The next week is a series of speeding blurs and dragging moments. I told my dad Paul imprinted and he just sort of nodded. I could tell he was not necessarily too thrilled with it but he just nodded. I wanted to scream at him to do something. Everyone was so even keel about everything, I felt like I was in a madhouse. Everyone I talked to, it was like going to a friggin' therapist.

I just wanted someone to confirm for me – by some show of emotion – that this was not normal. This was weird. It might be good, it might be bad, but it was weird. Having people pretend it was so normal, acting like I was a psych patient just made me angry.

Jacob I could tell was less than pleased. I couldn't do anything about it, but he glared at Paul a lot more than was really necessary. I told him to cut the crap and he'd been shocked by my reaction.

"What?" he asked in frustration, "You love the guy already? It's been a week, Rach."

"No," I said stubbornly, "but from the little I've learned, I know this isn't something any of you can control. He can hardly be blamed for it. You might imprint someday Jake and I'm not going to hold that against you. This is weird enough without you being a cry baby about it."

"A cry baby?" he asked in awe, "I'm not being a cry baby. Rachel, you barely know the guy. I can tell you from experience he's the pack d-bag, okay? I'm sorry you got landed with that, but it's the simple truth. I like him well enough but not for my sister."

"Jacob Black!" I shouted, "How dare you! What kind of double standard is that? And his behavior with you bunch of idiots is rather irrelevant to our relationship unless you're talking about me. Which you shouldn't be."

And that was the ring of our arguments for about a while. I admit I slapped Jake around a bit. Not that he probably even felt it, now being made of russet steel – just like the rest of them.

Ironically enough, Paul – my imprinter – was the only real beacon of sanity I had. You would think, the whole concept would just freak me the hell out and I'd want my distance for a while. But no; everyone else around me was acting so freaking weird, that Paul was the only normal one around me. Maybe because everyone else knew me pre- and post-imprint, but Paul's perceptions of me didn't operate like that. Like he'd explained, they weren't static but just fundamentally different. He wouldn't treat me any different because he never knew me in any other reality.

Well, Emily was good, too, but I didn't get to see her much. Most of my high school friends were no longer around and the few pack members I knew were walking on eggshells around me. And I didn't even put off that kind of vibe! Where was this coming from? Why did everyone think I was so unstable all the time?

Anyways, I knocked on Paul's door one morning – about a week and a half after the horrid night of near death experiences and vomiting. It was ten thirty, I figured he'd be up by now but my assumption was slowly withering as I knocked for a third time.

His door finally wheezed open and I was greeted with a disheveled and bleary-eyed Paul. I felt bad but also couldn't help but smile a little. He looked cute with bed head. "Sorry?" I offered eloquently. "You guys nocturnal or something?"

"Rachel!" he smiled, finally realizing who was at his door. He bent down and gave me a giant bear hug, lifting me off the ground. I was overwhelmed with his proximity and warmth. "No, we're not nocturnal. I was on patrol last night."

He set me down and invited me in while he went to dig out a shirt. "So," he called from his room, "what brings you to this hell hole?" I looked around me. The house was nice enough. Simple, clean, decorated. His mom did a good job obviously. It didn't look like a hell hole to me.

"I cannot stand to be around anyone else," I flopped onto the couch. "They all treat me like I've been diagnosed with some jungle disease." I crossed my arms and slumped down.

Paul made his way from his room to the kitchen, "Thanks," he replied sarcastically. "I'm your Ebola? That's great."

"Shut up," I muttered, "that's not what I mean. What I mean is that everyone is treating me different now. And not a good kind of different. It's like they're all walking on eggshells around me."

Paul had been watching and listening as I spoke. He slowly nodded, "sorry," before turning away and pulling down a box of cereal. He offers me some but I decline.

"Would you stop that?" I ask him. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. You're the only one I've got left. Help me out, here?" He sat next to me – with the entire contents of the cereal box in a serving bowl – and looked at me. I could tell he was thinking.

"If this is so natural to everyone, I don't get why people don't act natural," I shrugged.

"Hate to burst your mopey bubble, babe," he said after a swallow. "But this shit," he indicated himself with his spoon, "is not natural."

The tag didn't even faze me at this point. It was remarkable how quickly I had learned the basics of Paul's personality. I'm sure the same could be said for him learning about me. But I was momentarily confused. Hadn't everyone been trying to tell me that this was some Quileute thing? A bunch of them knew about it. It was just something that happened. No big deal. Until you get imprinted, I thought to myself.

