A/N: Rachel's a little emo in this chapter. Sorry in advance for all the whining, but she's got issues to work through too, you know?

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but if I did there would be a lot more werewolves and a lot fewer vampires.

Rachel:

Paul walked into the house, and I fought the urge to smile at him, but it snuck through anyway. He smiled back, and my body flooded with warmth.

I needed to stop this. I couldn't develop a crush on anyone, especially one of Jake's friends. Becca would never let me live it down.

"Hey," he said to me with a sweet smile. "'Sup man?" he acknowledged Jake. Jake gave him a slight nod with a dirty look, and I hoped my conversation with Paul would end some of this confusion.

"So what's going on?" he asked me.

"I just wanted to talk to you about something. Do you want to go sit outside with me?" His eyes lit up, and he was so excited you'd think I'd just professed my love for him. He still didn't seem to be taking the hint that I really didn't date, but I guess I wasn't doing much to help the situation.

"Sure, sure."

I grabbed the towel I'd taken to the beach earlier and led the way to the back yard. He took the towel from my hands and spread it out, sprawling on it as soon as it was flat.

I sat down next to him and fired my question at him. "Where do you work?" I asked, catching him completely off guard.

He looked stunned. "I work security. Same as Jacob," he replied after thinking for a moment.

"Jake said he couldn't tell me what you do but that you could," I informed him. "So tell me."

"You don't really want to know," he warned me. He tilted his face down and looked up at me through his lashes. He was extremely good looking, I had to give him that. I knew that this face was his puppy-dog face, intent on diverting my attention from the question at hand. I wasn't going to allow myself to be diverted.

"Will you please just tell me? I'm sick of not knowing what's going on in my own family," I requested.

He looked up at the sky, deciding whether or not to tell me. Finally he sighed and looked back at me. "Ok, I'll make you a deal. If you tell me why you were crying last night I'll tell you where I work."

I was stunned. Jake told him I was crying? What kind of brother does that? I was immediately pissed and was about to get up and find Jake but Paul's hand closed around mine, diverting my attention. His touch was light and very warm. I smiled weakly, hoping he would back down on his condition, but it didn't look that way. That comfortable feeling settled over me, and I suddenly found myself talking, avoiding his gaze as much as possible.

I'd never been very good at making friends, a fact which I continually blamed on nature. If I hadn't had a built in best friend from birth, I probably would have been much better at talking to people I hadn't known my entire life. It was hard since I had gone to school with the same group of kids since kindergarten. We didn't have anyone transfer in after the 4th grade, so we got to be a happy little family.

When I got to college, it was a culture shock. Washington State had an enrollment of almost 20,000, while I graduated high school with 12. I knew going in that it was going to be different, but I thought that since I didn't mind the crowds in Seattle, I wouldn't mind living in a building with 500 other people. I was wrong. It was very difficult adjusting, and once I finally got over the worst of the homesickness, everyone had already formed their groups and I was left as an outsider.

My roommate, Katie, was the one person I actually considered a true friend. Sure, I had a few acquaintances, but since I had never spent any real time away from my friends on the rez I couldn't really relate to a lot of different people. Katie and I became friends slowly, going to meals together and talking about our days. We would go to parties but neither of us had a very good time. It took until the end of our first semester to bond and finally call each other 'friend' rather than 'roommate'. After that we became inseparable. There were quite a few people that didn't know who was who since we were always introduced as a pair.

She was my best friend, and I told her everything. There was even a point in time where I considered her a better friend than Becca. How I wish I could go back in time and save myself the heartache of having my best friend turn on me.

She was always high strung and whined a lot, but I knew it was just from being spoiled as a child, and I thought she would get over it as she matured. It became apparent a few months ago that nothing was ever going to change when we went to class and she refused to sit on the end of the row and threw a tantrum when I didn't understand why. I still don't.

We slowly drifted apart when her immaturity took over, and she would invite me to go places then leave without me. I spent more than one night fuming, starving since I had thought we would be going to dinner together. Sometimes I wouldn't eat just out of spite, so she had to hear my growling stomach all night. It never bothered her though.

Things finally came to a head the morning I came home. They were having a special breakfast for our dorm that ended at 10. We overslept, of course, and were rushing downstairs at 9:45 when we met some people walking up who told us they had ended breakfast early.

"That's just great!" she yelled angrily, throwing her hands in the air and turning to head back up the stairs. I knew that she was angry, but it wasn't until she slammed the door in my face that I realized she was angry at me.

I turned the knob, and it didn't budge. She locked me out! I didn't have my keys with me, so I pounded on the door. She opened the door with narrow eyes and started stalking back to her computer desk but I was not going to let that go.

"What is your problem?" I yelled, slamming the door as I entered the room.

