"What do you want to talk about?" I asked him in a slow, languid voice. My hands were wrinkled, gnarled with age, and gently stroking the back of the wolf at my feet. He rolled a baleful eye at me and snorted, a high, thin whine puncturing our peaceful moment from the other room just as he raised his head.

I don't know how I knew it was a he.

Deep, red fur rippled across his lean body. Black eyes swirled while he waited. The whining noise became shrill, distracting.

"Your sister doesn't like it when we're away from her," I whispered. "You should really take her to see Leah soon." He whined. The sound made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"I'll tell you the story of your great, great, god-knows-how many great grandfathers when you get back," my ancient voice burbled at the wolf. "I thought once you were grown you wouldn't want to hear these any more…" My voice was steady and calm, even as the fire crept from the other room—the room with the whine—and spread towards us across the floor. White heat distorted my son's face as he whined at me again, tongue lolling obscenely from his mouth as he began to pant, otherwise still.

We were in Billy Black's house. My wolf children and I, calmly burning alive.

I woke screaming.

The distressing thing upon waking was that Jacob was not there; the bed was empty, and then my father was planted beside me, frightened and then uncertain. Charlie's labored breathing did nothing to dispel my horror—I needed to talk to Jake immediately. I needed reassurance about our children, about phasing; I needed to hear the words I'd said to him about their happiness repeated back to me. While Charlie gently patted my arm and I smiled bleakly back at him; I ruefully prayed that he would leave and Jacob return. Immediately.

As if he knew, Charlie gave up the awkward, repetitive motion and began to return to his own room. The look he gave me as he left was steeped in reluctant fear.

"Dad—" I stopped myself, not knowing what to say, and then took a deep breath. "It's not like before, Dad." It's not like before because the targets of evil are just the people I love this time, not me. It's not like before because it's a werewolf I cry out for, not a vampire. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, exasperated, while he watched. "I'm okay. I'm going to be okay…I just have a lot in my head." I opened my eyes and looked at him, hoping his expression would be calmed, that I wouldn't have given him nightmares of his own. Nothing I'd said was a lie.

"You're not a little girl any more, Bella," my father mumbled. "I know that." He slid away through the door quietly, surprisingly nimble on his feet, and looked back at me one last time. "And you've always had a lot going on in that head of yours. I just hope your heart knows what to do with all of it." I didn't have anything to say to that, so I simply nodded, and Charlie eased back across the hall. The click of his door told me that he truly knew I was a woman now, capable of navigating the darkness in my mind by myself; at least, I certainly could with the right guide, when I needed one. The image of my wolf son from the dream, painted the same deep shade as Jacob, flashed before me. It must be terrifying to watch your children stumble through adulthood, courting disasters you saw coming, and having to let them stand on their own to face them. Through the flames, alone. The high pitched whine stained my eardrums, and I whimpered; just like that, Jacob was beside me, warm fingers teasing my hair back from my face and a sweet kiss on my temple telling me that for now, I was awake, and safe.

"Jacob—I had a nightmare," I whispered to him. I described the dream, including every detail I could remember. The glint of light dancing from his eyes told me they raced across my face, back and forth, taking in everything. We looked at each other, our faces grim mirrors, fingers interlocked.

"Maybe…" he began, then paused, tried again. "Maybe you're just tired, Bells. A lot has happened—my dad's house isn't going to burn down. You're not going to give birth to a wolf—"

"Two wolves," I said, suddenly. "Twins." I knew it as surely as I knew that the Volturi were burning Billy Black's house in my dreams, murdering my children. I felt it in my bones like an ache. He sighed and slipped a long arm under me, pulling me closer to his face. The gentle blow of his breath pulled me back from panic, but not before one last horror slipped past my subconscious and erupted behind my eyes. No Jacob. They killed my Jacob in the dream. Tears swelled in my eyes, and then a warm finger wiped them away.

"Beautiful Bella…" He whispered. "I know this is kind of the opposite of how my own life has worked out, but…dreams don't come true." A half smile seduced me back from the brink again. "You interrupted me—I was going to say, there's a pretty good chance you'll give birth to wolves, Bells, just not right now. I mean, if what we talked about still holds true." He kinked an eyebrow, as if he weren't serious, but I could tell he needed to hear me say it.

Was that what I needed, too? To hear my own voice, my own reassurances? Digging through the uncomfortable feelings and images that besieged me, I found I wasn't afraid of having my wolves…I was afraid of my gnarled hands, the missing father to tell expectant faces the Quileute stories. I was afraid of the mystery behind my daughter in the other room, the wicked fire hunting us across the floor of Billy's house.

I was afraid of the Volturi.

If they killed Jacob, as Edward warned they wanted to do…would they come after his children? A hand slid down my smooth front. I was afraid of getting pregnant because we'd been reckless, once, although the chances of anything happening right now were virtually non-existent—but what if they waited? What if Jake and I were happy, looking forward to kids, actually trying, when they struck? We could never out wait the Volturi. Not while I was mortal. What would it take, to make sure we were safe…our children were safe? My hand stayed on my belly, fingers fidgeting over the future.

Twins. If not now, later. I was positive.

The Volturi had to be stopped. For Alice's sake, and Edward's. For the sake of the pack—for the sake of the man I loved, so brave, so worthy of happiness after all he'd suffered…for the sake of the twins. But how?

"What do you think it would take," I whispered, Jake's eyes once again ratcheting back and forth across my face in the dark, "for the pack to take another working vacation?"