We were only given the night. Although, given what had happened on the back lawn of the Cullen house, 12 hours of solitude seemed exceedingly generous – 12 hours of uninterrupted peace, free from curious vampires and their limitless questions, time we spent together in the low light of the kitchen. Charlie continued to tell me stories of his youth, each new tale a precious gem in my collection. Some were easy, light and playful, while others were darkened by war and death. Eventually we had fallen asleep on the living room sofa, my head rested on Charlie's shoulder as his deep voice rumbled in my ear, spinning stories until sleep claimed me.

The early morning light streamed through the open window, muted from the cloud cover but still bright enough to rouse me from my slumber. My neck felt sore from the awkward angle I had slept in, I groaned as I attempted to massage the crick out of my muscles, the sound made Charlie grumble and snort as he slowly woke up.

"I'm too old to fall asleep on the couch." he grumbled petulantly with his eyes still closed.

I chuckled tiredly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, "Yeah well you're too old for a lot of stuff, but it doesn't seem to stop you."

Charlie peered at me from squinted eyes, "It's too early for your sass, go make your old man some coffee, would ya?"

I rolled my eyes but did as he asked, pulling myself up from the couch with a languid stretch. By the time I had made a pot of coffee and some buttered toast, Charlie had managed to drag himself up from the couch and shuffle into his chair at the kitchen table. I placed a cup of coffee and a plate of food in front of Charlie before sitting down in my chair across from him. I waited until he had taken a sip of his coffee and a few bites of his toast before speaking. "The Cullen's will want an explanation for what happened yesterday." I remarked in what I hoped was a casual tone.

Charlie didn't offer a response, other than to grunt into his coffee.

"Carlisle is a pacifist, to a fault." I continued bluntly – I didn't want to upset my dad, and I knew that Carlisle would do almost anything to keep the peace in our Pack along with his extended vampire family, so I felt like it was up to me to make the stubborn werewolf face the uncomfortable conversation to come. "You know he wont want to start a fight, but you did kinda attack his friend unprovoked."

"It was not unprovoked!" Charlie snarled dangerously.

"Well yeah, I know that, you know that, but from the Cullen's and the Denali's point of view you attacked someone for no reason." I replied gently, my voice calm and coaxing. "I think it's only fair that you explain things to them." when Charlie frowned and grumbled unintelligibly into his coffee cup like a forlorn teenager I frowned and continued, "And I think that you know that as well, you just don't want to admit it because you hate making yourself vulnerable in front of others." I tenderly accused. I knew how Charlie felt, I didn't like feeling open and exposed like a live wire anymore than he did, but I knew for Charlie it was so much worse – Charlie had centuries of survival plaguing his mind and aggravating his insecurities, tender wounds still oozed, unable to fully heal as he existed in a constant state of fear and suspicion, so Charlie did his best to hide himself away from anyone who dared come close, he guarded his soft underbelly with harsh words and razor sharp teeth.

Charlie sighed, the sound weary and exhausted, heavy with the weight of over a thousand years of trauma. "You're right." he admitted. "Of course you are," Charlie mumbled under his breath. "Lets finish breakfast and then head over to the Cullen's, we have a few more boxes to take over anyway." Charlie spoke up again before downing the rest of his coffee.

XxXx

Charlie and I drove separately – Charlie in his cruiser and me in my truck, taking advantage of the large truck bed to move a few of the bulkier boxes from the basement that Charlie wanted to keep. While Charlie tried to maintain a spartan existence, only keeping and carrying around what was necessary for his survival, he couldn't help but become attached to certain objects over the course of his lifetime – and while if push came to shove, Charlie wouldn't hesitate to leave it all behind if it meant his continued survival, he also would take the opportunity to keep his few treasured belongings if the opportunity came. Personally, I couldn't totally understand his emotional attachment to an old ivory chess set or a tarnished silver broach, but I wasn't going to deny Charlie his eccentric collection of memories.

I reversed the truck up to the Cullen's garage and began to lug the boxes inside, stacking them carefully at the back of the room near the tool carts. A moment later I heard Charlie pull up and the sound of him opening the trunk of his cruiser as he collected the few smaller boxes as well as the still gleaming and crazily sharp sword and dark leather scabbard, and even though they showed some signs of winter's past, they looked nowhere near their true age – as if they were mimicking their bearer in their refusal to show their years.

I could hear the Cullen's in the house, the way the floorboards creaked as they subtly shifted their weight, the rustle of clothes and the whisper of hair as someone – probably Edward – ran an impatient hand through their hair. Charlie and I worked methodically and in silence, and once everything was unpacked and stacked in the Cullen's garage our eyes met in unspoken solace. I nodded once and Charlie tried to smile, but it came out as an awkward grimace. Together we walked into through the door that connected the garage to the main house and as we walked through the house I was relieved the see the Cullen's had congregated in the living room, opposed to the dining room – the more casual setting made this feel less like an inquisition and more like a friendly, family chat.