"My problem? My problem is that I'm starving and since you can't be bothered to get out of bed, I have to wait until lunch now!" she screamed, getting in my face. Her argument was completely ridiculous, so I didn't respond. If she had a real issue then I would reply, but until then I would let her keep making herself look like an asshole.

I took a step back and found myself leaning against the post of our bunk bed. She moved in even closer as she continued, "It's not like I'm even surprised though, you're always sabotaging me!"

"Oh really, I sabotage you?" I countered.

"Why do you think we don't have any friends? It's not because of me. People hate you, and I'm starting to understand why!" She pointed a finger in my face and it took everything I had not to grab it and break it. I settled on glaring at her instead.

"People hate me? And you never said anything?" I asked through my teeth resisting the urge to punch her to the ground.

She smirked. "Oh yeah, Kelsey and I have been talking behind your back for months."

I stood there for a few seconds, breathing deeply in and out to calm myself. Kelsey had been my friend first, and now she was talking shit with Katie. I knew then that I would never speak to Kelsey again.

I rationally thought about my options at that moment and I moved away from her. I didn't think my scholarship would still be valid with a felony assault conviction. I grabbed my keys and my cell and headed downstairs. As soon as I was out of the room, tears spilled over and I put the phone to my ear, calling Becca.

I ranted on the phone for 15 minutes pacing back in forth in front of my building collecting strange looks from people passing by. Becca was finally starting to realize that this thing with Katie was not just a small disagreement that we should go to the RA to sort out.

"I don't know what to do Bex! I can't go back in there with her! What should I do?" I asked.

She seemed taken aback when I asked for advice. I was always the one who knew what I had to do and I did it. There was no ambiguity in my life. Until now. Becca took a deep breath, and I knew I was in for it. She was going to tell me to go up there and try to work things out with Katie. I knew I wasn't capable of doing that currently.

"Why don't you go home for the weekend?" she suggested. I was stunned. I never would have thought of that but it made sense. Home was the one place where I knew everything that was going on. I didn't give myself time to talk myself out of it. It was a long weekend, and I didn't have to work so I decided to leave.

I hung up with Becca, then prepared myself to go back into a room with Katie. I scaled the stairs and opened the door to my room. Katie was on the phone lying on her bottom bunk (since she didn't have the leg strength to climb to the top, supposedly) talking to her mother no doubt. I grabbed my laundry basket and car keys, pulling my backpack on my shoulder as I turned to leave.

I turned back as I reached the door, knowing that I could be the bigger person in this situation. "I'm going home," I said with faked sincerity. She shot me a dirty look then went back to talking to her mother about 'the bitch'.

I decided maturity was overrated. "If you could keep from touching my things while I'm gone that would be great. And you might want to start thinking about your statement to campus security when they come to question you about assaulting me." I smirked and walked out the door, practically running down the hall so she wouldn't follow me. Of course I wasn't going to call security on her, but it was nice to know that she would be sweating it all weekend. She'd been charged with battery once before (by an ex-boyfriend who weighed a hundred pounds more than her and though the charges were eventually dropped I was never truly convinced that she was completely innocent), so she had reason to be nervous.

I bounded down the stairs and across campus to my car. As I walked, I called my dad to let him know I was coming home. He sounded excited and suddenly I was excited too. I loaded my basket in the trunk and was headed home for a weekend of rest and relaxation.

When I was pulling onto the highway, it really hit me what happened. My best friend hated me. Someone I was going to ask to be a bridesmaid if I ever got married. The one person I felt comfortable telling everything to. I knew then that that had been a mistake. The tears spilled over, and I couldn't breathe. Everything was different. I could almost feel my world view shifting.

As I drove home I realized all of this pain could have been prevented. And I would do my best to prevent feeling like my heart had been ripped out of my chest ever again. Even if that meant not getting close to anyone else. That would be the price I paid.

As I finished my story, I looked to Paul. He had been nodding all along, not judging anything. The only reaction he gave was to my comment about never getting close to anyone. He didn't like it, and honestly I wouldn't have either if the person I had a crush on was constantly shooting me down.

I had been fighting back tears through the entire story, and when I finished a single tear rolled down my cheek. Paul reached his hand up and brushed it away. His hand settled on my cheek, and I leaned into it. The warmth was comforting.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

I nodded. It was horrible telling my story, but I knew I had done it for a reason. I looked into his eyes. "It's your turn now."

I could tell he was still debating whether or not to tell me, but I wasn't going to be brushed off. I picked up his hand in mine and started rubbing it absently as incentive for him to talk.

"Ok, do you remember the stories they told at the bonfire last night?" he asked me.

I was confused yet again. Why was he adding more questions? What could the legends possibly have to do with their job? I decided to go with it for a minute to see if this was heading anywhere useful but I wasn't optimistic. "Actually I went home before the stories started, but I know them backwards and forwards," I told him.