Paul must've read the confusion on my face. "I'm seventeen. I should be about a hundred pounds lighter, a foot narrower and several inches shorter. I should look seventeen, not twenty five. This is not natural," he repeated.

If it wasn't nature shifting the Quileute boys then what was? Why could they phase? I hadn't been told that first night because no one thought I could handle it. In the week since then my new knowledge had pertained mostly to pack members on a personal level – not mythological.

I'd helped Quil fix his hot water heater because he couldn't fit in the crawl space and I actually knew what I was doing; he didn't have to dictate instructions through the floor boards. Sam was not as cold as before, maybe because I was 'one of them' now. Maybe because I was slowly becoming good friends with his fiancée. Search me. Either way, he was less stoic and more just a quiet guy. He had a really ridiculous sense of humor though. Could I just put that out there?

Embry and I tag teamed Jacob most days. The kid was always up and down. His whole equilibrium was off – eating, sleeping – all of it. I swear it was the Swan girl. She and my little brother were together a lot more often. Honestly, I think Jake was good for her. She looked a lot healthier now. But my brother was all bent out of shape. I didn't want her around if she was going to live of him like some kind of leech. He was losing it.

I never said anything about it, because he was really touchy when it came to the Bella girl. I remembered her from our childhood. She was kind of quiet and one summer she finally pitched a fit so Charlie wouldn't dump her off here and go fishing so much anymore.

Anyways, my brother's sixteen and can make his own choices in life. If I said anything, he'd still spend time with her he'd just be mad at me. I was not ready to repeat the playground incident. Sooner or later there relationship would reach some kind of crossroads. My brother's not a total pushover; I'm hoping he has enough sense about him to not get squashed.

So Embry and I would trade off. I got him awake and to school. Embry got him home. We both kept a mental schedule of patrols and I made sure he ate some kind of vegetable matter every few days.

Plus, I of course got to know Paul. Duh. He actually confessed to me, after I heard the same thing from every pack member, that he had a raging temper. I kind of wanted to know where Jake had been going with the 'pack d-bag' comment.

I was actually relieved. A temper? That was it? I was a fundamentally mellow person but if I got really rattled, I could potentially throw something.

We talked about 'our relationship'. Which was totally weird. Paul wanted to know what was okay and what was not – which I'm thankful for. He never explicitly – or even implicitly – said that his genes kind of just made him want to jump my bones, but I got it. I'm not an idiot. We were not there yet. And I was taking this literally one step at a time, therefore I didn't know if we would ever get there. When I voiced my concern about his being stuck with a platonic life mate, he just told me we'd cross that bridge if we came to it. He was too damn understanding sometimes, it made me want to gag.

Anyways, I told him that I already was a very open person, because he was worried about invading my personal space. When I reminded him that I grew up with another sister and a brother and his horde of eternally brawling friends, he seemed to get it. I wasn't exactly 'one of the guys', but I wasn't going to squeal if he hugged me. Hand holding, physical altercations (at least on my end, mostly), shared beverages, casual touching, borrowed clothes, bare feet, hair ruflling were deemed okay. I tell you, he asked me the most oddball things.

After that, we agreed to just let things flow. "Fuck the imprint," I believe were his exact words. I liked him. He liked me. We were operating from there. I was usually the galvanizing force for new things. If I gave him a hug or took his hand: I'd initiated it and he didn't feel like he was crossing any boundaries.

So I knew personal things. But I didn't know much in the way of mythology. Still.

"I thought you said – and I quote – au naturel?" I added the finger quotes for his benefit.

"Natural in the sense that it's in our genes," he agreed, "but there's a reason there aren't more of us. There's a reason for it being this generation, this group of guys."

I curled my legs underneath me. This was the part they wouldn't tell me last week on New Years Eve. They'd thought I was going to OD on information or something. "You want to tell me about it?"

"You're giving me the option?" he quirked a brow. "That doesn't sound like you."

I shrugged my shoulders and turned myself towards him, resting my chin on my knees. "The way you guys are hiding it from me, makes me worried. Ignorance sometimes is bliss."

"It's not that bad…" he said quietly.

"Really?" I asked.

"Okay. It kinda is," he rescinded. "But not bad enough that Rachel Black couldn't handle it. You can handle werewolves, you can handle this."

"Okay!" I sighed, "just lay it on me. The suspense is making me loopy."

"Well, you seem to remember our legends quite well…" I glared at him with a nod. "You remember any others about mythical creatures?"