Charlie heaved an exhausted, world weary sigh, and I had the distinct impression that he knew that this conversation was coming – we were a Pack, and we had grown increasingly close over the past year, and while Charlie guarded his past with a stony silence, the world was a small place, the supernatural world even more so, and it only stood to reason that something would eventually happen that would force Charlie to share more than he was comfortable with.

"The Denali's have gone home, Bree promised to call once she had settled in." Carlisle said as we sat down on the couch. "I'm glad you've come by, we all have… some questions." he continued in a gentle voice.

"I thought you might." Charlie confirmed solemnly. "Well then. Go ahead. Ask." he bit out, and I could see the strain this was taking on my father in the way Charlie's eyes narrowed slightly and the corded muscles in his neck twitched as he clenched his jaw and ground his teeth.

An awkward, uneasy silence prevailed, no one entirely sure where to start – thankfully we had Emmett's unintentional bluntness to break the tension. "So, what's your beef with Eleazar?"

"Emmett!" Esme hissed while Rosalie simply thwacked Emmett upside the head with the palm of her hand.

Charlie bit back a surprised laugh as he lowered himself down into an armchair, I silently followed into the room and took my place next to Edward on the nearby love seat. "My beef," Charlie chuckled with an amused shake of his head, he leaned forward in his seat and balanced his elbows on his knees, with careful eyes he considered each of the vampires in front of him. "My beef… is that the night the Volturi came for my family, the night I watched as Caius took my father's head as a trophy, Eleazar was there." Charlie's words were as solemn as they were devastating, and if I thought it was awkward before? Oh boy.

"Not to sound insensitive, but I'm sure there were plenty of vampires there." Jasper drawled, "But you seemed… particularly upset at seeing Eleazar again…" he hedged.

Charlie sighed and scrubbed a hand over his growing beard, "Do any of you even know how the Volturi came to power?" he asked sharply.

Looks of confusion washed over the Cullen's faces as they each looked to one another for the answer, eventually, with a frown of uncertainty Carlisle answered. "They overthrew the Romanian Coven and took power for themselves."

Charlie looked almost disappointed, "Yes… but did you ever think to wonder how they could do such a thing? The largest, most powerful coven in the known world, who had ruled over man and vampire alike since the dawn of time, and what? The Volturi just… defeated them? Asked them nicely to please step aside?" Charlie's words became caustic and bitter as he spoke.

"I never thought about it like that." Carlisle murmured worryingly. "And I never thought to ask…"

"Of course not. And aside from the Volturi themselves there aren't many vampires old enough who are still alive to speak of it. And those who are, wouldn't dare, not when Aro can read every thought you've ever had in your entire existence with a single touch." Charlie continued, "The truth is, that vampires and werewolves were not always enemies. We were friends and allies when the Romanians were in power, and then when the war broke out…" Charlie slumped back in his chair, "When the Vampire War broke out across the continent the Volturi approached the Packs with sweet words and honeyed promises, and like fools, we believed them."

"You sided with the Volturi," Jasper realised, "The werewolves are how the Volturi defeated the Romanians."

Charlie nodded, "Yes, and then after not even a decade of peace, they came for us too."

"And Eleazar…?" Carlisle urged.

"Someone I had thought a friend. Someone I had fought beside only to watch him as he burnt my sister alive." Charlie's voice was strained, "When I saw him again… I admit I lost my head for a moment, but surely you can understand the… mitigating circumstances." he eyed Carlisle carefully.

The look in Carlisle's dark amber eyes was warm with sympathy, but not an ounce of pity could be found. "If it were me, I'm unsure if I would have shown as much restraint as you did."

Those words, coming from a man like Carlisle, held more weight than anything else he could have said. Carlisle's distaste for violence was well known, it was the cornerstone on which he built his entire life view – that each life, both human and vampire, was a sacred light that was not ours to snuff out was what set him apart from others of his kind – and yet, there he sat, with unerring calmness as he shared in my father's desire to tear apart those who had harmed his family. I guess I had been wrong, Carlisle's pacifist nature did not know no bounds, in fact, the line for him seemed crystal clear – his desire to avoid a fight did not overcome his need to protect his family, or in Charlie's case, to avenge their deaths.

A/N: Merry Christmas. I know it's short but I have Covid and feel like death rn so this is what I've got and I'mma post it. Hope you guys enjoy it!