He smiled at me weakly, like he was about to give me bad news. "Ok, then you remember the story about the protectors, the Spirit-Warriors who became wolves?"

I nodded thinking back to the story. The wolves protected the reservation from threats. Kind of like security. So the boys were guarding the rez? What could we possibly need to be protected from? And how were they protecting us? I didn't like the idea of Jake carrying a gun.

"So you're protecting the rez? How? And from what?"

He was biting his lip, and I knew I was in for it. It was probably something ridiculous like animal control or something. They were probably in charge of rounding up rabid raccoons or something like that. And they called that security? I fought the urge to laugh.

"All the stories are true, Rachel," he said to me, with fire burning in his eyes. It was hard to doubt him when he looked at me like that. But how could the stories be true? Humans who changed into wolves to protect us from vampires? That's more than a little ridiculous. First of all vampires didn't exist, so why would be need to be protected from them? . . . . They didn't exist, right?

I took a deep breath and looked into Paul's eyes. He wasn't lying to me, I knew somehow. I didn't know what to do. He really believed that he was a werewolf? And Jacob was, too? I wondered how far away the closest mental hospital was.

"You don't believe me do you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "How could I? They're just fairy tales."

This time he shook his head. "They're not. Do you want me to show you?"

I was suddenly very nervous. "Umm, okay?" I managed to squeak out.

He stood up and walked towards the trees. What was he going to do? He moved behind a tree and a few seconds later a huge wolf the size of a horse stepped out. I screamed and stood to start running, but before I knew it there were warm arms around me holding me down.

"It's ok. I know it's shocking," Paul was saying to me. How had he gotten here so quickly? Wasn't he just a wolf or did I just hallucinate? Maybe I was the one the belonged in a mental hospital. I realized I was crying again. I was absolutely repulsed at myself. I never cried in front of other people no matter how horrible (aka insane) the situation, and now I was crying in Paul's arms. I was becoming such a girl, and not in a good way.

Paul:

I walked over to the Blacks' house (since my truck was still at the beach from last night). I let myself in and saw Rachel standing in the kitchen staring at Jacob, apparently appalled at the amount of spaghetti he was eating. I smirked. I ate twice as much as he did.

When she noticed me, a smile snuck up on her. I could tell from the stunned look that crossed her face next. I was making progress. I returned her smile and greeted her.

I acknowledged Jacob, thought I didn't want to, and he nodded back with a look that told me to keep my hands to myself. I wasn't making any promises.

"So what's going on?" I asked her.

She bit her lip as if she wasn't sure she wanted to ask me whatever it was she had called about. "I just wanted to talk to you about something. Do you want to go sit outside with me?"

She loved me. I knew it. We're going to be together forever. Is it too soon to propose marriage? Would she say yes if I got down on one knee right now? Maybe I'd better not, that might freak her out a little bit.

"Sure, sure." I replied, trying for nonchalant but probably not succeeding.

She pulled out the same towel she'd had at the beach and led the way to the backyard. It didn't escape my attention that she was still wearing that bathing suit under her clothes. I wished I had suggested we go down to the beach. I would kill (literally kill - though hopefully just a bloodsucker) to see her in that suit again.

When she stopped, I grabbed the towel from her hand, laid it out and collapsed on it. I was still tired hell.

She as sat next to me, keeping her distance, then asked the question that would lead to the topic I had been dreading. "Where do you work?"

I didn't want to answer. She wasn't ready to hear about this. I wasn't ready to tell her. I hadn't even thought about what I was going to say. So I dodged her question. "I work security. Same as Jacob."

She replied quickly. "Jake said he couldn't tell me what you do but that you could. So tell me," she ordered. I had to tell her, she was suspecting it was something worse that it was, I could tell. She probably thought we were just wandering the woods in wolf costumes, scaring the raccoons away. I fought the urge to laugh. That would be hilarious.

Her command still didn't change the fact that I really, really didn't want to tell her. I looked at the ground hoping to find an answer there. "You don't want to know," I warned her. I looked up at her and she looked startled. Had I scared her? I didn't think so; she seemed more anxious than frightened. Maybe she didn't really want to know. Maybe I'd convinced her it wasn't important.

Obviously not. "Will you please just tell me? I'm sick of not knowing what's going on in my own family."

I fought the urge to laugh again. She'd been in suspense for less than 24 hours. There were others who had been in suspense for more than a year now. It didn't seem fair that I could tell her, but my mother still thought I was a worthless waste of life who only went out and got drunk with my friends every night.

Finally I came up with a brilliant idea to keep her from continuing this line of questioning. "Ok, I'll make you a deal. If you tell me why you were crying last night I'll tell you where I work."

She'd never tell me that, and if my some strange miracle she did, it might provide some insight into a better way to tell her.

