Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Wish I did, though.
Summary: Every character has a story behind them. Most of them have families. The untold stories of the ones who helped to shape their lives. A series of One-Shots.
Pastor John Cullen
My son is lost to me.
Lost, and I cannot even hope for a reunion in heaven. Only now, when it is too late, can I see what my actions have wrought and cost me.
I loved my wife from the moment we met, and will love her with my last breath. When we learned that Anne was with child, my heart burst with joy. When she died bringing Carlisle, named for the town where Anne grew up, into the world, my heart turned to stone.
Even from the first, it was obvious that Carlisle had my hair and eyes, my height and build, but the rest of him was all Anne. Her compassion, and quick mind, her fine, angelic features that had the opposite sex falling over each other just to be near him.
Perhaps it was this, a visible reminder of what his birth had cost me that led me to be so harsh with my son, so cold and stern. I do not look for the source of my attitude, because I fear what I will find.
I am a man of the Church, an Anglican Minister, and although we all are equal in the eyes of the Lord, there can be no tolerance for the servants of Satan, and we must destroy them wherever they may be found.
I hunted them all, with all that I was. I did not pay as much attention to my parish as I should, and even less to my son, focusing not on the preservation of good, but the destruction of evil. Witches, Vampires, Werewolves, Demonic Possession, and anything else of the supernatural. If they were accused, I would play jury, judge and executioner. No excuses or explanations, and no mercy.
When I grew older, and my strength began to wane, I finally started to remember that I had a son, and began to so much as acknowledge his existence, but only so that I had someone to lead the raids in my place.
I saw Carlisle's reluctance to take this role, his peaceful nature finding death or violence nothing short of abhorrent, but I ignored it. Again, I saw Anne's compassion shining through in the more thorough trials, the fewer convictions and more frequent absolutions. Instead of praising him for the show of mercy, I called him weak and reluctant to do what was necessary.
We quarrelled far too often over my son's shows of mercy, his unshakable faith in the good of all who lived on God's Earth. I will forever regret, would give anything to take back my words on the night that I sent him out to investigate a rumour of a Vampire nest. The night I sent my son to his death.
Carlisle had stormed out of the house after our latest fight, and I had spent the time until his scheduled return not praying for his safety, but preparing further cutting remarks to continue our argument. When I heard the pounding on the door, I prepared to scold him as I opened in, only to be confronted with the sight of Carlisle's badly hurt second-in-command.
I cannot claim to have loved my son as much as I should have. Does the Good Lord not tell us that our family, our children, are the greatest of our gifts? I had never understood or paid much attention to Carlisle, but I had never wanted to lose him. I saw Richard's grave face, instantly knowing the news that he was reluctant to speak, and another part of me died.
To hear of my son's demise was a terrible thing, but even worse was to come. The rumour had been correct, a coven of Vampires had been hiding in the sewers, and had attacked the brave men sent to destroy them. Carlisle was the first to be attacked by the vampire, before it fled, but when the remains of the party returned to collect their fallen, Carlisle's body was not to be found.
My son had been bitten, and cursed to become one of the Damned. In spite of all of the good that he had done in his life, my son would now burn in Hell.
Tomorrow, I will go to the sewer where the vampires were hidden, and purge it with fire and holy water, until no trace remains. But today, I will mourn my son, who I sent to his death, and Eternal Damnation.
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A/N: Anglican ministers are called Pastors, rather than Reverend or Father.
It is fairly clear that Carlisle's father had taken a long-jump over the line between 'righteousness' and 'fanatical', but losing your only child, with the probability that they will become the very thing you hate, would definitely be enough to prompt a bit of self-reflection. I am also convinced that you don't get that obsessed without some kind of catalyst.
I'm not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out, but I couldn't find any way to make it better. Hopefully it didn't turn out too bad.
Next up will probably be Sue Clearwater. Being the mother of two living legends has got to be tough, especially when people turning into Spirit Wolves was the very thing that broke your daughter's heart.
As always, Constructive Critisim is welcomed, and flames are largely ignored, or passed onto anyone who has ever wanted to show intolerant witch-hunters what it feels like to be chased with torches and sharp pointy objects.
Thanks, Nat