"Not if they're going to jump out of nowhere like last time," I replied, eyes wide. "If that's the case, then I remember nothing."

"No," Paul shook his head seriously, "I would not let any of these mythical creatures within a hundred yards of you. So no worries."

"I remember, Spirit Quests – to find your supernatural power, Q'wati the Transformer, Bayaq the trickster raven… Am I getting close?"

"No not really. All right, remember the Cold Ones?"

I thought for a minute before the familiar phrase opened the floodgates of my memory. "Yes," I nodded. Those ones had been scary and we all had to wait until we were a little older before Billy would tell them to us. Apparently the death of multiple children and self-sacrifice was 10+ kind of story. I believe it. Even then it scared me.

"Cold Ones were vampires right?" I nodded and he continued. "Well, vampires still exist. Due to our long history, the Quileute people have evolved to defend themselves. The purpose of the wolves is to protect La Push – specifically from vampires."

I blinked a few times. Where the hell was I? How many fairy tales could possibly be shoved into my life? Maybe there were unicorns in the state park. Perhaps I'd meet the tooth fairy or a leprechaun on the way home today. "Are you serious?" I asked.

"Scouts honor," he raised his hand.

"But if you protect La Push from vampires, would that mean that…"

"Yep," he confirmed my suspicion, "right next door in Forks."

I could feel my eyes widen and after a moment Paul reached forward and closed my mouth for me. I let my legs fall down, sitting cross legged and facing him on the couch.

"Vampires trigger the wolf gene. When they're around wolves start popping out of the ground like daisies. The coven in Forks actually moved away last fall – that's why we haven't had any new wolves. They moved in probably your senior year; that's about when Sam shifted. Then all the rest of us. Quil was the last."

"So the… vampires," the word tumbled off my tongue haphazardly, "are gone? Why do you still shift?"

Paul ran his hands through his messy hair as he leaned back in the couch. "It's not something you can really turn off, Rach. At some point in time, I'll be able to stop shifting, but it takes a lot of control. It'll be a couple years at the least. And just because the Cullens are gone doesn't mean they can't come back. Or still have visitors."

"The Cullens!" I yelled. "As in Dr Cullen and his pack of perfect kids? Those Cullens?" I had vaguely known vampires and never really known? This was beyond surreal. It was like being introduced to someone and later finding out they died or were sick. This enormous and integral part of their life that was huge and scary and you didn't even know about it. And this wasn't just an illness. The Cullens were vampires. Like living dead, blood drinking, menace to society vampires.

"But!" I stuttered, "they let them out? What if they hurt someone? It's dangerous and they all seem so normal. What are they doing, biding their time and waiting until the opportune moment to snatch a civilian up? Oh my god! There have been, like, a half a dozen disappearances in Clallam county since my senior year. What if they're picking people off—"

At this point I didn't have any control really, over my own mouth. I was babbling. Paul reached up and took my face in his hands. "Breathe!" he ordered me. I clapped my mouth shut and inhaled sharply through my nose.

"I told you," he continued calmly, "They're gone. They left this fall. It's okay."

I opened my mouth slightly, testing myself, making sure I could speak coherently now. "Wait," I said. I had only ever seen the Cullens in my trip to Forks and once or twice I saw Dr Cullen in the hospital. But I knew and heard things about them. Now I was piecing it all together in relation to their horrible, unnatural state.

There was the doctor and his wife – who was really way to nice looking to be normal. She was like Stepford nice. They had a ton of kids too. There was that big one. He probably was about the size of any of the La Push boys now. And he was dating his foster sister or some sick ass shit. But they weren't the only ones; there was that twiggy one and her tall blond Edward Scissorhands-type. They were together too.

Jasper! I remember because the first time I heard it, it made me think of Cruella DeVil and Horace and Jasper from 101 Dalmations. And his sister had some kind of springy, flower name. Daisy, Violet, something to that effect. But they couldn't have all been related then, like they put on, right?

Paul confirmed my musings. Saying he gathered from the shared pack mind that the family charade was for the humans. None of them shared any figurative blood.

"How would any of the pack know that though?" I found it interesting, but if the Cullens were enemies how would the pack possibly know them well enough to have figured out family structure? My mind continued to cycle through everything I'd ever learned, heard or seen of them like a flipbook or some massive internal Rolodex.

There had been another one. I could see his face and unlike the rest of his family, I knew his name. I just couldn't remember it. But why did I know his name? He had been the odd man out. He didn't have a creepy sibling mate. He… Oh my god. He – Edward. Edward Cullen.

