needed the comfort and relaxed into the hug, burying her face in Rosalie's shoulder and sobbing.

Rosalie made awkward little murmurs of comfort as she stroked Bella's hair. She was out of her element and extremely uncomfortable, but she hated to see anyone this upset, and she knew that she had to talk to Bella anyways. She was going to try one more time.

"Shh, Bella, it is only a dream…why don't you tell me about it? It might help." Rosalie continued to make soothing noices that were now only sounding slightly unnatural.

Bella froze. How could she tell Rosalie that she dreamt about her brother turning into a stereotypical creature of the night and ripping Jacob's throat out? Considering this, she also knew that Rosalie would understand, more than anyone else could. Rosalie hated her fate, and hated the idea of Bella sharing that same horrible outcome. Bella swallowed. She knew she'd end up telling Rosalie eventually, so why not now? She took a deep breath.

"I dreamt….that-Edward-was-a-monster-and-got-Jacob-and-he-was-lying-there-bleeding-and-Edward-was-laughing-and-he-had-fangs-and-oh-Rosalie-it-was-horrible." Rosalie nodded her head, inwardly chuckling at the fact that her heightened sense of hearing was the only possible way that she could have even came close to understanding Bella's one breath explanation.

"You know what I'm going to say to you, Bella." Rosalie spoke with a calm tone, but there was a quality of urgency in her demeanor that would have been unrecognizable if not for the fact that Bella had lived with Rosalie for two years. Bella nodded mutely, before finding her tongue.

"You don't want me to change." It was a statement, and not a question. Bella still had her head on Rosalie's shoulder, and Rosalie's arm was still wrapped around Bella. She unwrapped her arm and put both hands on Bella's shoulders, sitting her upright.

"Look at me Bella. Look at me. I know that we're not the best of friends. I know that we don't have the best history, but hear me out. I care about what happens to you. I care. I've lived with you for two years, and I've watched you change. You've changed Bella, and it's beautiful. Have I changed from the very day you first saw me? No. I haven't. I can't. Bella, how could you even wish for something so precious to be taken away from you?"

Bella hung her head. She hated seeing Rosalie contemplating on her past. She always got this far away, pained look in her eyes, and Bella knew she was thinking about all that could have been Children, grandchildren, silver hair…Bella knew what she was thinking because she often pondered the same subjects. She could still see wisps of them, two black-haired children running toward the forest…

"Bella? Bella are you listening?" Rosalie's voice snapped Bella out of her trance.

"I'm sorry Rosalie….what was that? Rosalie sighed, becoming slightly impatient. How thick could the girl's skull be? She was trying so hard to get through to Bella, and it was wearing on her patience.

"Bella. Go back to Jacob. He needs you. You need him. And you can have a life with him, not this ghost, this echo of a life that we're all living in. That's all it really is, Bella, an echo. And I grow so tired of it."

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally came. Bella broke down completely, sobbing so heavily she thought she had split in two. She sat there as broken as the Jacob in her dream. While her mind cried out for Edward, for the Cullens, and for the love that she harbored for him, a deeper part of her awoke, calling for Jacob. Her Jacob. She called for him in her heart.

Rosalie, awkwardly perched on the bed's very edge, stood up. She lightly patted Bella's arm, not sure of what to do.

"I know you'll make the right choice." She whispered, not as sure of herself as she seemed. With that, she lightly stepped out of the room, looking back only once, to see Bella's body racked with sobs. She closed the door behind her.

As Rosalie reached the living room, Esme shot her a questioning look. Rosalie nodded once.

"I'll miss her." Esme murmured, slowly shaking her head. Rosalie sighed.

"As will I, Esme. As will I." Rosalie and Esme sat back and listened to the obvious sounds of Bella scrambling out the window. They did not stop her, though they knew that Edward would not like this.

Jacob awoke in a panic, not sure of where he was, or even who he was. He had dreamed….had he? Yes, He had dreamed of her. Cold, picturesque body, void of a beating heart. Instead of summer morning dew, she smelled of death. Rust. Terror. She smelled like one of them. That's what she was, anyways. One of them.

He slowly took in all of his surroundings, and realized with a painful twinge in the pit of his stomach that he was in Bella's bed. In her room. In her house. Fantastic.

Rolling out of bed, he had to admit that it felt good to be clean again. He had grown accustomed to the months of filth in between showers, but whenever he was clean, he had to admit that he both looked and felt better.

Jacob glanced around the room, sorrowfully inhaling her scent, before pulling on an ancient pair of Charlie's cut offs that he had grabbed the night before. He supposed it was time to face Billy and Charlie.

He padded softly down the stairs, and immediately wished he hadn't. Charlie and Billy were sitting on the sofa, with the television off, waiting for him. Willing himself to carry on, he worked up a cautious smile and strode forward to greet his father.

"Good morning, Dad" he whispered. Billy looked directly at him. Wise, strong, Billy. Ever the father figure, the Alpha, regardless of his useless legs. Billy, wherever he went, commanded respect. Jacob trembled before him. Billy continued to hold Jacob's gaze, refusing to break eye contact. Jacob could only handle so much. Billy's intense gaze pierced through Jacob's very soul. He was utterly and despairingly transparent before his father.

"Jacob." Billy said, a hard edge to his voice. But the façade faded away as Billy's eyes crinkled up at the corners, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Welcome back, my son." Jacob rushed forward into his open, waiting arms. Kneeling at his father's side, Jacob fell apart.

Charlie felt as if he were invading a rather private moment. He stood up, red faced, and muttered something about fixing brunch while lumbering toward the kitchen. He was strongly reminded of the parable of the Prodigal Son. He absentmindedly wondered if Billy were familiar with the story. Ah well, regardless of whether he knew the story, he most certainly had a grasp on the lesson behind it. There was no question about it. Billy understood unconditional love.

Charlie flipped open the phone book, looking for Pizza Hut's number as he listened to the tears of Billy and Jacob Black.