When I looked back to her, she looked angry. Was she mad I'd asked the question, or mad that I knew she'd cried at all? She started to stand, but I couldn't let her get away that easily. I reached out and grabbed her hand, keeping her on the towel with me.

She gave me an anemic smile that meant she was trying to get out of this. I shook my head and waited for her next excuse. It was surprised when she started telling her story, which for some reason started with her notion that she was unable to make friends.

I focused on her words, listening intently and filing away any information she would give me. She described her homesickness when she first left home, her feelings of being an outsider, and my heart broke for her. She talked about her roommate Katie, a name I recognized from her crying last night, and how she was her best friend. I fought back the urge to run to Wazzu and kill Katie when Rachel started telling me about how Katie had turned on her.

I didn't focus on the details. They weren't important. All that mattered was that someone had abused her trust out of spite. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sound of her voice to keep from phasing. Rachel didn't deserve this pain.

I smirked when she mentioned her desire to attack Katie. Maybe she had a temper too. I hoped she did. Tempers made girls hotter.

I especially enjoyed her final moments with her roommate before she left to come home. Her words were truly devious, and I hoped Katie was still cowering in her room, afraid to leave in case security was waiting outside of her door.

When she got towards the end, her emotions started flooding through. I knew this was affecting her more than she was letting on during the story. She listed off her troubles, and I couldn't help trying to solve them for her in mind.

Her my best friend hated her. I could be her best friend. She was going to ask Katie to be her bridesmaid. We could run off to Vegas and never give bridesmaids a second thought. Katie was the only person she told everything to. She could tell me anything.

Her next words seemed to sum up not only her experience with Katie, but also my experience with her. "I couldn't breathe. Everything was different. I could almost feel my world view shifting." I wanted to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but she wasn't finished. Her final summation was a needle to the center of my heart.

She was committed to never becoming close to anyone again. While I could barely argue with the solid logic she presented, I knew it was no way to live. Even if she was a random girl on the street, I would tell her that. You can't shut everyone else out.

I knew in that moment that I only had one way to convince her. I had to let her in. I had to tell her my secret, no editing, no attempts to spare her feelings, just the truth, just as she had done for me. She more than deserved it after telling me her story.

She finished and looked at me, and as she raised her head a tear spilled over. I moved my hand out to wipe it away. All I wanted to do was hold her and protect her from the world, but I knew this was all she would allow me to do.

She surprised me when she closed her eyes and leaned her hand into my hand.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, hoping it conveyed even a tenth of the sorrow I was currently feeling.

She nodded and opened her eyes. "It's your turn now."

I knew I had to tell her, but I still didn't know how. As I was thinking of how to begin, she took my hand in hers, and I was reminded of the electric feeling I'd felt last night when she'd taken my hand to lead her out of the forest. Then I knew how to begin.

"Ok, do you remember the stories they told at the bonfire last night?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't have to tell the whole story from the beginning.

She looked skeptical. "Actually I went home before the stories started, but I know them backwards and forwards," she replied, sounding a little full of herself. Normally I would have found this hilarious, but I wasn't in a mood to laugh, so a weak smile was all I could muster.

At least this would be slightly easier. "Ok, then you remember the story about the protectors, the Spirit-Warriors who became wolves?" I asked, hoping to lead her to the answer, rather than tell her myself.

She thought for a moment and nodded. "So you're protecting the rez? How? And from what?"

So many questions and not a single one I wanted to answer. I knew that I just had to be direct and give her as much information as possible. I looked into her eyes with as much intensity as I could so she would know I wasn't lying. "All the stories are true, Rachel."

She processed this information and as each second passed her face became more and more contorted. She thought I was lying.

"You don't believe me do you?" I asked.

She shook her head. "They're just fairy tales."

God, how I wished that was true. I knew I had to show her. There was no other way to make her believe me. I shook my head, trying to come up with another plan. There wasn't one.

"Do you want me to show you?" I asked, praying she would say no, that she already believed me.

No such luck. "Umm . . . ok?" At least she didn't look skeptical anymore. She looked truly terrified that I had been telling the truth.

I nodded to her and stood up, walking behind the trees so I could undress. I closed my eyes and turned my face upward, trying to convince myself that this was a good idea. I knew it wasn't right to shock her like this, but subtlety was not my strong suit. Finally, I gave in and phased. I stepped out, knowing the look of shock on Rachel's face would be painful to witness.

It was worse than I imagined. She screamed and stood to run away. I phased back as quickly as possible, thankful I'd thought to put my shorts in my mouth. I pulled them on as I ran to her. I enveloped her in my arms, holding her shaking form as her tears started rolling.

I stroked her hair, muttering, "It's ok. I know it's shocking." She cried harder and nuzzled into my chest. My heart broke for her with every sob but there was another part of me that ecstatic. She hadn't pushed me away. I was making progress. She would love me yet.