Edward Cullen had been dating someone. I remember thinking it was rather odd that he was breeding outside his family – he was seeing an outsider. I couldn't remember who, though. I could see them standing together. In the store, near that silver car, at the gas station… but she was just a blur of color. She'd been very plain, very simple.

Who the heck was it? I knew everyone in Forks. It wasn't that mean a feat. The town was tiny. I thought, wracking my brain for some sign of who this mystery girl was. Who was the girl who was actually able to penetrate the Cullen clan and dated one of the pasty-skinned, drugged out-looking sons? Who did I know that was that generic?

Holy shit…

No. It couldn't have been. There's no way. If it was there was no way my brother could… Even if they were gone. My brother was prone to many things but masochism was not one of them. My conclusion couldn't be right.

But it all made sense. She was a basket case because her boyfriend's family had picked up and left – just like the Cullens. Bella was exceptionally plain - the personification of vanilla if there ever was one – just like my blurred memory.

I had all but answered my own question. How did the pack know? Because they shared my brother's mind. My brother had taken in an enemy sympathizer. The girl ran with parasites. They lived off humans and for some sick reason she actually cared for them? Not even cared but felt for one of them romantically. It was so repulsive it made me gag a little.

My one word response, "Bella," was enough. Paul's face shifted – almost Transformer-like – back to that rock solid, stony expression.

"Yeah," he nodded, "she was practically one of them. Probably still wants to be like them. They up and left for whatever reason. Nice for us… but your brother protects her like she's one of us."

I just kept quiet, letting him continue. Clearly there was more to this story.

"It's like half and half. Quil and Embry like her well enough. So does Emily. Sam doesn't know whether he likes her – because the Cullens royally fucked up both their lives – or hates her because she chose to be with them. Jared and I are not her biggest fans. But your brother is the worst. He likes her. A lot. He likes her – more than she likes him. And I don't think she gets it."

I nodded, biting down on my lip. So my suspicions were true? Bella was leeching off my brother. Clearly, she'd picked up some nasty habits.

"She's messing with him," Paul said. "Unintentionally or not. But I don't think he sees it. It doesn't really seem to matter to him. Either way you slice it, she's a traitor. And your brother told her about us."

By 'us' I understood him to mean the wolves, the pack. "What?" I shouted. "She knew before I did. He's my goddamn brother! He told her. Some stupid girl, who hung out with vampires? That's sick. That's absolutely fucking sick! I'm going to slaughter him!"

"Whoa!" Paul put his hands on my shoulders to prevent my standing, "Take it easy, killer. Believe me. We've tried. We're kind of hoping he'll wake the hell up and get sick of her shit."

"She's using him!" I screeched. I don't know who I wanted to kill first. Jacob – because he told Bella fucking Swan about all this before his own flesh and blood sister, or Bella herself for being a sick bitch and torturing my baby brother like this.

"Rach," Paul said quietly. "There's nothing you can do about it." And that simple – yet amazingly true – statement made me so indescribably sad. All my anger had melted away into this pool dejection. No matter how much I wanted to help or change things, I couldn't. I would have to sit by – with the full knowledge of how Jacob was being mentally and emotionally taxed – and I could do nothing.

"But," I said quietly, hunching forward and feeling the hot tears brim my eyes, "he's my baby brother."

"I know Rach," Paul drew his hands from my shoulders to my waist and pulled me to his chest. "I know."

I couldn't help but notice that everytime I went somewhere with one goal or intention a million different things ended up coming out of it. I came by Paul's to escape my house and spend time with only person who acted normal around me and ended up with another dump truck full of information.

But that's how I got my second question answered. Just like learning about the wolves, I learned all about the Cullens. How they fed on animals, the treaty and our respective territory, their natural strengths and individual abilities. How they'd left and no one really knew why.

I had left my house that morning because I was tired of arguing with my brother. Part of me just wanted to run home and hug him until the day I died. I wanted to be in sixth grade again, where I could make things like this go away with some tough words and a few well-placed punches. I don't doubt either of those would scare Bella Swan off, but it wasn't my place anymore. This was bigger than playground teasing. I could talk to Jacob until I passed out from lack of oxygen, but I could do nothing to sway the situation. Because he was his own person now and if he wanted to be around Bella Swan, if he wanted to let her in, give her everything she needed to sell us all down river - then there wasn't anything I could do about it.

I couldn't protect him anymore.